Fallenreaper

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

Ish. I've not read the IC skip that I assume you just wrote, but if you're asking if I've got time, I do a little. I can certainly get working on one.

@May

It's more if you post if you're undead or not. :p

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Currently seeking out those who requested specific rewards, namely to list them in the OP and under their names. It would be extremely helpful if those who are around if they would please list their wanted prizes as it saves me searching. In addition, new additions to the mission (not including those who were involved in the Catacombs), you should also pick a ring from the past rewards sections and list it in the OoC for me to put in the OP.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

2 Weeks later

Khan

Khan sat at his desk, his figure hunched over a series of paperwork, as he signed a few parchments then shifted it to the already dangerously high pile to his right. His tail swished in a lazy motion from behind him. The underside bounced subtly over the uneven stone flooring from right to left, the base pressed against the seat’s end through a masterfully made opening. His wings were folded against his spine and curled much like a leathery cloak over him as he mentally stressed over recent events from Lyn’s hunt.

It had only been a few weeks, but the results were too puzzling to ignore or forget. They managed to recover the corpses but there wasn’t a single, undeniable shred of evidence that provided a clue to who was responsible. Every single mage came from a variety of races from human to elf, their clothes having no single, similar aspect that provided answers. Their bodies revealing much less, Lucilia to Uicle being unable to differentiate anything different from the normal master mage, a fact that left all the teachers more and more confused. If it wasn’t for the fact Satori, or one of her students, determined their minds were completely fine then Khan would’ve thought they were all half mad when they described their foe’s abilities.

Khan paused in his work to lean his chin upon his folded hands, both tucked underneath his jawline for a prop. It bothered him greatly. Something was happening but they still too far behind to know it and even worse, they couldn’t protect the students that needed it when it counted. Since the sudden attack, several of the mercenaries provided by Grey had been hired then requested to search and patrol the area. They, much like the College, turned up nothing.

Thankfully all those involved, including Mar, had recovered from their experiences since both the Catacomb mission and Lyn’s Hunt’s tragic events. Among the Catacomb results included Tyrael and the Naga. The teacher had been suspended temporarily then pressed to resolve his issues in a manner suitable. Until they were solved, and he proved it, there was no tolerance for his actions. While on the College grounds he was monitored continually as he went about minor task.

It was milder compared to the Naga. They were confined to key areas of the grounds and continually watched, not for their safety but the other students. Khan recalled his first encounters with Mar’s aggression and brash actions in the past, a matter he took into account when he set up their arrangements. Lyn and Mar, especially, were given limited access due to the fact the Matriarch had mentioned what complications a hybrid child might’ve caused. Thankfully they were being moved today from the college into a new home outside of Yarsomere.

The consequences from Lyn’s hunt had just as much complications, through more positive results than negative. The two arrivals, Helena Axford and Sinys Luf’fino had been registered, thanks to Lucilia’s aid, and settled in, their classes started last week. This allowed them to recover from their experience and get familiar with the college layout as opposed to merely tossing them into stress after their ordeal. Devon Zoria and Jenna Fellrein were surprised to find their rooms in order as well as their class schedules adjusted to cover for their missing education months. Keri and Colette were fed plenty of blood to prevent them from going feral through apportate means.

From that disastrous situation, the worse event was Mar losing her tail. They had finally managed to stop her mageblood from killing her but the damage was already done. Lidda couldn’t reverse the legs back into a tail without risking the woman’s well being, her body too stressed from the rapid and unexpected changes happening repeatedly to her body. A master vitamancer could easily tolerate such an event, through they would’ve been had issues and this was the main reason their changes were limited. Lidda could alter her shape completely but larger changes happened much more slowly and carefully as without the attention to anatomy detail, her figure would’ve become stressed and worn, doing more harm than good.

Khan inhaled, his figure slowly rising from his desk as he pushed his chair out. His hand reached out for his cane then started to hobble out of his office into the direction of the courtyards where he would be supervising the event.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

I'm undead, does that count as alive?

@May

Can you post?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

<Snipped quote by nitemare shape>

I'm planning to start creating a character sheet after I finished my work :)

BTW is this colour free?

@Aura

My suggest is chose a color you want to use in your individual posts, then pick a secondary color for cases where your PC is using the same shade/color as the character they interacting with. This way you're covered both ways because as someone pointed out, we're going to run out of colors at some point. XD

Over

Anya & Cade

credit to @Rumplestiltskin and @Fallenreaper

How long it had been...too long. Cade answered his own question just a moment after asking it. His hazel grey eyes spotted a fair skinned man walking away with wine staining his lap, his figure poised and controlled, causing Cade to glance back at the table where the Legendes sat. He didn’t, or rather recall much, about the Bloodlines save that they signed some sort of treaty and they were the primary source of powerful Asylum providers to AMRO. A fact that made his heart hurt from the memorUies.

He naturally was pissed when they first told him what was to become of him. Even worse when he made comments about escape and gradually more crazy to fruitless ideas came to mind in order to change his fate. Sadly over half of them would’ve risked the very family that been charitable to his own. That realization naturally shifted his attention to his own family, part of him wondered if his parents had finally succeeded in conceiving another child. They been trying for years before him, his own birth was difficult, as his mother’s past was riddled with miscarriages or premature births.

Cade inhaled then pushed himself forward. His partner, Samad, was melting into the nearest wall and his eyes were idly watching, the sensation running down the younger Asylum’s back was creating a serious discomfort. His step pace increased while his fingers whitened from the grip upon the bag. He wasn’t sure if they would recognize him as the last time they saw him, he was merely nineteen. A young boy by their standards who was learning medical basics before everything changed and his family would never see him again. All outside ties, especially non-alchemists, had to be cut since AMRO claimed him for their property. At least that was what he wanted. Namely to keep them from becoming entangled into the dangers he was likely to face.

Zidane saw him first, his wrinkly face contorting as he squinted. He nodded slightly, humming a little as he eyed another salty snack. He knew things were about to get intriguing now. Anya glanced over at him, wondering what had prompted this little tune. But he made no attempt to communicate, so she slipped over into John’s chair and gently took her father’s hand.

“Daddy?” she whispered, smiling.

“My little flower, yes? Ah… it is Chad,” Zidane grinned, gesturing towards Cade.

“Chad?” Anya said, tilting her head sideways and missing his gesture.

“Brace this heart now,” Zidane whispered, poking his daughter in the chest before he sat back in his wheelchair.

She watched him relax, pulling his robe over himself and cozying up. Anya finally tore her gaze from Zidane and stole a glance at Mr. Knots (who had been merely staring ahead) before she took in the details of this ‘Chad’ person. ‘An asylum…’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But… this presence.’ In that moment, much of the reason wherefore she ached in her heart dulled considerably. And she knew not why. His gait, the look in his eyes, that hair… so familiar and she knew not why. He was coming over here, making a beeline in fact. Anya adverted her gaze shyly, which felt so odd.

And she knew not why.

Cade knew it was too late to turn back.

Despite this fact, his heart and mind was in a frenzy as he swallowed down the saliva collecting at his throat. A lump settled in his chest the closer he drew and his eyes shifted to spy Anya lean in, her figure seated closer to the old man in the wheelchair, in soft conversation. She held the Patriarch's aged weathered hand in her own causing Cade to hesitate, his pace slowed. He was questioning his timing as the woman looked from her father to him after the old man gestured to her heart, then away.

It was pretty too late now, he realised. On approach, he came to a stop within a reasonable and respectful distance for friends. He inhaled slowly then began to speak.

“Um, hello Anya. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? I hope my family is doing well, I've not seen them in over 4 years?” Upon addressing her, his hand shifted downward and rested his medical bag against his thigh. Part of him was worried that she wouldn't remember him. The thought caused anxiety to swell. That emotion then mingled with guilt, fueled by inner knowledge of knowing she had every right to move on with her life. It was selfish of him to expect her to recall him and for her to grind to a standstill in time, namely for a future that will likely never happen. Bloodlines and Asylums didn’t tend to stay connected after AMRO got involved.

Naturally his posture tensed in waiting for her response should it be the worst.

Her breath stilled at the sound of her name rolling over his tongue. Her eyes met his, hazel grey windows brimming with round rims. Anya glanced left, then right, habitually sensing who else was watching. This asylum had approached them. Had they done something wrong? She blinked away, taking in the full weight of his words.

Trusting her father, Anya nodded finally and smiled, “Yes, Chad, it … it certainly has! Um, we’re fine, I mean… uh…”

‘Wait, is there a Chad in our family?’ Anya mused, wondering why Cade had said ‘my family’.

Cade stiffened in reaction. His chest hurt much more than he expected it to as he tried to politely smile, the gesture’s meaning not quite reaching his eyes as he considered what to say next. Honestly, he wasn’t fully prepared for the possibility of her forgetting him and now he was stumbling in his mind for a reply. His fingers merely gripped his bag as he hid it behind his figure, hoping to quietly keep his discomfort subtle enough to be ignored.

But before she could compose herself, Zidane spoke, his voice jilted with a hint of glee. “I think she… ah, yes, she means Cade. It seems that, ah... Mr. Markell has returned from the dead, no?”

Chuckles...

The Asylum nodded, relieved at least someone recalled him. His free hand ruffled his hair back as he ran his fingers over his scalp, a nervous gesture from his childhood. He abruptly twisted his eyes to Mr. Knots. The very tall man made him unsettled to say the least. An aura of creepiness wafted off him caused the young man to give an involuntary shiver at meeting Mr. Knots’ gaze then jerked away on contact. He wasn’t sure if it was the unsettling tallness or the stillness the man projected, but something wasn’t right about him.

Father-Daughter trust was now broken. Ignoring Mr. Knots as he stared through Cade, Anya glared at her father, pointing the top of her head towards Cade so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. Zidane merely sat back again, glancing askew at his very young daughter who could not even fathom her father’s actions. Yet.

He answered the unspoken question she had. “Ah, yes… chide me later, but… I’ve merely played the icebreaker, no?” he rasped at her, chuckling as he glanced at Cade.

She sighed lightly through her nose and begrudgingly looked up at Cade. “Sorry, Cade… I knew it was you! It’s just… Daddy has gone oh, simply senile in his old age.”

“Sanity is relative, hon,” Zidane countered, gesturing Mr. Knots to wheel him away.

“I’m pretty sure several Asylums would disagree with you, Sir.” Cade popped off, not fully thinking. He knew his comment wouldn’t have much meaning to the either of them as he wasn’t clear, or likely couldn’t recall, how much the families knew about the link partners shared. To be honest, he was still learning it himself. “And sure you did remember me, Anya. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you did forget me. Our last meeting wasn’t… the most memorable one and it had been a long time.”

Zidane merely bunched up his eyebrows at Cade in friendly defeat. Then the butler compiled, the slightest bow-curved smirk biding its time under his long nose. Anya kept her eyes on Cade, staring up into his pupils until her father was out of earshot. Then she stood and offered her arm. She knew from her studies that sometimes an asylum fancied a bloodline member, merely for appearance. So it would just be in appearance that she’d entertain him. Or so she hoped.

“Shall we seek a private corner to converse?” Anya smirked, fighting so very hard to quell her rapidly beating heart.

“You’ll hear no objects from me, Ma’am. Lead on.” Cade stated, holding out his arm for her take. When she gripped his offering, his other hand pressed lightly in politeness over hers as his steps fell into rhythm with her lead. His medical bag was tucked into the nook of his elbow to prevent any issues and not risk losing the contents, the side hitting him unpleasantly in the side. However, he ignored it in favor of the company he was allowed. He didn’t care if the others were briefly or outright gawking at them, his attention split between keeping upright, not tripping over her feet, and Anya for the time being. Not even Samad would be able to really ruin this moment.

Anya noted Cade’s behavior, finding it simply familiar to … well… her fiance. She glanced aside, biting her lip as uncomfortable weights anchored her body. ‘Max… where are you?’ she pondered, silently leading the slender asylum to a dark corner of the meeting room. She have had no contact with her Jewish fiance, Maxwell Krichilsky, in the past few weeks. Despite their busy, rigid schedules they had always made time for at least texts and emails. But nothing. Not a thing. Even when she had contacted the other members of the bloodline, they had only stonewalled her messages and ignored her phone calls. It was quite unlike them.

And now the Krichilsky family wasn’t even present at the Meeting of the Crests, save for a single pock-faced representative.

She shook her face, letting go of Cade’s arm and facing him rather casually, so as to comfort him. Like Maxwell, Cade seemed easily nervous and startled, reading into things. In her experience, trying to hard to comfort them would merely have the opposite effect. It would make them feel bad. So, she simply smiled up at him, choosing her next words carefully.

“You’ve… changed a lot, Cade,” she noted, “Perhaps the AMRO isn’t all… that bad?”

“I wish. They basically gave me a crash course and expected me to learn it or die trying. Actually surprised it didn’t kill me to be honest.” Cade admitted, not going into the details. He knew telling her the first thing they did to him would certainly frighten her and that was the last thing he wanted to do as a conversation starter.

“Hmm… so rather like the Roman Spartans then,” she chuckled, glancing away, “History repeats itself.”

She leaned against the wall, sinking behind Cade and appearing somewhat smaller, more fragile. Crossing her arms, she wondered how her big brother John, was doing… she hadn’t sensed his return yet from changing his spoilt attire. The young heir shook her head. It wouldn’t do to think of another man when the one before her should have her undivided attention. She glanced up at Cade.

“So… you’re partnered with a … an Arab?” she noted, spying Samad melting into the ship’s structure like a wall flower.

“I won’t call that to his face. He’s actually an Iranian, though he’s not really told me much about himself since we linked several months back. It’s not even been a year.” Cade said casually, his eyes followed her gaze toward where Samad was. As if on cue, the Iranian’s brown eyes perked up and looked into his direction, causing the younger Asylum to jerk his head away nervously.

The Persian’s voice, faint and soft, entered into his head causing Cade to frown. ‘Talking about me? You know it’s rude to talk about people behind their backs… you might as well introduce me at least. ‘

’Get out of my head.” Cade said, mentally, his lips pursed in irritation at the topic.

’Then stop it or I might just intro myself to your pretty little friend without your permission.’

That shut up Cade fairly quickly as he shook his head, the words echoed from within causing his stomach to twitch in anxiety. The last thing, through he couldn't rightly explain why, he wanted was for Anya and Samad to meet. Deep down, Cade suspected it was because he didn’t fully trust the man to behave himself around her. He continued on the topic. “He can be a bit of a rough diamond, I suppose is an accurate description of him.”

Anya mulled over Cade’s initial words, chiding herself gently over abusing cultural terms of the Middle East. But she was completely drawn in on what happened next: the facial expressions, the subtle cues in body language. All of which wasn’t even remotely directed at her. She snake-eyed Samad -- a skill her father had taught her, supplemented later by John and Mr. Knots; that is, the way one sees through the corner of one’s eyes without actually looking -- and figured that they were doing that ‘telepathy’ thing. She had heard of asylum links being capable of such a thing. It was possible with alchemy, but evidently it did not drain one’s sanity. She wasn’t 100% sure on the truth on that matter. But if it was, it was an astounding success on the AMRO’s part.

“Indeed… and you, Cade?” she smiled again, turning towards him, attempting to suck in his attention span.

“What kind of man are you, old friend?” she emphasized, with a cocked eyebrow.

Cade looked at her a moment, his thoughts idly trying to figure out how to explain what he had become. Things had been...interesting with AMRO, though very few were at all pleasant as he shifted his eyes to the more creative branch of thought. He knew details were best left unsaid. "Honestly, I don't know."

He took a sharp breath then continued. “It’s hard to tell anymore. I try to be good despite my partner’s jaded views of the world, but let’s say my views often cause more trouble and harm than good. I can only hope, in the end, it’s the thought that counts.”

At that point, at the corner of her eye, she noted Mr. Knots staring at her, his hands on her father’s wheelchair as the two of them made their rounds, visiting folks of other bloodlines and exchanging whatever salutations and small talk were possible. The butler then glanced over his shoulder, causing her to follow his knowing eyes. John had returned, decked in a new suit and tie. He seemed slightly dismayed that neither kith nor kin had remained at the table where they had previously sat. His eyes scanned the room, and Anya returned her gaze to the more interesting man in said room.

Noting Anya’s head move, her eyes shifted to the dark haired man he spotted depart earlier, Cade addressed his growing curiosity. “Friend of yours? I noted he was sitting beside you and Zidane earlier, but left for some reason. I didn’t think the Meeting of the Crests allowed outsiders, so I assumed he was connected to your bloodline somehow.”

She noted his sincerity, feeling closer to him for it. ‘At least he’s still honest,’ she sighed lightly with content. Listening to the rest of his words, though, concerned her… it felt as though Cade was lost in spite of himself, and the journey he was on was a path full of dark clouds and quagmires. If that was true, then the struggle was all too real for her-- for she knew that one often had to lose one’s self in order to find one’s self. And she had thought she’d find her own in Maxwell, but… she decided to address the subject later, after she have had time to digest it. At least, she didn’t feel that thoughts matter if there were no weights behind them.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, noting Cade’s awareness of her big brother in spite of her sudden discomfort. Emotions swarmed over her, leaving her body hot and cold, alone and crowded all at once. She gasped lightly, covering her bare shoulders with her hands. She knew not the source, for if she did, she would have probably fled from Cade.

Love, in all its sources, never needed alchemy.

She composed herself just in time. “Oh, … well, he’s my older brother, Cade,” she beamed about the fact.

Cade’s eyebrows scrunched down in surprise. His mind absorbing her words then again shifted to the man, taking in his appearance and noting he didn’t look dark skinned. In fact, he was paler than a ghost in his opinion. Immediately, the man felt guilt at his sudden judgement and the thoughts edging into his focus from them. There had to been another reason and explanation for as he turned to Anya for it.

She glanced up at him, her full lips forming a duckface for a brief moment. “Half brother,” she added, hoping Cade wouldn’t be close-minded when it came to skin color.

Of course, after being partnered with Samad, she hoped it would make sense. Then again, maybe not...

“I was going to say, the resemblance is hard to see. Though it’s likely the distance that isn’t helping much and result from the surprise of learning you had a step-sibling. How long ago? Did you find out, that is?” Cade asked, hiding his suspicious tone fairly well and casting away the actual thoughts penetrating unwillingly into his head. Part of him was worried the man was scheming the family but he didn’t think Zidane was a fool enough to take some stranger’s word on it, the man wasn’t the type last he knew.

Anya tilted her head, squinting slightly at Cade’s diction. ‘Step-sibling?’ she thought.

Waiting just as he finished, Anya smirked coyly. “Not step-sibling… half-brother,” she corrected gently, leaning her right shoulder into his side.

“John is fully related to my father by blood…” she explained, glancing at the man, “and yes, many people simply will not believe it. But the truth, Cade, is that we are all different shades of the same color brown.”

Cade grew quiet, regretting his carelessness with his wording. He bit his lower lip in the rightful chewing out, through mild, he deserved as he waited out the lecture.

She sighed lightly, then said, “Sorry… didn’t mean to get so preachy… but um, to answer your question, we’ve known each other for… oh, little over 2 years…”

Looking down, her voice lowered. “John is an intense, but… remarkable man, really. I trust him with my life.”

“Of course, he is his father’s son. A real chip off the old block, if you don’t mind the cliche,” she joked, winking up at Cade as her gaze then remained on his eyes.

He smiled when she winked, showing no reaction beyond slight discomfort that gradually faded when she turned her tone into a more playful manner. “I understand that. My father often stated I was like my mother in my personality. From her gentle heart to her compassion for others, he could’ve sworn we were one and the same.”

Having mentioning his father, he was reminded of why he approached Anya in the first place and then added. “Speaking of them, I originally came over to ask about them. How are they doing?”

Anya beamed again, at how Cade explained his personality in regards to his mother. A few choice memories slipped into her mind then, but after a moment, she felt her mouth falling agap; That simple question, ‘How’ … it caused her to inhale sharply as she adverted her gaze for a moment, then look back up at him. Her eyes slightly misted, a welling of tears not yet evident but surely building up.

She looked to the right, then to the left, then back up at Cade, before simply mumbling, “Um… they, I mean, your mother and father… they are uh…”

Something was off, Cade could feel it when Anya seemed to stall on her answer. His hazel eyes narrowed in confusion as he studied her, unsure about the source. “Anya, they are what? What’s the matter?”

She cleared her throat and held her elbows with opposite hands. “They have passed away,” she finally said, sweat dripping down her brow.

Ice cold dread seeped into his core, his heart weighed by lead and sat there like a beast clawing away at his insides. His hand flickered out on impulse, dropping his medical bag with a loud thump, and braced himself against the nearest wall, his knees felt suddenly unable to hold him upright. A sourness crept into his throat back, signs of wanting to get sick abruptly, while he forced it down and made his throat burn. His skin had gone very white in color. His eyes no longer seeing Anya there, his mind was trying to understand her last words echoing in his head. They’re dead...dead, but...how? Why?

Samad felt it, Cade knew that much, but the man did nothing. His figure merely paused then settled back into his chair to continue his task with little compassion to his partner.

Anya stooped down to pick up Cade’s medical bag, sliding the loop over her arm. At that moment, the Undertaker had slipped out of the blackness of the corner, his suit matching it almost perfectly. His red tie contrasted well against his fine threads. Standing at Anya’s side, John noted her perplexion, and Cade’s. His eyebrows rose up, considering the cause, but then immediately pinpointing it. He nodded slightly, his hands rested on his cane before him.

He tilted his head. “I see that you’ve informed Mr. Markell, Anya?” John asked her, to which she merely nodded.

Though he could sense the man there, the Asylum barely noticed John edge into the scene. Like a wraith from the shadows, he had positioned himself across from the fairer haired man and made Cade’s skin tingle from being sized up. For the moment, as rudely as it was, Cade didn’t give a damn. It seemed he was stuck in his own living nightmare, one with no end or way to wake up. Even worse, Anya could witness his emotional breakdown in public.

With that thought being singled out, he tried to compartmentalize his emotions. It was going to take some effort and time, his reaction slower since he wasn’t fully expecting his worst fear to become a reality.

John turned to Cade, as Anya stepped away from the asylum so that she was an equal distance between both men. Her hand then, without warning, reached out and held Cade’s, and she squeezed it gently, like she used to do when they were younger, and had nothing but the stars and clouds to gaze at.

Impulsively, Cade’s hand tightened in response. His lungs seemed to fail him but he managed to keep a steady pace in his breathing, a feat he wasn’t really sure how he had managed to accomplish really. John’s words caused his eyes to raise up and meet Anya’s half-brother. There was a subtle, budding redness threatening to mist over his usually clear eyes as he jerked away, facing the wall for the second. He realized his emotions were trying to surface and he made to collect himself again.

“You have my condolences, Mr. Markell,” John stated, his tone carefully tempered with stoicism and compassion, “Your parents were, as I recall, brilliant and brave to the last. Especially your father, he coped with his illness better than anyone could ever expect.”

“That’s right,” Anya added, squeezing Cade’s hand harder.

“I know. I just… I wanted them never to know they lost a son and now…” His words cut off and it felt like Anya’s grip was the only thing keeping him anchored to the present. Preventing him from retreating into some dark, self hating corner of his mind. How the fuck can be alright? I’ll never see them. They died thinking I had abandoned them… how can anything ever be alright?

Anya bit her lip, trying not to cry. “You can honor their memory, Cade,” she said softly.

John piped in, not losing a step. “Indeed. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I’m sure they knew you were doing your absolute best.”

He nodded, continuing, “In fact, despite the financial troubles they had endured, the Markells still took great care of their regular patients, turning none away. Just like you…”

John paused, observing how Cade was taking all this. Anya did the same.

Cade was quiet. Hearing and accepting it were two different things, the last much harder than he cared to admit. “How...how did it....?” He struggled with the words, partly scared to say them as it made this more and more real.

“How did they die?” Anya offered, glancing at John.

“As I recall,” John nodded, closing his eyes briefly, “Your mother passed in childbirth shortly after you were… taken in at the AMRO. Then a few months later, your father’s illness flared up again. It caused a car crash, too, but he saved the other driver and her family; however, in that last bout of strength, nobody was there to treat his symptoms. Frankly, the EMTs didn’t know what was wrong with him.”

Anya’s heart swelled up, and a single tear finally escaped, rolling down her cheek. Even in her slightly blearly vision, she actually caught Mr. Knots staring at her from a distance, as though studying that tear. Gritting her teeth, she blinked and looked away, burying her gaze into Cade’s comforting chest.

Cade nodded, understanding, through he felt guilt seep into his heart over it. If he could rip it out, he might’ve considered and done it just to spare himself the misery it was bring it.

“Ah, well,” John replied, looking aside to catch his memories before continuing, “Anya thought it would be quite nice if I bought their facility and spruced it up. Dedicate it to their memory, in other words. The Markell Memorial. I assure you it is continuing onwards, honoring their name and what they stood for.”

Anya found herself staring at John as he spoke, his words mesmerizing her. John then withdrew something from his pocket-- a card. It emblazoned his name and contact details on it. He took a step forward, looking down at Cade’s chest as he held it out.

“Should you ever need me for anything--anything at all,” John explained, his eyes then slithering up to meet Cade’s gaze.

“Even if it’s only for the hefty loyalties from the memorial,” he added, causing Anya to look at Cade, too.

“I don’t care if we’re worlds apart, Cade, it’s not a reason that we can’t be there for one another,” Anya stated, still holding Cade’s hand, but then offering him the medical bag he had dropped.

John cocked an eyebrow at Anya. “Be careful what you wish for, dear sister,” he cautioned, his eyes finally looking down at the enjoined hands that he had noted when they had first reunited.

Cade took the card and then his bag. He thought for a moment he was going to drop it but managed to get a firm grip, his tone struggling to remain utterly calm. His words were short and difficult yet simple enough to express his gratitude toward them both. “Thank you.”

John nodded curtly at Cade, and then offered his arm to his sister. As she took it, Anya held her other hand up to Cade’s face, cupping his cheek briefly and letting the warm of her hand ignite his heart, if it would. The Legende duo then turned away, taking a meandering path back towards their table. With Anya’s face glued to the floor as John eyed Mr. Knots and Zidane heading toward the Kians, one would have to wonder what had just transpired between them and an asylum.

Mass Effect: Borealis

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

@Rtron

Nothing, I just like your reaction.

Mass Effect: Borealis

Hopefully!

@Rtron

GET YOUR ASS INTO SKYPE...

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

Do you know when the new season will be starting because it may take me some time to make a thorough character :P

@Aura

You have plenty of time so I wouldn't worry about. You can get your PC approved right now for the next season and either hop in or wait, as others are doing.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Hey all
I used to write superhero rpgs on this forum years ago and I'm back and would like to join if possible :)

@Aura

*jumps startled by sudden hello, then turns and smiles* Hello, thanks for giving my heart a jump start! And yes, we're always open for new applicants which at some point we're starting a New Season but don't let that stop you. People have currently entered this rp's end running are using it to get familiar with their PCs, have some minor fun and establish fun connections and stuff for S2. So, whip up a PC and join into the fun!