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PrinceAlexusCollaboration Post between Letter Bee and Haha
City Hall, New Amakusa City
Irene Amakusa was the second female mayor in New Amakusa City's history. This job had prematurely wrinkled her face, behind the short, golden-rimmed bifocals she wore as both reading and regular glasses. Rigid in posture and body language to the detriment of her public image, she nevertheless continued to sit behind her desk, going through reports from a living, breathing mass of Humanity and looking over paperwork that reflected the labyrinthine nature of bureaucracy and law with its endlessly confusing terms and twists of phrasing meant to confuse and mislead.
To be taken in was to give ammunition to her political opponents; more to the point, she'd fail her people, and as a descendant of Shiro Amakusa -
She who should not be. From a world that should go back to the Sea of Dreams, and from the Sea, to Nothing.
Voices that denied who she was. Voices that denied her world's right to exist. Voices that denied God and Man.
"I spit at your inevitability," she whispered to herself, before pressing a button. Within minutes entered a young man, barely eighteen, yet carrying the worries of an older age in his eyes. The youth put aside his gun, a gun with no ammunition anyway, and asked her a question whose anxious tone sounded like his true age.
"Mom, are you okay?" Samuru Amakusa, her son, forgot the niceties and etiquette of a mayor's son and a Hunter of Rogue Dreamers in his haste to aid her. She couldn't begrudge him that; they were family.
His only family, considering how his father had been killed while investigating the murder of the kendo champion who had been the pride and joy of New Amakusa City. Though a member of the Haru Family, whose participation in whaling was destructive to the environment, she liked individual members of the Family, and admired how The Champion was just that good at what she did.
And as Mayor, she was obliged to put a stop to the ones who preyed on her citizens... even if whalers. But enough tangents; she had to answer her son.
"For now," her reply was strained, but the strain was due to exhaustion. "What we know as 'Reality' thins; if we don't get a new generation of Dreamers soon, we will be facing the End Times. Have you compiled a list of potential candidates?"
Samuru nodded and brought out, from his jacket pocket, a USB containing data on Masuda High School. His next words were, "We have a mix of potential Arts-users, including a cosplay enthusiast. Good, the more people we have creating magic items, the more we Hunters we can arm and the less chance we have of leaving saving the world to... younger kids."
They were both tired of the constant attrition, how their older, more veteran members were falling, maybe even being directly targeted. And of course, the Dreamers' Organization was facing worldwide issues at the same time reinforcements were... The conclusions were obvious.
"Watch over them, Samuru," she gave her final order. "Do not let them die, but don't die either. Make that your second Vow once you drag a third Icon from the Sea..."
Masuda High School
You would think that waking up for school might’ve been a grueling experience. For some it might’ve been, some students aren’t necessarily morning people, but Masuda High did well enough with their student facing communication and social PR to garner a favorable outlook by most. Most mornings began with painstaking rituals; getting dressed, packing your bags with supplies for the day, and making your way out the door.
The entrance was typically packed with fellow students mingling, boys shooting their shot at girls before the first bell rang, friends bantering about what they’d do after school. Of course some would shy away from the social gatherings and make their way immediately to their first class to sit and rest their head before their teacher arrived. Mr. Hagino, one of the school’s prolific but relatively laid back teachers was an oddity that he would often sleep on school grounds— usually in the teacher’s lounge before making his way to the classroom much earlier than his students.
Mr. Hagino however, was also not a morning person and even with a cup full of espresso in the morning wouldn’t be fully awake until ten minutes after his class actually started. The shaggy black haired Japanese man looked perpetually sleep deprived, and no amount of sedatives or caffeine really aided in escaping that eternal torment in which he lived within. The first few students that would arrive to his classroom would often find him hunched over with his head under a red and black blanket hiding from the morning sun— snoring sometimes but even if he wasn’t, the odds of him being conscious before class started was leaning towards unlikely.
Ding
Ding
Ding
Ding!
The final bell for students to get to their classes chimed out from speakers and megaphones placed along the lampposts outside the school. To Mr. Hagino, it was the unceremonious alarm bell that burned on his ears like the heat of the sun. Out from the blanket his mother weaved for him he would crawl out, slithered out really, before making his way to the front of the class. He wore a normal dress code like most teachers did, with the exception of it being very-very wrinkled and the black areas of his suit had accumulated layers of… was that cat fur?
”Alright.. another day in paradise ‘eh everyone? We’ll be turning to chapter twenty six in our books today to learn about the peasants who raised their blades against their leadership, led by a sixteen year old. The Shimabara Rebellion— but before that, let’s get things started with our morning role call. When I say your name, just raise your hand or say [here].”
The teacher would then begin calling out each student’s name in alphabetical order. He plucked the metallic pen from the corner of his suit and unfolded a piece of paper out from his pocket, scratching down who was absent or sick, whilst simultaneously checking and marking a box beside the names of everyone who made it to class on time. In truth, even the late students would be marked that they made it on time, Mr. Hagino hated doing extra paperwork.
@Redking0380@Rune_Alchemist@Haha@Auragreedia@TruthHurts@Courtaud@SilverPaw
City Hall, New Amakusa City
Irene Amakusa was the second female mayor in New Amakusa City's history. This job had prematurely wrinkled her face, behind the short, golden-rimmed bifocals she wore as both reading and regular glasses. Rigid in posture and body language to the detriment of her public image, she nevertheless continued to sit behind her desk, going through reports from a living, breathing mass of Humanity and looking over paperwork that reflected the labyrinthine nature of bureaucracy and law with its endlessly confusing terms and twists of phrasing meant to confuse and mislead.
To be taken in was to give ammunition to her political opponents; more to the point, she'd fail her people, and as a descendant of Shiro Amakusa -
She who should not be. From a world that should go back to the Sea of Dreams, and from the Sea, to Nothing.
Voices that denied who she was. Voices that denied her world's right to exist. Voices that denied God and Man.
"I spit at your inevitability," she whispered to herself, before pressing a button. Within minutes entered a young man, barely eighteen, yet carrying the worries of an older age in his eyes. The youth put aside his gun, a gun with no ammunition anyway, and asked her a question whose anxious tone sounded like his true age.
"Mom, are you okay?" Samuru Amakusa, her son, forgot the niceties and etiquette of a mayor's son and a Hunter of Rogue Dreamers in his haste to aid her. She couldn't begrudge him that; they were family.
His only family, considering how his father had been killed while investigating the murder of the kendo champion who had been the pride and joy of New Amakusa City. Though a member of the Haru Family, whose participation in whaling was destructive to the environment, she liked individual members of the Family, and admired how The Champion was just that good at what she did.
And as Mayor, she was obliged to put a stop to the ones who preyed on her citizens... even if whalers. But enough tangents; she had to answer her son.
"For now," her reply was strained, but the strain was due to exhaustion. "What we know as 'Reality' thins; if we don't get a new generation of Dreamers soon, we will be facing the End Times. Have you compiled a list of potential candidates?"
Samuru nodded and brought out, from his jacket pocket, a USB containing data on Masuda High School. His next words were, "We have a mix of potential Arts-users, including a cosplay enthusiast. Good, the more people we have creating magic items, the more we Hunters we can arm and the less chance we have of leaving saving the world to... younger kids."
They were both tired of the constant attrition, how their older, more veteran members were falling, maybe even being directly targeted. And of course, the Dreamers' Organization was facing worldwide issues at the same time reinforcements were... The conclusions were obvious.
"Watch over them, Samuru," she gave her final order. "Do not let them die, but don't die either. Make that your second Vow once you drag a third Icon from the Sea..."
Masuda High School
You would think that waking up for school might’ve been a grueling experience. For some it might’ve been, some students aren’t necessarily morning people, but Masuda High did well enough with their student facing communication and social PR to garner a favorable outlook by most. Most mornings began with painstaking rituals; getting dressed, packing your bags with supplies for the day, and making your way out the door.
The entrance was typically packed with fellow students mingling, boys shooting their shot at girls before the first bell rang, friends bantering about what they’d do after school. Of course some would shy away from the social gatherings and make their way immediately to their first class to sit and rest their head before their teacher arrived. Mr. Hagino, one of the school’s prolific but relatively laid back teachers was an oddity that he would often sleep on school grounds— usually in the teacher’s lounge before making his way to the classroom much earlier than his students.
Mr. Hagino however, was also not a morning person and even with a cup full of espresso in the morning wouldn’t be fully awake until ten minutes after his class actually started. The shaggy black haired Japanese man looked perpetually sleep deprived, and no amount of sedatives or caffeine really aided in escaping that eternal torment in which he lived within. The first few students that would arrive to his classroom would often find him hunched over with his head under a red and black blanket hiding from the morning sun— snoring sometimes but even if he wasn’t, the odds of him being conscious before class started was leaning towards unlikely.
Ding
Ding
Ding
Ding!
The final bell for students to get to their classes chimed out from speakers and megaphones placed along the lampposts outside the school. To Mr. Hagino, it was the unceremonious alarm bell that burned on his ears like the heat of the sun. Out from the blanket his mother weaved for him he would crawl out, slithered out really, before making his way to the front of the class. He wore a normal dress code like most teachers did, with the exception of it being very-very wrinkled and the black areas of his suit had accumulated layers of… was that cat fur?
”Alright.. another day in paradise ‘eh everyone? We’ll be turning to chapter twenty six in our books today to learn about the peasants who raised their blades against their leadership, led by a sixteen year old. The Shimabara Rebellion— but before that, let’s get things started with our morning role call. When I say your name, just raise your hand or say [here].”
The teacher would then begin calling out each student’s name in alphabetical order. He plucked the metallic pen from the corner of his suit and unfolded a piece of paper out from his pocket, scratching down who was absent or sick, whilst simultaneously checking and marking a box beside the names of everyone who made it to class on time. In truth, even the late students would be marked that they made it on time, Mr. Hagino hated doing extra paperwork.
@Redking0380@Rune_Alchemist@Haha@Auragreedia@TruthHurts@Courtaud@SilverPaw
