Lugubrious

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

I didn't expect to be so interesting that I'd have posted five times by now. Really don't want to be hogging the spotlight here.

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

To a natural, the usage of Farore's Wind might have seemed as simple as closing one's eyes and opening them to find oneself elsewhere. To Frore, however, the experience was jarring and disorienting, far more than simply being surrounded by noise, emotion, and action. However, it was Cain that was affected the most. This experience was entirely different from his own method of teleportation, Dark Travel, in which the user lost consciousness as he or she dissolved into black particles that then traveled to the destination. Dark Travel was the familiar, soothing feeling of momentarily sinking into nothingness; this was hectic and nauseating, not dissimilar from being thrown about by a whirlwind of the hermit who frequented Castle Town had any clue. Lacking a corporeal form, Cain was simply a shred of magic along for the ride, and badly wanted to vomit upon arriving in the graveyard.

Mercifully, he recovered quickly. His analytical eye swept over his new surroundings. During the night this place might have seemed eerie, even haunted -to a Hylian at least- but to tread here in day was to see its mystique dispelled. The morning sun shone over the headstones, washing away any trace of the ominous and laying their secrets bare. This was somewhat disappointing, as Cain loved secrets and mystery (particularly the part where he found them out) but the cemetery was hardly the most interesting thing here. He cast a glance at the young couple high-tailing it out of there, and then fixated himself upon the being that brought him here.

It seemed that the fairy had missed him after all. She addressed Frore again, calling him the Cold One, quite fittingly. The Chilfos barely moved, an ice sculpture among the graves, clearly trying to employ his inferior mind to make sense of his situation. If anyone was going to make this encounter interesting, it would have to be Cain. His sense for the dramatic was tingling. Since the fairy remained unaware of his presence, a proper entrance could be made.

As Lethe observed Frore, tilt-headed and awaiting a reply, the shadow beneath the Chilfos began to move on its own. As it twisted to face her, stretching toward her from Frore's position and thus upside-down in her perspective, two yellow eyes with pupil-devoid irises the color of the setting sun. From the shade reverberated a voice, clear and understandable despite its lilting, undulating pitch. “Then I bet you weren't expecting me.” Cain arose from the shaded ground into what he called his half-bodied form, three-dimensional and true to scale but totally composed of transparent darkness. He floated a half foot above the ground, still technically non-corporeal but intimidating nonetheless. “Why did you help us?”

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

Voices. Angry, shouting. Some coming at the same time, confusing and frightening even to someone with perfect grasp of the language, which Frore did not. In response to the demands of the woman he could only make rough, deep noises, the intense cracking of lake ice. A series of event followed quickly, falling upon him like rain, and he couldn't respond to any of them.

First a man approached the infuriated mother. Though his words were too low and intermingled with the hubbub of the crowd for Frore to clearly identify, his tone was of concern. He was serene and thoughtful, even in the face of a monster such as him. If anyone could understand that the Chilfos meant the child no harm, this was he. Naturally, though, Frore was totally unable to communicate this idea, and stood helpless as he and the ranger were approached by a large man in glorious golden plate. All of his life Chilfos had endeavored to avoid men like Sir Orca Halbert, men whose duty and destiny were to fight and destroy evil, and the sight of the knight was inspire both fear and hostility within him. More alarming were the spearmen, who circled around his icy, unmoving body until they and the knight formed the points of a triangle edging him in. After dismissing the potentially helpful ranger, the golden knight turned to Frore, joining in the rising chorus of emboldened voices demanding explanation from him. In response, Frore crackled again, but this time even his meaningless vocalization was lost in the tumult. Anger began to boil within him; why couldn't these foolish people understand?

Cain's attention was drawn from the repentant masked man (now courting the red-haired fisherwoman and pleasing the crowds with odd toys) when he became aware of rising voices a few streets over. After pausing for a moment in wonderment, he groaned as he guessed what might be the source of the commotion. Flitting from shadow to shadow, he arrived at the scene in seconds. What he saw both aggravated and worried him: his partner enclosed by an ever-expanding circle of bellicose villagers and festival-goers, even a few Gorons. What most perturbed him, however, were the spearmen and the knight that had Frore totally penned in. “Stay here, I said,” he grumbled from the shadow of a women clothed in green and decked out in an emerald-embossed silver tiara. “Is that so hard? Moronic icicle.” Only one potential problem separated him from returning to Frore's shadow to whisper him advice, which was that the shadows of the spearmen and Sir Halbert were disconnected from any others. To make the jump between them, he would have to become a new shadow for a split second, one that could very easily be noticed by anyone looking at the ground. With a dangerous icy creature looming seven feet above the dirt, however, who would be looking at the ground?

As Cain briefly pondered this problem, he became aware of a small orb of light dodging amongst the feet of the assembled people. Distracted momentarily by the oddity, he squinted so as to better make out what it was. He managed to make out the vague shape of a woman within the indigo radiance. As he watched, the being did exactly as he had been planning to do and floated out over the ground in plain sight to dart beneath Frore's cloak. After a moment, the purple-blue glow reappeared in his hood. He identified the minuscule, luminescent woman as a fairy, and vaguely remembered from some conversation long ago that they provided guidance. “That's my job.” Following the path Lethe had taken, Cain quickly slid across the ground as an independent shadow, occupied that of a spearman's, followed that cast by his extended spear, and rejoined Frore at last.

“Hey Cold One… Gee, you sure shook things up around here, didn’t you? Hold still. Don’t move. I’m going to get you out of here, but you have to do as I say, got it?"

Having navigated to the shadows within Frore's hood, Cain heard the fairy's whisper loud and clear. He was prepared to respond with hostility, but decided just before speaking that if this fairy really had the power to remove them from this sticky situation, they might as well take the chance. Surliness could wait until later—of course, later, they'd owe this little pixie for 'saving them'. A dozen thoughts flashed through the Twili's mind, from insults to predictions to observations to alternative plans, but only one word passed his lips.

“Understood.”

Pokemon: The Spectre Conspiracy

Too hyped about her journey's beginning to stand still, Jess turned and ran in the direction Miu had gone, shouting "Thanks, Professor! See you later!" over her shoulder. Her running shoes thundered across the wooden bridge, drawing the attention of a few fish Pokemon lazing about in the sparkling waters below. Belial raced to catch up, flapping his thin, veiny blue wings furiously. Jess saw none of that; she only had Santalune Forest in mind. Not encountering any grouchy wild Pokemon on the trip here had been a blessing, but now, with a partner of her own, she felt invincible. "Time for our first real battle, yeah!" She crossed the threshold of the forest and vanished beneath the shade of the trees.

Without a moment's hesitation, the forest Pokemon obliged. Barely had she taken a step through the thick, tall grass than her foot impacted something thick and warm. An electric jolt resounded through her body, causing a brief spasm. "Gagh!" As she recovered from the shock, a yellow head poked from the foliage, contorted with anger. "Pika, pikachu!" It spat, and raised its lightening-bolt-shaped tail, evidently preparing to zap her again. "Belial," Jess shouted, suddenly painfully aware of leaving him behind, "Engage!"

Just in the nick of time, the Zubat appeared, darting down from between the branches to hover in front of his trainer, shielding her from the wild Pokemon. The Pikachu seeming acknowledged the battle and jumped backward to put some distance between itself and its challenger. Before Jess could issue a command, the Mouse Pokemon made its move. It growled at Belial, and he seemed vaguely upset by it. "What...?" Jess yanked her new Pokedex from the satchel given to her by the Professor and clicked it on. "Pikachu, the Mouse Pokemon," it spoke in an electronic monotone. "It has small electric sacs on both its cheeks. If threatened, it looses electric charges from the sacs. This one knows Tail Whip, Thunder Shock, and Growl." The girl narrowed her eyes. "Alright then. Leech Life, go!"

Eager to prove himself to his trainer once again, Belial charged forward and sank his teeth into the Pikachu's yellow fur. It squealed in protest but was unable to stop the Zubat draining away a portion of its health. When Belial returned to his position, however, he seemed affected as well somehow. Bolts of yellow static arced across his tiny, furry frame, and he seemed to be having a hard time staying airborne. "What's up with you?" The Pikachu took its turn, waggling its tail. This endearing act made it seem far less tough than it first appeared, and Belial partially let down his guard. When he tried to perform Supersonic, however, he found himself unable. More yellow electricity wreathed his body, preventing him from moving. "You've got to be kidding me. Remember what I just said about adversity? Power through whatever's keeping you from attacking, come on!" No sooner were the words out of her mouth, however, than the Pikachu had released a powerful thundershock that sent Belial spiraling down to the forest floor, unconscious. "[i]WHAT!?[i] We lost!?" Jess stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. It didn't take long for her to start rationalizing it. "Whatever. Must have been one of those critical hits Dad was talking about the other day. Win some, lose some." As the Pikachu fled, she knelt down with a Revive crystal and began prodding Belial with it. "Wake up, bud."

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

I get the feeling that 'the lost one' would suit Cain more than darkness, as it defines him and his situation more thoroughly than just appearances. So 'dark one' is up for you, ops.

Pokemon: The Spectre Conspiracy

Action going? Alright, I will start Jess off on her way through Santalune. Gung-ho and confident as she is, she'll get into a battle with a wild Pokemon straightaway, Belial will lose, character will be constructed. I will accomplish this by tomorrow morning.

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

Confusing is fun. Makes for lots of writing material.

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

Relief washed over Cain as Felicia, after initially recoiling at the bodiless voice, dismissed the brief ordeal as nothing more than a fright by some sort of insect. At least, that was what she told her dull-eyed assistant. Perhaps she had unusual problems of her own, to dismiss so quickly an event that most people would panic and make a fuss about, at least if Cain's understanding of how people acted was anything to go on.

Barely had one commotion passed, however, than was the poor woman beset by another—and one far more physical. From the Hylian's shadow Cain got a first-hand account of the whole thing. He briefly considered intervening against his better judgment, as he would have to briefly assume full-bodied form to do so and risk the lovely morning sunlight mercilessly bleaching the very life out of him, but the whole thing became moot when Felicia dealt a hefty smack to the offending man with a convenient fish. Clearly she was able to take care of herself. However, even a sound walloping with a Reekfish didn't seem to be enough to persuade the lovestruck idiot to drop her at once.

Cain couldn't help but wonder if this masked man had some sort of malicious intent. Why else would someone to barge into such a cheerful, harmless place clothed in cloak, hat, and mask and seize a young woman in his arms? Yet, the sheer goofiness and impulsiveness of the act made Cain suspect that his actions weren't criminal, merely impulsive, improper, and incredibly stupid. Not everyone who appeared evil lived up to appearances; Cain and Frore were living proof. Still, he decided he had better remain here in case the man attempt something more dire. A crowd had formed, both out of concern and interest, but none of them seemed like the type to be a hero. Of course, neither did Cain, but sometimes someone had to.

-=-=-

Pushing himself from the side of the cliff, Frore landed on the hard-packed village earth with a muffled [i]thurk[i]. His spear remained where he had been sitting, destined to melt now that it was deprived of its wielder's cold aura. Though he knew that he was disobeying Cain's wishes and was somewhat bothered by this knowledge, Cain dimly thought that there was no harm in looking around. Walking slowly and steadily, expelling a cloud of white mist every few moments, he made his way into the village proper. He heard hearty singing in the distance, so he went in that direction.

From the very first moment it was obvious that he made people uneasy. Without the stealth abilities of his partner or a natural talent for concealment like the Garo his partner had briefly met, Frore stuck out like a sore thumb. He towered above any of the townspeople, who shied away as they met the chill emanating from him, even through the mud-colored, Nayru-emblazoned cloak. People stared as he lumbered past, some fascinated, some worried. He wondered why. One little girl, whose mother was distracted by an intimate conversation with a friend, giggled when she saw the huge, slender Chilfos and ran up to greet him. Frore froze when the Hylian girl approached, unsure of what to do. Slowly and very methodically, he knelt down and extended a bony hand to her. Frore was dimly aware of a few other villagers watching, and, unbeknownst to him, prepared to judge him from the outcome of this encounter. Seeing his bright, glistening, icy skin, he grabbed two of his four fingers with her hands. After a moment, the Hylian's face changed from joy to pain, and both child and Chilfos suddenly recoiled. The girl, with bare fingers throbbing from sudden exposure to his extreme cold, began to cry. Frore brushed droplets of water from his slightly steaming hand where her body heat had made contact.

A second later the girl was swept up into her mother's arms, who, after being stirred from her gossiping, rushed forward in a panic. Cradling her head, the villager shouted up at the Chilfos, “You hurt my Ava! What have you got to say for yourself?” Frore took a step back, totally baffled and slightly annoyed.

Living Reflection: A Psychological Alter Egos RP

“Thanks, guys.” Greg smiled broadly as he methodically seated himself near -but not too near- Kenji on a playground toy. He rested the takeout bag on the ground, waited a moment to see if anything tipped over, and then partially reclined himself. With his hands behind his sandy blonde head, he looked into Aiko's eyes. “Surely only a marvelous singer would deign to perform a personal concert in such a mundane venue,” he said, putting his expansive vocabulary to use. “I am honored that you'd allow me to be here.” After Kenji spoke again, he gave a theatrical bow, inclining his head and placing a hand over his chest. His face was the very picture of sincerity, almost comically so. “Yes! Pray begin.”

-=-=-

The molten eyes of Ironclad flared up, indicating he was about to reply with a no doubt scathing retort. Before a word passed his lips, however, he tilted his head to Seraph on his left, whose face was marked by an admonishing frown. Faced with such an expression, Ironclad seemed unable to speak—it was obvious that Seraph held some sort of power over him. A keen observer might even guess (correctly) that he, the cold, malicious metal warrior, had feelings for her. How uncanny!

Quicksilver Seraph, meanwhile, was observing that Breaker seemed on edge and and Sonata appeared mocking. It was clear to her that both were expecting some sort of conflict. She couldn't blame them; the azure magical force that had blown a hole in the negative and allowed Crisis Sonata to end its miserable existence would be enough to intimidate anyone. Turning away slightly and staring into the neutral ground, she responded, “We all must perform acts we would otherwise avoid to survive. Midwinter's Envoy has cruel luck when it comes to negatives; he journeys far and wide, ever at work, and always seems to draw them near. I cannot thank you two enough for helping to rid us of this one.” The room was illuminated, both literally and metaphorically, by her beaming, grateful smile. “Northeast lies to your left as you walk out of our doors, but we would be poor hosts indeed if we let you do that without proper acknowledgment of what you've done.”

At this, Ironclad gestured with his head for he and Seraph to speak alone. Simultaneously dreading what he was going to say and wondering if he might have a rare helpful insight, she turned her back to the other alter egos and leaned in close to hear him. “I admit these two may be capable warriors,” he conceded in a whisper like the drawing of a blade from its scabbard, “but are we sure we want to furnish them your hospitality?” His usage of 'your' was particularly prominent, but Sera was glad he was at least being honest. “We could have slain the monster on our own. Egos kill things like that and worse on a daily basis. They don't need incentive to be here; they need directions away." Seraph considered his words, a sort of blend of her expectations, callous and thoughtful both. “I'll think about it.”

She didn't think long, for as she turned back to face the egos, she was talking already. “We won't try and keep you from your journey, but if there's anything you might need before you depart, do not hesitate to ask.”

In the background, Midwinter's Envoy pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning on and walked farther away, clearly disinterested with the newcomers.

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

Seems like Felicia's getting a lot of action. A shadowy creep, a rapping creep...what's next?