Tyler

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

In answer to the question no one has asked:

Yes, I am aware my participation in excessively long collaborative posts is out-of-control.
But y'know what?

I'M THE GM AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Mason Crawford & Abbey Chessar

---

Mason was enjoying the relative peace of the outdoors, and as he drew from his cigarette he gradually felt his heartbeat and breathing return to a normal pace. The incident in the canteen had shaken him considerably, but if there was one thing Mason was good at, it was hiding his feelings. It wasn't so much about deception as it was about maintaining a sense of security. Exposing himself made him feel vulnerable, and through his years of rejection he had learned that the closest he could come to not letting things hurt him, was to simply pretend they didn't and convince others it was true.

As he surveyed the grounds, he was reminded of the elaborate country homes he had visited back home. Places like the grand halls of Hardwick and Woolaton, or the fine palaces of ancient nobility. He loved the heritage his homelands had, and the gardens here were designed in a similar style. He looked out to the woodlands... They were just perfect for exploring. He was sure if he brought his camera along with him, he would get some excellent shots.

His thoughts were interrupted by a brief attempt at an introduction, though unfortunately for the person approaching him, Mason had just let out a long breath of smoke directly into the boy's face, causing him to cough and splutter violently.

"Shit, sorry," Mason said with an air of sincerity, before realising that it was the snobbish guy from the bus stop. Mason smirked ever-so-slightly to himself and felt slightly less guilty about the situation. "It's Abbey, right?" he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing.

This was not at all how Chess had planned it. It took a good handful of seconds before he had finished coughing up his lungs, and even then he could taste the tar on the back of his throat. For a brief moment he wondered if this had been a good idea at all, and if the company of the artsy boy was worth the second-hand-turbo-death he would surely contract from just being around him.

He turned his head away, gesturing for a pause with his hand before taking a deep, clean breath. Don't be silly, Chess, you've endured worse for less. When he turned back, he wiped his eyes of the moisture that had begun to collect there and gave Mason a nod. No, wait, no that wasn't correct, he'd said Abbey. Had he listened earlier, back at the bus stop? If he'd heard "Abbey" surely he'd heard "Chess for preference".

"Erh...no. I mean, yes, and good for remembering, but it's Chess if you don't mind," he said, giving his throat one more round of clearing coughs. "Apologies, I hadn't anticipated such a...welcoming."

One hand extended out to Mason, he once again donned a grin, and his eyes once more took on their devious gleam. "You're Mason, right? The smoker without a lighter?"

Mason smiled as he shook the boy's hand, a glint of mischief in his eye. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "And yeah, that's me. Though, I'm more than just a smoker, I promise!" he laughed, realising the impression that Chess must have had of him. Thus far, their two interactions had been based upon Mason needing a light and Chess being gassed by Mason's fumes. Abbey must have thought he was an addict or something, which Mason would deny profusely... However true it may have been.

In fact, Mason specifically remembered some kind of comment being made back at the bus-stop. That kid Greg had pointed it out. Mason thought it best to address it; he was the type of person who recognised that problems were easily solved through discussion.

"Hey, Ab--" he said, before correcting himself. "Chess. I, uh, hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot back at the bus stop." he said, trying to keep his tone as far away from one of conflict as he could. "If I annoyed you, then I apologise." In truth, Mason wasn't really sorry; he'd only wanted a lighter, after all. But he figured it was better to make friends than enemies.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when Mason brought up the little bus stop fiasco. Dammit, Greg. Even far away from each other on campus and that power of his was getting him in trouble.

"Oh that? Don't think anything of it, that was just...that's Greg. He's my roommate you see, real joker, that one. Telepath or something, you know how they are," Chess said, wanting to quickly dismiss the topic. "And I'm sure you're more than a smoker, just looking at you I can tell you've got an eye for the creative. What do you do? I mean, besides attending a mutant school, and saving odd-looking folks from bullies. And smoke, of course." Dumb tone, damn, he'd meant to make that sound more jokey.

Mason smiled as Abbey seemed to squirm in the scenario. He nodded in agreement, though in truth he had little idea of just how telepaths 'were'. Until coming to the school, he hadn't really had much interaction with other mutants. Heck, he hadn't had any interaction with other mutants.

He laughed when Abbey asked what he did, mentioning the incident from the canteen. It seemed he was already making a name for himself... As long as people thought of him as the peacekeeper and not the brawler, he could handle the speculation. Though deep down, he knew that most people probably saw him as an interferring busy-body for getting involved at all.

"I paint," he said, matter-of-factly. "I paint a lot, actually. Mostly acrylic and oil stuff, you know. But I dabble in watercolour. Aside from that, I uh... I don't really know. I read a lot of poetry, I guess; Renaissance stuff, mostly." He went quiet for a second. "And yoga. I really dig yoga, I like to... Keep fit." he paused again, awkwardly, before cracking a joke to break the silence: "And, of course, I smoke!" He chuckled, and dropped the cigarette butt to the floor, stubbing it out beneath the rubber sole of his shoe.

"And what about you, Chess?" he asked. "Was it 'Actor, entertainer, comedian'?" he asked, smiling wryly as he recalled the boy's dramatically self-serving introduction. It wasn't something that alienated Mason; he was pretty pretentious himself, after all. At least when it came to the arts.

An artist by more than his clothes, then. Good, Chess had suspected as much. He enjoyed art himself, though when it came to actually admiring it, or appreciating it for more than "this looks pretty" or "ah yes emotion in that one", he more or less had to talk out of thin air. Still, he had respect for people who could handle a brush with a level of expertise, the art department at his old school had been very closely knit with the theatre kids, working together on many of the productions' backgrounds and set pieces. He'd even gone out with an art-section fellow once, though it was more because Chess wanted a little more sway in the set management than anything else, and it had ended swiftly once the play had run its course.

Chess preened like a peacock when Mason brought up -more or less- what he'd said he did, smile widening ever so slightly.

"Yes indeed! Though debator rather than comedian, never had the thing for stand-up. Acting since I could stand on a stage, haven't stopped since. Nothing like a good role, a nice set, and a full house to bring an evening together, I say."

He suddenly remembered the theater department here, and had to reiterate his previous mental note to stop by soon and get his foot in. Stupid, advantage was everything.

"So poetry and yoga, you sound like a few of my old friends starting college. Always easy to pick out our kind, isn't it? If we don't smoke, we drink, if we don't drink, we exercise, or any combination of the three, really."

Mason began to warm to Chess the more he spoke. He had lost touch with the art scene after he went into hiding back in Berlin, and speaking with someone as theatrically-inclined as Chess was brought Mason both a sense of nostalgia and a yearning for a similiar sense of community. So much so, that when Chess mentioned a decent set, an idea sprung into Mason's head.

"Fuck, you know what we should totally do?" Mason asked enthusiastically, his excitement getting the better of him. "We should host like... Some kind of arts night. All mediums and practices welcome. We could show off students work..." he said, getting lost in his trail of thought. He gesticulated dramatically as he spoke. "You know, paintings, drama, poetry recitals... I make art-films too, I could screen one of those... Hey, you could even act in one!"

It was at this point that Mason realised he was getting ahead of himself. He chuckled in embarrassment and looked sheepishly at the floor, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, haha. I get a little carried away sometimes..."

Chess was taken aback by the other boy's enthusiasm, to say the least. He'd seen artists who enjoyed what they did, but never so quickly. It was a bit refreshing, and a pleasant surprise to find that there were still people who took their work seriously enough to go out and do something about it.

No one just remembers you for nothing.

"Well, I can't say I don't admire your initiative. It's been a while since I've been to any sort of gallery, I rather miss the atmosphere myself," he said, offering a warm smile. "Perhaps it's a bit early to throw one yet though, maybe a week or so in, we can get the lay of the land, scope out some good feature artists, see what we can put together. Might even be a good place for some of these students to put their powers to a more...creative use,hm?"

A gallery did sound like a good idea, and what better way to show some talent, directive and contributive, to the school. Surely such an event would earn him some credit, maybe even just enough to get himself in with the theatre crowd. This meeting had certainly been a good idea.

"I like it, love it even. Here," Chess took a pen and pad from his pocket, tore a sheet free and scribbled his number onto it. "This is my business number, you think of any more ideas for this little gallery, text me, call me, whichever. I'll keep my eyes peeled for other artists, maybe plan out event lists, sound good?"

Mason beamed when he realised Chess wasn't going to shoot him down. It seemed that his first impressions of the guy had been deceiving; Chess was actually pretty cool, it turned out. He tooked the paper gratefully.

"Thanks, Chess," he grinned. "That sounds great. I'll definitely be in touch."

Chess nodded to him, then tucked the pen and pad away. Good meeting, good indeed, Mason wasn't nearly the black-lunged-junkie he'd imagined at the bus stop. Oh god, he wondered if Greg had heard any of that as well. Damned if he was gonna let that kid ruin anything.

Calm down, christ, it's just the two of you and everything's gone smoothly. He gave Mason one more smile, then started off.

"Good to know, hear from you soon, maybe see you in classes. Cheers, or however it goes," he said, and then made his way back inside.

Where next, the cafeteria? No, already been there, maybe back to the room? No, Greg would be around, and on top of everything else he actually didn't want to disturb the kid. He didn't seem like he had it particularly easy in the head, probably could do with his own time anyway. The library then, he still had some time left before he'd find others or go to sleep, couldn't hurt to go there, or hell, even just meander the halls.

---

No sooner had Chess ventured off back into the academy, Mason's brain began whirring and he itched to translate his rapid thought process into something more permanent. Scrambling through the large pouch of his dungarees, he quickly found a pencil. It was relatively blunt, most of the lead breaking off within the pocket, but it would do.

He flipped over the paper with Chess' contact details on it, and began scrawling over the blank side. A little sketch here, Mason's barely-legible handwriting there... It almost certainly wouldn't make sense to anyone else who saw it, but to Mason it was clear as crystal. He absent-mindedly lit another cigarette and placed it between his lips as he sat on the steps outside the academy, completely engrossed in whatever it was he was scribbling.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

@SepticGentleman Spat my drink out I hate you

@BR8K

Thuckin 'Ax 'ostin' all den grosh 'ics in da OOC.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

So my work hours are about to take a big tick upwards meaning I might not be able to constantly keep track of the role play. I am still likely able to post at least once a day, but posting once a day and reading and catching up will likely be difficult. Is there any way we could do a sort of updated current scene sort of post where someone can keep a running summery of what is going on. Also a big help if people tag me or maybe make their conversation words a bright color so it is separate than the normal text? Will do my best, but thought it would be worth asking for a little help since I am really enjoying this role play and don't want to separate from it even a little.

TL:DR?

I am hoping people can give me a summery of what happens since I might not be able to always read and post in the same day. Still very much a part of this role play and eager to continue!!!

@World Traveler

That's fine, World Traveler. We really like Devin too and wouldn't like to see him go this soon. An ongoing summary post isn't really viable, considering the speed at which things are developing and the way we've already branched off; too many people are doing their own thing at once to consistently keep a post like that updated. Besides, it would be better for you to be able to read the posts anyway in order to properly get a feel for things. However, on days where this is difficult, just post here in the OOC asking for a run-down and I'm sure one of us can give you a quick synopsis in no time.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

<Snipped quote by He Who Walks Behind>

yess I am doing one with Tyler right now but its going to be after I leave the dorm, do you wanna do one thats like we meet up in the dorm and ext. It will just be like a candid of how their relationship will be so the placement really doesn't matter (time wise)

@DrugMother

@He Who Walks Behind

We could work on a three-way collab? It could start with you both in the dorm and then both (or just Gene if it's not Lynn's scene) coming out and meeting Mason by the entrance.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

One of these days Zach's gonna fight at a bitch and Mason's not gonna be allowed to intervene.

@SepticGentleman

It's safer for everyone if we leave shit to Mirror-Balls and not to The Human Bug Lantern, thank you very much.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Day one and already

@BR8K

Did you really expect anything less?

The novella written by Shard, SepticGentleman and myself is available in hardback at all good bookshops.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Mason Crawford, Casper Vaile and Zachariah Bale

---

Mason turned the key in room 139 and eagerly pushed the door open. He'd been fortunate enough to always have somewhere to live, but over the last few years his income had not really been able to provide him the luxury he'd been afforded growing up. He was excited to see the living space he and Zachariah would be sharing.

It was pretty nice, actually. A damn sight better than some of the places he'd rented in Berlin, anyway. The floor was dark wood, but there was a large orange rug covering most of the floorspace and matching the orange bedding. Mason hated orange, but he figured if it began to bother him that much, he and Zach could always replace it. He was also going to struggle adapting to a single bed, as the last time he'd been without a double was at boarding school.

Still, it had everything he needed. There was lots of space to store his belongings, which he noticed had been placed neatly in the corner of the room. He had too much stuff and too little energy to even consider unpacking right now, but he placed his luggage onto the bed tucked away in the corner. He hoped Zach didn't mind; Mason always found it easier to sleep if his bed was against a wall. Plus, it gave Zach the advantage of being closer to the bathroom, so he didn't imagine it would be too much of a problem.

After a quick check to ensure nothing had been removed from his bags, Mason headed out of the room and locked the door behind him. He remembered Professor Portwood had mentioned something about some sort of welcome feast, and Mason figured that would be as good a place as any to meet people. As much as Mason enjoyed solitude, he always found it easier to be around people. It distracted him and stopped him from thinking too much.

When he arrived in the canteen it was busy, but large enough that there was still ample seating available. Mason spotted some private booths beside the serving area, but soon realised that these were for the staff only as their occupants were considerably older. Mason's stomach growled at the scent of all the food on offer, when was the last time he'd eaten? The journey here had become a blur. Regardless, he didn't feel like eating right now, he reasoned with himself as he poured a cup of black coffee and looked for somewhere to sit.

Scanning the area, he quickly spotted the flashes of pink hair amongst the crowd. It was Casper, the shy-looking kid from the bus. Looking at him was a frightful reminder of Mason's time at boarding school; from the way Casper held himself to the way he seemed to stand out from the crowd despite wanting nothing more than to blend in, the similarities were almost eerie to Mason. They hadn't gotten a chance to properly chat, and so he figured now was as good a time as ever; Casper was sat on his own, drinking what looked like hot chocolate. It smelled delicious.

"It's Casper, right?" Mason asked the young boy. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, smiling warmly. He didn't wait for a response, though, as he pulled out the wooden chair and placed down his steaming cup of coffee.

"Uh...s-sure..." Casper looked up at the new arrival. It was Mason, the guy from before. It would seem like others came to Casper, after all. This made things a lot easier and it would make getting to know this person, Mason, a lot more possible. The first step was always the hardest to make and now Mason had taken it upon himself to take it.

Staring down into his cup of hot chocolate, Casper saw a faint form shaping upon the surface, his reflection. He did indeed feel his sotmach growling but eating with this many people surrounding him wasn't comfortable. Perhaps he could grab a sandwich and eat it in his room. The only reason he landed at a table here was because he didn't want to carry a hot cup of liquid all the way back to his room. Was he even allowed to do that? They owned the cup, after all. The cafeteria probably wanted it to remain. "Hi..." Casper gulped, not looking up just wait. His voice was quiet, but it could be heard easily enough from where Mason had found home.

"Are you..." Casper continued, feeling his heart beating like a jackhammer against his ribs. "A-are you...getting along with..." He was almost done, just one more word. "People...?" The boy looked up, meeting Mason's eyes with his own, large brown circles. They would perhaps speak of innocence but the anxiety was easily seen within. Casper had both hands on the cup, as if to keep them occupied. This way he wouldn't accedently hurt anyone.

It didn't take a great degree of empathic skill to spot that Casper was painfully anxious; the panic was present in everything about the boy, from the look in his eyes to the tremble of his voice and the way he cupped his drink so firmly. Mason knew how condescending it felt for people to point out things like this, and so he responded as best he could: be smiling that infamous, comforting smile of his. When Mason smiled, his whole face lit up and his eyes shimmered. It was an effect he couldn't replicate faultlessly when he was smiling insincerely, and so people who spent enough time around him when he was happy could usually tell when he was keeping up a facade.

"Yeah, so far so good!" he said, in response to Casper's question. "I don't think I was everyone on the bus's cup of tea," he laughed. "But my roommate seems pretty friendly. I think we'll get along. How about you?" he asked, purposefully looking at Casper with an expression of interest and curiosity.

"M-me..?" Oh dear, Casper wasn't expecting that question to come around. He actually assumed that Mason would just expect Casper to be the outcast he was and run with it. He seemed so...polite, though. Was this good? Perhaps. At the very least, Casper wasn't feeling uncomfortable around this young man. In fact, the boy's grip around his cup, albiet slight, loosned further. "You're...you're the first..." He couldn't help but trail back down to the chocolate with his eyes. "I...I haven't met my roommate yet..."

Perhaps he was somewhere in that cafeteria. Perhaps he was close by, perhaps he was behind a tree somewhere doing drugs. You never know. "Y-you...you're Mason...right?" He just wanted to make sure that he had gotten the name right, at least that much needed to be correct if this was going to go on without fault.

Mason smiled. "Yep, that's me." he said, chuckling. "I hope I'm not already making a bad name for myself." he joked. He watched the way Casper's eyes drifted back to his beverage as he thought about the roommate he had yet to meet. It was obviously something that worried the boy. "And hey, don't worry about your roommate." he said reassuringly, as he tried to regain eye contact with Casper. "Mine is--"

Mason was distracted by a commotion a few feet away; it seemed that some of the students were getting into a fight already. It didn't take long to realise that one of them was Zach, yelling incoherently at another boy and raising a chair high above his head. He winced.

"Mine is... About to beat the shit outta some guy..." he sighed, before looking at Casper and rolling his eyes. "I guess I have to intervene, right?" he asked the boy.

What the hell was that!? No, Casper shook his head. That was a bad thought. He couldn't just go around thinking people looked like...monsters....because of some kind of deformity or the like. That would be incredibly rude. If he could slap himself without killing himself, he would. "A...a...f-fight...?" Casper gulped, turning to look at the commotion which had stolen everyone's attention at this point. "I don't...I...." He felt himself growing critically uncomfortable and was almost ready to run out of the cafeteria. That would however cause another problem, if he just ran away, Everyone would look at him.

"If...if you c-can..." The boy finished, looking at Mason. Of course one should stick up for their friends. If Casper had the backbone to do so, he would.

Mason grimaced. "I'll be back," he said, taking a sip of his coffee and walking over to the ruckus. "Za-- Switch, dude," he said, getting the attention of his scabby roommate. "What's going on?" he asked, standing between Zach and his aggressor and holding up his arms, as though to calm him down.

"This grahs thucking jackal 'on't listen to 'hat I 'ath tah say!" Zach replied, "An' 'e called 'e a da'n THREAK 'hen 'E'S the 'un 'at 'ON'T 'LAY A 'ART IN THE REST A' THIS STAHRY." He glanced back at his opponent and jabbed the chair legs in his direction.

Mason grabbed hold of the chair leg, and gently pulled the chair down towards the ground. "C'mon, Switch," he said encouragingly. It was against his true will; by the sounds of it, the guy had called Zach a freak. Mason could think of few words that had hurt him less as a kid, and part of Mason wanted him to get everything he deserved. But he knew better than to react with violence.

"This fucker's not worth it.", he said to Zach, looking him directly in the eyes.

"NNNNNGGGGG-" Zach replied, head reared and fists shaking. He took a moment to calm himself down and looked back up at the young man. He pointed at him and called out, "'Er LUCKY 'e 'as 'ere!" With that he turned away and began marching towards the cafeteria exit.

Mason watched Zach leave, relieved that no harm had been done. As much as he would have preferred a solitary living space, he didn't want his roommate dead on their first day at the school. He turned to the guy who had provoked Zach, one eyebrow raised cynically.

"A freak? Really?" he asked, talking down to the guy. They were of a similar age, but this one was more athletic than Mason, wearing a varsity jacket that was just tight enough to show off his physique. Well, fuck... Mason thought. He had to wrap this up and get out. "Was there any need?" he asked, turning his back on the jock and making his way back towards Casper.

The next thing he knew, he was colliding with the ground, and could feel the guy's knee pressing into his lower back, his hands grappling Mason's shoulders. "Just who d'ya think you are, faggot?" he spat. "Parading around in your gay-ass gear like you're some kinda cop? Fuck, I oughta teach you a lesson..." he grunted. Mason couldn't move an inch.

'Do something, Casper...Do something!' The boy sat paralysed watching the scene unfold before his eyes. The other male had left, the one who had been bullied, but now it turned on Mason. 'Why the hell is no one doing anything...why isn't anyone helping him!' Casper felt his entire body starting to shake, his blood rising to his head. No one did anything because no one wanted to be part of the issue. No one wanted to step up, it was the bystander effect. "You can sit here and watch the only guy who gave a fuck about you get beaten up, or you can do something...for fuck sake, if you have this power, at the very least...use it!' No, no he couldn't do it. He couldn't hurt anyone else.

'If you don't hurt this asshole, Mason will be hurt. Is that better? If Mason get's hurt, you're the one at fault, Casper...get your ass in gear and do something!' Before he could react to his own actions, Casper jolted up from the chair and charged the scene. His speed surprised even himself and closed the distance in mere seconds. "P-please...let him go..." He could feel the energy in his legs rapidly leaving his body. This was a mistake, this was such a big mistake.

"Oh look! Another little faggot? What will you do, huh?" The bully chuckled, still pinning Mason down.

"Casper," Mason grunted from beneath the jock's weight. "Leave it, buddy." he said. He didn't want Casper to get hurt, and Mason was more than familiar with this kind of situation. "It's not worth it."

"I...I don't want to hurt you...please...let him go..." Casper pleaded but to no avail. In fact, it made the bully laugh harder. Mason thought getting involved wasn't worth it but he was wrong. It was worth it. Sure, Casper had only known this guy Mason for like five minutes but...you don't need a reason to help people. You don't...

"Hurt me!?" The bully shook his head. "I think you've got this a bit..."

"Stop..." Casper cut him off, clenching his teeth and fists. Taking another step forward he shoved his hand forth and grabbed the larger, much larger, male by the shirt and tossed him across the floor. Needless to say, the boy was completely shocked from what he had just done and stood watching the bully trying to regain his composure.

"Well, shit..." Mason choked in awe, rubbing the back of his neck as he rose to his feet. He looked at the guy, then at Casper, then back at the guy. "You kept that quiet!" he laughed to Casper, watching the larger guy leave the canteen with his head down. "Thanks, Casper... You didn't have to do that." he said, feeling an odd mix of gratitutde and guilt for dragging the boy into this. He chuckled again at the image of the tiny boy throwing the jock across the room. "But I'm not gonna lie... I'm really glad you did."

"Y..you're w-welcome..." Casper stammered, not even looking at Mason before hurrying out of the cafeteria. Did he just do that? It was the first day and he had already put himself on everyone's radar...It would take a while for him to get back from this. The boy hoped to get to his room but barely even knew where he was heading as he continued towards the exit. 'Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why...why did I do that? I helped Mason and...and it felt good...why did it feel good!? Did it feel good to hurt that ass or did it feel good to help Mason...? I don't know I just...I...' He wante to fall down to his knees and break down but not here, not in front of everyone...

Mason watched the timid kid flee from the canteen. He sighed, and shook his head. Casper had shown that he had so much potential, he doubted he was alone in underestimating the boy thus far, but he also got the feeling that the person who underestimated him the most was Casper himself.

He returned to the table, and sat alone as he drunk the rest of his coffee. The black liquid was cold now, and the taste more bitter. As he sat, the Yorkshireman stood up on the table and began to cause quite the scene, demonstrating a creative use of telekinesis before insisting that others show their powers. Everything about the proposition seemed like a bad idea to Mason, who rolled his eyes as he sipped the last of the liquid from his cup. Perfect time for a cigarette...

He rose from his seat and headed straight out of the cafeteria, through the reception and out into the grounds. It was a beautiful day, and Mason fished out his sunglasses again, perching them delicately on the tip of his nose as he lit his cigarette and drew a long, satisfying breath. Mason had little interest in demonstrating his powers to anyone.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

<Snipped quote by TheWizardLizard>

I want to say that, when he's in specter form, he can't hear anyone telepath-ing shit into his head because he's incorporeal. And unless someone possesses a form of telekinesis that extends to forms of energy, then he wouldn't be affected by them. But an electrokinetic would be able to wreck his shit good.

Of course this all depends on @Tyler's approval.

@SepticGentleman

Seems fine by me, I'll have to discuss it with Shard. I think the whole point of having an incorporeal form is that it allows you to avoid stuff like that. The catch with your incorporeal form is that it gets weaker the longer you stay out-of-body, and leaves your real body completely vulnerable. I'll speak to Shard.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

<Snipped quote by He Who Walks Behind>

Magnets.

Also generally any other form of non-corporeal attack will mess him up good.

@SepticGentleman

It's important also to note that, whilst his incorporeal spectre form is of elsewhere attending to business, his body is left completely vulnerable. Without his fleshsack, he's pretty screwed.