005.
((Spoilers for Tsukihime ahead. Masters and Servants in Nasuverse frequently sees glimpses of each others past in their sleep. Feel free to skip this if you want.))
[It started out in a small village. The houses all had two floors, and the tallest building in town was, of course, the church. Located on the countryside but still very homey despite being so rural, it was a nice and cozy place to call "Home". Everyone knew each other, chatted animatedly with each other, helped each other, and lived together.
It was like an extended family. Every child was like a little brother or sister, every adult was like an aunt or uncle, and every elderly, a grandparent, all to look after and be looked after. Even the homeless beggar didn’t have it badly: it happened to the local bakery to have leftovers by the end of the day, and to not waste what’s still edible, the young girl who was apprentice to her father’s shop would come out and give faintly stale bread away to those who would gladly accept it.
This is the scene of a picturesque and idyllic normal life. Nothing big ever happened, but there is no doubt that while some may have taken that normalcy for granted, everyone still enjoyed their time for what it was worth.
She was a normal girl, born in a normal family, living in a normal village, and carrying out a normal life. The only remarkable thing about her may be her dark hair color: in an European village where green eyes and blond hair dominated, her blackish blue hair and cyan colored eyes did make her stand out a bit. She had an oriental mother, after all. That didn’t matter, though. She loved her parents and her friends just as they loved her, and for a normal girl with normal aspirations, the days quietly passed by as she grew, helping around the house and her father’s shop, waiting eagerly for the day that she will take over the family business while she tried her best to not sleep in too much during the morning.
More often than not, she would fail and oversleep, but her father was forgiving and she did her best with everything. She got clumsy sometimes, but there was no mistake made that couldn’t be fixed. So it was just that: a simple existence happy of being what it was.
Really, watching this may almost be boring, because everything was so ordinary. It was the everyday of a young teenage girl who customarily wore a pink peasant’s dress and held her hair back with a ribbon of the same color. In her hands was a large breadbasket, and she carried it around town with a cheery and heartwarming smile, doing the deliveries that her father has asked of her.
She stepped lightly across a puddle; it rained earlier that day.
The liquid was thick and smelled nauseating. Rain diluted it, but there was so much that the muddy dark maroon still freely spread slowly across the stone-slated ground--
She knocked on the door of a neighbor. Mister and miss ----, along with their twin children ---- and ----.
No one answered… they must be out.
The door slowly swings open to show a dimly-lit hallway of a once warm and welcoming home. The floor was made of light-colored wood, though something that dripped and glistened under what light source available did look very out of place. …………It’s pulsing, a mass of something that should not be living, trailing off to a room deeper in the house--
She kept walking, humming to herself. Maybe they’ll be back once she’s done with her tour, and just when she turned an empty street corner, a faint whimpering from a dark alley catches her attention.
With the basket still pressed against her chest, she tilts her head, changes direction, and heads there instead.
Cradling his head in his thin arms was a child, his back against the brick walls and shivering like a leaf. Concerned, she leans over, and begins to speak in a soft and caring voice. French, that should be her mother tongue. Even one who was not fluent could understand that she probably asked the boy if he was okay, or what he was doing there.
The boy looks up with haunted eyes, but visible relief flashes over as he recognizes her as the nice older sister who worked at the bakery. He was still scared, though, so she got on her knees and began to talk quietly soothingly to him.
He tells her that something happened. He didn’t know what, but he saw something terrifying. He couldn’t understand as he watched; he didn’t notice, but there was something on his face, and an unusual color tainted his shirt.
She brushed it away with a smile. Was he sure that he wasn’t splashing water with his friends again, and they dyed it to a different color just because it may be more fun that way? And what he’s saying really sounds unbelievable. Was he eating and resting well? Maybe he’s been a bad boy and staying up late, or skipping meals. Or maybe he didn’t recite his daily prayers like a naughty child, so he’s tired now and saw things that weren’t there. After all, it just sounded too impossible. She’ll say with him for now though, and in a bit, everything will be okay again, and he can go back home to his waiting parents. They’re probably worried, since he just ran away like that, wouldn’t they? He might get chided, but his parents still love him, so they could kiss and make up.
Gradually, the boy began calming down, and the more she said, the more relaxed he got. She finished it with a joke, and he started to laugh, genuinely glad. He thanks her, and says how she’s always there for them. She blushes happily and laughs it off, telling him that he’s exaggerating, and she’s only doing what anyone else would. He says that’s not true, miss E les ia is the nicest in the neighborhood. She stops trying to correct him and pats him on the head, and tells him that enough talk, he should get going.
But before that, would he like something to eat? She’s on her delivery rounds, but father made too much, so she’s got some sweets to spare. Eyes sparkling, the boy looks up. She really spoils them, but he’s not mature enough to tell that yet. He nods, eager, so she sets her basket aside and opens it.
Hm, the front of her shirt was stained in a strange color too. …Did they get her too, with the oddly colored water? Giggling, she nods, and comments on how she doesn’t mind; she’ll change and wash it off once she gets home. Having said that, she opens the basket.
An unusual smell, but by then, the boy was too entranced to care. Humming to herself, she retrieves a loaf of bread, and gives it to him.
He’d thank her, and then run off.
She held to him a severed head. The boy couldn’t do anything but accept it; a mere human child’s willpower is far too weak to counter something like that. With his body moving against his own will, he takes it. He recognizes that contorted face, but he cannot even make a sound against it.
The picture flickers, and the image breaks.]
[Action]
[This is a multiple action. On different days throughout the week Archer can be seen around Mayfield doing the following.
A - Taking innocent cars, parked on the sidewalk, and breaking them apart. He's going to take a page from Quinn's book and collect steel for Saya's sword and other possible projects from cars. If there are any drones near the car that try to stop him, they aren't trying anymore. They're being pinned down to the closest hard surface with a sword through their chest. Whether it be a wall, a tree, your house, or just concrete, it doesn't matter. He won't be breaking into garages, but if the car is outside then it could be targeted.
Oh.
Is it your car?
Deal with it.
B - At the park, sitting on a bench with a sketchbook in his hand. He regularly looks at a separate piece of paper, the one he jotted down Saya's specifics, including the extra details she sent through the mail.
Every now and then a katana will appear by his side, as he examines the projection intently. It only lasts for a few moments until the katana vanishes from sight, and he goes back to the pad and begins writing. He's wearing his regular servant armor, but he's also wearing a pair of sunreading glasses.
C - At the General Store, getting groceries. Except he's not taking anything in a can or package. Most of the small cart he's carrying around has fruits, vegetables, spices, raw packaged meat and so forth. If you know him it looks really odd because he actually seems a little bit amused at what he's picking out and buying. Certainly not the look of a person being forced to get food. And if a drone comes by and stares at a man doing woman's work they just get a scoff and cold shoulder.]
[Phone]
[Along with those actions, he picks up the phone one week and talks.]
What's the longest time someone has been here in Mayfield? Just out of curiosity to see when they first began sticking people in this place.
[ooc: placeholder. tags will be answered only sunday evening. Free ticket to Spiderman on Broadway > LJRP.
yes, there is a spiderman the musical on broadway it exists I kid you not.]
[It started out in a small village. The houses all had two floors, and the tallest building in town was, of course, the church. Located on the countryside but still very homey despite being so rural, it was a nice and cozy place to call "Home". Everyone knew each other, chatted animatedly with each other, helped each other, and lived together.
It was like an extended family. Every child was like a little brother or sister, every adult was like an aunt or uncle, and every elderly, a grandparent, all to look after and be looked after. Even the homeless beggar didn’t have it badly: it happened to the local bakery to have leftovers by the end of the day, and to not waste what’s still edible, the young girl who was apprentice to her father’s shop would come out and give faintly stale bread away to those who would gladly accept it.
This is the scene of a picturesque and idyllic normal life. Nothing big ever happened, but there is no doubt that while some may have taken that normalcy for granted, everyone still enjoyed their time for what it was worth.
She was a normal girl, born in a normal family, living in a normal village, and carrying out a normal life. The only remarkable thing about her may be her dark hair color: in an European village where green eyes and blond hair dominated, her blackish blue hair and cyan colored eyes did make her stand out a bit. She had an oriental mother, after all. That didn’t matter, though. She loved her parents and her friends just as they loved her, and for a normal girl with normal aspirations, the days quietly passed by as she grew, helping around the house and her father’s shop, waiting eagerly for the day that she will take over the family business while she tried her best to not sleep in too much during the morning.
More often than not, she would fail and oversleep, but her father was forgiving and she did her best with everything. She got clumsy sometimes, but there was no mistake made that couldn’t be fixed. So it was just that: a simple existence happy of being what it was.
Really, watching this may almost be boring, because everything was so ordinary. It was the everyday of a young teenage girl who customarily wore a pink peasant’s dress and held her hair back with a ribbon of the same color. In her hands was a large breadbasket, and she carried it around town with a cheery and heartwarming smile, doing the deliveries that her father has asked of her.
She stepped lightly across a puddle; it rained earlier that day.
The liquid was thick and smelled nauseating. Rain diluted it, but there was so much that the muddy dark maroon still freely spread slowly across the stone-slated ground--
She knocked on the door of a neighbor. Mister and miss ----, along with their twin children ---- and ----.
No one answered… they must be out.
The door slowly swings open to show a dimly-lit hallway of a once warm and welcoming home. The floor was made of light-colored wood, though something that dripped and glistened under what light source available did look very out of place. …………It’s pulsing, a mass of something that should not be living, trailing off to a room deeper in the house--
She kept walking, humming to herself. Maybe they’ll be back once she’s done with her tour, and just when she turned an empty street corner, a faint whimpering from a dark alley catches her attention.
With the basket still pressed against her chest, she tilts her head, changes direction, and heads there instead.
Cradling his head in his thin arms was a child, his back against the brick walls and shivering like a leaf. Concerned, she leans over, and begins to speak in a soft and caring voice. French, that should be her mother tongue. Even one who was not fluent could understand that she probably asked the boy if he was okay, or what he was doing there.
The boy looks up with haunted eyes, but visible relief flashes over as he recognizes her as the nice older sister who worked at the bakery. He was still scared, though, so she got on her knees and began to talk quietly soothingly to him.
He tells her that something happened. He didn’t know what, but he saw something terrifying. He couldn’t understand as he watched; he didn’t notice, but there was something on his face, and an unusual color tainted his shirt.
She brushed it away with a smile. Was he sure that he wasn’t splashing water with his friends again, and they dyed it to a different color just because it may be more fun that way? And what he’s saying really sounds unbelievable. Was he eating and resting well? Maybe he’s been a bad boy and staying up late, or skipping meals. Or maybe he didn’t recite his daily prayers like a naughty child, so he’s tired now and saw things that weren’t there. After all, it just sounded too impossible. She’ll say with him for now though, and in a bit, everything will be okay again, and he can go back home to his waiting parents. They’re probably worried, since he just ran away like that, wouldn’t they? He might get chided, but his parents still love him, so they could kiss and make up.
Gradually, the boy began calming down, and the more she said, the more relaxed he got. She finished it with a joke, and he started to laugh, genuinely glad. He thanks her, and says how she’s always there for them. She blushes happily and laughs it off, telling him that he’s exaggerating, and she’s only doing what anyone else would. He says that’s not true, miss E les ia is the nicest in the neighborhood. She stops trying to correct him and pats him on the head, and tells him that enough talk, he should get going.
But before that, would he like something to eat? She’s on her delivery rounds, but father made too much, so she’s got some sweets to spare. Eyes sparkling, the boy looks up. She really spoils them, but he’s not mature enough to tell that yet. He nods, eager, so she sets her basket aside and opens it.
Hm, the front of her shirt was stained in a strange color too. …Did they get her too, with the oddly colored water? Giggling, she nods, and comments on how she doesn’t mind; she’ll change and wash it off once she gets home. Having said that, she opens the basket.
An unusual smell, but by then, the boy was too entranced to care. Humming to herself, she retrieves a loaf of bread, and gives it to him.
He’d thank her, and then run off.
She held to him a severed head. The boy couldn’t do anything but accept it; a mere human child’s willpower is far too weak to counter something like that. With his body moving against his own will, he takes it. He recognizes that contorted face, but he cannot even make a sound against it.
The picture flickers, and the image breaks.]
[Action]
[This is a multiple action. On different days throughout the week Archer can be seen around Mayfield doing the following.
A - Taking innocent cars, parked on the sidewalk, and breaking them apart. He's going to take a page from Quinn's book and collect steel for Saya's sword and other possible projects from cars. If there are any drones near the car that try to stop him, they aren't trying anymore. They're being pinned down to the closest hard surface with a sword through their chest. Whether it be a wall, a tree, your house, or just concrete, it doesn't matter. He won't be breaking into garages, but if the car is outside then it could be targeted.
Oh.
Is it your car?
Deal with it.
B - At the park, sitting on a bench with a sketchbook in his hand. He regularly looks at a separate piece of paper, the one he jotted down Saya's specifics, including the extra details she sent through the mail.
Every now and then a katana will appear by his side, as he examines the projection intently. It only lasts for a few moments until the katana vanishes from sight, and he goes back to the pad and begins writing. He's wearing his regular servant armor, but he's also wearing a pair of sunreading glasses.
C - At the General Store, getting groceries. Except he's not taking anything in a can or package. Most of the small cart he's carrying around has fruits, vegetables, spices, raw packaged meat and so forth. If you know him it looks really odd because he actually seems a little bit amused at what he's picking out and buying. Certainly not the look of a person being forced to get food. And if a drone comes by and stares at a man doing woman's work they just get a scoff and cold shoulder.]
[Phone]
[Along with those actions, he picks up the phone one week and talks.]
What's the longest time someone has been here in Mayfield? Just out of curiosity to see when they first began sticking people in this place.
[ooc: placeholder. tags will be answered only sunday evening. Free ticket to Spiderman on Broadway > LJRP.
yes, there is a spiderman the musical on broadway it exists I kid you not.]