The Phantasmal Harlequin
Characters: Kefka Palazzo & YOU
Location: The main city, I guess?
Time: Early morning
Style: Third-person (prose)
Status: ( open )
"TRAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGH!"
A loud cry boomed from nowhere, startling any pedestrian that happened to be passing by. Several more noisy cries soon followed, but eventually the screams dies down. Panting heavily as he tried to make sense of what happened, Kefka looked like a fish out of water as he rose gingerly from the ground. He was drenched to the bone, his makeup, hair, and clothing all soggy and wet. The odd jester's face was a mixture of confusion, annoyance, and mild fear. His feathery hair accessories lost their bounce after the plunge, causing them to flop over on his head lifelessly. His makeup that normally took hours to do was literally sliding off his face. There goes all his fancy squiggles and eye shadow.
Good grief, what happened to him? If he hadn’t known any better, Kefka would have assumed that someone tried to drown him. Whipping his ahead around wildly as he observed the bustling metropolis around him, a low growl emitted from the angry mage. “Whaaaaaaaaaat is this!?” He nearly screamed at the top of his lungs.
“WHAT SORT OF NONSENSE IS THIS?!” Okay, that time he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Already on the prowl for some to ‘blame’ and ‘maim’ for this, Kefka paused suddenly once he spotted an odd mark upon his right hand. Normally he wore a glove there, but it assumingly washed away. It was a small mark, something that looked like an odd sigil of some kind. Unsure what to make the brand, Kefka tried to scratch it off.
“…Ow!” He whined once he scratched too hard. “This isn’t funny! Whoever done this is goin’ to die painfully!”
Location: The main city, I guess?
Time: Early morning
Style: Third-person (prose)
Status: ( open )
"TRAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGH!"
A loud cry boomed from nowhere, startling any pedestrian that happened to be passing by. Several more noisy cries soon followed, but eventually the screams dies down. Panting heavily as he tried to make sense of what happened, Kefka looked like a fish out of water as he rose gingerly from the ground. He was drenched to the bone, his makeup, hair, and clothing all soggy and wet. The odd jester's face was a mixture of confusion, annoyance, and mild fear. His feathery hair accessories lost their bounce after the plunge, causing them to flop over on his head lifelessly. His makeup that normally took hours to do was literally sliding off his face. There goes all his fancy squiggles and eye shadow.
Good grief, what happened to him? If he hadn’t known any better, Kefka would have assumed that someone tried to drown him. Whipping his ahead around wildly as he observed the bustling metropolis around him, a low growl emitted from the angry mage. “Whaaaaaaaaaat is this!?” He nearly screamed at the top of his lungs.
“WHAT SORT OF NONSENSE IS THIS?!” Okay, that time he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Already on the prowl for some to ‘blame’ and ‘maim’ for this, Kefka paused suddenly once he spotted an odd mark upon his right hand. Normally he wore a glove there, but it assumingly washed away. It was a small mark, something that looked like an odd sigil of some kind. Unsure what to make the brand, Kefka tried to scratch it off.
“…Ow!” He whined once he scratched too hard. “This isn’t funny! Whoever done this is goin’ to die painfully!”