[OPEN]

[daddyscythe]

Characters: OPEN to new arrivals and NPCS.
Where: En route to Casualty Communal
Rating: Gen
Time: September 9 Afternoon
Description: New arrivals for the first time in a while.

Comments

[KISHIN CHAMBER]

[daddyscythe]

Despite his reservations about the entire thing, Spirit was nevertheless full of energy and cheer as the door to the Kishin Chamber opened and the new guests streamed out, confused as always and hopefully not too violent. At first glance, nothing really set Spirit from everyone else apart from his bright red hair -- after all, on his left was a blue zombie that appeared very much dead, and on his right was a particularly short boy with strange, striped hair.

Spirit stepped forward, then, all cool and collected. Until he spoke, anyway.

“Hi!” he chirped, grinning widely at all of them. If he was nervous, he hid it well! “Welcome to Death City. First, let me give you your communicators. It’ll allow you to contact all the other guests here like you -- hey, maybe there’s someone here you know! -- and it has all these other nifty functions that you can read on later in the manual.” He gestured at Sid, the zombie, and Kid, the kid. “Please follow us as we give a tour of the place, which will end at the Communal, where you will live for the

Re: [KISHIN CHAMBER]

[strengthtohelp]

The red-haired man appeared friendly enough. The young boy seemed younger than Noa, but he carried himself with severe authority. The last man, though... Noa had never seen anyone like him before. If he didn't look imposing already with his stature and muscled build, his skin was colored a blue tint. He looked more dead than alive.

Noa opened the communicator and ran his fingers across its buttons before he and his fellow newcomers were instructed to follow the trio around the city. He pocketed his communicator and took his time falling in line. He glanced at his surroundings through heavy, narrowed eyes. This city was involved in a war, but it looked nothing like the shambles he last saw of Neotopia. Perhaps the city hadn't suffered as much destruction during the fighting. "So this is the city Lord Shinigami wants us to protect," Noa said to himself in a soft voice.

[daddyscythe]

Spirit at that moment had been ushering everyone down the corridor. This usually took longer than expected, because people were often very confused, distraught, or very, very angry. So it was with some surprise that Spirit regarded the boy near him when he spoke, unused to people being this calm about things.

"It is, it is," he answered with a friendly smile. "It might take a while to get used to, especially if you're not used to the desert, but it's a pretty nice city."

[strengthtohelp]

Spirit would be mistaking Noa's calm for pensive contemplation. There was so much to take in when he first arrived, and there was still more about living in Death City to learn on this tour. His mind drifted between this world and the one he was taken from, and then he would remember--

"Ye-yes, it is," he replied to the man, trying to hide his surprise. He hadn't realized he had voiced his thoughts. "Where are we going first, sir?" he asked. At the moment, he was confused about how he felt about being here, but he figured he should learn what he could about the city, its culture, and its war.

[AROUND SHIBUSEN]

[ninetyninesouls]

When Shibusen had hired Mifune as a teacher, he had assumed that he would be teaching the students in the art of fighting -- and so far, that had made up most of his activities in Shibusen, random missions and watch duties over the city aside. Becoming a tour guide to a crowd of gawkers had never been part of the equation, as far as he could recall. Still, Spirit had begged and pleaded, and Mifune was disinclined to refuse upon threat of great whining and possibly clinging. He only had space for Angela on his head.

So there Mifune was, intensely quiet and content to lead the herd through the school’s corridors.

“Shibusen is an institute that trains meisters and weapons. There are classes for the guests about what you need to know about this world.” That was about as long as he could make it.

[AROUND SHIBUSEN]

[fortomo]

Catching up with the main body of the group had been a mixture of fast walking and fidgety re-adjustment of her loaned garment. Sid's shirt fell to about the same length as her tattered skirt, which reminded her in a roundabout way of what she heard the man up ahead say.

"IS there a schedule? A uniform?" Her entire scholastic life had been at St. Mihailov Academy. Even the idea of being at any other school was unsettling and surreal. Tomo had been at St. Mihailov. Everything had been at St. Mihailov. Her life was there -- but it wasn't even waiting there. As much as she appreciated Sasha's support in searching for Tomo, until Tomo was home, home wasn't home

[ninetyninesouls]

Mifune hadn't really expected someone to interrupt him from (not really) talking. He'd briskly led them through the corridors, showing off the library and the different classrooms, when the girl spoke up.

Oh, well, she was just a kid. Mifune did like children. He glanced at her strange attire -- wasn't that Barret's? If so, what state of undress did she come in? -- and nodded.

"Mm. But you're not required to wear it." Vaguely, he wondered if he should... lend her his own polo. And maybe use it as a skirt. Maybe her point in asking was if she could borrow one in the mean time? That did make more sense. "... But looks like you need one."

[fortomo]

Another small degree of comfort, knowing a uniform existed in the first place.

She was halfway to rubbing the back of her head in embarrassment before a more acute form of the same emotion reminded her to keep her arm down. The simple answer was often the best, and in this case, it was agreeing with this man's final statement. "Yes," she said, "It feels like I do, too."

The implication being she already knew how she looked, and that she was even more aware of how she felt about this situation. For having been tossed into such a strange situation, Mafuyu found she appreciated the relative patience and calmer natures of the people trying to give them all a crash course in -- their home, she guessed.

[OUTSIDE SHIBUSEN]

[guillotineofgod]

Passing beyond the main doors to Shibusen Academy, the sight of a vast, open terrace greets your eyes, beyond which stretches the expanse of Death City. From its outer boundary lie ruins in sporadic clusters, which are in turn girt by a sea of sand that forms the desert terrain of Nevada, United States. True to its nature, it is ungodly hot, and those who turn their eyes to the sky above in protest may discern a faint distortion that is caused by a faint, translucent barrier that surrounds the city limits

[robustgood]

It certainly was a sight, that was for sure. The sky, the sand, the sun. The temperature was something he still needed a bit of adapting to, Jenrya supposed, but he could manage. It was the least of his concerns at the moment. At least in been in a similar situation before, so he knew how to take it all in stride.

Not wanting to disturb the strange teenager from what he could only guess where inner musings, Jenrya took the flyer silently, nodded once in thanks, and began to read.

Kishin Asura.

He glanced up, then back down at the flyer once more. Asura? As in Hinduism's Asura? The one who had fought the Devas... The one that Cho-sensei had used to explain the concepts of... non-absolutism in the sphere of good and evil.

"Er... Excuse me?" the twelve year old spoke up. As awkward as it felt, the flyer did say that this man was here to answer questions. That is, if he was a Shibusen Faculty member. He wasn't speaking, so Jenrya couldn't fully tell.

[guillotineofgod]

Considering the cacophony of music that sounded like it vaguely resembled Techno, it was rather plausible to believe that the youth had not heard a single word said. As the other boy had remained in front of him, however, his eyes flickered ever so slightly in an almost imperceptible sign of recognition. His gaze was otherwise as vacant as it had been previously, pale blue eyes devoid of emotion.

His head eventually, then, tilted slightly, providing a slightly more noticeable acknowledgment to suggest that he was, probably, paying attention. Pale blue eyes rose slightly to make visual contact before lowering again, quite slowly, as if the boy's thoughts and actions were mired by something akin to a waking trance. Whether there was something wrong with him remained at question, but for now, he was aware of your presence. Maybe.

[OUTSIDE SHIBUSEN]

[fortomo]

The heat was nigh on oppressive as Mafuyu left Shibusen proper, following the group out onto the terrace. The surreal quality was starting to fade being confronted with technical details and realities like the heat she felt as if it was a physical presence around her: light, but definitely there. She hadn't thought much about the United States of America, at least not in regards to weather (of all the often inconsequential things), but it almost seemed ridiculous that when she was finally visiting (a version of) it, her first impression was how much she wanted a cool spring right about now. Brief thoughts of the lake behind St. Mihailov flitted through her mind, before she found herself focusing on the person standing next to a table in the middle of the open area

[AROUND DEATH CITY]

[zombie_teacher]

As the tour drew up to the plaza a fair way from Shibusen, they were met by a big blue-skinned man who stood in the sun waiting for them. Some of them might have noticed him earlier when they first arrived in the kishin chamber, but for those who hadn’t, a second glance would show that he appeared…dead. In fact, he had a hole in the front of his head showing through the bandanna that was wrapped there.

He seemed friendly enough as they gathered around though. He held up a communicator-the same as the ones they’d each been given, though his looked like he’d had it a while-and spoke in a clear if somewhat gruff voice.

"Good afternoon, guests. If you would all please look at your communicators. This button here pulls up a map of the city. You can see where we are now

[makinarya]

For a normal person perhaps, it was too much information for one day. But for Tres, everything was effortlessly and efficiently filed away in his processor, data stored to be retrieved and recollected at any given time. And thus, for the most part, he was more than content to simply follow the flow of the tour, as cool, collected and impassive as always. No emotion was shown despite the unfamiliar feeling of concern and dismay flooding him and wrecking his circuit board at the thought of leaving Hungary, along with the Duchess of Milan and the Pope, at the hands of Monica Argento.

And all this was being done while gathered in the plaza, communicator in hand [though really, he didn't need it at all] and absorbing every information thrown at their direction, planting it in his internal GPS.

After the person had finished with his information - and really, Tres had yet to log his identity in his data system - he raised a hand. An inquiry, spoken in a very mechanical and monotonous voice.

"Requesting location to purchase weaponry."

[zombie_teacher]

Sid turned to face the speaker, the unusual tone and inflection catching his attention. There was something not entirely alive about the speaker, it seemed--or rather, something alive and yet oddly artificial. Well, as a zombie, Sid was familiar with the not-entirely-alive.

But also as a zombie, he was not inclined to be troubled with anyone's particular status vis-à-vis life. What was most important to him was disseminating clear and concise information to the newcomers! But in this case, he had to answer in the negative.

"There is no place in Death City where weapons can be bought--not in the sense that you mean! The weapons here are all humans who can transform their bodies! You may find pawn shops that sell props and replicas, but nothing that a skilled fighter would want to trust in battle. My suggestion, once you have learned your own status as meister or weapon, is to speak to the other guests and to find a partner with whom you will work. Here it is the best way to arm yourself!"

[makinarya]

That enough rattled Tres inside his metal body, despite having already heard it beforehand upon waking up. But to find out that there was nowhere to purchase any artillery . . . It was something that would have sent him in a panic attack, only that he felt no such thing. To him, it was merely an inconvenience, one that would pose a greater problem if the Duchess of Milan were to arrive.

After listening to the response given to him, Tres had immediately sorted out the information given to them earlier by a man named Death Scythe, reciting the words out as accurately as it had been told, his expression unchanging.

"A weapon is a person whose physical self changes into that of a weapon, and a meister is the person who wields them. There are people who can identify which one you are, if they are available today."

A pause then his hand rose again. "Requesting location of said individual."

[CASUALTY COMMUNAL]

[thesmallergun]

They finally arrive at the end of the tour to what looked like a large apartment. There are three women waiting for them there, two younger girls who look like they might be twins, and an older one with an eyepatch. The taller of the two twins steps forward to greet the group

[CASUALTY COMMUNAL]

[hisonlytruth]

It had been... A long day, and that was a serious understatement. Waking up in alternate dimensions when just yesterday you'd been living a normal life with your friends wasn't the kind of surprise Shirley really wanted. To top it off, the people in this place seemed a little off, and that was an understatement. Honestly, one of them was blue. This person seemed slightly more normal than the rest, however, so when she was done talking, Shirley felt more comfortable asking a question.

"Um, why are all the names of the buildings so morbid?" She asked, hoping it didn't make her seem odd. If this wasn't a dream (which she still suspected it may be, even if it was unusually vivid) the death motifs here sure didn't make it any easier to feel more at home.

[thesmallergun]

Liz perked a bit when Shirley asked a question. Everyone had seemed unusually quiet so she was glad for the break. In this case Liz could actually sympathize a little with Shirley. She may be a person able to transform into a demon gun who absorbed souls but for all of that Liz had an almost unnatural fear of the occult. Granted she was use to Shinigami and Death City by this point, but when she had first come here? She had wondered the exact same thing.

"That is mostly due to the fact that this city was created by currently reigning Shinigami's father. He started the gimmick and it just sort of grew from there." Jeez what a first impression they must make to people, but there was no way it would ever change. The people residents were not bothered by it, and Liz doubted very much that Kid would ever stray from his father's dream.

Well, not too much anyway.

"But in the end that is all it is--a gimmick. You don't need to worry too much about the residents."

[hisonlytruth]

"So it's kind of like a running joke?" She asked, tilting her head a little. Well, if that was true, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing... Still, if she was injured, the last place she'd want to go was a place called a 'Horrorspital'. For the most part, she believed Liz when she said she didn't need to worry - most of the people in the crowd that she had seen didn't seem that bad, even though some of the people showing them around were... Questionable.