the devil came to me.

"Oh, come on. I was not.. talking to myself…" Riku looked away. He had been very lost in thought. Maybe he was mumbling under his breath or something along those lines. That was a little embarrassing. So much for looking like The Cool Guy in front of Sora.

He shook off those thoughts, knowing there were more pressing matters at hand. Sora had not seen what had transpired. Perhaps Riku had imagined it, but he had this feeling he didn’t. The piece of metal that appeared in his hand felt very, very real. It almost felt natural and that is what concerned him the most.

Riku was unsure of what to do. He wanted to hide this from Sora and pretend like it never happened. Riku spent a year of drug and alcohol abuse and kept it from most of the people that knew him well. Putting on a performance was something of a skill of his. But with Sora, he had always found it difficult to hide his true feelings. Sora saw through it and it was frustrating. BUt this time, perhaps he could get away with it. Sora never has to know about the weird ability(?) that Riku had just obtained. And what if he was dangerous? What if he accidentally hurt Sora, or worse?

He bit his lip a little. He trusted Sora. And he was done hurting people he loved. He would not lie.

Instead of answering Sora’s questions, he sighed and held out his hand. He knew it would happen. Riku knew the blade would be with him. It was almost instinctive, and that disturbed him. The weapon materialized and Riku tried to shrug casually in hopes that Sora wouldn’t freak out as bad as Riku internally was at this moment.

"Oh, so you weren't looking like a loner over here?" Another harmless jab between best friends means no harm, passing through warm air that he's yet to inhale. It's not as though he holds his breath throughout their conversations, but the breeze leaves lead on his tongue. 

Especially so when he blinks, and fog from last week's reverie comes back to haunt him - a raft along a dock that feels no less real than the face that comes into the clearing - Riku's. (It's now that he can recognize just who offered their hand in the strange memory, and he stifles the dropping of his jaw.)

For one, because these memories seem far too out of place to bother with-- and two… the fact that he knows the silveret would take him seriously should the occasion call for it forces him to decide against thinking on it further. That is, until the taller's arm is extended and he nearly spits the truth out with a helpless, dripping tongue. 

But in a moment's time, his gaze is falling on an eccentric sword of sorts - one whose end is nearly without, jagged, vibrant, and reminding him of daybreak (or something like that). Either way, his eyes scintillate in little to no time at all and they don't dare dim for even a second. As if it would be a rarity for the spiky-haired boy to come off as impressed for one of the other's many talents. Even if it might be hard to explain, this weapon's come out of nowhere… so explaining a strange dream about him couldn't be too bad, could it? Pausing won't spell out much good, so he gulps and puts it past them.

"Riku!" It sounds more like a question that an exclamation, not that he means it to.

Sora was Riku’s best friend. Though he was away for so long due to his shitty behavior, Sora was one of the few people he never fet like he lost because of it. He felt safe around Sora, though he would never voice any of this aloud. Riku always had to play it cool, and he knew Sora would make fun of him if he found out what a secret sap Riku is.

"Aw, man. If I knew you were the runt sneaking up behind me, I would have made sure to actually hit you." A laugh, as he ruffled up Sora’s mess of hair "I went to Paralia thinking I could get away from you, but nope. Here you are. Just follow me everywhere, why don’t you?"

"It’s been one unpleasant week, Sora. I’ll say that much. And I really am sorry about the sword(?)." Weird dreams, waking up in a completely different town, and now a weird metal weapon appearing out of nowhere. He just wanted to go back home and deal with the annoyances of that place rather than these unsolveable mysteries.

He allowed his emotions to show on his face for once. He knew he could be himself around Sora. Riku had an easier time being himself around Sora than he did being himself around… himself. Sora always accepted him where he could not.

He smiled again, trying not to bring down the entire conversation with his melancholy and confusion.

"And, damn, Sora. You look like you’ve seen better days." The comment might have come rude to onlookers. This was how Riku expressed his concern and Sora understood it.

At this point, he won't get much out of recoiling-- it's been god knows how many years since their humiliating banter began; avoiding it or complaining beyond the typical whine is a waste of time. After all, no one knows better than the shorter brunet just how well Riku means when he says as much. If anything, it's a term of endearment. 

"Watch it!" Teasing, any remnants of former stress fade from tan skin. However subconscious the feelings might be, concern for himself needn't exist in the other's presence. Perhaps all the time spent consoling each other inadvertently has paid off (as despite how little they like to say it, history will be history and ignoring it is almost as counterproductive as his habits). 

Arms crossed, he stifles a huff. "Wasn't like I meant to surprise you. We're in the middle of nowhere and you were talking to yourself, what did you think was gonna happen?" As if on cue, he's interrupted mid-pout by the latter comment. 

"Yeah… There's too many pieces to line up. I don't even really know where to start." Sword? That doesn't sound terribly familiar - though he does recall an (albeit brief) appearance of something like that in the palm of his hand during the misguided reverie from a week prior to this conversation. "What're you talkin' about?"

Demeanor shifting from playfully irate to genuinely confused, his mouth comes to form an 'o' shape before he knows it - only aware when it clamps shut at Riku's dull barb. He's not hurt; it's said too matter-of-factly for it to be a slight of any kind. 

Fully recognizing that something is wrong with him is the last thing he's capable of doing. 

In these sort of situations, desperate times called for desperate measures— and desperate times consisted of no place to stay, no money, and Axel attempting to sell him for money at every opportunity that presented itself. The desperate measures? Well, bluntly put: begging.

TO: SORA FROM: ROXAS

[txt]: heeeeey

[txt]: you’re in paralia too right?

[txt]: and you have money right?

TO: ROXAS FROM: SORA

[TXT] ohhhhhhhh [/TXT] [TXT] you know how it is!! haha.. i mean?? well [/TXT] [TXT] im in paralia!!!!! but the cash thing not so much. where are you? [/TXT]

The atmosphere of Kingdom Plaza was actually quite nice to Riku. He loved the city, but he also enjoyed the simplicity of the less bustling life. He could get used to this place, he had determined. He scanned the area, wondering what he would be doing today.

Riku enjoyed the quieter areas of Palaria. He was born and raised in a city, but there was a charm about the quiet atmosphere of the Paralia life he had enjoyed. Riku was not a very sociable person, and he liked the feeling of ease and comfort it provided. He never was good with crowds, though he would never voice that aloud and often pretended otherwise.

Riku always had to be the calm, collected one. Anyhing else would be viewed as weakness, and that was not allowed. Riku felt his mood turning a little sour as he dwelled on all this. He was so into his own mind that the last thing he expected was someone to approach him from behind. He turned sharply.

It happened fast. Too fast. The feeling of someone creeping up behind him, intentional or not, made him jump. He opened the palm of his hand and a strange weapon materialized. Something close to a sword, but Riku would definitely not label it that. He gazed down at the weapon that was not there just a few seconds previously. What… what is that?! Where did it come from?

The instant he took in the details of the weapon, it was gone again. A little nervously, he looked at the person that seemingly approached him. Probably just made a total ass of himself. And made himself look like a freak. A weapon summoning freak.

"Um, sorry about that. I promise it doesn’t happen often." He laughed awkwardly, hoping that the person wouldn’t shoot him with pepper spray, or run away… or something.

But all of that aside, he's even come across someone that looks far too much like himself without the slightest idea as to how that is. If this place couldn't possibly get any more disorienting, the edge of Paralia seems to have undergone some ridiculous industrializing - or at least, to an extent - because he's fairly sure this wasn't here when he last checked. 

Whether it's good fortune or spontaneity that this is significantly more comfortable than the slow-paced area is a whole, he's not sure. All he is aware of is the familiar frame and silken, silver hair that's no less than a few meters away. Not thinking twice (just in case his eyes deceive him, or some other poetic novelty) before closing the distance between them, he takes the other's shoulder in one hand. 

Apparently nothing within the course of this week can transpire naturally, because while (luckily enougH) yes, it is who he's looking for, something currently has Riku's attention that he can't see. Not that he would dare hold as much against the taller, as all things considered, he can still hazily recall a dream of inky shadows snaking around his ankles and wrists. 

Even if that's one fact he doesn't plan on sharing. "Yeah, better be sorry!" A jab of his elbow to the other's side is supposed to be more reassuring than anything else, but how it comes off is subjective. Up to interpretation.

  Moving himself away from his regular routine was a rather uncomfortable situation for him, and although this particular meet-up was.. more or less necessary, L-elf wouldn’t bother with complaining or dwelling on the thought much longer. Though he knew the person he was meeting in question probably didn’t care about going to school, he had agreed to give a tour of the campus, regardless. Granted, the school wasn’t exactly some place just anyone could get into, he was asked by the former to show him around. His underlying reasons for such a outlandish request considering his usual character was beyond himself. That, of course, didn’t stop him from forming conclusions on his own for any possible reason to why.

  “Here you have the main hall, if you turn your attention over to—" he shifted his weight to redirect the other male’s attention to one of the many doors lining the annular space. "—here, you’ll see that you can find the student service center as well as…" trailing off in his explanation of the main building. The school was rather prestigious, and if you found yourself lost in it, well..that’d be rather unfortunate.

  “If you find yourself in need of a map of the school you will have to locate one on your own in your own time." He wasn’t L-elf’s responsibility in the first place, after all. "For now, I hope that you’ve been paying attention to the layout of the buildings we’ve visited so far, we still have quite a bit to go over. Feel free to ask questions at any time."

  He concluded that the ‘orientation’ would take no longer than another hour, depending on how much actually sunk in to this acquaintance of his. If they required to stop often, which so far they had, the time wouldn’t lessen in any amount any time soon. He was fully prepared for any questions he may be presented with, already having gone over all of the possible ones as well as possible answers. 

Corridors and hallways adorned with eccentricities galore, he beams with every column and wall, each photograph and piece of art catching his attention for a few seconds before the next steals it away. "This place's huge!" Arms folded clumsily behind his head, Sora's eyes dart to the crevices where four walls meet-- as if secrets embellish this building's corners and make up year round stories that go untold. 

Despite the fact that L-elf makes room for any queries he's retained thus far, they don't seem very welcome. That's alright - truth be told, the other male is far too engrossed in the design and architecture to ask questions in regards to which doors lead to which rooms. A bad idea? Certainly, but that doesn't stop his attention span from cutting short. 

What could be considered the most obvious of solutions, (the one that has just passed through Sora’s mind,) goes right over her head. Honestly her own first thought would’ve been calling in sick for the class; something which, predictably, Chrom didn’t allow. Beyond that, this kind of thing didn’t come quite so automatically to the princess.

Her steps are quick and eyes brighten as she takes after Sora’s lead, and while something like this usually shouldn’t need explaining between the two her question is still put forward. “So? Aren’t you gonna tell me first?” Any prior sense of dread has lifted at the prospect of getting out of this, and now all she displays is an eagerness to hear (or see) more of what his sudden plan could be. “Come on Sora, what are you thinking?”

Finger pressing firmly up to his mouth over a shoulder, he comes to terms with the decision sooner than later. For the most part, his stomach isn't a weak one; in fact, most should consider that he's made countless concoctions amidst kickbacks that take place between three and four in the morning with substances no one should ever mix. 

So cutting frogs shouldn't be that big of a deal (not for science, at least), but there isn't much he wouldn't do for stirring up something interesting. And as long as the blonde he's well-acquainted with seems compliant (not to mention equally enthusiastic) enough, not much out there can slow him down. "Follow my lead!" 

     A nod that came from Chaika, enthused by this satisfaction that would come from taking a picture. Linking her arms with his, in hopes she could probably gain the camera in a sense at take a picture from that angle. ❝Pictures capture the best of everyone..! You’re always at your best! Never ever not.❞ Wasn’t that his personality, always staying positive and strong for others. It was admirable. Now because of her happy disposition, she was possibly someone who always stayed positive. That was true, there wasn’t much that could get her down. Not in such a time where she was surrounded by people who brought the best out of her.

     Trying to think back to L-elf had taught her, since she was young and it was best to input as much as she could into her mind. The family she came from that was deep in the whole militia ordeal, there were things about the sky she would have to know as well but even then, she blocked out some and now was where she wished she had paid more attention. It would come back to her soon or Sora could just teach her something new. There were things people say that a person wouldn’t have to remember when exiting out of their twelve years of attending school, in Greece, Kindergarten was optional.

     ❝Certain time..! Must we complete rituals?❞ The fact that she was only kidding, rituals. Though, then again, she did believe in the occult and subjects of that matter and that was only true because of the fact of how she admired magic. Even if people stated to her it was fake, she couldn’t believe it. But things of that matter wasn’t what she talked about every so often unless someone else was interested. Continuing her steps with the other as she looked up at the sky before looking down at the ground. ❝There’s a pet shop not so far away from here! Should we check it out as we wait?❞ Take a few pictures with the animals, maybe find some they would wish they could just take him with them.

It doesn't take someone beyond observance to realize just how forgetful the brunet tends to be… even during more important circumstances such as packing for weeklong trips or studying for science quizzes (even if those nights wind up coming together with links on youtube to Shakira music videos over anything biological in the slightest), he winds up distracted. With the light-haired female, however, he doesn't feel too terrible about it. Guilt drains from sun kissed features as he breathes her presence in with comfort and laughter from countless times before. With every other word, he can feel sincerity seeping through and wonders if she gets similar vibes. After all, he hopes to leave a good impression even if that goes without saying. 

Even if the clouds aren't coming in a decent amount of time, he's happy to monopolize her morning due to just how easy it is to get along with the girl. No doubt about it, they're cut from the same (or at least a similar) cloth - edges smooth, lighthearted and simplistic. Beneath that rests tenderness, neither difficult to reach nor requiring too much effort. Even if that genuineness can be extended to a fault, it's not something worth acknowledging whilst considering the bigger picture. Between the two of them, worries are left to their subconscious rather than anything else. That might just be the safest way to go about it, anyways. 

Flattered by the anything but clipped remarks that leave a crooked smile on his face, he rids himself of an itch at the back of his neck with the free hand she hasn't grasped. "Not like I can't say the same thing about you! Always cute as ever," comes a compliment of his very own, arm linking cooperatively with hers as if to initiate their brand new destination's trip. Perhaps they have the same thought, even if her joke about occult rituals (and the supernatural as a whole) leaves his shoulders hiking up a notch. She's only teasing, and he knows that, but his imagination's made an awful habit of wandering. 

To Vanitas, literally any other way is preferable.  Which is why he situates his bed in the corner of the room, away from the rising sun every morning.  So why is he waking up to the sun rising through the window near his bed?  Groaning loudly, he rolls over to close the blinds…

…And almost shits himself.

Where the fuck is he?  Paralia?  It’s certainly not the goddamn city, that’s for sure.  With a look of shock and disgust, he races downstairs, thrilled as all hell to see that his grandfather is out.

Out where, though.  That’s the question.

He grabs his leather jacket without thought, even though the second he steps outside he realizes he doesn’t need it.  It’s fuckin’ hot here, and his heart is already racing a mile a minute, sending jolts of hot magma down his spine.  This is too much.  This is terrifying, and he never thought that being separated from his throne would cause such panic.

He has no idea where he’s going, either.  Somehow he ends up in a town square, surrounded by old buildings and fields for miles.  A crowd of civilians is begging the law enforcement to let them pass, because the road leading out of town is blocked.  Vanitas is picked up in this whirlwind too fast for him to even comprehend what’s happening.  And right when he’s about to march up to the enforcer and sock him straight in the jaw, his eye spots something remarkable.

A boy.  Who looks identical to him.

Immediately, he sees it as a threat.  And his already fired-up mind takes it offensively, so without thinking, he rushes through the crowd and grabs the boy’s collar to drag him into one of the buildings.  It’s small and abandoned and dark, and smells like cow shit.

This is why he doesn’t leave Karios.  But it looks like he doesn’t have a choice.

Today is no different. Doing his best to take the odd events in stride, he adjusts with knuckles pressing against eyelids that nearly feel raw from their insides and a stomach that just won't stop lurching with every twist and turn of the road less traveled. 

Whether the dream is doing this to him or something else entirely, it's tough to tell.

The only thing he does know is that nothing is right - and even less so when he's confronted with a fistful of his shirt in someone's hand that… looks… 

Like a doppelgänger from 2009, or one of those years he can't specifically recollect. 

Briefly, any remnants of oxygen are caught in the pit of his chest - backing up in the brunet's throat and working up against itself to clog his airways up as much as possible. First a dream about the dark, about an unknown town, and now this? If he's coming apart at the seams, surely someone could have included a warning! 

How he's officially alone with some deranged lookalike in a barn of all places must be the work of lonesome gods with nothing better to do, or reasons unbeknownst to either. And while he'd like to appreciate the fact that he's not the only one confused, it just might be better for the two of them if one had an answer for the thousands of questions that force his head to swell. "Whadd'you mean me? Who're you s'posed to be?" 

His voice cracks, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be taken seriously.

And maybe it's laughable, but there's some semblance of pure obstinacy through fogging, opalescent eyes. Brows furrowing before he gets a chance to jerk forward with an elbow, he winds up on his ass with heaving shoulders and no air in his lungs. 

"You're the one that looks like a joke!"

Taking another drink from her red cup, May realized that she had seen him earlier that night, and maybe even earlier still. His face was most definitely familiar, but the alcohol running through her was of no help. She had either seen him passing by in the halls at school, or this house’s hall way upon arrival. The two memories seemed to be smushed together, and she was sure had she been sober, she would have figured it out without a problem. As the ambiance shifted from the heavy beats of hiphop music, to those of poppy tunes—the kinds played ten times in a row on the radio stations—he spoke up.

So the smile hadn’t just been a polite one, he had meant to start up some kind of conversation; probably had heard her talking to herself or something. Whatever it was, he had decided to humor her, even if it was going to only be for a bit, and May was glad. She smiled again, brighter than before. The brunette scooted closer.

     "Sora…?" she said his name slow as if making sure she had it right, "I’m May, ‘nd if you don’t mind I think talkin’ t’you would be cool."

As if she had hit a magic number, that last sip she’d taken had made her start slurring slightly. Nothing too much. Unless someone was acquainted with her usual speech patterns, one would think she spoke this way often—cutting corners wherever she could. The night was young, though, and there were still plenty of drinks roaming about. If she kept going the way she was, she’d be sloshed by the end of the night. That was, if she was lucky.

No one had ever really warned her about the dangers of leaving one’s drink out in the open in an environment like this. She was a frequent offender of losing her drink, only to pick up another similar looking one—even more so when she already had more than a few under her belt. Sometimes they would taste like punch, other times she’d end up scrunching her face up when the undiluted alcohol seared down her throat, and other times still, May would find herself in the bathroom by the toilet, her stomach sore from puking. She’d never thought much of those incidents, always assuming she’d just had one too many. Not even when she blacked out did she think there might have been something laced in the drink, or drinks, she had consumed that night. Unbeknownst to her, she had been subject to different kinds of “party enhancers”.

Again, as she chugged down what was left in her cup, the music changed. This time it was something more electronic sounding. Whatever the song was, must have been popular, though, because as soon as it shifted the crowd let out a simultaneous shout of joy and began jumping in unison. However, May was unfamiliar with the tune. Tilting her head slightly, she found her foot tapping along, but her eyebrows were knit together as she turned on the couch to face Sora.

     "Wha’dya think of the music, Sora? S’been kinda crazy, I think."

When she scoots closer, any guises of clever, deliberate distance come apart. He's a stranger to personal space, the bubbles that make it up and all things in between-- never has the male been capable of respecting boundaries. It's nothing personal, really. Some are merely less adept when it comes to matters of innate, dividing lines that demand (though not quite) a particular amount of courtesy. For the most part, he tries to--

(but efforts like these never go as planned, do they?) 

So just about as quickly as it begins, the unfamiliar mask melts away with a comfortable grin, easing across an eager mouth. Features radiating both heat and bliss in its own right, the brunet turns towards her with a slight incline of his head. Much like that of a woodland creature from a fairytale, it tilts in shadow of his curiosity being somewhat piqued. As far as Sora's concerned, she's done more than enough to come off as interesting. 

Though realistically, there are few things - and even fewer people that he might refuse to entertain the idea of conversing with. To him, everyone has something worth listening to or considering. Ignoring that would make him… well, for lack of a better word, a jerk (fortunately for those less agreeable, he wouldn't hold it against them). 

"Cool, huh?" Knuckle brushing his upper lip, he cracks a smile that happens to linger a second or so longer than necessary. 

Fragmented moments subsequent to committing her face to memory, he does his best to recognize that the alcohol might fog that up at a later point in time. With that in mind, he makes a tad more of an effort (which might just look like scrutiny from the perspective of someone that doesn't know any better - but it's all well-intended and the judgmental expressions he makes are far and few) and nods reassuringly afterwards. "Yeah, you bet! Sounds good t'me." 

Needless to say, her speech pattern isn't the only one affected by a lack of attention put forth towards it. What she does draw his thoughts to, though, is the changing pace of melodies which the walls just so happen to emanate. As if approval spreads through his entire body, a chill runs up the back of his spine and he offers a haphazard head bob. "So far? Yeah, sort of a mess." Chuckling under his breath, the boy lets his eyes fall back to the cup and wonders just how often they've both been at a place like this and just haven't crossed paths. Fate acts like such a strange thing, he thinks, and if she wasn't having a good time before - he hopes to help her do so. "Think the DJ could use a little help, but hey-- not my party." Already having done his part of attempting to change their mind, he neglects to confess as much. 

A longer sip and recognition of an eccentric tempo later, Sora arches a brow in what just might be the most genuine spirit of interest within this household. He doesn't start these sentences with 'would it be weird to admit…', or 'sorry to say', because he doesn't find harm in anything intrusive. One, because he doesn't see these statements as such, and two, because there's no time to bother. It's all one step a time. "Y'know... think I've seen you before!"

How long has it been since she awoke laying on an open field? Through hardships, she could understood Paralia were her current whereabouts. Only a fool would not worry but it takes a worse kind of idiot to panic as well. This has to be a prank, maybe Joffrey’s doing or worse — it should have been him or his friends, they always do awful things to me.

Sansa is afraid, as anyone else would be. But if I don’t stay calm, I won’t solve anything. Though part of herself wished to be capable to cry or even scream instead of being restrained. She can barely recognize the few streets separating humble homes and it’s not until later than she can realize there were more people than usual swarming from left and right. Were her assumptions wrong and this was not Joff’s doing?

Careful steps hurried toward someone, whoever in the world would be, perhaps they could have they answer she sought. “Excuse me…” Nervousness remain hidden but her body is trembling, noticeable only when she dares to pat the shoulder of a passerby.

He visits often, truth be told, and it doesn't take much for the boy to assume that it's a simple misunderstanding. Why else would he end up over here, other than a late night party or something of that sort? As soon as he's down a few intersections and having an easier time recalling the way back to home, the male's just barely grazed by a grasp along his shoulder. It seems hesitant, and so when he turns to face the source, Sora's demeanor is warm and easy.

Why? Because this is how he operates: without concern for his own self. Impulsively worried for those around him… and occasion inspires exactly that. The young woman is terribly out of her element, dressed well and hair silken. "Train station?"

It’s (probably) for the best when they’re ushered out the door, and despite the relative alertness of the boy now standing next to her it’s plain as day that Lissa herself is still only just waking up when she very poorly conceals a yawn. A pout is apparent on her face for most of this, but she quickly pastes an amicable smile over it when addressed.

"Oh! Good morning, Sora. I guess so, but—" A brief grimace crosses her face, expression conveying her distaste for the idea. Frogs were one thing, but cutting them open? Yech! She just couldn’t see herself doing it, and worse, she didn’t even want to. “Those poor frogs. I know they’re all gross and pukey, but they don’t deserve to get all cut up like this!”

While he can appreciate softness, gentle contact and quiet voices, the brunet tends to revel in all that remains chipper and brings energy to the blue of his eyes. Lissa-- and just how impressionable she's been since the first time they've met, is someone who functions on that wavelength. Emanating from her is an uncertain vibrance that merely stems from the melodies of likemindedness. Needless to say, he drinks it in even if it's something he is unaware of. There's always the chance that pure, unadulterated understandings are not a requirement. 

Some company is better at its simplest. That's where happiness is best absorbed, after all - being carefree! Not to be confused with careless, which even Sora knows has a very different meaning. Either way, it's far too early to be pondering about the masses and their philosophies. Up jerks his chin in hopes of coming off a bit more conscious than before. 

To: ???-???-???? From: Peter

hey fyi i may be a little late to this thing.

gotta pick up my aunt from work, but then i'll head right over.

[TXT] late? its cool!!! im always late [/TXT] [TXT] whats goin on? this a party invitation?? [/TXT]