welcome to enemy turf,

Reiko’s hair hung straight down her back, not wanting to tie it up just yet. Strands of blue blowing behind her with every step she took. Pausing in her tracks for a moment she took the time to upen her parasol. Placing its silver shaft onto her shoulder she held in her left hand carefully. Not wanting it to blow away for any reason, it was one of her favorite umbrellas.

A half moment of awe at his own luck of running into Reiko out of pure circumstance had him speechless for a few seconds before he realized that his sudden action had made her drop something; a delicate parasol, fluttering softly in the breeze, threatened to float off if a gust ever decided to pick up suddenly. Swiftly, the blonde picked up the umbrella and held it over his own head, raising an eyebrow questioningly at the blue-haired girl, almost as if to tease her for carrying an item designed to protect her from sun rays or rain while neither were present to assail her.

⌆ a nervous tic or habit they do

⏀ describe their usual smile

⇅ do they look up or down while thinking?

❧ describe their usual sleeping position

✑ describe something they like without naming it

✜ what’s their posture like in a normal situation?

❖ describe their hands

❞ write a quote they would find themselves saying

§ how would their hair gray? or would they lose their hair first?

❤ describe how they show affection.

           running…

It was something Xander had always been good at–but never, it seemed, quite good enough. His mistakes always managed to find their way back to him–or perhaps it was the other way around. He never had been able to successfully outrun his past, but most other things–in this particular case, a city cop and his lap-dog Growlithe–he usually had no trouble with.

His breathing remained controlled and rhythmic as he ran, a smokescreen attack and a well-aimed tackle delivered by his Koffing buying the young Rocket grunt just enough time to escape his would-be captors.

He ran well past the city limits, his standard-issue black uniform allowing him to blend easily with the darkness of the night, a deep bite wound in his forearm dripping steadily off the tips of his fingers. Paying no mind to the pain, the grunt cursed beneath his breath–it was nothing compared to what he would receive for his failure of the mission, set-up or not.

With his mind preoccupied with fabricating a believable excuse to offer his superiors, the grunt ran headlong into an unsuspecting person.

Dammit, dammit!

The grunt finally stopped, his uninjured hand instinctively moving toward the four pokeballs clipped to his belt.

Despite the burning rage sent coursing through her veins in response to Xander’s unbelievably callous tone, Elise managed to keep her composure, merely shooting the bored-looking blond a smirk as she continued to gaze at him with piercing blue eyes. “Using a tone like that with me…you must want to die here, hm?” the officer murmured, crossing her arms as her grin widened cruelly. “Unfortunately for you, I have no intention of killing you…until you give me what I want. In fact, I think I’ll make you suffer until you’re begging to give me all the information that you’re hiding. Mismagius!”

"Giovanni..." the Rocket grunt murmured, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his gaze shifted from the towering syndicate boss to the hooded figure bound and kneeling beside him. A lump rose in his throat as the spotted a gleaming knife in the older man's hand.

"I told you what would happen if you ever tried to abandon your duties again," Giovanni stated calmly as he used his free hand to remove the hood from the kneeling figure's head, revealing the tear-stained face of his mother. "Remember: you did this to her."

"No! Mom--"

Finally finding the strength to move his legs, the thief sprinted forward to save his mother, closing the gap between them with surprising speed--only to have her and Giovanni both dissolve into thin air as soon as he reached them.

"What..?" he mouthed silently, staring down at the spot his mother had just been kneeling. By the time he had realized someone was clinging to the sleeve of his sweater, she had already leapt away from him as if he were a contagious disease.

“What is going on?!”

"If I had to guess," Xander began, raising his hand to tenderly touch his cheek which continued to sting violently from the abuse he had previously suffered. "I'd say your 'special punishment' backfired."

EXTRAVERSION

★★★★★★★★★☆ : outgoing ★★★★★★★★☆☆ : risk-taking ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : excitement-seeking ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : physically adventurous

AGREEABLENESS

★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : trusting ★★★★★★★★☆☆ : compassionate ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : empathetic  ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : enjoys company

NEUROTICISM

★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : angry ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : depressed ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : anxiety ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ : emotionally stable

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 

★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : self-disciplined ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : hard-working ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ : prepared/dutiful  ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : aims to over-achieve 

OPENNESS TO EXPERIENCE 

★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : likes new things ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : likes novel settings ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : intellectual/ideas/imaginative  ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : enjoys art/culture/adventure 

“Pikachu," the twin-tailed six year old demands correctively as blue hues followed the movement of the candy dropping into a Pumpkaboo bag excitedly. The weight of the jawbreakers had felt substantial enough as compared to the small scatterings of sugary treats most houses gave out, and thoughts of a favoured chocolate bar flitted through her mind. One could only imagine the soured look of disgust the sweet-tooth had upon realisation that not only was the blond boy rude, he also had an awful knack for dealing with trick-or-treaters.  It has almost seemed like this was his trick on her.  "Is this your trick, mister?" Disappointment laces her voice with a perfected puppy-dog pout (the kind that would get the child anything her heart had desired from her father) directed at the Rocket grunt, her feet shuffled idly against each other in exaggeration of a wounded expression.

"Krookidile tears won't work on me, kid." Xander sighed, completely unaffected by the girl's large, watering eyes. Not only was the little brat acting incredibly ungrateful, but she'd also deceived him into awarding her with the best of his reject-candy prizes--although that would quickly be rectified. "But since you're actually just an regular ol' Pikachu... well, that changes everything."

The roguish smirk that crossed the grunt's lips was suspicious to say the least as he reached into the girl's basket and reclaimed his prize, shamelessly sneaking a few of the other sweets out of her basket along with the sour candies.

"Sorry, but I can't let ya keep the top prize for originality, since you're not really a Makuhita," he told her, pocketing his handful of treats before patting her on the head. "But don't worry, you get a sweet consolation prize!"

Finally, Xander dropped her consolation prize into the plastic Pumpkaboo: a snack-sized chocolate bar, which had been smooshed until it was nearly flat.

Her threat falls to pieces as she erupts in a violent coughing fit. So much for making a statement!