#conpedes

     So far at least 10 hours have passed since Alma stepped off the train into an entirely new sector. At first, his gaze directed itself upwards, gazing at the tips of the skyscrapers that reach up further than those at his own sector. Slowly, his eyes went from the clouds to the streets, examining every detail laid out before him: the small cracks on the sidewalk, the displays visible through glass, the moving hunks of metal that zip past, the misplaced skinny trees. 

     He spends hours and hours wandering enthralled. What snaps him out of his excited reverie is the soft rumbling in his stomach. Suddenly, his stomach pains him and his legs lose their momentum. All his childish energy seems to run out in a moment, and he's stuck doubled, clutching his stomach tight, in the middle of a sidewalk. 

     He turns around. He intends on finding his way back to the station by retracing his steps on his wobbly legs. However, familiar landmarks become unfamiliar when, he sees, they're not in the right place. Though the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings around him, he tries not to lose hope and continues to be hopelessly lost. 

     Waves of warm shades reflected softly on the darkening sky, orange flame aglow within the confines of red lanterns strung carefully through the main street of the Cultural Sector. An unsurprising amount of Japanese children littered the area, celebrating their routes as they danced through the streets in their coloured festive clothing and bright artistic masks. The snow was melting, giving the city a taste of early spring, and the festival was held just before the snow would fall again. From their tiny mouths came chants, an ancient rhyme repeated in an innocent wish.

     “Teru-teru-bozu,” chanted they, “Teru-bozu. Do make tomorrow a sunny day, like the sky in a dream sometime. If it’s sunny, I’ll give you a golden bell.”

     The pounding of Taiko drums carried through the air behind the children as they sang, sending them forward with encouragement. Among the younger generation danced a youthful Baku in yukata and geta, hidden secretively behind a fox mask and standing out from the rest with his height. He was a guardian of sorts, keeping eye on the young ones to keep them safe from harm as regular citizens watched the parade.

     Pedestrian crossing became difficult, path obstructed once the festival carried itself to the ends of the streets; a lady, apparently unaware of the festival occurring until she arrived at the curve, stood with an expression close to surprise with eyes of wonder. It just so happened she stood a little close, and the stealthy fox couldn’t stop himself from drawing her in.

     “Teru-teru-bozu,” chanted the children, “Teru-bozu. Do make tomorrow a sunny day. If you make my wish come true,”

     “Then I’ll kiss you!” There in her view he appeared, mask obscuring all but his voice, separated from the singing children now walking past. He leaned upward, quickly but carefully, and pressed his lips against his mask against her lips, a very audible chu replacing the absent sound of lips smacking. After a moment, the boy drew away, displayed the palms of his hands beside his head and bent them outward and inward twice in a wave. Leaving behind the mystery of his presence, the fox disappeared into the flow as quickly as he appeared, not a name exchanged despite the familiarity of their meeting.

[The child was bundled up tight. Layer after layer just to keep her warm. It was difficult to keep the bag properly in hand when she could barely close the hand properly with the amount of padding on her hands. It was no surprise thatt the bag was lost in a pile of snow. White on white and the girl staring at the pile trying to distinguish the white bag from the rest of the snow.

She leaned closer, barely able to bend half way. Her hand trying to pat at the snow. She couldn't feel the bag. Slowly her eyes started to fill with distress.]

"Ah..."

          When the city's in trouble, heroes will assemble to protect it. On this first night of the new year, when fires are roaring over sector oo4 with no one to put them out, it's the job of a hero to come to the aid of the people. Allen had been sitting in the living room when all of a sudden he saw the flames a whole sector away. ❝ Well..something has to be done about that. ❞ Quickly, he speed dials all of his friends quickly explaining the situation as he slips on his clothing and he's out of the door a moment later running. 

          About halfway to sector oo4, all of their pathes merge and it is now the four of them running together which would be himself, Lavi, Lenalee and Kanda. Surely they'd all been busy with their New Year festivities, but the people needed them and he figured that was much more important. ❝ Sorry to call you all here on such short notice, but uh..we have a situation. The sector's on fire..so we kinda need to put it out. ❞

          And then they finally get there and through the flames there are many people running, so in an attempt to calm them he climbs up on a podium to address the people. ❝ Citizens, we are all here to put out the fire, rest assured it'll be out in just a moment! give a minute, we just go-- ❞ And then..fire grabs hold of his cloak and he screams.

          ❝ aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAH KANDA PUT IT OUT PUT IT OUT MY CLOAK IS ON FIRE! ❞ So much for making a cool entrance. They didn't even have their real uniforms yet, how uncool.

     Eye closed, he could hear familiar voices faintly. He brushes this off until the amplitude of the voices increase with every single second. While they've visited him before, they had never done so together or this early in the morning.

     He walks downstairs and opens the door only for navy hues to set his sights on familiar faces who seemed to be travelling with an overabundance of luggage. All three of them granting him a surprise home visit with luggage- how suspicious.

      "What the hell are you guys doing?" 

          He'd never been one for giving gifts to anyone, but this year was going to be different. He'd bee extra careful with saving money just so he could buy her a gift. It's not too extravagant, but surely she'd appreciate it all the same. ❝ Lenalee, I know we haven't gotten the chance to talk much here..but you're still really important to me along with the others. So I got you a gift. ❞ In his hands, he holds a small purple box, topped with a white ribbon, held out to her. ❝ Your hair is very beautiful and I was told women like things like this so.. ❞

          When she unwrapped it, inside she'd find a set of bows he'd picked out for her. 

We are ever striving after what is forbidden, and coveting what is denied us. - Ovid

posting order: mukuro ⇢ allen ⇢ lenalee

     It's a simple motion, a trap door lifting underneath everyone's feet to, only moments later, thrust them into what feels like nothingness temporarily, and rather than falling, sitting buoyantly like data awaiting to be processed.

     Nobody feels it until after everything has processed, landing on the ground what feels like only a moment of movement lead them there. It is needless to say, only after glancing around at her teammates, that this is another one of those challenges the overseers of Hive City enjoy tormenting them with - or is it? Mukuro doesn't know the true intentions behind this, though she isn't alone on this one.

     Surrounding her are two other people: one relatively familiar, another a complete stranger. She feels strange, sensing things that ordinarily don't belong inside Mukuro Ikusaba - and yet, even at such a vexed state, cool eyes trace over the people before her, because even if none of them have a clue what this all means.. she must remain composed, even more-so than ever before if she seems to be fated to cooperate with these two.

          ❝ Seems like we need to team up if we're interested in making it out alive. Don't know about you two, but I'm not going to be a sitting duck. ❞