#grymfared

On this day, once she pulled out unsolicited advertisements and coupons and a glamorous-looking magazine she was intentionally subscribed to, she noticed upon closing the mass-produced mailbox that the separate one near hers was also being checked.

She looked him over from head to toe, her expression (at least) not disinterested, and said, "You must live in the tower beside my manor. I've been curious about the one living there."

However, today a very well behaved Eevee seems to be amongst the patrons of the library. it is a very quiet creatrure as it softly pads up to its inteded destination.

The fluffy, brown fox-cat stops at the feet of the person that caught its interest. It doesn't vocalize, yet, bjust leans over and sniffs.

There isn't ant other action taken as a pink haired young woman scoops the Pokémon up. She gives an apologetic look to the person.

"I am terribly sorry, monsieur," the owner says softly - aware of their surroundings - as she adjusts her hold on the creature.

His metabolism had always been a weird thing. He needed to eat the way humans did, but he did so out of habit, the same reasons he tried to sleep at night—just to maintain circadian rhythm, normalcy.

But there’d been plenty of times when he’d completely forget to eat for an entire day, too busy to even stop for a snack. It never mattered much before, he’d just demolish an entire box of cereal before bed on those days.

Here it was different. Whatever it was they did to the sun, to him, it made him feel like he was starving if he went out flying without eating first.

After his allotted soaring for the night, he was relieved when he managed to drag his weary body to the nearest pizza place. 

He ate two pizzas by himself, waiting on the nice people on staff to make him another one while he explored the jukebox in the corner. 

Yes, money was strange and sparse here, but yes, he was using a coin to scroll through the selections.

Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of the person still watching him. It made him so uneasy, but he wasn’t sure why. 

Maybe they’d noticed how much he’d eaten. Maybe they were worried he’d play a song they hated—a strong possibility. 

Lorene loved books. How could he not? His home nation had been founded by refugees, a nation of disparate tribes of Elves kicked out of a unified Empire two thousand years ago, who had found allies in the nomadic tribes of the far north, and refuge in ancient Elven ruins. Mongol was a nation that existed only by the blood, sweat, and stubbornness of its peoples--people who, especially the Elves, never forgot. But even Elves couldn't live forever, not on Asgard. Oral tradition was viewed as sacred in Mongol, but books? Books were practical. The written word was the only sure way to preserve the tales of your life's struggles, so that your descendants wouldn't have to suffer the same way you did.

The young Prince liked staying busy (needed to stay busy), and so had applied for two jobs shortly after his arrival to the island. He didn't expect, however, to find himself with idle money--money that didn't need to be spent for practical uses. Housing was secured and free; he ate well, even for a mage with high calorie needs; he wasn't big on fashion--so what did he spend his money on? Books, of course. The occasional art piece from a local artisan, sure--but whenever Lorene got itchy feet and needed to go for a walk around his home ward, inevitably he'd find himself in a book shop.

He'd noticed, of course, that anything originating in Spirale seemed very...Earth-ordinary, to his eyes. In his travels, Lorene had been through several different versions of Earth, and they all had similar traits: technology with a focus on communication rather than transportation; mass-produced products available on a global scale; highly-regimented cultures that prioritized nonviolence; a population of only humans, who viewed anything non-human as fantastical or unreal. Thankfully, the natives of the island weren't unkind to the non-human kidnappees who arrived during eclipses, per se. But it was obvious that Lorene, and the other offworlders like him, were not from here.

That was exactly why the grimoire drew him in. Just like the other offworlders, just like himself, it was obviously not from here. Lorene's majyk was not of the type where he could simply feel that--it was a sense more subtle than majyk. Or maybe it was all of his senses, working delicately in concert. Either way, the second he saw the book, he picked it up, paid for it, and left the shop. He wasn't sure what caused him to rush out. Maybe it was the thought of something is going to happen, and whatever it is, it's not for the eyes of bystanders.

Unfortunately, he was right--something did happen. The moment Lorene stepped outside with the grimoire in hand, the book burst open of its own accord--the pages fluttered like they were caught in a gale; the ink swirled on the page in a flurry of magic.

"FUCK."

Wrestling with the grimoire to try to force it shut, terrified that the commotion would draw the gaze of passerby, Lorene dashed down the nearest secluded alleyway, murmuring frantically. "Not here you stupid thing, what if someone sees--?!"

"If you step on her, I'm gonna kick you in the balls!"

It's spoken completely glibly: it would seem far too many people here do not have an understanding of, or appreciation for, Skorupi -- clearly, bug-type Pokemon (or anything similar) must be rare. Would you really step on something so small and innocent and cute? What kind of monster do you have to be!

"She's just a big baby."

Her arms, wrapped in her fuzzy jacket, scoop the large Pokemon right off the ground: 26 lbs is a couple of grapes to her, an absolute non-weight. She sighs, cradling Skorupi like a mother would their child (...that's pretty much what the bug is, after all), head tilted to the side.

"You wouldn't step on one of those kittythings with the tv heads, right? She's just as cute as them!"

Sat down at Saviour's Respite for some sketching Eiden's entirely unprepared for what he's about to witness - if the dragon wasn't surprise enough, transformation into human (?) has his pen slips on the paper. He doesn't really know how long he's been there, it's been a while he lifted his nose from the sketchbook.

Their eyes meet.

ʚїɞ - Fern had been forced to reckon with some preconceived notions about dragons at the start of this bout. From what she knew, Spirale didn't have things like dragons natively. The Glitched didn't appear to have any monsters among their ranks aside from the few species that lurked in Cotes, too. So the fact that there was a dragon in her midst meant it came from another world, right?

They were already over a week in, and it had become clear how the mechanics worked. The crimson mist she'd encountered was one of the "modifiers". The problem was that she was at the point that her power was waning from overuse.

｢𓆄｣ Hawks was cautious about the overuse of his wings. As much as he hated being on the ground, it sure beat the alternative of getting up somewhere really high, and being unable to get back down. He'd received a warning from a patrolmate of his that the overuse of his quirk would find it weaken and weaken.

And while the latent effects like hearing through feathers didn't matter too much, the total control of his wings and feathers weren't something they could afford to lose this early.

Fortunately, he's at least a decently skilled swordsman, and without a second thought, as he drove his sword through one of the glitched NPCs, he ended up backing up into someone he hadn't seen in quite awhile!

But, now was not the time for nostalgic heartwarming reunions.