#mesdoram

that’s actually super cute wish ngl

why u gotta make my life so hard :(

Estelle

Hubert

Leon

Guy

ye bobby you can ask for two!

let’s see… tales series man this is tough:

Richard Windor (of course he’s taken over my Tales life)

Yuri Lowell

Colette Brunel

Karol Capel

Claire Bennett

Aaaaaaaand, Soul Calibur…

Cassandra Alexandra (my girl my main 5ever she better still be alive)

Talim (my other main 5ever)

Yan Leixia

Kilik

Why me?

Richard breathed.

In retrospect, perhaps it had not been the most graceful of actions. Murder rarely was. But even as murders go, it hadn't been particularly elegant in execution.  Glamorous murders took place with chords of rope and gloves carefully selected for the deed, artful criminals climbing in at the windows and disappearing as fluidly, carefully calculated, calmly executed. At least, in books and movies. And though Richard's true occupation (conman was such a dirty-sounding word) had brought his finely manicured fingers in contact with many an unsavory act, never had he committed murder. Not until now.  And it had been so nerve-wracking at the time, everything lost in a blur of adrenaline and anxiety so thick he could hardly see past his own hands with his glasses on. 

He wasn't breathing.

A snagging gasp. By nervous habit, he was used to pulling the fine white scarf to the point of self-strangulation when faced with enormous angst, but seeing as he had been deprived of his beloved garments, he was left clutching together the collar of the unspeakably hideous uniform until it cut off passage to his lungs.  A sham of a replacement. And besides that, he was certain this low-grade fiber wasn't good for his skin. Releasing, he coughed and breathed.  

From a neighboring cell, a lazy, sarcastic jeer.

"O-oh shut up, you neanderthal. Your reek is enough to churn my stomach without having to hear you attempt to formulate a coherent sentence."

He couldn't help it. The snappish responses came as naturally as breathing by now, even as he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle himself from going any farther. It wasn't that he regretted what he said -- goodness knew the apish ignoramuses surrounding him deserved a slap in the face -- but his own cellmate had been removed for Richard's own safety already, and it wasn't hard to tell that he was already less than well liked amongst the general population of knuckle draggers in this dump.

Which left him where?

With a whimper, Richard wrung his hands. Sitting on the top bunk in a frigid cell like a caged animal, that was where; with nothing but a horridly unfashionable uniform and several wasted phone calls paid to -- oh why -- Tahno of all people, which he was certain amounted to little more than frenetic jittering on the verge of tears or hysterical anger, intermittently. Not exactly the impression he'd have liked to leave with the all-too-revered pro-bender. Champion pro-bender. 

But what did that matter now? Here he was in LA. Furious, cold, and imprisoned. He supposed he'd have to do what any inmates of actual import did, and write his memoirs. Of course, his would better -- he was Richard Wellington, after all. 

Why the fucking hell did he have to get himself lost in a place like this.

If someone asked the shark how exactly he got here, he couldn't tell you. Not that he would, for that matter, but the fact of the matter was, Squalo had no idea. And it was beginning to frustrate him to the point of wanting to scream at the top of his lungs. But that would draw attention to him and at the moment, he wanted to simply fade into the silence of the seemingly empty area. There had to be people here, but so far it felt like there was an over hanging presence and everything was just avoiding eyesight. He thought he noticed a strange shadow at one point, but it quickly vanished and left him to think he was probably delving into insanity. Strange shadows, no memory of getting here, no idea where the fuck this was? Yeah, clinical fucking insanity. Just great.

Finally a source of light caught his eyes and Squalo turned his head up to spy a sign, glowing in bright red neon, tacky as hell really. And what the fuck was with that name; 'Devil May Cry'? But at least it was a sign of life, and that was good enough for him. He just wanted answers and he'd be damned if he was going to just let a plausible opportune to shake them out of someone slip away. He could be the polite person and just knock on the doors, or he could let out some built up rage by kicking them right off their hinges.

She hadn't the faintest idea of where she was right now or what sort of magick was used. The Dalmascan Queen frowned, obviously not amused by these turn of events.

"Where in all of Ivalice is this?" she said to particularly no one.

Dalmasca had rejoiced in the return of their lost princess, and had celebrated being free from the hold of the Archadian Empire and freed from the possibility of a war between empires. Fear may stay in some of the people's hearts towards the Empire, but Ashe no longer held such fear. The young Larsa was working hard to maintain that peace, and Ashe had worked to restore her kingdom to its' former glory. It would take time for alliances to build, lives to restore, power to regain, but Ashe would want nothing more than the best for her people.

...but now she was here. Here in a city in ruin. Ashe could see and smell death all around her, and the buildings seemed to have been scorched by many fires. Swords lay on the ground, bloodied and dirtied as if in battle. It was as if many battles were fought here, so much so that Ashe briefly thought that she had been reported to a battlefield.

"...what madness is this?" she couldn't help but ask herself as she looked around her surroundings. This wasn't Rabanastre, not even close... and Ashe would go so far as to say this wasn't the ruins of Nalbina. No, this was some other place in Ivalice that she wasn't even aware of... if she even was on Ivalice anymore. She didn't have Fran's sense, but even Ashe could tell that the Mist was low here. But such a thought seemed impossible in Ashe's mind. There would have to be a large amount of Mist to cast such magick like a portal to another world.

Ashe shook her head when that thought came to mind. "No, that's ridiculous. Though I can't find any other explanation for this..." A sigh escaped the young Queen's lips. How was she supposed to restore her kingdom if the kingdom didn't have its' Queen? She was separated from it once, as a sorrowful and vengeful Princess. She will not be separated from her people again.

She picked up a lone sword near her feet for her protection. Uncouth and unsuitable for her, she knew. But Ashe has been through worse situations than this. It should suffice until Ashe could find a suitable weapon at some kind of shop. For now, she looked for a sign of life, preparing to ask where she currently was.