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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Sept 3, 2016 4:19:53 GMT
(Open RP! Kelathi has auto-join privledges of course, but y’all feel welcome to join in
This is set in the future, roughly (roughly) based on concepts from “Watch Dogs” and “Deus Ex: Human Revolution” where there’s more advanced tech, but still a lot of “modern” problems and advertising and the like. (and no I have never played these games, I’ve only seen clips ))
It almost looked like a light show, the way the neon and strobe lights bounced through the rain as it poured down. This was no pitter-patter or mist, but a torrent, soaking anyone walking through it in seconds rather than minutes. Everyone was running down the street with umbrellas held tightly to their heads, trying to avoid puddles when they could. A few of the cars still managed to soak shoes as they went driving past, some still recklessly fast even in the off weather.
All of the advertisements continued to flicker and glow, silent video commercials and neon signs all trying to attract a crowd. Buy this drink. Eat here. Get this dress. Purchase your happy new life. The most elaborate, most expensive ads were reserved for new technologies, of course, and none were more controversial than the machines.
Machines to drive you places. Machines to serve you. Cook food. Clean the house. Care for the young and old. To help adults, in more ways than one. These principles weren’t new concepts, as bipedal units that had enough of a human form to perform ordinary and extraordinary human tasks had been around for some time now. What caused such a fuss was the push by several companies to make their machines more humanoid. More realistic. Blurring the line between the miracle of God and the genius of humanity.
This was really the deciding factor, determining who was in favor of these new machines and who were against. Were these new androids a scientific offering to God, or an offense? The fight grew worse and worse with every year, politicians dancing on tightropes to not put off almost half of the public. Flashing lights and programmed smiles in the ads on the largest billboards showed who was slowly winning, despite the growing presence of “flesh fair” demonstrations to speak out against making the machines too much like their creators. Machines would rise up and rule over humans, physically weaker and mentally slower than their computerized counterparts. They would take over jobs, take over lives, lead humans to corruptions and sloth, losing their humanity by surrendering it to the machines. Companies were far too eager to explore replacements for their human workers as it was without even the growing presence of humanoid machines. Almost half of the population liked the idea of having less alien-looking creatures among them. Almost half of the population thought it was an abomination.
If they only knew how far that technology had already gone.
The largest marketing scheme was under the control of the Nemean Corporation, feuding currently with Vision Incorporated as the most powerful single company in the world. Nemean’s pushes in technology almost seemed encouraged by the flesh fairs and protests, even mocking them in their ads. Every year, their androids were more human, more intelligent, more independent, more affordable, more interactive, more customizable, more capable of helping humans of all levels enjoy luxuriously simple lives. They were the favorite of the military and government, subsidized to create members of the police and personal guards for important, wealthy individuals. At this point, it was difficult to tell at a glance who was human, and who was a fake. It was even harder to tell who was caught in the middle.
Near the glass paned window, fogging up against the fine mist rising up from the downpour, the hot coffee was a welcome warmth into the mouth, down the esophagus and eventually to the stomach and other internal organs as it merged with the half digested remnants of her meal. Not the most poetic description, but nonetheless an accurate accounting of the process. Both hands were cupped around the stained crème-colored mug, steady yet seeming to risk shaking at any moment. The coffee had recently been refreshed in the mug, bringing its temperature back up several degrees, enough to counteract the cold radiating off of the window she clung to. After her early days trapped in rooms with solid walls, no air save for what was vented in, she found it more and more difficult to curl into a corner.
Besides, she was well hidden. Her pale blond hair was only betrayed by their roots, the rest dyed to a rich brown intermixed with neon purple strips, making her look more like a delinquent with the nearly waist-length locks falling freely about and before her face. The pale lashes were smothered in black mascara, the eyeliner equally thick and vivid as the smoky base of violet across her eyelids. Pale lips were masked in a dark crimson, as much in hiding as the rest of her lean, delicate looking form. A form that was most deceptively powerful, far beyond that of the humans around her. She wasn’t an android, but she wasn’t like the pure-blooded humans around her either. She was dressed in black, from the v-neck long sleeved shirt, jeans and flats, large bangle earrings glinting silver even in the dim light. So different from the suits she was used to, pressed and fitted like leather gloves. No less was expected of those belonging to the Nemean Corporation. The others in her program – her “siblings,” as Mr. Nemean had often described his “children” – were all named to showcase their exceptionality, their perfection. Her given name was Anastasia, a royal title. It hadn’t taken much processing to shorten it to a name that wouldn’t be associated with her past: Sia.
Sia Vitae, in honor of her “new life.” A life without the rules and plans of the Nemean Corporation. Without the constant tests and evaluations of her abilities as the hybrid between man and machine. Without the ability to try to become a human, with a life of her own, one made by her own choices and decisions. The past was quietly buried, but never forgotten. No, she had to constantly be wary of being found. To run too far might make her more noticeable. Wouldn’t that be the expectation? To run, try to begin anew in a place she had never been? And yet, hadn’t that been what she had already done here, in the same town that was as alien to her as the inside of corporate offices to the public?
The waitress, a woman in her fifties with her graying hair layered into a messy bun, walked back over to check on her quiet but polite regular, currently swamped in a giant leather jacket that clearly did not originally belong to the young woman. A leftover from an ex, the waitress had guessed. It was really her first piece of non-uniform clothing, her first purchase beyond Nemean. It hid her uniform until she could get replacement pieces. It was also what she was wearing when she first found friends. The rationale of her pleasure in wearing the jacket was pure nostalgia, but it comforted her. Three overly friendly students had found Sia wandering the streets during one of her early nights alone, and took advantage of her inexperience with non-corporate style to give her a “make-over.” At first, Sia had been uncertain of the changes to her appearance but discovered its true value when guards looking for her had walked right past her, not recognizing the pale skin or the ice blue eyes that lingered. The innocent attempt to give her more edgy glamour had proven to be her greatest shield. Now Sia lived with them, Michele, Joey, and Georgie, working odd jobs to cover her portion of their rent. They had taught her about planning for the future, to save money and how to dress. How to live. Sia was only accustomed to a world of black and white; they saw the world in color, and she could hide and thrive in their variances.
“Waiting for your friends, sugar?” the waitress asked after a few moments of watching Sia staring out the window, holding the pot of coffee in one hand while watching with her classic warm smile. Sia looked up as she had learned to in order to respond, shaking her head. She hadn’t been surprised; she was capable of tracking the movements of everyone in the old-fashioned diner from their movements and faint heartbeats, and had heard the familiar sounds approaching. “They are still on their fall break vacation,” Sia explained matter-of-factly, a mannerism that had somehow endeared her to the staff of the diner. “Ah, well we’re happy to have your company here tonight,” Marie went on, taking a glance around to check on her two tables. Otherwise, the restaurant was deserted at this time of night, already nearing eleven.
“So… Did Neil ever get in touch with you?” Marie added in an attempt to be sneaky, taking a seat to get a better sense of the still-single young lady’s response. Sia’s ice blue eyes paused, processing the question before falling, a trick she had learned to pretend she was hiding an emotion. “Yes, he did.” She recognized the sigh Marie let out; it had a particular cadence and pattern that was unique not only to the older woman but to the result of her latest experiment.
“No good, huh? Eh, a shy boy’s not the kind you need anyway, sugar,” Marie prattled on, growing thoughtful for a few moments. “You need someone who can bring you out of your shell a little.” Sia’s eyes moved up, wide and innocently blank to look at, earning a promising smile. “I’ll keep my eyes open for ya. Such a shame, pretty girl like you sitting alone, on a night like this no less,” Marie noted, reaching out to offer a hand of support. Despite her silent questioning of the insistence given to these intimate relationships between individuals, Sia freed a hand to take the offered hand, mimicking a smile to show she appreciated the effort. It was weak and uncertain, but that was also apparently endearing. As Marie got up and left with renewed determination, Sia studied her hand. The sensation of human contact felt so alien, yet so… natural. The most she had ever received before her escape was from her creator, the man responsible for setting up the Genesis Project in the first place. He had not been inappropriate, but his touch was cold, almost as inhuman as the machines his company designed. Marie’s touch had been warm, soft. Somehow, Sia knew it was genuine, despite only being recently introduced to the sensation.
Sirens blaring even through the closed windows and rain brought Sia’s attention back to the current moment, having to pretend she was a fully functional human who understood the emotions she had been taught to suppress and ignore. She was trained to look at emotions as weaknesses; she couldn’t bring herself to fully ignore her feelings, particularly since Nemean’s advertising was all about playing on emotions. Perhaps it was true, perhaps she really was defective, an unexpected female result of the Project. She felt differently than her brothers, that she could tell simply through observation. She wasn’t connected to them, wasn’t part of their hive-like mind. She was only kept a part of the project because she seemed even more capable of integrating with technology, and quickly became “Daddy’s little girl.”
One day he told her he had plans for her. That was the night she planned her escape.
Now, she could enjoy her freedom, but with the cost of always being wary. She could make her own choices, but she had to remain hidden. So she made a few friends, people she could keep safe, and always stayed prepared to run. As long as she stayed near technology, her hidden ability would be able to protect her, refined until she was capable of hacking almost any system without discovery. Her creators had unwittingly given her the tools to escape them. She only had to stay “low-key” to avoid detection.
Or EMP blasts. That would kill her.
Despite the struggle ahead of her, her mind was trained to stay focused on a task, able to again study her coffee even as she remained aware of those around her, from a couple leaving the restaurant to the new customers walking in to avoid the storm. Warm, within the correct number of degrees to not burn her mouth and so require healing, but enough to raise her body temperature rather than lower it. Both hands again held the cup with an almost reverent posture, as if every sip was important. Indeed they were; they were all her own choice.
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 20, 2016 1:16:58 GMT
Icy rain thrashes in sideways, hitting the skin sharply like tiny shards of glass. A tumultuous sky roars deafeningly overhead, doing its best to drown out the sound of fists banging on the window.... That, and the words he chokes out, again and again, even as they are swallowed by the storm and the muffled sounds of their desperate cries behind the shuddering pane of glass... "I love you." He repeats the phrase like a mantra. He knows they cannot hear him, but he says it anyway. "I love you," As the engine starts and the rotars begin to turn, whipping the rain about him until it batters him in sideways droves... His vision is blurred with rainwater and he can taste salt on his lips as it streams down his face as he turns away, and feels as much as hears the great metal beast take to the air.
And taking his world with it.
He doesn't look back. He cannot bear to. And hours later, he swears he can still hear the echo of their cries.
-
He awoke with a start. The ceiling fan was rotating lazily above, doing little to ease the pressure of the hot, sultry air. The only sound was the repeatable whirring of the mechanics. He lay immobile for a moment, watching the rotary turn with sleep-drowned eyes, waiting for the dream to fade into nothingness, and waiting for the pain to numb. Only when it finally did, did he roll over onto his side, to check the little red letters on the digital clock which glared at him accusingly in the gloom.
He groaned.
This was a mistake, as immediately, a clipped, cheerful voice chirped out- "Good morning, sir!" and a second whirring could be heard, this one from the kitchen, as the voice activated software jumped into action to prepare the machinery he would need for his morning routine. Amongst the sudden bustle of noises, he could hear the gentle humming and the trickle of liquid as the coffee machine started up busily, and in his room, light began to filter in as the blinds slowly drew up over the windows.
He threw an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the encroaching sunlight, and voiced his discomfort by groaning loudly once more, but more forcefully this time. He really needed to get his home system fixed... Three days in a row now, it had activated three hours earlier than his alarm, not to mention the fact that the AssistantBot's voice box was blown, resulting in a shrill chirp that had much the same affect as nails on a chalkboard. This was not, coincidentally, the sort of voice he wanted to wake up to...
As he stared at the welcoming blackness of the inside of his eyelids, gradually growing lighter as morning light continued to flood into his room, he considered turning over and resetting the timer, but decided there was little point, as there was no guarantee it would go off when he wanted it to. Besides, he was awake now, he would not be able to slip off to sleep quite as easily as he had the night before.
Accepting his fate, albeit begrudgingly, he stretched his arms above his head, accompanying the motion with a yawn. Groggily, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to stave off the encroaching migraine threatening to develop behind his eyes, just as the little robot was whirring busily towards him. It was effectively the shape of a box, with a light bulb on top, and two little wheels peeking out the bottom. It's off-white body was rusted with age, and bore it's fair share of dents and scratches. Most apartments in the city has an array of AssistantBots of some make, and this one had already been old when he had bought the place years ago. It's little, rigid black arms were steady and outstretched, and it stopped before him, lifting it's arms which extended a little, it's rusted limbs uttering a small creaking noise. It waited patiently for him to unburden it, and he stared at what it held for a long moment, before finally reaching out and taking the offering. Then he set to work, pulling the covers from his body to reveal two short stumps, his legs ending at his knees instead of extending into calfs and ankles and feet.
The prosthetics were made of a light-weight material derived from titanium, with a smooth white plastic casing. They did not pretend to be anything other than prosthetics, none of this new silicone-based, tan-coloured material that looks so lifelike on newer models of androids. As such, it was imperative that he kept his affliction hidden. Whilst many on the uptown area approved of the direction technology was taking, most of his usual haunts were in the downtown area, where machinery, although still rather prevalent, was still very much treated with distrust. Ever since the incident a few years ago where a large number of androids were hacked, causing destruction to the city before the situation was under control... People's fear and mistrust soon even turned to those whom relied on prosthetics. The technology had come far since those first days, the wiring was so advanced now that certain prosthetics, such as hand and arm, did not need to rely on muscle flexes to work, but rather, read tiny signals sent by the brain to send messages to the prosthetics as to what the user wanted it to do. And there were many controversy theories inflicted upon even the most traditional prosthetics, such as his own, with suggestions that there was more to them that met the eye, and that their potential to be hacked was great...
Meanwhile, unburdened, the busy little robot had returned to the kitchen, and just as he was strapping on the prosthetic legs, it was returning with his coffee, which was tucked safely in a cup-holder besides the light bulb on it's 'head'. "Thank you." He found himself saying automatically, old habits were hard to break. The robot, not knowing that command, did not answer, but it was shuddering, emitting a low buzzing sound as if it could hardly contain it's excitement. In truth, this was the result of faulty wiring. He finished the coffee rather quickly, enjoying the moment of relative silence, (there was of course the ever-present humming of the AssistantBot, but he was used to his silence not being completely empty) his triple glazed windows did well to temporarily keep the din of the city at bay as long as they remained firmly shut.
When he placed the empty cup back in the holder, he gave the robot a little tap, and the cup disappeared, dropping down into the body and out of sight to be disposed off later. "Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" It chirped friendlily in its mechanical voice, it's tone rising and dropping unnaturally, starting deep and finishing high and shrill. "Some ear-buds, perhaps?" He found himself saying, despite knowing that sarcasm had no effect on machines. He stood up, and began to stretch his back as he did so. He flexed his legs, testing that the prosthetics had been fitted properly, standing on one leg and rolling his ankle, before doing the same to the other. When covered with his trousers and shoes, the only hint of their presence was the slight limp to his walk, which could easily be attributed to a recent injury rather than the presence of hidden mechanical prosthetics.
"Sorry, sir. I do not know that command! My roles include fetching coffee, minor housework such as." A pause. "Hoovering. Cleaning. Dusting. Mopping. I am also capable of following simple customised commands, the instruction manual can belocatedintheocerheadcompartmentofsaladwithdressingand....." The robot began to vibrate violently now, and the man looked upon it with alarm as sparks began to fly from beneath the unit. "Hey.... Hey!" A small whack to the side of the body with the side of his metal foot was enough to stop the seemingly ceaseless spiel, and the robot halted suddenly. After a worrying pause, it chirped up friendily- "Apologies, sir! There appears to be a minor malfunction. The AssistantBot is in need of a service..." It continued it's drivel, stating where it should be taken to be repaired and where it's serial number could be located, most of which he had come to know off by heart, as he turned away and opened the wardrobe to began to get dressed. The bot had been saying it for years now, but there simply was not a mechanic in town whom would fix the old model. And for all it's faults... He could not bring himself to give up on it just yet, even for a home system that would actually wake him up on time... As long as it still worked, albeit crookedly and without much certainty, he would keep it around. Besides, it was the closest thing to company and familiarity he had in this block of flats.
That and the Mealer_Dealer2.0 'man', whom he called now by pressing the red button next to the window. As he waited, he occupied himself with tidying away the debris of last night, the packages of food he had bought which had remained mostly untouched, and the clothes. It was a wonder it could appear messy, when the whole apartment only had 3 rooms, the kitchen, the bedroom and the bathroom. He was just checking his mail when he heard the trill of a doorbell. He opened the window at the press of a button, to the cheery man whom had appeared there, despite the fact that he was 6 stories up. "Good mornin', sah! How can ah help you today?"
His vehicle was shaped like a boat, and was decorated with a myriad of different items belonging to different cultures. At a glance, he could see the Chinese calendar with red and gold trimming, a menu with Arabic writing, a bright yellow sign with white writing that appeared to be in Russain, and a glittering Quetzalcoatl framing the counter. The boat bore an intricate design of a series of compartments and tubes, some stretching as high as the mast, the latter of which was merely for show, as the boat was powered by electricity, not the wind. The tubes linked to the hundreds of different draws, where different ingredients could be ordered and delivered as soon as the item whizzed from storage to a draw at the press of a button. Beneath in the belly of the vehicle, the boat was equipped with everything the man needed to cook almost anything he desired, and he was also fluent in around thirty different languages. Needless to say, the cheerful man was a robot. He was a standard model, which meant his jaw hinge was visible, and his hair was plastic, none of this synthetic hair made to look indistinguishable from a humans, which was all the rage nowadays with the new models that had been recently released. The creature was easily distinguishable as synthetic, he had been built with an appearance alike to a cartoon character, with painted eye-brows, and a mouth which merely opened and closed, with only painted lips which were unable to move to aid the formation of words, the voice box doing all the work for pronunciation.
He was pleasant enough as robots go, equipped with a cheerful, upbeat attitude no matter how rude the customers he faced. Above the sound of the bubbling pot and the soft sound of packages shooting through the tubes to different compartments as he simultaneously worked of pre-orders to deliver to other apartments in the complex, there was a gentle buzzing from beneath, emitted by the engine which kept the entire contraption afloat. "The usual, please." He spoke, pulling his cash card from his wallet. "Of course, sah! Please enter your card into the red pay slot." He did as he was told, and the card was returned almost immediately, the payment swift. "Thank you, Mr Beneventi! One breakfast bundle coming up!" He announced cheerfully, his arms moving into action seemingly independent of his body, as the eyes did not need to follow what he was doing, the instructions for each meal manufactured into his wiring as he cracked an egg onto the pan to begin frying it, whilst foodstuffs began shooting through the tubes to make up his meal. He began to speak as he worked. "Do you know of our special offer on sweet and sour chicken rice balls? Two for one offer on any dish when twinned with sweet and sour chicken rice balls..." He let the robot continue it's drivel uninterrupted, looking past the boat to the world beyond as he waited.
From his window he could see the Skytrain, which looped around the city. Only the elite could afford such transport, and it boasted merely a ten minute wait to any point within the city, it's snake-like body merely a blur as it whizzed past. Beneath, most people travelled by car, most of which, visually at least, had changed very little in the last 50 years or so. They were shaped to be a little more aerodynamic, but the main difference was within the mechanics. Every car was equipped with the clever autopilot system, which was used so often that manual drivers were now very rare indeed, and also discouraged, due to the high speeds the roads now took. Above, the richer folk drove cars that flew through the skies, much like the boat at his window now. They were faster still, and because of the very nature of them, they did not come with a manual overdrive. Due to this autopilot system, crashes were extremely rare nowadays, usually performed by people deciding to drive manual down on the ground, and malfunctions of autodriven cars were largely unheard of... Either because the system was so reliable... Or the crashes were simply not reported quite as openly.
It was a perfect world, or at least, that's what the government wanted people to believe. For a while, people had believed it, too. Until the it arose that these many machines could be so easily hacked, of course... Something that the government claimed could no longer be done after tightened security measures.
"Your meal is ready, Mr Beneventi!" The robot announced cheerfully, snapping his attention back from his idle musings before they could get too dark. "Thank you." He opened the tube which was blinking green, retrieving the hot paper bag with his freshly cooked meal inside. "Can I get anything more for you?" "No thank you." He pressed the button to close the window, and the robot waved cheerfully as the boat began to rise away. "Have a good day, sah! Remember to tell your friends of the swiftness of the Mealer-Dealer2.0, if we can't cook it, it doesn't exist!" His call disappeared, shut off abruptly by the triple glazing as the window shut, and the boat drifted away to the next house, pot bubbling and engine whirring as it floated off on it's merry way.
-
Later, the mind-numbing business day over for him, long after it had already ended for many others, the subway had been his transport of choice once again. It was not quite as fast as the sky train, but just as this morning, he didn't want to face the traffic of the highway. Besides, along with the other malfunctions, his car had been struggling lately too, and he was not looking forward to the pay check that would be dished out for it's repair. The underground was quiet at this time in the evening, the thick concrete above blocking out the rumble of engines above. It was actually rather... Pleasant.
His train did not take long, and his carriage was only shared amongst a handful of people, each wearing grim, grey expressions. He joined the somber congregation with about as much enthusiasm, and let the train speed him off into the dark. Instead of returning home, he was now headed downtown. By the time he stepped off the train, it had become clear that the bright blue start to the day had been deceiving, as it was bitter cold out, and the weather had taken a turn for the worst, darkening exponentially. He had also become fidgety by now, unfolding and folding his legs whilst seated on the train, feeling the familiar grim ache in his body. The craving had been rampant since lunchtime, but only now would he be able to do something about it. Blowing warm air onto his hands, he rubbed them together to try to get the blood going, and decided to take a pit-stop on the way to one of his regular haunts. In truth, he was trying to avoid going to where he wanted to be... It sounded a strange thing to say, but he was trying to resist the desire rising steadily within him, willing him to seek out that substance that had so often had kept him going...
He needed to stop. It wasn't good for him, never mind the fact that it was illegal. But nowadays, he felt almost reliant on it. What had started as a bid to escape his thoughts for a few hours had steadily become an addiction, one that was becoming increasingly hard to fight. It was getting to the point where he needed the stuff just to feel normal...
In a moment of spontaneity, and in a bid to stave off the inevitable, he turned into a coffee-shop. The sudden heat that hit him did well to numb the craving for a moment, and he was convinced that a warm beverage in his cold hands could only do him good. He needed to relax, to push away the headache forming behind his eyes.... It's all in your head, he repeated to himself silently. You are in control. "Be with y' in a moment, sugar!" He returned the waitress' words with a warm smile as she welcomed him, and found a place to sit whilst he waited for her to return. He felt the warmth seep into him, and he unwrapped the scarf, feeling it catch for a moment on the stubble of his cheek as he did so, and shrugged off his coat. He did not look like someone with a substance addiction, which of course was one of the bonuses of using the damned stuff... He was well kept and well groomed, with jet black hair and a handsome face. His suit was simple yet refined, and as he waited, he loosened his tie, undoing the top-button of his shirt. He had chosen to sit near the window, the scene outside a welcomed distraction from his tumultuous thoughts inside, so when the waitress returned, he was caught off-guard for a second, with that glazed look in his blue eyes, like one whom just looked up from reading a book. "Oh, um, yes. A coffee, please, if you would be so kind."
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 20, 2016 4:59:42 GMT
(Oh wow, my brain was working out of “The Fifth Element” for the boat… XD And YAAAAAY haha this rp is gonna be awesome )
It seemed quite a coincidence that Sia should have chosen that moment to look over at one of the newcomers rather than simply catalog their entrance, still trying to look human in how she understood the world around her. As she registered this new customer, she was surprised to find that there was something mechanical about him, rather than something mechanical with him as her initial survey had suggested.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she studied him, trying to isolate and identify what it was that was giving her these unusual signals; the subtle sounds of mechanical joints moving, the lack of usual weight with each step… some parts of him were not human, but she was having difficulty pinpointing which parts. She did not have the same detailed combat analytic capabilities as her brothers, to determine threat levels and so act accordingly. Yet, she was not afraid. Indeed, her curiosity was peaked. It was the only emotion she was consistently encouraged to feel.
Unfortunately, her intense if innocent study of the strange man as he settled in to order his coffee did not go by unnoticed. Even more unfortunately, it wasn’t the man himself who initially noticed.
A pair of unexpectedly sharp brown eyes had caught the lingering look, a smug smile sliding easily onto her lips as she carried the cup of coffee over. This smile was only barely hidden as Marie set the mug down, turning to face away from Sia’s spot by the window, despite it being only two booths away. “Here ya go, sugar,” she said cheerfully to the man, lowering her voice to a loud whisper as she leaned in a little, clearly thinking she was being subtle in her actions. “Y’know, the pretty lady just over there,” Marie began, indicating Sia with a shake of her head, “Seems pretty darn interested in ya. And she’s all alone… poor thing.” The suggestion firmly planted in the stranger’s lap, Marie moved away, feeling satisfaction in the idea that she was finally getting Sia a man to keep her company. One she had actually shown interest in. And one in a business suit, to boot! Probably someone who could take proper care of her.
Sia, meanwhile, could hear their heartbeats, their breathing patterns and the end of the mechanical sounds as the man came to a rest; of course she could hear every loudly yet conspiratorially whispered word. Her lack of experience with such topics meant she had continued to stare unabashedly during the little meeting, her curiosity even more peaked that Marie had deemed it necessary to interact with the man for this extended period of time. The terms were the same as usual; Sia as a lone figure, “poor” in her solitary existence rather than in financial or physical condition… and yes, quite interested in the man because of his -
Oh.
Oh dear.
The realization of what was meant by the exchange hit Sia quickly, her eyes widening again for a moment before pointedly focusing her attention back to her cup of coffee. Quite by accident, she was perfectly handling the usual feelings for embarrassment, despite her only intention being to not draw any more attention to herself than Marie already had. The reaction would quite naturally be considered “cute,” given how innocent her eyes always looked compared to the wild nature of her attire and makeup. Had it not been for being trapped in the situation causing it, Sia would have been quite interested in why her cheeks were beginning to feel warm as blood was flushed to them as a natural reaction to the unusual, unsettled sensation building in the pit of her stomach. Butterflies was the term used for the feeling. It was one she had experienced once before, when she discovered that Marie was intent on getting her into an established relationship with a man. The biology behind the cheeks filling with extra blood to give them a redder hue during a moment of embarrassment was fascinating, but at the moment, Sia was not pleased at how her naivety about the world outside the Nemean Corporation was again being made blatantly obvious.
… not that she’d mind experimenting with an intimate relationship. It was the forbidden fruit of emotions, the one thing that was to be the most controlled. Even so, this was hardly the way she had imagined setting it up… despite the fact that a jointly established agreement to become involved for the sake of experimentation was hardly likely to happen for her. Not with a normal human, anyway, which otherwise defeated the purpose of the intimate relationship. There was also the recurring thought pattern – the “nagging feeling” – that a normal human would not be as interested in her in that manner, which in a sense was understandable. It wasn’t as if she felt she was built to experience such interest in another herself. She had never been allowed to feel such emotional ties, except for the fatherly inclinations of Nemean himself, which only seemed to intimidate her.
Sia gripped her mug a little harder before she forced herself to ease her grip, quickly sensing the change in the cup’s structure as she squeezed it before she managed to break it this time. Perhaps an intimate relationship would not be so wise, not if the feelings in a relationship with a human male would be the same as what little she had experienced…
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 20, 2016 15:39:31 GMT
((What? That's definitely not my inspiration? Who? What? *sweats nervously* -you totally nailed it haha- At work today I thought about this reply all day XD was just so excited to get home and write! Haha ))
It took him a moment to register what the woman had said to him, his face blank for a moment before settling with realisation. At her words and the motion, he glanced over to the young woman she was referring to, and when their eyes met, she looked away quickly, a rouge steadily filling her cheeks. Her reaction seemed a direct contrast from her boldly coloured hair, something he subconsciously noted as interesting. Before he could respond, the waitress had walked away, but not before offering him a knowing wink as she sauntered away. He probably should have just disregarded what the woman had said, and continued with his coffee. He should have spoken before the waitress had had time to leave, and politely told her he preferred to sit alone at the moment. But looking at the young lady, fixing his blue eyes upon her unabashedly, as she now avoided eye contact, he decided to take a different course of action. He stood up, taking his mug with him, and approached her. It's just a conversation, he reminded himself. Besides, the woman had seen his exchange with the waitress, he felt to resist now would seem needlessly callous.
Besides, it was not in him to be shy. He had always been confident, his job demanded it, as had his former occupation, even more so. But for some reason, approaching the attractive woman... He felt an edge of nervousness he was not accustomed to. He realised suddenly how rusty he was. It was not for lack of attention, he worked with women as much as men, but until now, he had never been the chaser, not since... He pushed the thought away, abruptly, before the guilt flooded him. It's just a conversation.
It seemed for a moment he was going to walk on past, but instead, he stopped at her table. "Hello." He spoke softly, with what he hoped was a calming smile. "Do you mind if I accompany you?" He stood awkwardly, feeling like a school boy, although he looked anything but. He silently hoped that after all of this she would not just turn him away, leaving him feeling embarrassed at his misinterpretation of the situation, even if it had been instigated by the waitress, and not by him. After all, judging by her shy reaction to him, it seemed she hadn't put the waitress up to it, so there was of course the possibility that she would not want to be disturbed at all. "I hope I'm not disturbing you." He added, due to this train of thought.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 20, 2016 18:03:16 GMT
Sia was still trying to learn how to read reactions. Despite the fact that there were always changing variables, there were patterns that consistently repeated even in human behaviors. The look away, the pull back, the moving forward, the edging in… all had regularly predictable outcomes, from what she had witnessed. Michele, as one example, would consistently pull back from a man moving forward when at a bar… and Michele would consistently retaliate with what she had described as “blunt force disengagement tactics.”
A very accurate statement, even with Michele’s tendency to use hyperbole.
With this background, Sia could analyze and register rather than “see” the man’s response; his pulse had sped up, his blood pressure rising accordingly a few points. He had stood, and she predicted what would happen. He had been put into a position of discomfort, and would be remedying the situation by leaving. Perhaps remaining within the restaurant, but he was moving. Curiously, Marie’s had also sped up, but this was not her usual response to her attempts of getting Sia “paired up” failing. Usually, her pulse would slow, then grow steady even as her fingers would start drumming on something nearby, her agitation getting her blood pressure to rise without her pulse forcing it. What was the cause of this unusual reaction, then?
Before she could look over to assess what the source of this unusual reaction could be, before she could even turn her head to look rather than simply scan, there was a figure beside her. Still a raised pulse, still the higher blood pressure, but it was accompanied by the distinctive if near silent sounds of motors moving. Only one person had come into the restaurant who could make such noises, and it was one she had already dismissed as moving away, and so hadn’t realized was moving closer. Slowly, her eyes lifted as the rest of her remained very, very still, only moving her head so her eyes could connected to the eyes watching her from the higher angle.
What she offered was a very innocent expression: pure, if controlled, surprise. For a few moments she didn’t answer his question, still trying to process how her algorithms for understanding human reactions had been so completely off. He seemed to take it as a negative response rather than a lack of one, as he spoke again to confirm that he would be accepted. Sia wanted to respond verbally, as she had seen, as she had be taught to by her new friends, but unexpectedly found her throat had tightened, not allowing any vibrations from her vocal cords. So instead, she shook her head slightly yet strongly in answer to his two questions, her open eyes so intent it was hard to take the look as anything but accepting of the offer. Eager acceptance.
As he sat down, she could again hear the shifts in the gears and mechanics, part of her mind quickly analyzing the data and coming to the conclusion that somehow his legs were involved, as there was a lessening of the sound as he shifted into position compared to stepping over to the seat. The other part of her mind was working fast, as fast as she might with a computer terminal. But it was not reaching an answer as quickly as a computer terminal offered. Now she had what she had been curious about – a human male, sitting with her, both with their cups of coffee. “The ideal first date scenario,” Georgie would say. But now that she “had a man…”
What was she supposed to do with him?
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 21, 2016 1:09:07 GMT
((I really love how she can sense so much! Very interesting ))
Her reaction was promising, even endearing to Abel. As he sat, he became aware that her shyness would not be so easily eased, so to help her along, he did not let an awkward silence stretch, but rather, filled it with a question before it formed. “What is your name?” He could sense the waitress was still watching, even neglecting her other customers as she stood, still as a statue, pot of steaming coffee balancing on a tray in her raised hand as she watched the interaction eagerly. A glance in her direction, however, was enough to break her from her silent musing, and she hurried off to serve someone nearby, still rather obviously looking over every now and again, a faint smile on her lips, but at least no longer openly staring.
He began to relax a little, feeling less on display, yet funnily enough, his heart seemed to be pounding nevertheless. He hid it well in the way he held himself, appearing patient and calm on the outside, oblivious to the fact that his biology was betraying him.
((Sorry for shortness!))
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 21, 2016 3:50:43 GMT
(short is fine – sometimes required! And yeah, her “brothers” are a little freakish in how they can estimate what’s going on with a person… as in how best to break them :/ (military designs… eep)
Your little “vignette” thing has me all inspired I want to write shorts for so many chars XD OH! And also I need to message you about my idea with Sia )
It was rather remarkable that the cup hadn’t already shattered in her grasp, so firm in trying to steady the rest of her that she had trouble moving her hands. She had gone quickly from embarrassed at having been suggested to a man – the phrase she remembered here was “being thrown at” – to nervous uncertainty. She wanted to pull back and assess, to determine the cause of her uncertainty and properly manage it. But that wasn’t what humans did, was it?
Despite the flush still in her cheeks, despite the death-like grip she had put onto the mug of coffee, her eyes had remained focused on the stranger since he first asked to sit with her, revealing her nervousness and racing mind through her still wide eyes. Part of her continued to register and catalog everything about the area around her – she could never afford to be careless – and so sensed Marie’s pulse returning to normal as she began to work again, only for the occasional glance to bump the steady rhythm in excitement. She had been the slightest bit embarrassed when the man had caught her staring, Sia had noticed in the different quickening of her heart rate, but was too excited to mind for long.
Sia remained stiff, finding only human metaphors on what to do with a man once you had one. Be wined and dined. Be friendly. Don’t be too friendly. Make sure he’s someone you can bring home to your mother. Check the size of his hands and feet. None of this helped her at the moment. Fortunately, the man himself had offered help in this, so even as her mind tried to find a solution to the current equation she was able to engage.
“… Sia,” she had answered softly to his question, only needing a few moments to regain control over her vocal cords. It was comforting, in a rather illogical way, that his own racing heart beat was calming hers. So she was not the only one tense in the situation. So often she had seen couples come together, their pulses slowing and settling simply being in one another’s company. Encountering her father… that always sped up her own heart beat.
“What is your name?” she finally asked, her eyes studying his face and body quite intently – perhaps more intently than he realized. His face was 1.3 percent from being perfectly even, a trait that was consistently heralded as “highly attractive.” His eyes were also near perfect matches, with one having just 4.2 percent darker lines around the pupil. There was something else she could sense, something only her sensors could begin to pull at, but she was trained enough to not ask. But he seemed rather calm, despite his body’s rhythms saying otherwise.
How were her own? Did she look at all calm? For the briefest moment, she glanced down at her hands, her memory already analyzing the image even as she looked back up. Her joints were a little paler than usual, and despite holding on for stability, there was still a high percentage of quivering in her grip, one that even a human eye could see.
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 28, 2016 0:47:00 GMT
((Sounds both eerie and awesome! Ooh yay glad I inspired you!))
He smiled when she answered, for a moment he had thought she was going to remain silent, and was wondering how he should handle that… other than be mortified, of course. She had such an intense gaze as she spoke, as if she were studying him intently for his reaction... “My name is Abel Beneventi.” He did not mind that she had not offered her last name, nor did he mind sharing his own with hers. Old habits died hard, after all, and he was used to introducing himself as such at work social gatherings with other firms. Instinctually, he had raised his hand to shake hers, realising at the last moment that this might be considered a tad too formal for such an informal setting, and thus highlighting further how unused he was to such circumstances.
It was not a name that was well known here with any notoriety, he was just another worker in this huge city, the only thing setting him apart from many of his grim-faced colleagues being that he was relatively well liked amongst his peers. Charm had so far kept people’s questions about his past at bay, therefore the most people knew was that he was a friendly, soft-spoken man whom had moved from far away, with supposedly no family to speak off. He was as sociable as work required, he did not shy from work outings, but neither did he throw himself into them. This, for reasons unfathomable to him, had made him a magnet for both men and women alike. It seemed the more evasive you were about your past; the more they wanted to know... It became tiring at times, but he took it all on the chin, with his endearing smile and quiet-spoken words. It was not that he was shy, far from it, his self-esteem was as high as a kite when it came to his work, when he be called upon to manage a team or project. But he was humble too, so much so that he was always surprised when a colleague showed interest in him, whether platonic or romantic.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 28, 2016 20:14:30 GMT
Sia noticed the use of the surname; that was something she had been told not to give, and now was unsure of her decision to not use her own. On the other hand, “as a woman” she was possibly at greater risk, so perhaps the advice had been sound after all.
It was most likely fortunate that Sia had no computer access at her table, otherwise the name would have been immediately researched. A few moments after the desire hit her, she noted silently that humans didn’t necessarily research potential partners, especially for a single intimate moment. Sometimes not even for long-term relationships.
At least she had gotten beyond the habit of introducing herself as Anastasia Nemean.
His offered hand was not quite so overly formal as it might have otherwise been taken; it was a familiar gesture, one she returned after a few moments of prying her hand off the cup without breaking it. Her handshake was a model one, firm but gentle, her eyes momentarily losing their intensity as she slid into the familiar pattern. “How do you do,” she spoke softly, pulling her hand back at an appropriate moment in the handshake. As soon as her hand was back on the mug, she returned to her original stiffness and intensity, once more back into the uncertain zone of what she was supposed to do next.
At least she tried, this time, a little more settled at his formal greeting. “What do you do for a living?” she asked, the first unprompted words she had offered since even entering the café, nevermind in the conversation she was having now.
Marie was so proud.
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 1, 2017 22:35:47 GMT
He had to still his tongue then, before he uttered the wrong thing. On the outside, it was only a slight hesitation, as if he were about to speak, but abruptly decided against it. He continued smoothly with only a minimal pause, something that might not have been noticeable to anyone else.
He had been about to utter the cover he had been trained to automatically answer when strangers questioned him about his profession, which was that he was a manager of an obscure bakery in Europe. It was ideal in that it invited very little questions, and normally the conversation moved on from that after a joke along the lines of the person asking Abel to bake them something. Now, when he uttered his profession, it was not a lie… and therefore an odd experience for him, even though he had had this job for a fair while now. “I’m a freelance journalist, but for the moment I work for the Oasis*.” This particular company sold the most popular newspaper of the country, and was notorious for obtaining stories that often seem impossible to achieve. They had ruffled quite a few feathers in their time, and he had been hesitant to take on the contract at first. It paid well, and he had the right constitution for it, but money wasn’t really a drive for him, which was easily noticeable after looking around his apartment, with the outdated robotic appliances… in general, apart from spending money to make himself presentable for his work, he found it difficult to buy things for himself, for he just wasn’t interested. Except of course, when it came to funding his addiction…
“Sia, what is it that you do?” he then asked. He was more curious to find out her profession than he was looking forward to find out what she thought of his… Reactions usually ranged from either a sort of nervousness, as the title often intimidated others, or an angry kind of guardedness, and whilst useful when interviewing people in his profession, neither was what he would want from her at this moment.
((*ROLEPLAY SHOUTOUT pmsl))
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 2, 2017 7:16:23 GMT
(pft lol - shoutouts to own writings, eh? *poke* haha)
“The… Oasis?”
The softly repeated words were only one of a dozen signs she gave of sudden and unadulterated fear, too inexperienced to know how to hide them. By the time he had asked her what she did, Sia had shifted back in her seat, shoulders rising even as her body went cold. The Oasis…
How many times was she hidden from a spy sent from the Oasis? How many times did the Nemean Corporation have to brush away the lawsuits, the challenges of physical abuse and corruption. The Oasis knew Nemean was hiding something, something big… was Abel sent to prove that Sia was part of that secret?
“I… I have to go…”
Despite being half machine, Sia’s hands shook as she tried to pull away, connected to the quiver in her lips. In her panic she began to fumble with her bag as her breathing rate increased, her wide eyes having been unable to meet his since her whispered echo. The more she fumbled with her bag, the worse her shaking became, already on the verge of just bolting…
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 28, 2018 0:15:58 GMT
He had expected some kind of reaction to his profession, but not one of such magnitude. Her eyes had widened slightly, that was to be expected… but then she seemed to visibly shrink from him, and her gaze became alight with… was it contempt? Suspicion? He wasn’t sure at a glance, but then, alarmingly, her whole frame began to tremble. It was barely perceptible, but being at such a close distance he noticed it, especially at her hands, where the tremor seemed most concentrated. Strangely enough, an image flashed through his mind for a second of his AssistantBot shaking excitedly after one of it’s daily malfunctions, although he thought the comparison odd when her movement was so organic, and so unlike a machine. He did not think further on the comparison, though, instead fumbling for words to try and rectify the situation. “I…” He wanted to calm her, feeling guilty that his actions had somehow caused such a stir, especially as he had not meant them to. This was not how he had intended the conversation to go at all, over so quickly before it had even started!
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.” She began to rummage in her purse, evidently trying for a quick exit, and his mind began to work with some urgency. For some reason, he didn’t want her to leave… perhaps it was just because he was well mannered, and he felt guilty being the cause of her swift departure. “Listen, I swear- I’m off duty, so any dark secrets as to how you take your coffee remain strictly in confidence.” He kept his voice serious as he stated this, placing one hand over his heart, the other raised, as if swearing to some deity, much like one might swear on the Bible in court. Humour probably wasn’t the right way to go, in fact it may prove to be a serious misfire, but it might give her reason to pause.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 21, 2018 2:49:01 GMT
The gentleman sitting across from her could hardly be aware of how accurate his impression was, even as Sia’s senses shifted from studying one man to evaluating her entire space. What were her exits, the placement and behaviors of those around her… Sia had completely missed any sign of his sense of guilt, her fear trying to interpret his apologies even as her rational mind struggled to maintain control. Control meant safety.
“F-forgive me, I have… mistaken the time, and am unable to remain any longer,” she managed with the flash of a submissive little smile and suddenly formal language, and it was quickly clear that this was a familiar strategy for her. One to redirect certain blame upon herself to avoid a harsher punishment. It was nothing more and nothing less than a fear response.
“My mistake,” Sia felt only a sliver of relief as her hands finally completed their task, able to stand and leave as if everything was in fact alright. But nothing was. It had been so long since she felt Nemean’s grasp on her, ever since she first realized she could in fact be free. But now she felt it inching towards her again, and it was all she could do to not simply run. As she rose, she offered that same strange little smile, still playing a part in order to escape. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Finally, at long last, after an eternity, she left the shop, sensing Marie’s startled response to her departure, but ignoring it and rushing out before any attempt to stop her. Even as she raced the streets in the rain, soaked to the bone by the time she arrived at the back entrance to her flat, she found herself unable to catch her breath, still shaking like a leaf without any aid from the cold. She found herself unable to help but take a moment to force herself to settle, planning her next moves.
Once she was able to control her shaking, Sia set herself a list of tasks to avoid any awkward questions set by her roommates. This included changing her clothes and drying her hair, resetting her makeup to match what she had applied that morning, nothing visibly amiss. Despite her eidetic memory, she was still so panicked she couldn’t tell if it had been the rain that warped her makeup, or if it had been tears as she escaped. The latter seemed unlikely, but she was far more human than the project was supposed to make her. Just another reason to fear ever falling into Nemean’s grasp again…
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 7, 2018 1:28:00 GMT
Unfortunately, his joke had fallen on deaf ears, the woman far too distracted in trying to get far away from him as quickly as possible. His mouth opened, he appeared about to say something, but then he had promptly shut it again, deciding that nothing he could say would halt her departure. At her parting words, he tried to respond- “It was a pleasure to meet you too…” but he had trailed off, as she was already gone.
He sat there for a moment, at a loss, clearly dumfounded. His attention shifted abruptly, and he met the gaze of the waitress from across the coffee-place… and could practically feel the burn of her glare on his skin. Looking away, he lifted a hand to run it through his hair, embarrassed, at how badly that had gone. All of a sudden, his taste for the still-hot beverage in his hands had dissipated. He sat around for another ten minutes before the woman’s mercilessly constant glares shot in his direction finally made him feel uncomfortable enough to leave. He still had no idea why he had received such a fearful reaction, and could only assume it must be due to his profession. As for the waitress, a relative of the woman, perhaps? Regardless, he was happy to leave there, even as he stepped out onto the cold.
Abel had also sought to distract himself, but in a much different way than she. With no reason to delay it further, he had sought out his regular haunt. The wonderful thing about Snuff was that it distorted your reality completely within only a few seconds of taking it. One small, innocent-looking pill, and the next moment you are riding a high so intense it’s hard to keep ahold of who you are, never mind where you are. It affected the user different depending on who it is, but the intensity of the visions were always the same. As the resulting trip left the user completely at the mercy of whomsoever was around them at the time, Abe did not take the pill in the company of others, although that was a common practice- just in case anything should go wrong. He was in and out as quickly as he could manage.
When he finally returned home, he had pulled off his tie, but did not have enough energy to do much more than that. He only just made it to his bed before he collapsed, from mental exhaustion rather than physical. The pill was still within his trouser-pocket, just waiting, begging to be taken… But instead he just lay there and let the predictable waves of self-disgust wash over him. Despite going out of his way to buy the illegal substance, despite craving it practically all day… he was still fighting the desire to take it. Every time he did, he felt as if he lost a piece of himself. Every dose made him weaker, reminded him of how unfit he was to even be here at all, dragging him deeper into a never-ending cycle of despair. So he gritted his teeth, his face buried into the crook of his arm, and lay there as long as he could, trying in vain to talk himself out of it.
He lasted as long as he could. And then he had caved, like he always did.
(Que time skip?)
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 7, 2018 2:18:39 GMT
(time skip granted! )
It was still raining. The weather wasn’t quite as drenching as it had been a few days prior, but in spite of the passing days, it had merely wavered between drizzles and downpours. That afternoon was already fading into a drizzle, almost a mist that encouraged umbrellas down and travellers to enjoy the lingering puddles.
Sia’s presence there was more for escape than for enjoyment, needing time away from her shared apartment to regain some sanity, or so her roommates had said. They had sent her out, noting that she might get some sun before the rain came back, rather than hiding from all weather. The storm was her rationale for staying indoors for days, terrified of being found and dragged back… but she couldn’t say that she wasn’t also going a little crazy from not seeing the sun for a few days. It was the same thing that drove her from her last home, after all.
So she was wandering the quiet paths in the park, the trees seeming short against the towering buildings that circled about the miniature woods. As the paths within tended to form massive pools surrounded by mud, it was primarily vacant, making it an ideal place to hide in the sun. Sia had dried off a bench to rest on, leaning her head back and letting her face absorb as much light as she could.
While her brown and purple hair still provided that punk edge that kept her so well hidden, her face was for once bare, the pale lashes visible as they reflected the light. She also had borrowed the sweater jacket of a roommate, once more far too big for her slender frame, but she looked more at home in this than in the oversized leather jacket she had escaped in. The jeans and long-sleeved shirt were also of a lighter color, proving she did indeed own clothing that wasn’t simply black and gothic. It was as different as her aura, no longer feigning confidence but radiating fear, calm only because she was alone.
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