Dahilah ?-[Pic coming soon] (yet another new charactar anyone wann rp as her after i get her established just lemme know)
Facts- The daughter of the mayor of garamgloom. Bleach blond hair with dark fringes and awalys in white garb of some sort. pale and slim shed be the envey of almost any man in garamgloom but was taken in by the asylum for mysertierouse reasons. is very very quiet.
Backstory- Usually kept from public veiw by her father she was committed to the asylum a year ago with no explaniable excuse.but is just now being used as an instrument in the asylums plot.
Qwerks- Quiet for the most part(so far)
Draw morbid things with a childish nature to them on nearly everything when left alone with a pen.
always look likes she just rolled out've a fist fight
Jack Krowery-(this charactar has not been introduced yet but soon you'll all get to know this physcopath very well biggrin this is gonna be short so as not to reveal everything
Facts-Claymore's older brother. Has murder 19 people onm offical record but actuall numbers are proably numbering in the low ninteties.Hates normallacy and chooses chaos by nature.
Backstory- He grew up with his parents who had a very locked in veiw of the world and how it should function. anything that was not normal to them was shunned and contrabanned in their house hold. This obbession of the parents for normallacy led Jack to almost resent things that they deemed right ,just and therefore normal. When Claymore was born with a rare genetic disease/stigma that manifested it self in his left arm the parents showed this obession with deadly force. Rutienly beathing Claymore for it. Jack sheltered,stood up for and provided the parental affection for Claymore the best he could through those times but it was very trying on him. When the Asylum opened up its doors for "treatment" Claymore was amoung the first to be committed. This act pushed Jack over the edge and drove him to murder his parents with a shaving razor. This act seeded a hatred of order and normallacy in him and launched his spree of murders. After a run in with the newly appointed Watchmen militaristic police force of Garamgloom Jack dissapperaed into hiding presumably amoung one of the many street gangs of garamgloom and was never seen from since.
Qwerks- Hates anysort of order,or normallacy and chooses to be an agent of chaos and create anarchy.
always carry's several types of knives on his person.
Had a romance with a Chemsider girl but murdered her when she deicded she wanted to "settle down" with him and have a normal life."
Makes all of his own clothes as a way to keep his identity harder to find
Seven- (pic coming soon)Born insdie of the asylum by a "factory mother". Was made one of the top sniper experts in the Asylum's personal gun corps by the age of 9. was specially modifyed to work in perfect harmony with his younger brother five.Is sharp,cold and calculating by nature but holds warmth in his heart for a select few.Sahres a room with Claymore at the Resistence's compound.
Backstory- After his inseminated birth by a factory mother inside of the asylum Seven was trained rigorousley with fire arms from the time he could stand and think. When Dais escaped the Asylum there was a greusome "tryout" among the experiments to gain the privilege of Returning Dais or his head for a great reward. After winning the asylums tryout game with Five they where specially modifyed and deployed into the feild. This had been Seven's first time out in years. After the fight with Dais in the libary that ended in flames He was rescued by Dais against Dais's better interests. After that event he knew he could'nt go through with the mission on vowed to help Dais destroy the Asylum as a way of repaying him for his act of mercy.
Qwerks- Refuses to count alloud for any reason.
Is often caught off gurad by malvents swagger and rambunctiouseness byut enjoys it even thoug he'd never admit to that.
Learned to read by sounding out he letters on the bottom of bullet casings.
Five-(pic coming soon)Like his brother was born inside the asylum. Unlike his borther he had never lef the asylum until the day he was deployed to kill Dais. Is very very flirtaiouse and often gets himself in alot of trouble for it. Is basically his brother's polar opposite personality wise. Perfers to look at the lighter side of things no matter what the situation. Is obessed with sharp things.
Backstory- Like his older brother was born inside the asylum by a factory mother. He was trained in the use of edged weapons more exlusively than anything else. the day Dais escaped the asylum he along with seven participated in "tryouts" to see who got to chase him down. He was speically modifyed to work in perfect unison with his brother and then deployed into the feild. This had been his first time outside of the asylums walls in his life. After tracking Dais down and cornering him in the libary Five accidently started a fire during the fight. being knocked unconicous by a collapsing I beam five was nearly cremated in the fire he started. After Dais rescued him and his brothe he left them in a safe forest grove and then went back into hiding. When five came to he conviced his brother that they needed to find Dais once again and repay him for his act of mercy.
Qwerks- Hates the color red
has secretly read four of the books malvent hoards in her room
Feinds after a girl he's saw in town once but has never spoken to her
Claymore(Allen Krowery)- (pic coming soon)Was comitted to the asylum for treatment of a rare genetic stigma by his parents.His brother is a notroius mass murderer who got his start by killing their parents. His disease/stigma is a sort of "alien" symbiotic cell that repilcates itself in it's hosts cells,During this process it analyzes it's host genetic make up and for purposes of self preservation modifyes it's host in the best way possible to ensure saftey. This process often kill the host through means over over compensation. Was "desgined" to kill Dais but now considers Dais family.
Backstory- After being comitted to the asylum for the genetic stigma that manifested early on in his left arm he was locked away in quarentine for many years while the asyum studied his disease for means of weaponization. After Dais escaped and Seven and Five failed to return he was modifyed as a Kreizer. all of his modifiction falcitate his stigma. His objective was to capture or kill Dais at any and all costs. After a short skirmish in the sewers benathe the Garamgloom ER clinic he found himself sinking into the depths of the sewage waiting for death. Dais however dove in after him and saved him realizng that death for a Kreizer means to live in vain. With Dais's rescue Claymore was given the chance to take revenge on the asylum for using him as a tool.
Qwerks- Can not swim.
Secretly feinds after the cafeteria cook at the resitence's compound.
Harbors a deep hatred of frogs.
Dais Badgun- (pic coming soon)The young leader of the Resistence(apperars to be in late teens early twenties but real age is unknown)Was committed to the asylum after his fathers murder at the hands of the asylum. was once Enfeilds favorite experiment and the first modern A.N.I.M.A.L. experiment. Has alot of "barriers" he puts up before letting people meet his true persona
Backstory-After his father was murder for crossing the asylum. The Asylum took him in under the pretenses of violent schitzofrenia and manic depressive charactar flaws. Enfeild took speical interest in Dais and foucused much of his attetnion on him. At a young age Dais had already killed 3 heads in Garamgloom street gangs and earned himself infamy amoung town's folk known only to them in stories as The Devil Child of Garamgloom. He was awoken from his drug induced amneisa from the cry of a child over the corpse of its freshly slain parental figure. After the memories came flooding back Dais started to plot against the asylum(will finish later along with other things)
Qwerks- Loves the smell of smoke grenades and setting them off
Hates the color becaseu he remembers it being Enfeilds favorite color
Can not sleep in a normal bed so usually ends up on a couch,floor,in a chair,under a bed, ect.
Facts: Is shortish, with a gymnasts frame. Tends to fight hand to hand, but will use guns if made to, otherwise she relys on her mod for weapons.
~Has a huge scar on her face, but tends to cover it.
Backstory: For all intents and purposes, Malvent grew up in a normal household, went to a normal school and was gearing up for a nice career as an EMT/pre-med...Sadly, after being hit by an ER vehicle (and accident for all party's concerned) in front of what is now the Resistance base, she was abducted by the Asylum. After being fitted with various mods, Malvent was taken to be tested by an asylum member called Shard. The Asylum's control over Shard slipped for a second, allowing Malvent to escape on to the streets. Slightly amnesiatic, Malvent wandered, eventually being taken in by the then Alpha of Riverside, Razor. Over the year that she was the Beta for Riverside, Malvent met the Dumpside Headhunters Deren and Tonks (cousins that would later help her in an assualt on Chemside) and learnt much about how the town worked...and of the Asylum's effects on the Town's 'gangs.'
Quirks: Is a proficent makeup artist...
~Knows Lavender, but is trying to distance self from her past
(hopefully you guys will send me some some stuff so I can add your charries in here)
Asylum literature and art.
(somehow I lost the first part of this brillant story that are wonderful Darthmar(dresden) made from us.
heres part two hopefull she'll send me the first and hopefully rest of it biggrin )
The Asylum ~ Malvent's Change
Minnie wakes, every nerve on fire. The iron tang of blood and steel is heavy in the air. She tries to move her head, but stops, her eyes tearing up in pain. Her senses told her she was upright. But how, and for how long?
"wwaa…" she tries to say, her mouth gummed up with something.
"So you're awake," a sullen voice says from the corner, "You're tough. Most people don't survive being hit by a truck."
Minnie's eyes widen. Was that was what had happened? Her last strong memory flashes before her eyes and her breath catches in her throat.
"Don't worry. You'll be okay soon. The good Doc will see to that. Where are my manners? Name's Shard, ANIMAL. I'm guessing you’re the new person the Doc brought in. What's your name?"
Minnie swallows, choking slightly on the taste of iron blood that filled her mouth. What was her name? All memories dealing with who she was were dim, out of focus. She did remember one name, and the image that accompanied it. Yes, that had to be her name.
"…malvent…ver..."
She starts coughing, the world sparkling with black spots. When she stops coughing, Shard's face hovers in front of hers, an odd look on her face.
"I take that back. You're as human as all of us. So, what's your story? Doc said you were accepted because you tried to commit suicide."
Minnie (Minnie? I'm Malvent.) Starts to respond, but is cut off as the door opens. Three men enter, two heavily armed with Pacifiers and the other slight, and faintly bookish- looking, man.
“Sha’re? Or Shard, whatever Enfield named you? You’re to help me get this one down to the lab.”
I shall call him Jackson, because he looks like one, Malvent (Minnie?) muzzily thinks, as Shard lifts Malvent’s brace up. Slowly, the odd group shuffles down the corridor, into a sharply lit room.
“Lay her on the table, Shard you are dismissed, 134 escort her back to her room,” ‘Jackson’ orders.
He walks out of Malvent’s limited range of view, and shuffles a few things around on a table.
“…now, Enfield said the first thing to do…boost cell growth and regeneration…new generation? Oh well.”
He walks back into view, pulling gloves on, and clicking a tape recorder on.
“Date: October 31st. Time: 2:30pm. Subject Name: Unknown, but ID found on subject had papers relating to a persona called Malvent Veratis and another persona called Minnie Vincent. Subject Category: Shade. Recommended Modifications: basic cellular regeneration, cloaking, projection, mental radar, and cellular shifting.”
Malvent hears the tape recorder click off.
“...should I use the aesthetic, or is that reserved for the heavier mods?”
‘Jackson’ walks off again followed by the sound of shuffling papers on a hard table.
“okay, no anaesthesia only slows the blood flow, acting like a binding protein.”
The tape recorder clicks on again.
“To begin with, the subject will flooded with the cellular fluid that stimulates the regeneration of cells, hence boosting the healing ability of the subject.”
Malvent feels a sharp needle dig into her left shoulder.
“The first of the seven drips will be inserted into the left axillary artery, but will be shunted until the remaining six drips are inserted. The second will be inserted into the right axillary artery.”
Malvent feels another needle burry itself in her right shoulder.
“The third and fourth will be inserted into the femoral arteries on the left and right leg, respectively. The fifth and sixth will be inserted into the external carotid arteries on the left and right side of the subject’s neck. The seventh, final, drip will be inserted into the superior vena cava.”
Malvent screams as a sharp point digs into her chest and pierces her upper heart. Slowly the world fades out.
“Huh…”
‘Jackson’ looks at Malvent, mild concern masked behind a façade of scientific interest.
“The subject has shown a remarkable capability to withstand pain. As you heard, the subject has only just screamed and blacked out, after the placement of the seventh drip. I suggest a further study on the thresh hold of pain on the subject.”
Running ~ Malvent’s Escape. Lavender’s Trade.
It had been like this for as long as she had been here. Wake up, avoid Shard as she woke up, eat the slop that passed for food, swallow the pills (or not, Malvent had found that she felt a lot better not swallowing the pills) that the nurses gave them, struggle against the pain of changing, stare at the ceiling, stare at the floor, play the thousandth round of rock, paper, scissors against Shard, stare some more at the ceiling, and repeat. Day after day, the cycle only broken when the Doctors took her away and injected her with substance and ran horrendous tests on her body. Slowly, Malvent felt her mind slipping off into the wild blue yonder.
“Shard?”
“hmm?”
“Who were you before you were here? Did you have a name? I’ve always known you as Shard, and I mean, that isn’t really a name,” Malvent flicks a part of her long hair off of her face.
“Can’t remember,” Shard responds, her eyes flicking over the water-stained walls, “You?”
Malvent looks at Shard, clearly confused.
“I mean, Malvent,” Shard responds in a tone reserved for small dogs and twits, “What sort of a name is Malvent?”
“I could ask the same of you”
The door creaks open, causing Malvent to wince and Shard to snarl in annoyance. ‘Jackson’ stands in the doorway, one brute standing behind him.
“Veratis, Malvent?”
Malvent stands up, brushing the hem of her scrubs off, and slowly heads to the door.
“Shard, Enfield would like you to accompany Malvent down to the lower levels. She has training.”
Shard nods and scrambles to her feet. She heads for the door, making to push past ‘Jackson,’ but is stopped.
“Take number 134 with you as well, I don’t completely trust you.”
Shard snorts in annoyance, and walks out the room, Malvent, and the brute trailing after her. They descend, walking past many rooms with white, shut doors; finally, they reach ‘the lower levels.’ Malvent gags.
“Smells like the sewers,” she comments holding a hand over her face.
“That is because it is the sewers,” responds the brute’s monotonic voice, “You, Shard, are to train her.”
“I know, I know, let me warm up,” Malvent ducks an on-coming blow from Shard.
There is the soft thud of flesh hitting flesh, as Shard’s fist connects with the Enforcer’s nose.
“Run!” she yells at Malvent, “Run!”
“Why?” Malvent responds, confused. She thought Shard agreed with what the Asylum did to people.
“Just run! The drugs…” as Malvent inches towards the sewer stream, Shard wheels on her, a blade of some variety in her hand.
No, Malvent panicked thinks; her hand is a blade, not possible. Not possible.
She lunges at Malvent, who ducks, but receives a face full of blade. Blood trickling into her eye, Malvent looks at Shard, who is standing back, pacing.
“Why?”
“All those who attempt to escape will be killed and brought back to be used as Pandemona parts,” Shard responds, her face not echoing the harsh words, “Run…You will…Malvent…Run!”
Not looking back, Malvent dives into the sludge trickling through the sewer.
~+~+~+~+~+~
“Miss Foreman, could you please pay attention,” a teacher’s voice calls from the front of the class.
Lavender slowly turns to face the front of the class, slowly heading back from an intricate daydream to the reality of the classroom.
“Now as I was saying before I was interrupted, this semester in psychology we will be studying the broad spectrum of psychiatric disorders, starting with anxiety disorders and progressing through the spectrum to disorders such as schizophrenia….”
Lav, ya should be listin’ rather den dreamin’.
I can do what I want, I’ve taken this class before, but the credit didn’t transfer.
You should still pay attention, Lavender; you never know when this information will come in handy.
Death…Death to all…
Lavender looks up, confused.
“You have a question, Miss Foreman?”
“Uh…” Lavender looks around, trying to find out who said that, “No, sorry, I must have misheard something. Sorry.”
The class titters, laughing at Lavender.
Silly mortals, you can escape them by…
Lavender? What’s going on? A new one of us? Or is Viction taunting you again?
OY! Valence, back me up here, I aint said nothing today.
Lavender stands up and weaves her way to the back of the class, grabbing the bathroom pass as she heads out of the back of the class. Once in the hallway, she hurriedly walks to a secluded corridor and sits down. She closes her eyes, trying valiantly to ward off a growing headache.
Death is the only option. To die. To rid the world of your filth.
Lav, ‘taint my bruva ‘gain? Is it?
Don’t worry, sister dearest, I’m here, alongside yourself an’ meatbag here.
Viction! Valence! Quit it! What’s wrong Lavender?
Lavender sighs heavily, absent-mindedly playing with her lapel pin. Twist to the left, twist to the right. Let your fingers trace the smooth curves of the serpent, the sharp points of the crown.
Think of it. Ending it means you will never…
Lavender pulls the pin out of her blazer and tests the sharp edge on her finger.
Good, good start, find something sharper. Something that will leave a deeper impression.
Lavender, what’s going on?
‘Taint it obvious Bookbeak? There’s a new b*****d on the block. Come out!
Bruva?
Not you, him.
My aren’t you a sharp one.
It’s my job to taunt her. Not you, find your own niche!
Are you challenging me, Viction?
No, he’s threatin’ you. Get out.
And why should I? I belong here. I’m more powerful than any of you combined. And I control her.
Lavender listlessly enters a small supply closet, finding a Stanley knife lying on a box of “assorted art knick-knacks.” She picks it up, hiding it in the folds of her long, winter skirt, and walks slowly to the main bathroom on the fifth year’s floor. Once there, she walks over to a sink, looking at her reflection.
You are a stain. You should clean yourself up.
Lavender clicks the blade up from its protective covering.
I name you Beelzebub! From the…
You think your naming me will prevent…
Lavender places the blade on her right wrist.
You’re sick! Let meatbag go!
She’s free to do what she wants, just remember, it’s down the street, across the open sewer pit, to the east, and turn a corner, and then you’ll be home.
The blade digs deeply into Lavender’s wrist, leaving a blossoming line of crimson blood in its wake.
How sweet. The smell of the blood of an innocent.
*Whispering* We’ve gotta get this nut…
“Miss Foreman!” a sharp voice calls, “What are you…?”
Lavender looks up, Beelzebub’s personality fore.
“Do you want to know?” Lavender advances forward, waving the knife menacinly in the direction of the teacher, who backs out of the bathroom.
Laughing softly to herself, Lavender slits her left wrist, and smiles as the blood oozes out of her arm and pools on the floor.
Let her go!
He’s scampered. Some help here would be good, Silversmith.
With what?
That’s good, despair. Such a delicious emotion. Let it feed me.
Looking in the mirror, Lavender looks at herself, her eyes widening as she notices her wrists.
“Wha…wha…wha..?” she manages to stutter, before her personality dives under again, shocked, and weakened.
“Silly girl,” Beelzebub’s voice says, pulling Lavender’s wrist up to her mouth. Her tongue sneaks out, lapping at the crimson liquid staining her otherwise wan skin.
“So delicious, so innocent. Where to go next?”
Gods. Gods. Gods. I’mnotgoingtosurvive. Gonnadiegonnadie.
Push forwa’d Lav.
Can’tcan’tcan’t. hurts.
Beelzebub sashays out of the bathroom, a thin, ochre trail following her (him?). The hallways held the quiet nervous tension of a school before a break.
Meatbag, do it! He’s gonna kill us all.
Don’wanna.hurts.
Bruva, the bastards ‘urt ‘er. Get Horus out ovah ‘ere. Oi’m goin’ out.
Pausing for a brief moment, Lavender wobbles, almost falling to the floor. When she weaves up to her feet, her eyes steely.
I know how to bind him!
That’s good, now do it.
We need everyone in here.
Lavender (Valence) leans up against a wall, her breath coming in jagged spurts. Closing her eyes, she slips into a small room in her mind. Over-stuffed futons litter the floor in the mental room, along with a nervous huddle of five, chibi like figures.
So nice of ye ta join us, Lav, a tomboy-ish figure, dressed in an old punk rocker outfit, her hair short and vibrant with streaks of electric colours, says; holding out one grimy hand. Don’t ‘spose we’ve been prop’ly introduced.
And neither will you, Lavender, you have to listen to me, a well-manicured, male librarian looking figure says
Horus? Valence? Lavender’s figure shakes her head. This isn’t real. All of you aren’t real.
Listen, Beaky over here has summat important ta say, so shut the Hell up! An’ listen up! That voice came from a punk-New Romantic dressed boy. His neat, long hair was tied up at the base of his neck with a black lace ribbon. He looked similar to the girl dressed in the punk rags, like they could be, potentially, siblings.
Is this everyone? An elven-like woman floats into the room, her silver-gold hair shimmering in the dull lighting of the room. Welcome to Id, Lavender. This is our home.
That is all of us, Silversmith. Check the book. We need to bind him.
The room shakes and fuzzy voices filter through the room.
“Lav! Comeon.”
“‘Gway, Valence.”
Meatbag, that’s reality. Go. We’ll deal with…him.
Lav, why dint ya go?
He’s there. On the outskirts of my mind. Waiting for me to wake.
The figures in the room exchange nervous glances, then start discussing plans in earnest; Lavender tagging along at the peripheries of the conversation.
~+~+~+~+~+~
Malvent struggles out of the sewer stream, her scrubs steaming slightly as she enters the freezing air. Coughing wetly, she trips to her feet, stumbling over to the ladder leading to the outside world. Slowly, she pulls herself up the ladder, pushing back the weighty cover. At first, the dim winter light blinds her, then slowly her eyes adjust.
Where am I?
She emerges from the sewer, too tired to replace the cover. Staggering through the empty streets, she looks for someplace, any place, which might serve food. A flickering neon sign catches her attention: “Corvus Corvax Café ~ Dining for those of more…Scientific Tastes.” She stumbles over to the glass-fronted store, her bare feet occasionally snagging on the rough cobbles of the street. A whip of icy wind blasts through the air, causing her to pull the thin cotton top of the scrubs tighter to her body. Longingly, she stares at the display of the café, until a wiry looking man pushes open the door.
“Gods, you look freezin’, come inside.”
Sniffling slightly, Malvent follows him inside, her brain yelling at her to not trust odd men, especially ones that looked like they could play a villain in a James Bond film.
“Name’s Paul, an’ your name’s?”
“…Veratis…”
Paul looks back, taking in her odd garb and the oozing cut bisecting her face.
“You a run away?”
Malvent sniffles again, looking back at the mucky footprints on the otherwise clean floor.
“Or you choosin’ not ta answer?” Paul shrugs and shuffles off into the back. Slowly the smell of boiling water fills the air, along with the unmistakable scent melting butter. Paul walks back into main section of the store, looking at Malvent.
“There’s a shower in the back if you want to use it.”
Malvent nods and follows Paul into the back of the store, leaving a path of foul smelling prints. Through an immaculate kitchen, past the staircase leading upstairs, into a small, but serviceable bathroom, Paul stops.
“This good?”
Malvent nods, coughing again.
“Do you need anythin’ else?”
“Scissors, please,” Malvent says, stripping off her clothes and slipping into the shower stall.
Paul backs out of the room for a moment, slightly shocked.
No shame, no hesitation, why? He thinks, heading back into the bathroom and collecting the rotten smelling heap of scrubs, these deserved to be burnt. Enya’s old clothes should fit her.
“Veratis,” he says, “There should be some jeans and sweaters in the cabinet. Feel free to grab a set.”
He exits the room, and, quickly opening the back door and dumping the scrubs in the back garden. That done he heads back into the kitchen, grabbing a pair of scissors, and deposits them in front of the shut door of the bathroom. A small wisp of steam escapes from under the door, smelling faintly of eucalyptus. Paul smiles sadly to himself as he enters the kitchen. Barely a minuet later, the door chimes open.
“Gods, smells like a sewer in here. Paul?” Claymore calls, his voice muffled by his hand.
“That’s ‘cause an old friend called in an’ had been sewer divin’,” Paul yells, wiping his hands on his apron and rushing into the main area of the restaurant.
“Old friend? You’re not dating again?” Dais responds, pulling his sunglasses off.
Paul glares at Dais.
“What brings you to this neighbourhood?” he asks, “It’s not like you to just drop in for a meal.”
Claymore shrugs, “Thin’s have changed; we need some recon from the town.”
Paul starts to speak, but stops when Malvent enters the room. Her hair is still slightly wet, roughly cut, a large portion of what used to be her fringe draped over her face, obscuscring a large portion of the cut and her eye. A baggy, black sweater hangs off her thin frame, complimented by the tight jeans that covered her legs. She had managed to find a pair of old boots, which, although they looked too large for her feet, were perfectly serviceable. Claymore lets out a low whistle.
“A little young for you, isn’t she?” he asks Paul.
Paul stammers for a while, as Malvent finds a seat in a far corner, then finally finds his voice.
“I…I’m not datin’, she’s a distant cousin, honestly, I swear…”
“Get out of here!” Claymore says, eyeing the nervous Malvent, “Ya have a cousin?”
“Drop it Claymore,” Dais says, “Sorry to bother you, Paul. We’ll come back later, for a meal, and a small chat”
They turn and exit out of the café, their exit marked by the soft ting-a-ling of chimes attached to the doorframe. Sighing, Paul turns to face Malvent.
“You okay?”
She nods in response, not making eye contact. He scurries off, after the scent of burning bacon fills the air. Malvent smiles as muffled curses regarding burnt bacon and boiled cream fill the air.
Almost like home, she thinks, a confused look shifting across her face. Home? Where’s home? Who am I?
Annoyed, she shakes her head.
I can’t dwell on…her hand brushes across her face, catching on the cut. A lighting bolt of memory hits her mind.
Dancing, stiff and formal….”There are more things in Heaven and Hell”…”Come on noob, don’t tell me”…Darkness.
“You okay?”
She nods, looking down at the table. A bowl heaped high with penne pasta and Alfredo sauce was in front of her, steaming in the cold room.
“Call me if you need anythin’,” he calls over his shoulder, heading back into the kitchens, to prepare for the dinner rush.
Tentatively, Malvent takes a bite of her food.
‘S good…better than the food they served in Asylum. Why was I there anyway? They said I…flashing lights…Three figures…one boyish, the eerie light of a fire glinting off of a hair colour (what colour was that?), one tall, a weapon slung over his shoulder, the other…
Blinking, she shakes her head. What was going on? She was Malvent, not Minnie, or whatever her brain dug up.
Live for the now. They’ll be after you soon. Run…no, she smiles, taking a larger bite of her food, hide in plain view. That’s what you were taught. By who? Not the Asylum. Who?
Looking at the bowl, she finds it empty. Paul was banging around in the kitchen, so she decides to leave quietly.
“I’ve got…Veratis?” Paul calls, walking back into the Café’s dining area. Veratis, or Malvent, had vanished. Where she had been sitting was an empty bowl, and a napkin with something scrawled onto it. On closer inspection, he finds it is a note, which read as follows:
Dear Paul,
Thank you very much for the food and the clothes. I’m sorry I don’t have any money to repay you, I will someday…after I’ve stopped running away from my past. Thank you.
Malvent Veratis.
END PART TWO.
ART: Charactars, Comics, parody, everything(feel free to post your own xd
Jack Krowery:
