#It was supposed to be for a roleplay/ask-blog but i soon discovered I have no idea how to write Ray.

[morrizarek]

The url Raymeowzarek is in my possession but I don't know what to do with it.

[prisma-does-things]

My Interpretation of Daganronpa V3′s ending (plus extra goodies)

Hey everyone! Long time no see, but I think I may finally have time to do things regularly now. I’m gonna try and split this blog across Writblr/Fic, Danganronpa, and Edits so we’ll see how this goes, lol. I’ll have a new intro out sooooon!

Anyways onto what you clicked for:

This is a compilation theory of my interpretation of DRV3’s ending. I can justify why I think anything I say here if you want me to, but if I wrote down evidence for everything here it’d literally be 100 pages long so if you wanna discuss just ask me! Some of these things are just straight up indulgent but that’s the fun of interpretations!

1 | The Beginning of Team Danganronpa

After the events of DR3, and I mean LONG after the events of DR3--like at least a century--Hope’s Peak Academy has been diluted into a small and insignificant government program, totally out of the way of society. Talent isn’t as much of a big deal anymore and everyone’s chill now. The concepts of hope and despair, Junko and company are reduced to stories and paragraphs in history text-books.

Eventually, and slowly, the stories of the killing games entered into the world of fiction. The idea of the ultimate clash between Hope and Despair was quite enticing, and so Team Danganronpa was created to make these ideas come to life on the screen.. Reenactments, roleplays, museums, you name it and Team Danganronpa had a part in it. The hardships of the past lead to inspiration for the people of the present. Hope and despair became little aesthetics and concepts for people to attach themselves too, like coping mechanisms. 

However, as society grew to appreciate this, it grew more and more perverse. The reenactments became more and more realistic, and the people consuming it cared less and less about the specifics. All they cared for was the mindless and constant clash between Hope and Despair. Good or bad. It wasn’t even despair that society was experiencing, more like a perverted sense of sentimentality. If it sounds like I copied that I did, that quote was from Undertale.

2 | The New Killing Game

Anyways, at the rate things were going, it was inevitable that Team Danganronpa would eventually start recreating killing games using actual students, probably a combination of scouted out individuals and volunteers with actual murders. Remember that this is a society that bounced back from a near-end of the world decision, they’re all recovering, even the kids that were raised by the survivors. 

And please note that when I’m talking about the society in the Danganronpa world I don’t think that it applies to the fandom AT AL. In fact I think the society in DR is the exact opposite of the fandom, but let’s keep going.

3 | Rantaro’s Plan

We really don’t know the amount of ‘Seasons’ there’s been, but we’ll just call this one ‘Season 52’. Season 52 stares a whole new story continuing from the ‘fictional’ stories of Hope’s Peak. The only two members of this group that we know are Rantaro Amami...and Kaede Akamatsu, the two that chose to sacrifice themselves at the end of the 52nd killing game. Rantaro and Kaede both get survivor perks for their troubles, and the other two survivors are allowed to have their memories replaced so they can return to society with their sanity. Rantaro and Kaede can leave to the real world too, but they will be brought back for the next season, which is planned to be a sequel featuring them as the fan favorites.

Luckily for Rantaro, this is the perfect situation for his plan to destroy Team Danganronpa for good. Everyone else in the world is generally repulsed by Team DR’s actions, but their reliance on them is too great for them to break away or do much of anything.

He starts out by getting in contact with Kaede’s twin sister, we’ll just call her Haru as a temporary name. Rantaro needs to pitch a good plot for the next season, since it’s a sequel he’ll have the advantage in knowing where everything is, including the one weakness of the seasons mastermind. Because Kaede, being positive and bright, and Maru, being cynical and rude, are polar opposites, a twin vs. twin plot seems like the perfect thing to pitch to Team Danganronpa. 

In addition Rantaro also adds Shuichi Saihara and Tsumugi Shirogane to his little squad. Shuichi’s mind is analytical, but he lacks confidence. Rantaro knows Team DR enough to predict what they’ll do with him, so he becomes Rantaro’s backup. He adds Tsumugi only because she and Kaede were dating-A and he thinks she’ll make a good first victim, letting Rantaro get a bit more time to find the mastermind and convince the world to fight against Team DR.

 4 | Scouting of the other members

Before any of this, back when he was recording his Survivor Perk, he made sure to structure it in a way that would motivate a Rantaro in a killing game to get out and survive another game so he could try again. He really wanted to cover all of his bases, he was dealing with a huge corporation by now after all.

In another sect, Kaito Momota and Maki Harukawa, who are both dating, join in with Rantaro’s idea. And, somewhere entirely different, a prince by the name of Kokichi Oma, and his personal maid, Kirumi Tojo, are both scouted and kidnapped by Team Danganronpa for the next killing game. A shy but sweet mechanic whose father is friends with the Queen of the kingdom, Miu Iruma, decides to volunteer.

After much planning from Rantaro’s group, they strategically get everyone in the 53rd killing game, lying on their audition tapes...well-everyone except for Maru. Team DR accepts the whole twin vs. twin plot, and they start modification of the sets, making them seem dilapidated and old to show a passage of time. Right on the cusp of the plans success, Kaede succumbs to her guilt. After seeing the horrors of the killing game her spirit is broken, and soon before the game’s beginning, she commits suicide. The final note she leaves to her sister asks her to end the killing games, despite their differences. 

Without a twin to complete the plot, Team DR is forced to improvise. They bring out a beta for a project they were planning, a robot named K1-B0, or Keebo. Keebo’s purpose was to be the audience's eyes, something suggested by Miu to give her friends an advantage in ending the game. 

5 | The Start of Season 53

Finally, the killing game starts. 

The 16 students are brought to Team DR one way or another. Maru is especially shocked, as she’s never participated in a killing game before, but is treated like she did. Everyone’s memory is replaced, save for Rantaro who’s allowed to keep a set few memories that would’ve worked well for the sequel plan. Everyone wakes up in the lockers, with Maru waking up next to Shuichi, now forced to take the identity of Kaede. She tries to get the hang of her sister’s personality, as we see in pregame, but eventually her entire identity is replaced with a Flashback light when she receives her talent. You could also describe it as an Ultimate Revival if you wanted to. Maru becomes Kaede Akamatsu, now able to fulfill the role that her sister is now unable to.

After the events of the prologue (Which is called Ultimate Revival by the way, I don’t want you to miss that wordplay) Tsumugi wakes up in a locker, right next to Keebo. Something not even Rantaro accounted for happened, Tsumugi was chosen to be the mastermind. Not Kokichi or even himself like he was expecting. However, Team DR saw Tsumugi as a perfect candidate for a mastermind, as her obsession with fiction was seen as relatable. She was a perfect reflection of what society had become.

Tsumugi’s mind was barely touched by the Flashback lights, but all of her relationships with her friends and girlfriend were replaced. Upon waking up and seeing Keebo, he explains to her that they’re currently in a spaceship that was supposed to take off ages ago and the outside world is inhospitable. Panicking, she sets K1-B0 into it’s ‘friendly’ mode and lets him go off and talk with the others, entirely forgetting about his set role as a future traitor, as well as the Flashback Light machine. 

However, K1-B0 was set to teach the mastermind how to do their job, and now without that information in their memory, Tsumugi doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do. All she knows right now is that she has some involvement with the mastermind. As a result, the Monokubs, another set of helpers, also have no idea what they’re doing and have to rely on Monokuma, an AI the mastermind can’t control, for instruction.

6 | Tsumugi as the Mastermind

Tsumugi ends up wandering around, stopping and staring at an odd dragon statue. That’s when Shuichi and Kaede find her in-game. Tsumugi can’t explain why, but Kaede touching her cheeks made her feel all fluttery inside. After their ‘first’ interaction together, Tsumugi takes note of the big round ball in the dragon’s hand. 

The first motive, The First Blood Perk, comes around, along with the time limit soon after. The pressure of this definitely scares Tsumugi, but she wants to see Kaede get out okay, especially since she feels inspired by her.

At some point Tsumugi goes to the bathroom and discovers the hidden room entirely by accident. Once into the room with Motherkuma, she asks about the whereabouts of Kaede, and Motherkuma gives her details about her and Shuichi’s plan. Wanting to help out, but not wanting to seem suspicious, she gets about the bathroom a.s.a.p and goes back to blending in. She’s planning to get Kaede out as soon as she can, but she doesn’t know if she can do it.

Time goes on, and eventually that really loud music starts playing. Tsumugi knows Kaede’s gonna make a move, so she rushes to the hidden room in the library again and starts her own little plan. After stealing a shot put ball from the warehouse, something she did out of inspiration from the dragon, Tsumugi opens up the hidden door in the library to see Rantaro lying crumpled on the floor by the bookshelf.

Without thinking, she smashed the ball into Rantaro’s head and finished him off. She initially thought him to be the mastermind, but after checking his survivor perk she realizes that there’s a lot more to Rantaro, and this game, than she realizes. Desperate for more time to solve the mystery, she rushed back with everyone else to get on with the investigation.

7 | The First Trial

As the investigation rolled around, she started panicking. She formed a quick alibi in the form of her cospox, but planned to explain herself more in the class trial. She wasn’t quite ready to face reality yet. She knew Monokuma was supposed to punish her, so she let herself act like she was innocent until the time came.��

Once the class trial DID come around, she realized what Kaede was doing. Once Monokuma declared the voting right, she was confused, but took it as an opportunity to defeat the Mastermind. Her death made her distraught, but she bit her tongue and promised to solve it for Kaede’s sake.

The night of the Class Trial, she went back into her secret room when she was greeted by a Flashback Light. This one, on top of the one everyone else received, was built to make her be a more efficient mastermind. 

8 | The Trials After…

Trials 2-4 were largely the same. Just after each Class Trial, Tsumugi was given a different special Flashback Light to get her to question everything around her more, specifically targeting the idea that everything Danganronpa, including Hope’s Peak, isn’t actually real. Monokuma had been no help, fully content holding the truth over her and making her dance around to find it. I don’t have any idea what those Flashback Lights could’ve been, but I DO know that one of the ones meant for Tsumugi was nabbed by Angie in chapter 3. Tsumugi planned for her to find it, but didn’t expect her to destroy it.

By Chapter 4, Tsumugi asked Monokuma to show the “outside world” for the first time, confirming what Keebo said. During this time, she fully believed the scene outside to be real, mostly because she had no other evidence to disprove it. After this, Tsumugi decided to start a plan of her own that she’d enact by herself.

9 | Tsumugi’s Plan

Before getting a look at the Neo World Program in Chapter 4, Tsumugi used a Flashback light on herself to replace the memory of her seeing the outside world with her doing something else. This was because she needed a fresh reaction to seeing the outside world, but also because she needed to avoid Kokichi, who was definitely the closest to being able to figure her out and expose her.The other one she needed to keep an eye on was Shuichi, who could also figure her out if he ever caught his suspicions. In her desperation she never noticed the secret of the Flashback Lights, which lead to her replacing memories instead of erasing them like she was excepting. 

The next step of her plan involved her overhearing Kokichi and Miu’s plan to create the Electro hammers. She knew they’d be used to escape the ship at some point, and with a fresh reaction everything would be in place for the next step, which was getting Oma killed to give herself time to figure everything else out so she could finally come clean. Of course, since she really believed the world outside was destroyed, she really just wanted to trick everyone into not committing any murders. That just happened to mean getting rid of Kokichi. 

With all of this in mind, she wrote down her plan and used the Flashback light on herself. After having her memories erased, she went through the game as normal until trial 4 passed. Luckily for her, it gave her just the motivation she needed to want to kill Kokichi. She wasn’t quite able to see through Kokichi’s mask, she was blinded by a mix of power, confusion, and rage by then. 

Immediately after trial 4, she was hit with her usual mastermind Flashback Light, however this one made her remember something extra important, the script of season 53.  

Tsumugi actually wrote herself a fake set of plans as part of her plans. That was the whole ‘script’ thing she was talking about in chapter 6. She set the plans up so that way she truly believed she was the mastermind. She was taking the risk of Kokichi finding her, but she figured the confusion would throw off any secretive actions she could’ve done. The reason why she did this was to give herself confidence. If she made herself think that everything in her plan was already set to happen, she’d believe in herself enough to make it so. 

Going into Chapter 5 now, after seeing the outside world for the ‘first time’ she blended in with everyone else, but she did know that Kokichi wasn’t actually the Mastermind as she read the script she made for herself. Tsumugi didn’t plan for this, but it did help her out because it got everyone to go again Kokichi. 

After trial 5, and his sacrifice, Tsumugi was hit with her final flashback light. This one made her ‘remember’ her time as a part of Team Danganronpa. This didn’t mess with her plan too much, as she already knew that something would happen to her head before she made herself forget the secret of the outside world. However, after all of those lights..her head couldn’t take much more. There was too much stuff going on in her head, too many confusing contradictions for her to process. She ignored this originally because she thought that the Flashback Lights erased and created memories instead of replacing them, but it was too late. Keebo started destroying the academy, something she DEFINITELY didn’t plan for.

10 | The Final Trial

Without any way of solving the mystery of Team DR, she scrambled around and put together a class trial of her own, leaving the shot-put ball Kaede used in the trash for Shuichi to find later. All of her attempts came crashing down, but she was able to convince Monokuma to shamble together something to make season 53 end with a ‘good climax’. 

Trial 6 starts, and after Tsumugi’s found out as the mastermind, she uses a series of Nanokumas to help her cosplay. By now she believes that the stories of Hope’s Peak are fiction, so she’s able to cosplay them...and only them...all she wants. She doesn’t know anything about Team DR’s history, so she makes it all up, including the titles of the seasons, which she shambles together from her favorite fandoms. Monokuma plays along, and even adds in a huge audience set to make it look like everyone’s watching. In fact he’s so wrapped up in how good everything’s doing that he doesn’t realize Tsumugi’s baiting Shuichi into helping her.

During trial 6, she even brings up the motive that no one had a chance to see in chapter 5, the Pre-Game tapes they did when they were together ages ago. 

By presenting herself as an ultimate evil, Tsumugi took Shuichi’s will to find the truth and twisted it so that he’d end up finding what she wanted him to. She wanted Shuichi to discover the truth, that fiction can change the world. 

At the end of it all, Tsumugi allowed herself to be killed, succumbing to the after effects of the Flashback Lights and letting herself be consumed by the lies. Believing herself now to be some kind of replacement to Junko Enoshima, and thus a ‘cosplay-cat killer’, she allows herself to be killed and finally rest. She wanted to admit what she did more carefully, to say a final goodbye or at least hint to the fact that she meant to help them, but she couldn’t. 

Shuchi, Maki, and Himiko all survive, finally able to leave Danganronpa together. Team DR allows it, as it feels satisfying, but they do look forwards to seeing the 3 of them try to truly end Danganronpa for good. Tsumugi doesn’t know what’s on the other side of the End-Wall, but she trusts in her friends to face that truth.

11 | Conclusion 

And that’s it! I hope you enjoyed this read/arrangement of evidence for what I think happened behind the scenes of Danganronpa V3! This took sooo much thinking it’s not even funny. Seriously I spent at least 4 full school periods doing nothing but thinking and taking notes. A lot of this is indulgent, specifically the parts with Kokichi being a prince and the whole Kaede + Kaede Twin Sister switch, I just thought those were neat. 

I didn’t say it there but I think that The Ultimate Talent Development Plan was actually two things. The first was a board game released alongside Season 53 featuring all the characters, and the second was actually a real program, sorta like the Izuru project. I don’t really wanna consider the implications of what this could do to my interpretation though, lol. 

But yeah, V3’s ending is really important to me. It upsets me wayy more than it should when people consider it to be stupid or lazy or insulting to the audience of the games. I think what they were trying to do with the ending was both stupid ambitious and super cool. Killing Harmony is like...my 2nd favorite piece of media ever. It’s so important to me, and as a storyteller I totally respect them for what they did with the ending. The idea of using the enjoyment of the franchise against the player was so brutal and effective for me. Danganronpa helped me grow as a person, and being undermined and told the emotional connection I had with everyone was all just bullshit hurt. Buuuut then Tsumugi and Shuichi helped me realize that even if it is just a bunch of silly bullshit, the emotional response that it gave me...and all the happiness I got from it, that’s all real. Ain’t no black and white bear taking that from me.

So yeah, thanks for reading.

Thanks for everything, Danganronpa.

[dominushq]

Hello everyone! Below the cut will be a sample application to act as a sort-of guide for all of you. Please take note that this is only a guide and that we, in no way, shape, or form, expect everyone’s application to look like this. This is only provided as an example! 

Congratulations, HENRY! You have been accepted for the role of MARCUS with the character JOHN MARCUS ELLIS. Please head over to the checklist page for any final reminders and send in your blog within twenty-four hours. Congratulations on your acceptance and we can’t wait to have you with us!

OOC.

Name/Alias: henry Pronouns: they/them or he/him Age: nineteen Timezone: gmt+1 Activity Level: i’m one of the two admins of the roleplay, so i’ll probably be around a lot! the exchange program will probably be an issue, though i promise to still try and pull my own weight. weekends will probably see me more active more often than not. for a numerical rating, i’d say 7/10. Triggers: removed for privacy. Anything else? removed for privacy.

IC.

Name: John Marcus Ellis

— JOHN: The name of an Evangelist, the Beloved Disciple, the only one who stood with Mary the Theotokos at the foot of the cross as Christ hung crucified—your father named you John in great anticipation of the works of faith he hoped you’ll come to exemplify and you’ve somewhat followed much of the example your namesake set. Even now, the words of the Gospel of John is still seared onto your brain, a piece that you memorised once when you were bored that your mind never quite let go of. 

— MARCUS: How convenient that your name in Sodalitas has already been, in some respects, your name. The Stoic Roman Emperor had never held your regard but you can somewhat see the respect people had or him. When the society gave you that name, you began using it in your daily life as well, seeing no point in keeping John when all the people you knew called you Ellis or Marcus already. Sometimes, when you’re with your parents at Lambeth, the sound of your own first name feels like a stranger’s now.

— ELLIS: Your last name has never really been that notable until your father became the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was noble, to be sure, but it was a minor noble family, one that accorded no mention in history books. In fact, it had been your mother’s family that was the more notable when you were younger, the Grosvenor family one of the few who share the privilege of being close to the Queen and her family. With the passage of time, the star of your father’s rise began to shine brighter and it is his name that draws attention now. When you introduce yourself, it only takes a second for them to realise that you’re that child of the Archbishop, and you realise that there’s a possibility that you will remain forever in the shadow of your father. 

Age: Nineteen Faceclaim: Niels Trispel Gender ID: Nonbinary Pronouns: They/them Field of Study: Theology and Religion College: St. John’s College

Biography.

trigger warnings: stillbirth

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ( John 1:1)

These words spill out of your lips, over and over again, as if you’re a broken record. Your father asks you to continue and you try to recite the next verse from memory alone, the Bible in front of you only ever to be consulted if strictly necessary. This could almost be a vigil, except you’re far too young to know what the words really mean, and so it ends up meaning nothing, the words just remaining words instead of whatever phenomenon your father had hoped to conjure up. It’s not that you’re stupid—you could, if you concentrate hard enough, conceptualise of a word given Being (and, even now, you know it’s with a capital B)—but the concept of divinity itself is foreign to you, even as your father exemplifies it with his very being and your mother takes great care to ensure that you’re brought up in the faith.

You know he’s an important man and that you are, in some ways, blessed for having such a man for a father but his title means nothing to you—at least not for now. It will in the future, but the future’s a long way away still. For now, you are a child.

( But were you ever really a child? )

This is an account of the heavens and the earth. ( Genesis 2:4 )

This is how your life starts: you are born to The Right Reverend Thomas Weatherby Ellis and a schoolteacher named Lady Margaret Anne Grosvenor. You are their only child, after complications from a birth after yours resulted into a stillbirth and the inviability of your mother’s womb to ever bear fruit again. The years of your childhood pass by without consequence, and you are hard-pressed to remember the details that surround your early life. If you concentrate hard enough, you can think of the feel of leather under your cheek as you dozed off while studying, the way you thought that gilding at the edges of the Bible would rub off on your fingertip and the disappointment when it didn’t, and the way expectation always seemed right around the corner, a familiar and dark thing that has been your nurturer more than either of your parents.

Beyond these, however, there is nothing much else—not for the reasons of tragedy or great harm, but because you’ve always been mature for your age: an adult in a kid’s body was what they called you, and you’ve realised through the passage of the years that you were never really a child in the conventional way other children were. In a way, you’re more mature than any of your other peers. (In another, this repression has made you capable of a childishness that shocks even you, resulting in a fearful wanting that only children are capable of—a wanting that you deny exists but continues to do so nonetheless.) 

You do not remember much of your childhood because it blends from this day and the next and so on, an almost stunning replica of your life right now that it feels as if you have stood unchanging since the dawn of time. However hard you try, you can’t ever remember a time when you haven’t always been like this, as if the void has always been inside of you, swallowing any vestiges of real emotion, sapping you of the vitality that you keenly feel is so present in other people but not you, never you.

( Have you always been wanting? )

Pray, then, like this: our Father in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. ( Matthew 6:9 )

There is a great bustling in your life one day, a great rupture in the routine schedule of your day-to-day living. People tell you your father is a great man—no, a good man, a holy man—and they say this as if it should mean something to you. They hail your family as a paragon of virtue and they think that the knowledge you have is proof of your father’s upstanding virtue. His titles change and you move into a new place called Lambeth, a veritable palace in comparison to your former residence, which you are quick to forget. (Some days you forget even its name, until it hits you suddenly: Bishopthorpe.)  It’s a stretch to say you’ve flourished in your new residence, but the library at Lambeth does become your home, for whatever it’s worth, and your mother often found you passed out in between stacks of books.

You stay for only a couple of years or so at most before you get shipped out to boarding school. It’s a tradition, after all, and that is what your family has stood for ever since time immemorial. The decision is not without its detractors—for how, some say, can a man who profess to follow the example of Jesus Christ justify the use of so much money?—but then you test as a Queen’s Scholar and the news of the extravagance of your tuition fees is swept away by news of your precociousness. They begin whispering that you will be like your father some day, a scholar in the service of Christ, knowledge pursued and discovered for the greater glory of God.

You don’t know what to think about that.

( And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes— )

Let no one be found among you who sacrifices his son or daughter in the fire, practices divination or conjury, interprets omens, practices sorcery, casts spells, consults a medium or familiar spirit, or inquires of the dead. ( Deuteronomy 18:10-11)

Your father tells you the history of your family one night when you are home after Michaelmas term.

It is a long and proud history, he says, one in which he and your mother took part in, and which you will take part in one day soon. Oxford’s secrets will be laid bare before you, as well as the secrets of the universe and the meaning of life, but—perhaps most importantly—you will come to know the most important people who will undoubtedly make changes in the history of your nation, if not the world. The preparations have already been made, he tells you. A boy should have come up in Eton to befriend you and tell you all about it, but he’s just making sure.

The last statement confuses you. You have no friends. It’s the first fact anyone at your school knows about you. You’re the student that always keeps to themself with their books, distinguished academically but not much else. Your father frowns when you tell him this and tells you a name, while in the same breath asking if nobody has truly come to you before he said all this.

You recognise the name as a boy who you’ve ignored all throughout the year. You realise that your father probably won’t like it if you tell him you’ve ignored who was supposed to be your... mentor, you supposed (for lack of better term), so you tell him nothing and just shrug, saying you’ll follow it up when you get back for HT.

You never do. In fact, you don’t acknowledge the boy as someone who exists at all, and he does the same to you. You take your A-Levels and get into Oxford to read Theology and Religion and you expect nothing to come out of the heritage you inherited from both of your parents—but then comes the invitation and the initiation. You don’t refuse but neither do you really accept it: you just went along with everything, an almost fatalistic and nihilistic apathy tinging your actions. They give you the name Marcus not knowing that it already is your middle name, purely because of your reputation as an academic, never mind the fact that you don’t really follow the philosophical code championed by Marcus Aurelius. You say nothing about it: you don’t think they’re the sort of crowd to care much for historical accuracy, anyway.

Your membership is one that is at the sidelines. You are an audience member to the theatricality of the whole thing, knowing as you do that every words is blasphemy and realising that your father and mother (holy folk, people called them) have committed idolatry several times over—and that now you will follow in their footsteps: singing hymns to a pantheon that’s now defunct, toasting to spirits that aren’t even there, and committing cruelties that would make the hunting sessions some of your father’s friends go to look tame.

You take part in it, but you don’t believe in it. You believe in nothing, really, and perhaps that’s been your most fatal flaw. You’ve been oversaturated with holiness, with sacredness, with belief—so much that you must have gotten sick of it over time without your knowing, and now you’re condemned to a life half-lived as punishment for a sin you didn’t even know you committed.

It has always been like this, and it always will be like this. 

( So it has been, and so it shall be, forever and ever. )

Interview.

What is your name and what was your relationship like with the deceased? 

the silence that greeted the first question is almost deafening in its suddenness, but marcus has grown used to long silences from long reading sessions in the library with nothing but books to keep them company. they regarded the officer in front of them and blinked slowly, owlishly, almost boorishly. “my name’s john marcus ellis,” they say finally, “but people either call me marcus or ellis.” there was a short pause, as if they were waiting for an acknowledgement of their statement from the officer, but there was no answer forthcoming and they were left to continue their thread of conversation. in the silence that filled the empy space, marcus became all too aware of the soft ticking of their wristwatch—a quick look at the device and they realised that they were going to be late in handing in their old testament paper. “i suppose people will call hardwicke and i friends,” they said at long last, their tone a smidge distracted by their realisation, “but we’re not that close really.” although perhaps some would also say shared membership in a secret society was close enough. then again, marcus didn’t really care what other people thought. “i knew him since we were kids, and he was an associate of mine in eton as well as in oxford, but there’s nothing else to tell you beyond that.”

Can you tell us a little bit about yourself before we start?

they knew, almost detachedly, that they could say a lot of things as an answer to this question, but their mind came up blank. usually, marcus introduced themself simply with their name and, if some odd people still needed clarification, announced their link to their father. it would almost be a proud claiming of a heritage, but the words just fell flat with their deliverance, and it sounded more like a shameful thing rather than a point of pride to be the child of the archbishop of canterbury.

somehow, they realised that such a performance would not be welcome now, and so they struggled to fill the silence. “there’s nothing much to tell,” they say. “i’m just a student at oxford. i don’t really know how i can help you in this investigation of yours, honestly.”

Do you possess a reason we should know about for having murdered the deceased?

"of course not,” they said quickly, and it was true. edward hardwicke never posed a threat to them and whatever political machination that caligula and agrippina tried to wrought upon their group didn’t really interest marcus. they were apathetic in most things, the politics of their secret society simply being but one of the many things that just existed for them but nothing more than that. “hardwicke and i were at the very least amicable.” and this, too, was true, for edward did treat them civilly enough, a behaviour which they mirrored right back until the fateful night that they didn’t.

then again, that was what the authorities would kill to know, wouldn’t they? logically speaking, a profile of a killer must have already been written up by them somehow, and they could just imagine the profile they have right now: esoteric, highly intelligent, familiar with religious symbols, and possessing a connection to edward hardwicke—traits which marcus knew they fulfilled to the letter. 

how amusing to know that the law could be so wrong yet so right at the same time. “i don’t know what to tell you,” they said. “i’ve said all that i can say: i have no reason to kill hardwicke, and that’s it.” this, too, was true; but having no reason didn’t stop them from plunging that knife into his chest anyway.

Did the victim have any enemies? Was anybody threatening the victim?

marcus shrugged, an easy motion of the shoulders that didn’t really come easily to them as much as they like to think it did. “maybe?” they said. “hardwicke’s very well-known in oxford. they’re very active socially and i think they’re in all the political clubs.” a false lead would work well in their favour now, especially when such a lead was likely in the eyes of the authorities. “he can be a bit abrasive and forceful, but i don’t know anyone specifically whom he offended.” they could, of course, drop caligula’s name—and a small part of them did want to, merely to see what repercussions it could hold—but a threat to caligula was a threat to the society, which will ultimately result in a threat against marcus themself. as much as they were curious to see how that potential chain of events might unfold, they had to be smart too.

Can you give us any information that might help the investigation?

"i don’t know,” they said, their voice feigning sheepishness. “as i said, i don’t really know how i can help you, because i really know nothing about the whole thing.” this has been, they realised, the most impassioned they’d been in quite a while. it was a pity, then, that this was in the end just another fabrication, a simulation designed to keep what needs to be secret secret. “in fact, the last time i saw him, it was in a lecture last term about the poetic elements present in the prophetic books. he told me we should catch up during the summer, but i never had time to take him up on his offer.” a pause. “it’s a pity, really.”

Where were you on Sunday morning?

removed to keep the mystery alive.

Extras.

I have a Pinterest board here.

A playlist here.

And a mockblog here.

Their character tag can also be found here. 

And a general tag for Dominus as a whole can be found here.

[addithevampire]

Death to the GM’s plans

My first ever character, my beloved Addi for whom I named my blog, was an antitribu Tremere vampire in Vampire: The Masquerade (v20, mid 1970s). Basically, the Tremere are the Wizards of the VtM world if your GM is like mine and knows absolutely nothing about Mage: The Awakening and thus won’t include mages. They can only use blood magic, are fastidious and a little stuffy, and are very, very intelligent. (Antitribu are against their clan’s general alignment, but mostly they refer to those whose alignment is usually lawful but is instead chaotic, like me.)

I never was very good at following the template for character creation.

Addi was very intelligent, they just... showed it differently. In the beginning, believe it or not, I was actually the straight man to everyone else’s batshit nutty-as-fruitcakes.

Case in point: our party.

Now, our party was only three people (we had a fourth but he only ever interacted with me and left soon after the game began) because the GM and two of us were 14 and freshman and kind of intimidated by large parties. We roleplayed whenever and generally broke a lot of rules because while I was a first-time RPer our GM was a first-time GM.

As such, I was the first person in the campaign, and the party (myself, Mason the Lasombra failpire, and Victor the Assamite whose name I never got right) hinged on me getting us all together because an NPC blah blah blah.

The first time I ruined the GM’s plans:

Our trusty NPC guide, Malcolm, took us to gather some artifacts. We killed a lot of people because we’re those assholes and got away pretty much scot-free, upon which Mal and I discovered a room with prizes and Hector and Mason discovered a brick wall because they couldn’t see through magic. The prizes were thus: a sheet of blood magic runes only I would be able to understand; an innocuous cube that would negate a character’s clan weakness, which was only really that debilitating for the shadow-less Lasombra; and a set of two shiny Assamite Blades, swords slick with Assamite blood/spit (can’t remember which) which inflict heavier damage than normal blades. The GM, being a logical person, had assumed that we would take the prizes she had lined up according to our clans and be done with it.

I am not a logical person. I am a person who squeals “ooh, shiny” and leaves the paper in the dust.

I got off with one Assamite Blade after bartering the other one for the blood magic Verne had grabbed.

The second time the GM’s plans were ruined (and it wasn’t my fault this time!!!):

The party got stayed together because in three days we were going to go down to Mexico to diablerize (verb: to drink a vampire dry and acquire some of their powers/memories in the process) an Elder (really old vamp). The only fly in this ointment?

Everyone forgot about it.

Truly, this was the binding glue for the party and we all just. Forgot. Until I brought it up at the end of the school year and everyone went “ooooh” and facepalmed.

Lesser ruins (some also not mine):

Vincent acquired a gang. In all honesty he should’ve died because the gang leader was SUPER overpowered but the GM just kept rolling ones? And he miraculously didn’t? So, yeah, Vaughn had a gang until much later in the campaign when the GM wanted them gone and forced them out with Plot and bad life choices.

Our first mini-arc was me and the unknown fourth dude whose name escapes me but he’s a Weab so we’re just gonna call him that. Weab turned me into the straight man for the beginning of the campaign until I started going YOLT (You Only Live Twice). He was terrible and I loved it.

Our first mission was to take down these vampires for whatever reason and because my sire said to do it we were like “yeah, sure” and did it. We went into the building, I did magic that shouldn’t have been possible because like I said, new GM, and we got up the the floor of the office building with all the goons we were supposed to kill. I asked, “Hey, you got a plan,” to which he replied “Yeah, I’ve got some light grenades”.

Record scratch.

Our campaign took place in the REAL WORLD (sans magical beings) and he hadn’t actually told the GM he wanted those. Cue long, boring argument that inevitably ruled in his favor even though I’m pretty sure getting light grenades in the 70s would’ve been damn hard, if not impossible.

So, we got a human lackey for me to mind-control, he went in there to avoid our faces being seen by the enemy, detonated the grenades, and all but three of them died. Now, you might be thinking, “Surely you had a backup”, to which I say, “No, because even as I was the straight man in this situation, I’m still a chaotic mess.”

Weab made the executive decision to rush into the room and attempt to crowd them out a window. He got them out the window, almost got staked, and they got away and knew his face and he almost went splat from 40-something floors up. God, I loved playing with him to watch him fuck up.

In short: no one in that campaign ever did anything the GM wanted and I’m pretty sure her hair is 2% greyer for it.

[explorerezreal]

The Final Post (For real.)

[[ Hey guys.

As everyone knows, I officially retired this blog in December of 2016 after three great years of roleplaying in the League of Legends community. However, it just occurred to me that I have an unfinished piece of writing that I had been working on for NaNoWriMo 2015 that I never released. This original Ezreal origin story will be the final post on this blog, and my final gift to all of you wonderful people. I hope you enjoy! Love always, Ezruul @w@

                                                        Initium

                                      Written for NaNoWriMo 2015

This writing is purely a work of fiction. And by that, I mean fanfiction. Sorry guys, I’m not creative enough for anything else!

That being said, I don’t own League of Legends or any characters or specifically named locations mentioned. That honor goes to Riot Games Inc.

I wish to give thanks to my community for your undying support and faith in my writing.

I don’t remember how it started.

I remember when I figured out that everything was complete and utter bullshit, though. It was an early Tuesday, and I’d once again been reprimanded for doodling my ink-dipped quill pen all over the piece of blank parchment that had been thrust in front of me and expected to be covered in notes involving complicated mathematics that were supposed to aid in techmaturgical blueprints for future energy-saving devices that would be built across the entire City of Progress. The instructor took it upon himself to crumple the start of a shoddy ebony labyrinth that I’d created and mercilessly dump it in the trash bin beside me before handing me a new sheet, an exasperated sigh splitting his lips as he did so.

“Do you think maybe one of these days you’ll actually take notes instead of drawing all over everything, Mister Forcher?” he spoke with an edge, clearly on his last nerve with me despite it being my first lesson of the day. Good morning, indeed. Despite being a mere seven years old, my young tongue had already garnered its fair share of teeth marks from being bitten back so many times, and although I tried to make myself move, I’m not sure anything happened on my face. Or body, really. All I knew was that this thing I was in. This damn school. This damn stuffy classroom…

Had been suffocating me as though it were a toxin-filled gas from the very beginning.

Prodigy. That’s what they’d called me. I had heard the word so many times in my young life but I never got to really understand what the meaning was until I’d turned five and was placed into an educational environment that far surpassed anything that a normal child should experience. Other so-called prodigies littered the shining halls, but none as young as me. Hell, some were even university-age and beyond, but considering where it was, this wasn’t exactly surprising, though I’m sure it was a definite blow to their egos. At first, I was carefree. I of course knew I’d be starting school soon. It sounded like fun in my inexperienced head. My parents’ instructions and newfound rules were very clear, though. Instead of attempting to make friends with the neighbors and playing out in the grass, dirt and concrete beneath the dim illumination of the aged hexlight that lay just at the end of our street, I would have to study. Hard.

“You’re giving up scraped knees for papercuts.” Is what they’d say to make me feel better when my skinny fingers had grown tired of constantly turning pages and attempting to make sense of words that even my above average mind couldn’t yet comprehend. On a particularly warm day when the glare of the sunlight showed itself through the window, I found myself entranced with the red-orange swirled horizon instead of the technological banter in front of me, and the possibility of what lay beyond the walls of the only place I’d ever known captivated me like no other feeling ever had.

I wanted to be out there more than anything.

“Ezreal.”

The sound of my name was like an unexpected clap of thunder, and my small form quickly whipped around to face the textbook, again and at one point, I fantasized that it was the book itself that had spoken to me, but I’d know my father’s stern tone anywhere. I wrinkled my lips and shrank back, waiting for the inevitable.

“Please stop looking outside, Ezreal. You know why you have to do this, right? You’re a prodigy. Act like one. Your education is costing us good gold and the sooner you apply yourself and realize your potential, the better it’ll be for everyone.”

I didn’t know what this word, “potential,” was. But it sounded neat. I rolled the word over and over again in my head, considering what letters went where in its spelling. Potential.

“Potential.” I repeated out loud, nodding my tousled blonde head as I fingered the word of the book I’d stopped at, my eyes brightening with a soft, golden hue; a side-effect of the magic that lay running within my veins alongside the blood. When my father left the room, with a yawn, I’d continue to sneak peeks through the window, each glance checking to see how far the sun had gone down since I last looked. I still wanted to be outside, but wondering what was beyond the glistening white towers of Piltover wasn’t going to help me reach my potential.

I continued studying dutifully in the best ways I possibly could over the next two years, but it didn’t take long before I soon became restless, and my mind would always revert back to subjects that were far, far more interesting. I didn’t have a word for this particularly warm feeling that had settled itself in the pit of my stomach, but as I grew older, I discovered it.

Wanderlust.

It was this lust for wander that had compelled me to begin scribbling onto that sheet of paper that my instructor had thrown away, and it was also what caused me to once again start doodling instead of taking notes or focusing on what was being said in the classroom. The stale words seemed drowned out by the wondrous and vibrant images that took shape in my imagination, and I daydreamed of being somewhere else. Somewhere dark and full of danger. Somewhere unknown that had been quietly itching to be discovered. I dipped the end of my pen into the ink and started making one full line down, but before I even finished the first stroke, the instructor was back, his eyes showcasing that the last of his patience had been drained away.

“If you’re not going to pay attention, Mister Forcher, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Again.” He said, and I could feel the eyes of the other students, particularly those of the much older ones, burning into every piece of me like small branding irons. Some were apathetic, but most were annoyed. Confused. Angry. Possibly even moreso than the instructor himself. Because they didn’t understand how someone as apparently gifted as I was wouldn’t take advantage of the situation that I’d been dealt. I did not speak my response, and instead, I gathered up the leather satchel that had been slung over the back of my chair and departed the room in silence, hungry for the fresh air that would greet me outside of the stuffy walls.

The door clicked behind me, and I could hear the expected sigh from behind it, and then more words. Words that I had absolutely no desire to hear. I started walking, counting the number of times my boots crunched on the leaves as I made my way to my favorite place in the entire esteemed techmaturgical academy; a rock beneath a tree with a weather-stained bench surrounding it. Flopping my satchel atop the bench, I dug my fingers into the pockets and produced a tiny, spiral-bound book with a piece of charcoal hanging from a string attached to the center of the spine. This book was blank, aside from an assortment of sketches that I’d drawn from various areas around the campus. Since I wasn’t doing any assigned work, drawing and sketching was how I preferred to pass my time at school.

Despite my young age, I wasn’t an idiot. I’d stopped officially doing work weeks ago, and it was only a matter of time before my parents found out. I had to tell them eventually, though, that I wasn’t sure that this whole prodigy thing was really for me. When I had done the work that was expected of me, it was forced and passionless, but I’d always assumed that one day I’d realize that this was what life had in store for me. That I’d learn to love and appreciate it. But instead, every textbook I’d ever received had just made me more listless and bored.

I raised my head and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the spring-laced oxygen. It felt cool, warm, clean, and dusty all at once. I sneezed with force, and following that, the metaphorical hunger in my stomach pleaded to be noticed as though it had physically punched me. I swallowed hard, then looked down at the sketch I’d been absentmindedly creating with the sharpened end of my charocal. It wasn’t a fantastic sketch by any means. All it was was a crude likeness of one of the leaves that had been sitting there before I’d even made the walk to the bench and invaded its personal space.

I could draw rocks and hallways and leaves all day if I wanted. Despite every leaf looking different, the overall environment was the same. And it, unfortunately, was one that I already knew. I took another breath, and then closed the sketchbook, letting the wind ruffle my hair as though it were comforting me from the troubling thoughts that were bubbling inside me. I closed my eyes, allowing it to soothe me.

Then I looked toward the sky and realized that this was never going to get better. I just simply didn’t have the drive for science like so many other Piltovians did, and I couldn’t just choose to ignore it, could I? Maybe I could. It wasn’t too late to start doing assigned work again and actually making an attempt to pay attention in lectures. I was only seven. I had a lot of time ahead of me, didn’t I? Surely I’d figure it out when the time arose, and at this point, it was probably better to just not say a thing.

My imagination caused my father’s voice to touch the sensitive insides of my ears as though it were being carried on the breeze, and my muscles bunched up beneath my skin as though an icy chill had just overcome my small body. “Your education is costing us good gold.”  

I put the sketchbook back into my satchel, slipped it over my shoulder, and soundlessly crept away from the bench, heart lightly fluttering in my throat. The last thing I wanted to do was the walk of shame all the way back to the classroom that I’d been kicked out of, so that only left one other place: the university library. No, I couldn’t go there, either. Libraries were quiet, and being surrounded by silence would only make my own thoughts louder, which was something that I most definitely did not want.

If I didn’t go to the library, the only choice left was home. Maybe if I slowed my stride enough, I’d arrive there at the same time I would if I’d gone to class and no one would suspect a thing. No, that was stupid. I’d almost forgotten it was still morning, and it wouldn���t take more than an hour for me to get back, even if I avoided using the small city paths that I’d discovered that cut the already short time in half. I’d always been good at finding directional shortcuts even when the route was already easy, but I of course had no idea how this would influence my life until a great bit later.

Again, I was internally conflicted, and I blew air out of my lungs in such a way that if anyone were around, they would have seen how intensely frustrated I was, which would prompt the more curious ones to ask why a child was seemingly so stressed. Venting to a stranger sounded nice and all, but everyone around here knew who I was, and if I’d openly shared what was ailing me, I had no doubt it would get back to my parents in some way, and that was a risk that I couldn’t afford to take.

I raised my blue eyes toward the sky that almost perfectly mirrored the shade and set off without a direction in mind, my small hand clutching to the strap of my satchel to keep the weight steady across my meek shoulder. I had no idea where I was going or where I’d end up, but the thought of getting lost had always been somehow comforting. Besides, I was pretty sure I knew how to get back to the university from any place in the entire city. Considering how tall the glistening argent pillars of the entrance were, it would really be hard to miss, even from a distance. Before long, I’d passed said pillars and came into the sight of returning students whom were ascending the steps in an almost synchronized manner, and I could see the way their eyebrows raised upon seeing me.

I lowered my head and brushed through them as though they were invisible and continued my trek, though their whispers were louder than I think they’d intended them to be.

“Shouldn’t he be in class right now? That kid’s gonna flunk.”

“He’s never in class.”

“I wonder why? Maybe he has a tutor at home?

“I don’t know. No one really d-…”

Part of me still thinks that to this day, they’d done that on purpose to get my attention and to possibly gather some information about my recent lack of attendance in the classroom, but I guess I can add it to the list of things I’ll never really know or have an answer for. All I could really do now was hope that they wouldn’t tell or that a teacher or someone of importance wouldn’t see me leaving the campus. I raised my head and darted my gaze left to right. A bird trilled in the distance. All clear as far as I could see.

For some reason, this made me grin. I remember the muscles in my cheeks turning up and me being unable to get rid of it. Maybe it was a good thing. Frowning would just draw more outward attention to the conflict within, right? If I looked happy, no one would ever suspect anything. That is, unless they too realized that I was supposed to be in class at this hour like any other typical student. I breathed in, feeling the air stretch my lungs, and then my feet were moving again, carrying me away from the university like a big burly savior, but this time, it wasn’t just a walk.

It was a sprint.

I still don’t know why I briskly moved as though a beast had been chasing me, but by the time I got to the next street over, my mouth was open and I was panting, my cheeks flushed with a dark coral tint. On the opposite side of the concrete sidewalk, I could see fellow Piltovians standing around and the distant chatter of what was probably an attempt at meaningful conversation, but my focus was swiftly drawn elsewhere. I’d been down this street a number of times before, but I’d never noticed that far off in the distance to the right there seemed to be an area that looked, well…closed off.

I squinted. It wasn’t new, and I’d realized that. The shadowy area had been there the entire time. But why had I never felt so compelled to look over there until this very moment? It didn’t make sense, but then again, I’d never had the best attention span, and really, I still don’t. Wrinkling my nose, I began a steady stride once more, wondering if anybody would see me, a child to normal eyes, attempting to enter what was possibly a forbidden and dangerous area. There weren’t any signs telling me to keep out, though, so I assumed it was alright.

Regardless, I flattened myself against the aged brick wall, holding my breath as though making any noise at all would cause me to burst into flames and then fade into nothingness. I took one step forward, then another, almost as though I was floating toward the darkness and acting like it was a bright beacon instead of a dreary shroud. My shoe crunched on the cracked, uneven cement, and I realized right then that whatever was over here had been there so long that the floor was literally crumbling.

I couldn’t see past the darkness, of course, but I could somewhat make out what looked like a really large circle in the back corner. A hole? Or a covering for a hole? At the current distance I was at, I couldn’t tell. But I wanted to know. Needed to know. I took another step against the crumbling ground, but the sound of gravel separating beneath me was drowned out by the loud gasp that had abruptly slid down my throat and the feeling of being flung back by my collar. The world spun for a few seconds before I realized what had happened and whipped around, my eyes wide with surprise. Someone had stopped me from venturing onwards. Someone had tugged me back into the light of the City of Progress.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the man got there before I did.

“Now just what on Runeterra did you think you were doing over there, young man?” the tall stranger asked me, his lips pressed together into a tight frown and his arms crossed to his chest. He seemed huge. Towering, even. But it’s not like that was really a feat when it came to being compared to me. I knew I should probably be scared by a dark-haired menace, but I wasn’t. At all. In fact, I crossed my arms right back at him, though my motions weren’t as fluid considering I had the weight of my satchel on my shoulder.

“Exploring.” I answered simply, suddenly realizing with each passing second that maybe this stranger wasn’t as old as I’d first assumed he was. Tall, yes, but he had a boyish face and a youthful physique. Teenager, I decided. Not grown up. Possible threat, regardless, though. “I was gonna explore that shadowy place over there. What’s over there? Do you know?”

There was no harm in asking, right?

The young man rolled his eyes, then looked over me and narrowed his icy blue gaze into slits, behaving as though he too had known all about the mysterious area in the close distance but had never really thought about what exactly it was. He put a gloved hand to his smooth chin and lightly rubbed, his voice vibrating with a low hum as he pondered, pulling his thoughts between what whether it was right to indulge me or simply leave me to wonder. He then turned toward me, and his face softened, making him look even younger.

“They say that the tunnels of ancient Piltover before it became civilized are down there. No one’s ever gone down into the sewers to take a look, though, so I don’t know if it’s true.” He said, his broad shoulders rising and then quickly falling again as he shrugged, arms still crossed. “It’s honestly probably just an old city rumor. Nothing a kid your age should be concerned with, and definitely not something you should be trying to get into. You could have fallen down and gotten seriously hurt, you know.”

His gaze hardened again, and I pursed my lips, then snorted. Really, it was a terrible thing this young man had done, giving me this kind of information. My already intense curiosity was suddenly severely heightened, and I hoped it wasn’t evident on my face. I wrinkled my nose, trying not to smile.

“Are you gonna be called a hero then? For savin’ me even though I didn’t really even do anything or get hurt? I was just lookin’, honest!” I said, putting my small palms up toward him as though surrendering for a terrible crime. My neck was starting to ache from where my shirt’s collar had been violently pressed against it during my “rescue”, but I didn’t think it would be enough to leave any sort of mark. Boy, would that have been hard to explain.

The dark-haired teen smiled and I could see his straight teeth were a flawless, pearly white. He certainly looked like a hero, and I wondered if it were true. My eyes must have become as round as a supper saucer or something, because he laughed, and then reached forward to place his large hand atop my flaxen head, rubbing it as though he had known me for years and this was simply a thing that we’d both come to know and expect from the other.

“Maybe. Though I don’t think anyone was around to see my so-called heroic deed.”

I glanced around the young man to see that his words were true. How was it possible that there had been so many people walking around just minutes prior and now it was only the two of us as far as the average eye could see? I certainly hadn’t gone out that far, had I? Unless I horribly misjudged the distance between the civilized street and the darkened corner and was so entranced I’d paid no mind to just how far I’d walked.

I turned my focus back up to the teenager and shrugged, absentmindedly adjusting the strap on my satchel; a habit I was sure to never break. “Good. I’m gunna go back now, then. Won’t be goin’ over here again. Too dangerous, like you said. Don’t wanna get any scraped knees or look for any gross underground tunnels.” What a lie. I brushed past the other boy’s shoulder when I felt the pressure of a hand atop my own, rightfully stopping me. I turned around again, my thin brows furrowed and my expression visibly annoyed.

“You’re really weird.” The teenager said. “Like…really, really weird. I have no idea why a kid your age would even be out here alone in the first place. Much less want to explore something that not even the Piltover protection force will touch without bare hands. What’s your name, anyway? Are you lost? Can I help you get back?”

He looked so suddenly concerned at the possibility that I’d become separated from my parents that I would have felt bad giving him the silent treatment (or lying, really), so I cleared my throat with a small cough before looking up at him once again. Man, he was tall. Even back then, it seemed almost ridiculous just how much height difference there was between us even with the gap in our ages. I huffed, then shook my head side to side, causing strands of light blonde to obscure my vision.

“Name’s Ezreal. And I’m not lost.” I said, my foot slipping back a bit to shake off some of the small bits of dirt that I’d collected on my shoe during my brief venture into the shadows. It wasn’t much. In fact, I would have liked if they’d gotten even dirtier in the midst of my stint. Something about sullying those pristine-looking leather lace-ups was incredibly satisfying. “I was just exploring like I said. And I’m okay! So I’m gunna go back now.”

Something about his tilted head and tension-ridden jawline told me that he’d stopped paying attention to everything I’d said immediately after learning my name, and pinpricks of tension formed in the pit of my belly. Adrenaline throbbed in the back of my neck, and I pondered if running would be a wise thing to do. Why did I tell him my real name? Why didn’t I just lie? It probably would have been a lot easier, considering the teenager now looked as doubly concerned as he did just a few seconds prior to learning that little tidbit.

“Ezreal. The prodigy Forcher boy? The kid that was enrolled at the techmaturigal university at age five?” he asked, spilling the information regarding my young life all over the ground as though it were a handful of small rocks. I bit down on my lip, and if my young mind had known any curse words back then, I surely would have whispered them to myself instead of standing in guilty silence. I inhaled softly, but I was soon cut off by the teen continuing to speak.

“Do you know what time it is? Shouldn’t you be in class? I mean…” He looked down at the rust-colored hexwatch that adorned his thick wrist, but it ended up being upside down, causing him to groan out in frustration as he twisted his arm the other way to right it. “Ten in the morning. Seventeen minutes past the hour. Lectures are in session for most university students right now, and yet I found you out here, trying to get into trouble.” He continued, maneuvering his other hand to press it to my forehead beneath my fringe, feeling for a temperature. “You, uh…you sick, kid? Little warm, there.”

“Magic.” I said, slapping his hand away from me with a weak fist. “Always got a temperature. Mom says it’s because of the magic I was born with or something. I don’t feel sick, though!” I chirped, wondering why I kept talking to this young man when he seemed to know everything else regarding me and my business aside from the fact I was warmer to bare touch than a non-mage would be. He nodded, then gave a thoughtful hum, seemingly satisfied. “Oh, right. I forgot about that. The papers just said you were apparently a genius and seemed to focus on it more than anything else. I forgot about the magic, too. That’s a rarity around here, you know? You should be happy, Ezreal.”

And I should be in school.

“…and in school right now! I’ll walk you back. How about it?”

Called it.

Arguing was futile since he not only knew who I was but also spoiled the fun that I was hopefully going to have in the mysterious dark corner, so I just limply shrugged, which he quickly took as an approval to start walking back in the general direction that I came from, seemingly knowing the way back to the university. I really didn’t want to go back to school, but what choice did I have? At least he didn’t seem like someone who would tell my parents, or anybody, really, about my absence in the classroom and the streak for danger that I seem to have developed in a matter of minutes. I quietly started to follow (quite literally) in his shadow, when he abruptly turned around, almost whacking me in the head with the point of his elbow.

I had never been pleased with my small height until that very moment.

“I’m Jayce, by the way.” He said, finally introducing himself, and to finally have a name to match the face made me feel a little better, but I still couldn’t help but resent him for both putting a dent in my curiosity but also heightening it to levels that I never even thought were possible. Why didn’t the Piltover protection force go down under the city’s ground? Why did the alleged tunnels only have to be a rumor? What if there actually was nothing down there at all and our plane of existence was above a mass of dirt? Or worse, air. Would the city eventually collapse in on itself and become nothingness? Would we become the tunnels?

My head felt like a cyclone with so many questions blowing around in it, but I was at least able to find my voice again before it became apparent that something far more interesting than introductions was taking precedence over everything else. I once again readjusted my satchel strap and forced a smile, but since I couldn’t see it, I’m sure it probably came off as extremely awkward. Despite my youth, I rarely had a true, real smile, and even back then, I knew that was kind of depressing. But, hey, what else could you look like when you’d been forced to study boring textbooks day in and day out?

“Hi, Jayce!” I squeaked, the high, grating pitch causing my face to flush with undisguised embarrassment. Making myself sound deeper would just seem weird and unnatural, though, so I continued on like nothing had happened. Jayce, though, didn’t seem to notice how I sounded and instead just grinned right back at me, and I wondered if maybe what I’d heard was completely different than what he’d heard. I’d hoped so.  “Thanks for savin’ me, I guess.”

I wasn’t really thankful for it, but he didn’t need to know that, right?

“No problem.” He answered, tone proud and beaming as though this had been his intention from the start. Maybe it had. Maybe he’d secretly been following me out of boredom and now was making it his self-proclaimed duty to save naïve Piltovian kids that could possibly end up in trouble or bad areas. I could just see him now running back to his home after depositing me back at the university and fashioning himself a spandex onesie with a bathroom towel attached to it. I wanted to laugh out loud at the thought, but then he’d notice and I’d have to tell him, so instead I just bit the insides of my cheeks.

“You should just try not to give into your curiosities like that again, though. The last thing the City of Progress wants is to find out one of their brightest kids got hurt doing something stupid and unavoidable. Your parents wouldn’t be too happy either!”

They’re never happy, anyway, I wanted to say, but my cheeks were still being crushed between my upper and lower rows of teeth, the pressure becoming increasingly painful the longer I held them. It was much more fun when I was trying to avoid laughing. Now I was avoiding speaking altogether, for good reason. I was suddenly conflicted with this thought. Had my parents always acted so unhappy toward everyone and everything? Or was it me myself that made them unhappy? Had they always been so strict? Or did having a so-called prodigy for a son cause an abrupt change in the way they lived everyday life?

Too many questions for too young a mind. Even despite the sharpness of my intellect, these were things that I certainly didn’t want to bother myself with, though I knew that it would eventually be inevitable.

Sometimes I really hated having so many inquiries.

Quietly, we continued walking, though I could tell that Jayce was itching for conversation that he more than likely wasn’t going to get out of me. It seemed really odd that someone like him had been out wandering around in the morning hour and just happened to be in the same place I had been. Didn’t he have friends he could bother or something? He looked like the popular type of guy that had never been left needing attention in his life, constantly surrounded by praise and adoration by peers, teachers, adults in general, anyone.

I glanced up and was greeted by the towering white pillars of the university in the distance, catching the rays of spring sun, and I shivered inside, thinking about how close it was but also comforted by the warmth of it also being far enough to have to squint to see clearly. Really, I had walked a fairly great distance for the timeframe I’d been missing, and I wondered how far I could really go if I put my mind to it. I had no concept of how long I’d walked prior or even now. My legs just seemed to move on their own even with unwanted companionship. I knew I could stand to be a tad more observant of my surroundings and observant of details in general though. Like doing a sketch, but ingraining it within my eyes and mind instead of on a piece of parchment with a stick of charcoal.

“So…”

Jayce’s deep voice broke through my thoughts. Again. This was becoming an annoying habit. I looked up at him for a split second to let him know I’d heard him, then focused on our melding shadows on the concrete as they swayed with our walk. It was funny how the dark reflections seemed to be the same size despite us being not even close. Light tricks. Weird.

“Hm?” I answered, knowing my split-second glance probably wasn’t enough to let him know I was aware and that he needed an audible cue. I could sense the danger, but I was braced for it, a feeling that would someday become the bane of my godsdamned existence.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you ran away from the campus?”

Yeah, danger. Definitely heading into dangerous territory. Young me might have not had as great of a cognitive grasp as older me does, but I’d never, ever been an idiot. Ever.

“Nope.” I mumbled, refusing to look up again. Why should I tell him? He was still a stranger, for all I knew. He had no business asking me something like that and actually demanding an answer. Then again, he also had no business interrupting my curiosity and quote-unquote saving me. Big jerk.

“Oh, okay. Are you going to do it again?” A pause, then an exhale. He seemed to be searching his internal dictionary for the right thing to say. It took a few seconds, but he apparently found it, the continuation trickling out like a steady stream of water that had come to an abrupt end. “…do I need to be on the lookout? Just in case you get into trouble? I really don’t want to see your face on the papers for anything other than some sort of prodigy thing, if that makes sense.”

“Nope.” I lied. Probably the biggest one I’d ever told in my life thus far. But I couldn’t have him following me around even as a preventive measure, could I? Even now, I still wasn’t certain that he was going to tell my parents, though he never gave any clues that he knew their names or where even to find them, so I figured at least in terms of that, I was as safe as I possibly could be. Still, I thought he might have needed more convincing, so I continued to speak, hammering in the false truth like a nail in a plank. “Not gunna do it again.”

“Good.” Jayce answered soon after, satisfied finally by my lie. I’d never thought of myself as a fantastic liar, but perhaps he assumed that I’d had a glimpse of the danger and wouldn’t dream of getting myself into something as potentially unfavorable as trying to figure out whether or not there actually were tunnels under the city. I put on my best, most thoughtful grin, and continued walking with a spring in my step, feigning excitement about getting back to school when in actuality, I had all intentions of going back to see what the mysterious unknown had for me. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not a week or a month from now.

But someday.

By that point, the university was in plain view, and Jayce gave my tousled head a gentle pat before he turned on his heel and made his departure. I waved to him, but his back was toward me, and I wondered if whether or not I’d ever see him again. It seemed unlikely considering Piltover’s large population of both humans as well as yordles, but something told me that he was going to keep an eye out for me regardless of me saying I’d never wander off toward what was deemed a dangerous place ever again. I gazed up toward the ivory pillars and slowly ventured back onto the campus.

One day, I thought. I had a personal motive and something that finally mine and only mine to work and strive toward.

If I believed in myself enough, I could make it happen.

I could make anything happen.

Something happened to me after my brush with the possible underground tunnel system, and I don’t think it’s something that anyone was expecting. If you can believe it, I actually started going to classes again and diligently completing any and all work that had been assigned to me. Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? I still wasn’t the most talkative student in any of my lectures, but the instructors honestly didn’t care so long as I kept turning work in. The load off my back was comfortable, but if anything, it was just a very potent distraction from the things that were really captivating to me. Honestly, this sudden spurt in my academic career was probably just something good to draw my attention to while I attempted to swallow down the urge to slip away from my seat and make my way back to that darkened corner of the City of Progress to debunk the mystery of what was beneath the concrete once and for all.

The work I completed was as passionless as it had ever been, but every test was returned to me with a perfect score. Every assignment flawlessly completed. At one point, I imagined that I’d get so sucked into techmaturgical studies that I’d eventually forget about what I might possibly find outside the same four walls of a classroom, but I knew in my heart that this would never be the case. I wouldn’t deny, however, that it felt great to not be reprimanded every single goddamn day by both parent and instructor alike, and as my eighth year came to pass, I wondered how long it would take before my urges broke me.

In the weeks following my birthday, the adrenaline that pumped inside my veins alongside the blood and magic seemed to push me toward a new course, and one day, in the midst of a break during my morning lecture, I gathered up my books and notes inside my satchel and headed off toward the front of the university campus, knowing that this was the day I’d both been hoping and dreading for.

I was going to find out what was under the city. And no one was going to stop me. I hadn’t seen Jayce again since our first meeting, and I hoped that there was a chance that he’d forgotten all about me by now, though that seemed too good to be true. I pressed my back against one of the pillars and inhaled, keeping my air safely locked away in my lungs as though I was hoarding it for the winter, and then took off in a rush, the wind I’d made with my run stroking through my blonde locks. From the left and right, eyes of wondering fellow students burned into me, but at least no one would think my leaving was too suspicious, considering this was around the usual time that classes had a short pause during a long lecture.

A half-hour was never enough in my opinion.

I moved with such a pace that it was almost like there was grease stuck to the soles of my shoes and I was skating across the ground, but hopefully it didn’t look quite so obvious to the other people that were around me. I knew I was being stared at, but this wasn’t a particularly new occurrence, considering I was still and probably would always be the youngest person enrolled in the university. I swallowed hard and tensed as though someone was about to scoop me up into their arms and force me back between the pillars, but nothing happened. I had made it outside once again, and now my gaze was darting left to right as I scanned the fastest route to get to the corner with hopefully the least amount of people.

Left. I should go to the left. And I had to keep an eye out, just in case Jayce decided to pop out of the woodwork and meddle. Again. I briefly wondered if I should have fashioned myself some kind of disguise before attempting to trek out toward the area that had so captivated me, but I was already on my way, and it was a bit too late. I wasn’t the only person in Piltover with vibrant gold hair, but it sure as hell made me stand out. Especially when the sun was high in the sky and casting its warm glow on the entirety of the city. I nearly tripped over a crack in the concrete, and only then is when I finally slowed my stride. Walking too fast was sure to garner more attention, anyway, and I instead took to walking at a normal pace, though my lips were still parted to allow my heavy breathing in and out with ease until that too dissipated into a slow, steady pattern.

Inside my chest, though, my heart was beating like jackhammer against my ribs, with little to no intention of stopping. Would someone be there to catch me? Would they stop me like Jayce had a few months prior? I scanned the streets for real threats, but none were detected, and I once again stole a breathy inhale before taking off in a burst of speed, gripping the strap of my satchel tightly to reduce the amount of noise the metallic buckle would make as it smacked against my hip while I ran. There were people in the distance. Of course there were people, and I’d have to take care to not make myself look like I was so obviously up to no good.

Was simply being curious really worthy of getting negative attention, though? I had no answer, and I continued my pace of running and then walking. Walking and then running. A stop-start pattern intended to get me toward my goal without one or the other drawing too much focus on myself. Soon, I saw it. The darkened corner of the City of Progress that had been on my mind from the very second I’d seen it. Taking care and knowing to expect the cracked ground this time, I crept through the dusty fog and then pressed myself against the brick wall, holding my breath. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I braced myself for either Jayce or someone else to once again play hero and stop me from accomplishing my personal task, but as I slowly expelled the air from my lungs in an invisible line, I realized that no one was coming. No one was around. No one was going to see me or stop me this time. I couldn’t help the sly grin that had stretched my lips as I carefully waded through the shadows and into the farthermost corner, looking down at the hole in the ground that seemed utterly endless and dreary. Not that I could really see much of what was there, anyway, but I was willing to take that risk. Of course, I couldn’t just simply jump down into the hole without knowing there was either something to grab or land on. At best, it would cause both of my legs to be broken, and at worst, I’d meet my end at the very bottom of an endless hole.

At least my parents would never see my body that way.

I took a step forward and crouched down, knowing the knees of my black pants would be incredibly dirty as a result of all the dust and cobwebs adorning the corner I’d burrowed myself into. I didn’t care, though. Dirt and dust was honestly the least of my worries at this point, and I thrust my hand down into the hole, throwing all caution and hesitation to the wind. I blinked, feeling something hard brush my small fingers. Hard and lined. Wood? Old wood. I moved my hand to the right and gripped. Rope. Rope and wood.

A ladder.

There was a ladder.

My heart leaped with undisguised joy as my smile stretched even farther, and I couldn’t help the small giggle that had crept up my throat and expelled out through my lips. I quickly silenced myself, not wanting my happiness to bounce off the walls of the aged, ebony brick and possibly into the ears of someone or something unfavorable. There was another dilemma of course, though. I’d felt the ladder, but I had no idea how far it went down. By this point I’d already leaned forward a bit more and pressed my hands lower, feeling that there was indeed at least two more pieces of wood, but that wasn’t really a straight answer. The only solution was to either try to find out myself, or to come back another day with some sort of light source.

I didn’t know if I’d be lucky enough to come back with no one stopping me another day, so I already knew the answer. I had to try to get down there myself. I wasn’t scared, no. Fear had always had a difficult time gripping my throat and it wasn’t about to suddenly get stronger. I had mentally weighed the pros and cons, and as of right then, there had definitely far more pros. Besides, what would I do if I didn’t go down there? Go back to school? Over my more than likely dead body.

I swallowed hard, then breathed the dusty air into my lungs and congratulated myself for not coughing and causing an attention-seeking ruckus. I maneuvered myself to begin the downward descent into the hole, my tiny hands shaking as they gripped the old rope. Could it hold me? Would it hold me? Was Jayce right? Would my name and face really end up in the Piltover papers if something terrible happened to me? Surely they didn’t care that much. At least, not when I was doing something not school related.

I pressed my foot against the first block of wood and hesitated before pressing the second one down, my knuckles turning white with the effort in which they gripped the rope. If the blocks gave way, would I be able to pull myself up to safety? Should I scream for help and give away my plan? Should I quietly accept death?

These were not questions that a child should ever have to think about, but yet, there I was, eight years old, attempting to disappear under the city that had raised me in order to possibly extract its treasures.

My grip loosened a bit when I discovered that the ladder apparently could carry my weight without giving away, and I gave a small sigh of content before slipping my hands down the rope, intending to descend to the next step. And the next.  With each passing second, more of my uncertainty fell away, and as the moist, metallic smell of whatever was underground permeated my nostrils and the hole that lead back up to the outside grew farther and farther away, I knew what the word for what I was feeling inside was.

Courageous. I was being courageous.

At least until I realized that there were no more wooden blocks for me to put my foot on for support. I had grown so accustomed to the feeling of something there to hold my weight, and when I felt nothing but air beneath me, I couldn’t help but let out a small yelp. There I was, in complete and total darkness, hands gripped to an old rope that would probably eventually snap, without any knowledge of what was beneath me.  

Even to this day, I’m not sure how I did it.

I held my breath, then let go of the rope and hoped for the best. My heart stuttered in my chest for a few beats before I realized that the ladder did go all the way to the bottom. I was safe. Unharmed. Though I had no idea what the bottom was. Or what it even looked like. I knelt down in the blackness and graced the surface of the ground with my fingers, my sense of touch incredibly heightened with my lack of vision. It felt like concrete, but much smoother. And colder. Metal, perhaps? Metal and dirt. That squishy softness was definitely dirt.

I got back up on my feet and felt for the ladder, finding it almost instantly. I gripped it in my right hand, holding tightly to it.

“Hello?” I spoke into the blackness, noticing immediately that my voice became a garbled, echoing mess that almost grated the sensitive skin of my ears. Whatever this was, it wasn’t at all a narrow, suffocating crevice. Considering that I was still answering my own greeting, I concluded that it was huge and open. A hall, perhaps. And if that was true, how could something so hollow be supporting our city beneath it? It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe it didn’t go as far as I thought? It wasn’t like I could see anything.

“Hello!” I called out again, this time louder than before, and the noise once more reverberated on the walls and right back into my own head. I might not have had use of my eyes, but after that time, I knew that my surroundings were far bigger than I could have ever imagined. Miles long, maybe. But miles of what?

I needed to know. I needed to come back down here with some source of bright light. But what on Runeterra would be big enough? A hextech flashlight wouldn’t cut it. Not at all. A lantern might work better, but that would only let me see what was a few feet in front of me at best. It would be easy to come by one, though, considering that the Arcanum at the university had them, and no one would think twice about me borrowing one, so that seemed to be my best bet, and at this point, I was going to take whatever I could get. I exhaled and I swore I could see my breath, and that’s when I realized just how cold it was down there in the middle of nothingness. Wearing a scarf in the beginning of spring wasn’t exactly common, but I’d definitely need one for a venture down here. Or even a jacket.

As much as I wanted to stay below the surface, I knew that I couldn’t be down in the dark forever, no matter how comforting it was. I was already late for class again, anyway, effectively tarnishing my perfect record over the last few months. Using my sense of touch and nothing else, I hastily gripped the rope and began dragging myself up the wood blocks until the small circle of light grew bigger and bigger. Refusing to pause to look back down into the depths, I scurried out of the hole and squinted hard, the pain of the sudden brightness impaling both of my eyes. Despite the discomfort, I was grinning. Hard.

Now that I’d known that it was safe (for the most part) to go down there, nothing would stop me from going back.

And tomorrow seemed like as good of a day as any.

I wiped the telltale dust off the knees of my pants and the length of my shirt and jacket and hoped for the best before bouncing back toward the university, hoping it was unlikely that anyone would say anything about my disheveled appearance. I knew that would be giving them far too much credit, though.

For the rest of the day, I sat quietly in my seat, scheming and dreaming of my future career as a brave explorer and guru of the mysterious Piltovian underground. I was lucky, I suppose. No one, including my parents when I arrived home, noticed anything different regarding my demeanor or the fact I was still covered in dust. What was noticeable, though, was that the very next day, I had awoken before the sun had even shown its face through my windows, and I raced down the stairs already prepped and ready for school as though I’d been waiting for the moment my entire life.  

My father had awoken with the noise of my hurried stomps and demanded to know why I’d made such a ruckus, his blue eyes so reminiscent of my own burrowing into my face as though trying to force an answer out of me with one single look. Was that where I got it from? Another ugly lie crawled up out of my throat, but I continued smiling, trying to look as excited as possible when talking about school even though the very thought made my belly sour.

“I’m gunna go study! Bright and early! Gotta take a test.” I spoke, nodding my head up and down almost to the point I’d made myself dizzy. My father looked confused as he raised his hand to his chin, lightly stroking his index finger across the stubbled skin, but then his gaze ceased to be narrow, and he reached forward to stroke his palm across my head. It reminded me of Jayce, which I wasn’t sure was normal or not. I just couldn’t remember the last time my father had shown any affection toward me at all, and this secretly disgusted me.

I had to lie to him just to get some affection? Bullshit. Always was and always would be.

“Alright, then, Ezreal. You should eat something, though. Can’t cram on an empty stomach.” My father said as he turned his back to me to get to the hexfridge in the corner of our small kitchen. He rummaged around it, muttering to himself as he did so, before presenting me with a couple of frosted biscuits in a thin plastic wrapping. Not the best or most nutritious breakfast at all, but frosted biscuits weren’t something I normally got, and it was far more exciting than the bland-tasting porridge I forced down my throat all the other days of the week.

“Thanks, dad!” I squeaked, taking the packet of biscuits in my small hand and running out the door, wondering how on Runeterra I didn’t at all feel guilty about lying to my father and essentially scamming sweet treats off of him. It wasn’t like I’d asked for them, though, right? He gave them to me, so I really shouldn’t have even felt bad in the first place. I brought one of the biscuits to my lips and obnoxiously bit into it, letting some of the frosting get stuck in the corners of my mouth as I watched the sun cast its familiar and comforting gold glow over the entirety of the City of Progress.

The yellowed hue, something that I’d never seen before since there was no possible way I’d ever been to school this early in the past, made the techmaturgical university look oddly warm and inviting, and if it wasn’t so damned stuffy inside, one would think I’d actually want to willingly go there to cram my head full of useless information that others deemed was apparently important for my future as well as the city’s future. Considering the sun had barely risen, it was a miracle that it was even open in the first place.

My shoes, a different, now clean pair, clacked against the smooth tiles of the hallway, and I clutched my satchel’s strap tightly to my chest, trying to imitate a busy and dedicated student as best as I could. My legs carried me to the Arcanum section of the university, and I pushed the oakwood door open with an offending-sounding squeak that caused my teeth to grit and goosebumps to trickle down the length of my spine. If that was the noise that happened every single time someone opened the goddamn door, it was no wonder I hardly saw anyone in this part of the school. At least the inside smelled nice. Leather and…charcoal? Huh. Weird.

I looked around and momentarily became frozen by the plethora of books that lay organized in neat rows atop many, many shelves, and I resisted the urge to run over to look through them in the hopes of finding something interesting, reminding myself of the reason that I’d even come here in the first place. Considering there was no one watching over the front desk, I supposed it would be alright if I took one of the lanterns myself without asking permission. If I  were being technical, there was no one even around to ask for permission, so with a soft sigh, I ducked down behind the front desk and fished one of the lanterns out, surprised that there were so many in such a small place. Why were there so many? What good did lanterns serve in a place that already had so many hexlights strewn about?

I shrugged to myself and grasped the handle of the lantern tightly with one hand, then slinked away from the library without a single sound aside from the stupid squeaky door, which they never oiled, by the way. Pretty sure it’s still doing that even to this day.

It was some sort of otherworldly miracle that no one saw me not only take a lantern, but also take it far away from school grounds. In fact, no one seemed to notice me at all, and I had one moment of completely wondering if I’d somehow activated one of the magical spells from the Arcanum’s library and I’d become invisible. Wouldn’t that have been easy? I walked across the streets of Piltover with precision and determination, though I wasn’t unaware of the fact that Jayce could potentially pop out at any given moment and possibly stop me. Again. But I hadn’t seen him aside from that one time, and it was still relatively early enough that I expected a great majority of the city’s population to still be catching up on their beauty sleep. I moved in the same direction as the morning shadows did, mingling myself with the darkened areas to disappear within them and not give my position away. One thing was certain: by now I’d gotten very good at holding my breath and pressing myself into tight spaces, and I imagined that this would be a thing that would come in handy later.

Finally, I saw it. The darkened corner with the rickety old wood and rope ladder. I almost wanted to happily greet it as though it were an old friend, but I resisted, my eyes as sharp as they could be while I surveyed my surroundings, looking for any danger. And by danger, I meant people. Nothing. Good. I slung the lantern’s handle over my left shoulder and immediately bounded over to the hole, peering down into it. I wondered if using the lantern’s light now would be a good idea or not, but ultimately decided against it as I began to descend down into the hole once again, putting one cautious foot in front of the other.

The last piece of wood, or rather, the lack of the last piece of wood, still startled me despite my being prepared for it, though, and I gasped out into the darkness before letting go of the rope, the soles of my shoes echoing on the ground. I breathed in the blackness for a few seconds before sliding the lantern off my shoulder and hastily turning it on, though I can’t say I was prepared for what was about to be revealed.

The light blazed out from within the center of the lantern, and, to my surprise, nearly illuminated everything within a twenty-foot radius around me. At first I thought this was a normal occurrence considering just how dark it had been in the depths, but I soon realized that the lanterns in the Arcanum were not normal lanterns. They were enchanted lanterns, rich in illumination spells.

I was luckier than I thought, but I didn’t really have time to marvel over it as much as I would have liked, considering I nearly lost my grip the thing and felt the muscles in my jaw grow loose as my mouth dropped open in shock.

It wasn’t dirt or rock beneath me. It was metal. Metal tunnels. An underground system of abandoned, metallic tunnels that more than likely had pathways spilling out through the entirety of the entire city. Of course there was some rock and dirt in the corners and the sides, but otherwise, it was slick. Shining. Gleaming.

Jayce was right. It wasn’t just a rumor. They really existed. They were here. In front of me. Still, I pinched myself on the wrist just to make sure. It stung. I was awake.

And all of this was mine for the taking. I would be able to prove to the entire city that the tunnels existed. But then what? Would they discipline me for skipping school to quite literally hide underground? Would they congratulate me for doing something no one else had the courage to do? Would they praise me?

What about my parents? It seemed odd that I’d almost forgotten completely about them. Surely they’d be supportive of my endeavors no matter what, right, right? Even if it meant throwing everything away that I’d been working for for years already.

Oh, who was I kidding? They’d be pissed and I knew it. Oh well. Their loss. 

[[ UNFINISHED FOREVER ]]

[vieuxnoyesrp]

Amber, thank you very much for reapplying. As for Hayley… 

            ⚜ ~ WELCOME BACK TO VIEUX NOYÉS!!! ~ ⚜

Wondering what to do next? Click here and let the good times roll!

⚜ Roleplayer: 

⤜ Name/alias: Amber ⤜ Pronouns: All female pronouns work just fine! ⤜ Age: 19 ⤜ Timezone: US CDT ⤜ Activity: 9/10  It’s safe to say I’ll be on every day for at least an hour or two a day. ⤜ Best form of contact: I’d say the ask or chat function of this blog. ⤜ Any Triggers? None available. ⤜ How did you find Vieux Noyés? I found the role play through the tags. I believe it was a post about the plot that actually brought me to this page. ⤜ What drew you to the RP? I was really interested in the plot at first, but it was the biographies that really made me want to be a part of this role play because I absolutely love them all. ⤜ What is one subplot/element from the Plot page that you are particularly looking forward to seeing in this roleplay? Is it bad that I’m interested in it all? I want to see drama unfold and battle lines be drawn, but I suppose I most want to see how the Salem witches come into play. It’s an interesting twist that may just affect everyone.

⚜ Desired Character: Hayley Marshall

⤜ Why do you want this character?  

The main reason I’d like to play Hayley is her personality and attitude. I adore her spunk and sass to no end. She is the kind of girl who takes no bullshit, and that is a quality I truly admire. I also like that Hayley hasn’t had everything come easily to her. She has had to struggle and claw her way through life, and she did so without anyone else. At the end of the day, I like knowing that she can rely on herself, if no one else. I also enjoy the way that Hayley has been set up within this role play. With just been freed from her wolf form and ending up with the title of alpha, there is so much to be done with her. It is obvious she will have to grow and learn how to become the person she needs to be to be successful and make a safe home for her family, and I want to be the one who takes her through that journey.

⤜ What are your future plans for this character?

There’s a lot I’d like to explore with Hayley’s character. The first would be developing her leadership and conversational skills. For as long as she can remember, she’s been alone. I want to display the tweaks in her character as she grows into her family as well into her leadership role. I plan to focus on the struggles that teach Hayley how to care for others and to think of them rather than rushing in head first.  

I’d also like to show who Hayley is at her core. I want to place her in situations that show her spitfire and her spunk. It’s a large part of who she is, and I want to maintain that aspect of her even as she transforms with time. I think it’s important for her to have some constant, and I plan to show that through her personality.

Along with this, I want to push her to develop relationships and explore pre existing ones. Hayley needs to decide what to do with her and Jackson’s conflicting ideas, and I plan to have her make that confrontation when she is sure that she has a plan that is worth going for.

The relationship with Elijah is also a tool I plan to use to develop Hayley’s character.  I want to show the conflict and the struggle that relationship is going to place on her when she tries to take the city head on. Much to her distaste, the wolf knows the pair will likely end up on different sides, and I want to show how the internal conflict of fighting one of the few she trusts openly will affect her.

⤜ Put yourself in your character’s shoes. Give us a few lines to describe a day in the life of your character… Where do they live? Where and how do they spend their time?

Hayley always begins her day with the sun. It is extremely rare for her to sleep in. The reasoning behind this is that the earlier she is awake, the more she can get done. After being trapped in wolf form for months and her newfound title of Alpha, the werewolf has a lot of her plate. Though, Hayley has never minded the morning. In fact, it’s almost a solstice for her. It gives her time to think without interruption as well as relax a little. Most of the time, she’ll pause to watch the sun rise.

Soon after she hears the awakenings of other pack members, the girl returns to the main part of their camp. Her mornings usually revolve around spending time with her pack. She enjoys learning more about their history and lineage from the elders, and Hayley loves watching the smaller children grow up and accomplish new things.

After she’s had lunch, most days, she’ll call up Tyler Lockwood to come spar and train with her. Hayley believes in keeping up her training, and she may as well help Tyler in the process. It’s a great method of blowing off steam, and Hayley loves the banter the pair engages in while they fight.

When they’ve grown tired, Hayley will say her goodbyes before heading into the city. Here, her day starts to vary with her mood. She may snoop around to see what there is to see, pay Elijah a visit if he is around, or pick up a few things for the younger pack members to play with.

Hayley tends to never be in the city for long, so it’s no surprise she’s home in the early evening once again. Though, during this time, Hayley is a little more reserved. She tends to tuck herself away in her cabin and run over strategy. The wolf is always going over what she wants to get done for the pack, and this is the time she allots to turn those thoughts into actions.

When dinner is ready, she abandons the strategy and meets up with Jack. Most nights, they’ll share dinner and discuss things the other may have missed throughout the day. This is likely Hayley’s favorite part of the day, with the exclusion of the nights they bicker over what needs to be done.

After dinner, Hayley finds her whiskey of choice and takes it over to the fire. She likes to end her day with reflecting over the things she’s done or the things to come. This period lasts around an hour, and then she returns to her home to finally get some sleep.

⤜ Give us three headcanons regarding your character of choice.

Hayley has taken up chess. The werewolf used to believe the game was a complete and utter waste of time, but after watching a few of her older pack members play, she has come to realize that it’s a method to practice strategy. Sometimes she’ll use the pieces to run through scenarios. In some way, the game play translates losses she may not see, but it also gives her an idea of what she could gain. This game is also a metaphor for how she and Jackson are portrayed in her mind. She relates with the queen. An important piece, sure, but she is not the vital piece needed to keep the game alive. For her, that’s Jackson. He’s the one the pack really needs, and the girl comes to realize that more each time she plays.

Hayley is very fond of whiskey. Everyone deserves a break, well, at least Hayley thinks so. Most nights, she’ll sit out by the fire and down a glass or two. The events of the day reflect what kind of purpose the drink serves. On a good day, it’s a celebration, but on a bad day, it’s a numbing agent. Other than the nights in the Bayou, it’s her drink of choice in bars as well. There’s something about the burn that satisfies her. After all, Hayley has always been a bit of a tom boy. It only makes sense that she would  drink the hard stuff.

Hayley has a reoccurring dream of her accident. The dream began a few months after the event occurred. While it does not occur every night, the dream flickers through her mind more often than she prefers. The werewolf regrets taking a life, but she has come to terms with the loss. It was an accident, and she knows this. It is because of this that she has issues with analyzing why the dream haunts her. It causes her to wonder if she has missed something or if there is a deeper meaning to be unraveled.

⤜ What are some plots you’d like to explore with your characater?

The first plot I’d like to start with is the ascension to Alpha for Hayley. I want to show how she grows into this role and begins to make decisions. Though, it is perhaps the relationships she already possesses are what I’d like to display as well. How will they change?   Will they change?

I’d also love to explore her relationship with Tyler. She has been to him what Jackson has been to her, and I want to build that relationship. Hayley is not a person who loves or trusts easily, and by her taking Tyler under her wing, it clearly shows she cares for him on some level.

I’d also like to write Hayley through her meetings with Kira. I think it could develop into an interesting relationship. Hayley was once an outsider herself, and I want to show how she interacts with someone who is now how she once was. There is also the possibility of Hayley discovering what Kira truly is. Once the wolf sets out to do something, it is fairly certain she’ll succeed, and she is dying to know why the girl’s scent is off.

⤜ Para sample:

(Retained for privacy)

⤜ Would you like to be considered for another character if not accepted as your primary choice? Katherine Pierce; another badass chick.

⤜ Have you read the rules?: I have (I also hope there wasn’t a code word because if so, I missed that completely)

⤜ Anything else? Even if I don’t get accepted, I want to wish you all luck because this seems to be an amazingly written role play.

[burmecianblackmage]

Today marks this blogs third anniversary

Time sure flies, huh? Who’d have thought that what started out as a small little idea way back when would eventually grow to become such a grand and complex character, with a long and detailed backstory and even a very important NPC spawning off said story?

I sure didn’t.

To be quite honest, I was back then not sure whether or not Sceada would ever catch a hold in the rp community, and there have been periods where it felt like his foothold was vanishing, but he endured, and now I am still here after 3 years. And you know what?

None of that would have been possible without you guys.

A roleplay character and his story are, if you ask me, to an extent also only as good as their partners make them. The growth of a character comes through interaction, and without partners there simply is none. And with them, you sometimes don’t know just which way they might push your muse to develop - ain’t that the most exciting part about this our hobby?

So, in order to honor these three exciting, heartwarming (and heartbreaking at times), dramatic and simply awesome years, I wish to honor the people that made it possible!

~~~~ My dear friends ~~~~

@burmecias-protector

It seems fitting to start with you, cause after all, you were the very first person to ever give this blog a chance and play with me. And quite frankly? You never stopped being my go to person when it is about Burmecia and it’s inhabitants. You helped me shape my backstory and headcanons, allowed me to make your Freya a part of them somewhat by acknowledging the characters it introduced and their connection to her, and what I appreciate by far the most, even three years in you still play with me every now and then.

Thank you so much for everything. I know we may not converse much outside of rp but I still feel I got to know you a bit over the years and so I also want to say that I think you’re a great person and someone people greatly enjoy having for a friend. Stay awesome, and may your endeavors be crowned with success!

(Also, I’m still “sorry” for throwing Skadi at you like that, but I love what a good sport you’ve been about it and wanna thank you for dealing with her! I promise, she’ll eventually be less obnoxious)

@containyourmainposure

Oh Gwenny, if I were to list all the nice things I can say about you, I’d probably need a separate post just for you. You’re such a warm and kind person and you’re never afraid to voice your opinion, and I really admire that. And the same goes for the big changes you’ve made in your life, I am both so very happy for you and proud of you for making that leap, and at the same time a bit envious. Maybe one day I’ll have that strength too.

And your Leonora, my, she’s just such a wonderful sweetheart, I cannot fathom how one could not adore her. Reading you write her is not only a pleasure, no, it has also fundamentaly changed my perception of her when I replay TAY - I gotta admit, I at first considered her to be a bit boring in game, but I see now that I was mistaken, and not just because of how much depth you gave her. By now Leonora has actually become part of my extended list of favorites, and I feel you are to credit for that.

I always adore our plays, and am a bit sad to see them having become so scarce lately. Not only Sceada misses you and Leonora, I do too. I understand why the situation currently is as it is and let me assure you, it’s okay, but allow me at the same time to say that yes, I do miss these plays. And we don’t even need to go into detail about how much Sceada misses the sunshine to his rain... My poor lovesick fool. So I really hope that the day will come when we can play more often again. Until then, please stay as wonderful as you are and may you continue to succeed in all you do! You deserve all the happiness.

@artemisxbow

Maria oh Maria - no, I’m not gonna break into signing the opera from FF VI right now, behave Patrick - it feels like I’ve known you forever, though we only met through Pledged Prelude back in the day, and only rarely really spoke outside of plays. Curious how that sometimes goes, huh? But be that as it may, yours is a presence on my dashboard that I wouldn’t want to miss. I really adore your style of writing, the way you picture a scene and how you describe Maria and her inner struggles. I know out plays tend to get quite slow, curtesy of both our lives, but by the gods they are always, always worth waiting for. And seeing a reply after a long time has more than once felt like an exciting little present waiting to be unwrapped and discovered. Really, I love writing with you.

And Sceada is not in the least against it either. After all, if you would ask him who his closest friend is, who would he name other than Maria? He cares deeply for her and wants her to be happy, and he will never forget the kindness she showed him back in the day. I feel these two have a nice chemistry together, one of understanding and respect, and I shall with joy await just how that will develop over time. I for one hope that they both can learn to open up more to each other, both could really use it. But in the end, that’s not really up to us, right?

That said! I’ll also never forget the wonderful dynamic we had going when you played Victoria for a while, and she befriended Sceada, planning to use him for her own goals and played him. How he struggled with the path he saw her lay open for him to walk and it’s consequences, and last but definitely not least, their epic confrontation. Ah, good times...

Anyhow... what I want to say is Thank you Maria, for being such a consistent presence in my little Sceada’s life and for the many plays and deep conversations our muses shared. I shall gladly look forward for more to come, and I hope you do too. And who knows just where they’ll take us, hmm? ;)

@burmecianknight

Ah, Calisto... It’s been well over a year since you last graced our dashboards and we got to enjoy your presence, but don’t think that I’ve forgotten about you! Back in the days when I got to play with you it was always fun seeing your writing and the few threads we had always felt a bit special. I dunno why... but for Sceada you somehow felt like a sister, or probably what he would imagine it to feel like.

Kinda curious that it never occured to me back then that maybe they could be a ship, what with her being the only female Burmecian in his age group that he knew... - who knows if that would have worked though xD

Either way... I know you might not read this but if you do? I’d like you to know that I’m thankful for the time we played together and the plays we shared. And should you ever feel like returning? I will gladly play with you again right away.

@sharlayanmistress

My dear lady Minfilia, how long has it been? Too long. So I know you may not get to see this for a long time - if at all. But sadly that too is the nature of roleplaying, over time we are bound to say goodbye to many a player we liked.

You’ve been one such player for me. My Eorzea verse was pretty much centered on you, even thoug that was not the original intention. But Sceada felt so safe in her company and understood too, that actually she is to this day the only person who has seen his mark. Unbelieveable, right? But for him she was one he could trust - and apparently, he for her too. And I really liked that.

It is a pity that the canon story ended up ruining your muse for her, alongside your real life. I understand how you feel though, yet still... I’d have loved to play with you more. You had a very nice writing style. Maybe one day again. Maybe on another blog. Only time will tell.

@ladyofgentlebreezes

First things first: I always have and I still do love the concept of your Garuda. What with her memory loss and her Garuda-Egi trying to whisper into her ears - I found that briliant. But I also liked her personality. The sometimes shy, sometimes insecure she displayed, along with her kindness... She was a sweetheart with a troubled mind, and by the gods can Sceada relate to that. He truly wanted to help her and understand her.

And who knows, maybe even more could have come of it, we had some intriguing prompts that never failed to make me smile. I suppose we’ll never know.

But be that as it may... I wanna still say thank you Garuda, for you were a partner I adored and I always enjoyed your writing of your muse. I’d have loved to play more with you, but alas it wasn’t meant to be. Still I’ll always be grateful for the time we shared as rp partners.

@thepricewasright

Locke Cole! Boy, what a pity it is that we have not yet been able to play more. I always liked your muse in the games, and you play him so faithfully! And no, I don’t mean the fact that just like Locke you sometimes come and go ;) But really, jokes aside, I really like the way you play him, and even before we started playing I’ve enjoyed reading you on my dash.

And to think of the possibilities our muses have, the potential scenarios that might yet unfold! I’m so very eager to explore them and truly hope we get to do so one day. I mean, it’s not often that Sceada gets to have a “rival” so to speak, though we both know that their rivalry would be unneeded as their beloved loves them both. And the notion of them adventuring together! Whether it is pursuing some legends or rumors, or even looking for that cure, I feel these two can become quite close if things go well.

So, uhm, yeah. What I wanna say is, I’m very excited to play with you and I hope we get to do so again soon. I like the way you write and your presence on my dash, and I’d like to thank you for playing with me. May we have more fun plays to come! Or angst, muahahaha....

@ladyoflindblum

Did you know that ever since I first came across your blog I’ve been wanting to play with you? I’ve always adored Eiko, and your adult take on her is delightfully refreshing. I also fondly remember that time we both individually had the same headcannon, and how the idea still lives on on your blog. The concept of it will probably never stop interesting me.

And well, we did play. But for the longest time, it was only small interactions in groups, some even in distinct verses and so they never really met in their main verses. Until we started a thread over a year ago - and then life got in the way.

When you recently came to me and said you’d love to play together again, I was delighted - and surprised. Reviving the old thread? I’ve never had that happen before, but you know what? I love the idea. Especially since the setting’s so nice for these two to meet a first time proper! And you can bet I’m excited to see where this will go. So thank you, thank you a lot for returning and still being interested in this mine little creation!

@avaliantqueen

I’ve always liked Garnet (though for me she’ll always be Lilli, her german pseudonym) and so when I found your beautifully written take on her I could not help but want to play with you. But unfortunately, we somehow never got over the starter and maybe a reply or two before they died down. I gotta admit I still don’t know why... - but it is what it is. Maybe I’ll try again in the days to come, we’ll see ;)

What I can say here though is that the Mun here, Asuka, yeah? She’s an absolute sweetheart. And very talented. Seriously, have you seen her videos or her cosplay of Garnet? I am time and time again in awe when I see her works. Also, she is very kind and likes to help people, and is not afraid to stand up for those she holds dear, which I find quite admireable. So yeah... you keep on being your impressive self, you hear me? 

@beyondtheflyingbird

Mary! Have I ever told you what an absolute sweetheart you are? Well, yes, I know I have, but don’t think that’ll stop me from doing so again! Because really, you are such a nice and caring person! I still dearly remember talking to you when things were really rough for me and you even went so far as to offer me an alternative, a path out. I couldn’t take it back then, but I will never forget just how much it meant to me that someone cared so much. I know we haven’t spoken all that much in the past year because life has a tendency to get in the way, but I still feel that if things went extremely downhill and I needed someone to talk, you’d have my back - and I want you to know that I’d have yours, anytime.

Also, it’s so refreshing sometimes to just be able to talk with someone in your native language xD

That said, now that you recently returned I’m really hoping that we get to play together again! I love your Garnet and I especially loved her caring nature in certain threads and prompts. And you’re so full of great ideas! Like when I sent in that Kiss in the Rain thing and instead of just going small with a smooch or such in a rainy city, you had it have an emotional build up, a deep sadness over what was lost and a kiss meant to comfort an aching soul standing in the ruins of what once was his homeland - just how amazing is that? Seriously Mary, I’d love to play with you again, it’d be both an honor and a pleasure.

@sunny-explosions

Selphie is at times bubbly, usually quite cheerful, sometimes a bit too friendly - and eerily fond of blowing things up - and you convey that perfectly my dear! I always enjoy seeing you on the dash, and often can’t help sending in memes or prompts - even if my own muse is at times upset with me because of the results. And we’re still trying to whip up an actual, bigger thread so here’s hoping!

@feralstriike

Ah, the lovely Fran! We have had the pleasure of some small threads a few times so far, and I gotta admit I always liked the dynamic we had between our two not-quite-standard-human Muses. Fran is a mystery and apparently enjoys that fact, and if Sceada is one thing then it is fascinated by mysteries. I was always curious how they’d get along, and as we saw from some of the older threads they could well have become friends - and hey, who knows? Seeing how you came back a while ago, maybe that is still a possibility.

Either way though, I quite like your writing and I enjy seeing you pop up on my dash every now and then.

@briidunviing

Brii, I know we haven’t played much yet. We have that one thread, and a short thing from a prompt, and that’s it. And I also know that you more often than not feel your replies don’t live up to mine. Now... let me tell you something..

That is not the case.

Brii, you write your character well and convey what she feels or goes through clearly enough. You have an unique writng style, which sets you apart from others and on top of that your muse is quite the interesting concept. So believe me when I say that it is all fine, okay? Don’t worry about your roleplaying. Aren’t you, like most of us I believe, rp-ing because you enjoy it? Because it helps distract you, focus on something else for a while?

Also I’m so sorry about everything you have to deal with irl. I wish I could do more than just talk to help you but sadly, I cannot. So at the very least... allow me to offer you an open ear whenever your need one. To qoute one of my all-time favorite scenes in FF history: You Are Not Alone. Okay?

@dancing-dagger

I’ve been following you for a while already, but I don’t think we ever had much interaction before, which is a pity. I’ve quite liked both your Leila and Milleuda for some time now, but found myself struggling to find a way to initiate interaction. And then Sceada decides he wants to send that prompt in. Boy oh boy, did that turn out in an interesting way... I’m honestly quite curious whether we’ll continue with it, and just where it’ll go - depending on the result Leila will truly steal something from him xD

But either way, I’d love to get to know her and/or Milleuda better and interact with them, so I’ll try to come up with something for at least one of them! 

@the-shadow-of-a-wielder

You know, it’s kinda weird. I’ve known you and your muse for but a short time now, our first actual interaction having been the advent calendar I had made. And look at it now: We’ve been talking quite a lot, Amina has become a close ally to Sceada in the group verse and we’ve even discussed possible ways for it to extend beyond the group should the need arise. Granted, the fine tuning between our muses needs improvement yet, but I feel it works fine between us Muns, don’t you agree? And there is absolutely no denying that Amina is an interesting OC, so yeah... I’m really looking forward to continuing our plays^^

@losteidolon

Now we’ve barely known each other for a few days now, but when I stumbled over your OC I almost cried from joy. A FF9 OC! Well written! Interesting concept! And active! - Honestly, from my experience those are rare to come by! I am very excited to see just how our two OCs will get along - even though that one prompt already was a bad start in Sceada’s eyes. This is not how he likes to meet people xD

@colourfulvirtuoso and @elderinwhite

You two I’ve only recently started interacting with, but I have so far really enjoyed it! You have lovely writing styles and from what I can tell so far some nice ideas, so I am truly looking forward to playing more with you as time goes on!

I’d also like to give a big thanks to the groups I was part of in these 3 years, for I met many a wonderful person in them and enjoyed many an interesting and fun play thanks to them. So thank you Pledged Prelude @pledgedprelude, Crystathereum @crystathereum, Fate Cipher, Crowned Reveries and Crested Fantasia @crestedfantasia, it’s been a pleasure being part of you!

And lastly, I also want to thank my lovely girlfriend @pandoragu. We may have never actually played together on this account, with her Melly usually dealingwith my Kamiizumi, but she has helped shape this muse immensely in the two and a half years we’ve been a couple. Several ideas and headcanons have been bounced off her and adapted, leading to my Sceada’s backstory becoming more and more fleshed out, turning him into who he is today. Even if he himself does not yet know wholly who he is... So yeah, thank you my dear, for all your help with my little fool. I love you.

And that’s it! Thank you everyone for 3 great years! May many more plots and shenanigans  and threads come to life through our words! May we always find someone willing to listen to us and support us.

Thank You.

Patrick~