Chatbox
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:33:33 Bau
Shayshay

I have a very good memory:)
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:33:12 Bau
Bean

BUT soup dumplings have done me dirty-!!!
 Salem
02:33:10 Salem but pink
80HD
Nah, you just remember a lot about me compared to other people
 SunGaze
02:32:48 Sunny, not SunGlaze
Only add angry grumbles.
 Salem
02:32:44 Salem but pink
Sunrise
Fair enough though, you're not wrong there
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:32:42 Bau
Shayshay

I think you should be more concerned at the fact I know that off the top of my head
 SunGaze
02:32:27 Sunny, not SunGlaze
Poison,
Sounds like my irl brother XD
 Salem
02:32:12 Salem but pink
See, if anything I spell *better* because there's not enough room to make mistakes
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:32:07 Bau
Bean

I haven't came near them with a ten foot pole
 SunGaze
02:31:48 Sunny, not SunGlaze
Cooked Chicken,
Well, I've seen you frustrated for a few minutes and be passive aggressive but yeah I guess you're right...
Darn. I can never win ;-;
This is why I'm not going to law school.

Poison,
Good. Have any jelly beans poisoned you since last time we talked?
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:31:18 Bau
Salem doesn't make errors when angry, there ain't enough words for errors. Angry language consists of "mk" "mh" "sure" and if you're lucky "bye bye"
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:30:11 Bau
Bean

Okay okay fine fine....
 Salem
02:30:07 Salem but pink
Sunrise
You've never seen me mad lol
If anything I spell better
All the things 80HD lists are from when I was in a good mood </3
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:29:29 Bau
I just found something.. it's pure comedy gold
It's the ultimate mistake, the godly error
Yet I can't show it
 SunGaze
02:28:55 Sunny, not SunGlaze
Cooked Chicken,
Hmm...
Well, when you're mad you make some spelling mistakes, I'm pretty sure.

Poison,
Stoppp ;-;
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:26:46 Bau
I'm laughing so hard I'm crying help
 Salem
02:26:27 Salem but pink
80HD finds joy in being mean to me </3
 -Sweet-Poison-
02:26:16 Bau
Bean

Because mild mental pain and bullying is my love language

"That makes complete sentence"-Shayshay
 Salem
02:26:04 Salem but pink
Sunrise
I don't have autocorrect on my laptop and I've never made any of the mistakes 80HD's listing T^T

Apparently so lol
 SunGaze
02:25:27 Sunny, not SunGlaze
Poison,
Why are you being like this 😭

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Forums > Roleplay > Literate
   1    2 

Catching Fallen Stars | RP ThreadMarch 30, 2024 05:30 PM


The Bewitched

Darkseeker
 
Posts: 579
#3007355
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Mattis Rysten Monroe | 24 | Sensory Manipulation | Mentions: Directly: Evelyn and Axel. Indirectly: Everyone within the Manor

As Mattis stepped off the plane, his face broke into a dazzling smile as he spotted an older gentleman holding a sign for “Scarlet Manor.” Fancy, Mattis thought to himself. The young man quickly maneuvered around the other people and bounded over to him, his blonde curls bouncing with each step.

“Mr. Walker?” he asked eagerly, his eyes bright with anticipation. The old man gave a subtle nod, his expression stoic yet welcoming. Without hesitation, Mattis extended his hand in greeting.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walker,” Mattis said with genuine warmth, his handshake firm and confident. Mr. Walker returned the gesture before reaching for Mattis’s bag, motioning for Mattis to follow him. Mattis blanched and stopped the older man, lightly touching his arm.

“Oh! No, it’s okay! I got it, but thank you, Mr. Walker. Heavy stuff in there.” He gave a soft smile, noticing the strain on Mr. Walker's face. The man blinked once before he let go of Mattis's bag, his face masking any emotions. Mr. Walker reminded Mattis of his grandfather, and while Mattis understood this was his literal job, he couldn’t just let him carry his bags, especially if there were others coming. The old man must have been doing this all day, exhausting work dealing with the enhanced.

Mr. Walker moved quickly through the crowd; his plump body moved faster than Mattis expected, his long strides easily keeping up with the gentleman. As they exited the airport, Mr. Walker opened the door to the sleek limo and motioned for Mattis to get in. For once, Mattis hesitated. Why was he going? His family loved him, he had an education, a home. Everything. So why go?

Mr. Walker must have sensed his inner conflict, as he cleared his throat and motioned once more, ending Mattis's spiral. This time, Mattis hopped into the luxurious limo without further hesitation. The engine purred to life as Mr. Walker settled into the driver's seat, and with a smooth motion, the partition rolled up, creating a sense of privacy within the elegant confines of the vehicle.

Lost in his thoughts, Mattis didn’t even realize when Mr. Walker deftly retrieved his luggage and stowed it in the back of the limo. Butler be damned, Mattis should have noticed and put the luggage away.

Glancing out of the tinted window, Mattis watched as the scenery whizzed by, the familiar sights of the city gradually giving way to open countryside. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the gentle swaying of the limo seemed to lull him into a state of introspection, where questions and uncertainties loomed large in his mind.

As Mattis sat in the plush leather seat of the limo, he couldn't help but notice the ice bucket with wine and glasses placed elegantly on a small table. Curiosity piqued, he reached for the letter nestled beside the wine glasses, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded it.

As he read the contents of the letter, each word felt like a dagger piercing his heart. Once again, the doubts that had been lingering at the back of his mind surged to the forefront, threatening to overwhelm him. Leaving his family behind for an unknown future was a decision he had made with conviction, but now, faced with the reality of his choice, doubts began to creep in.

Who was this Mistress Morrigan, and what role did she play in his life now? Questions swirled in Mattis's mind, casting a shadow of uncertainty over his once-clear intentions. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him, knowing that his actions had caused pain and confusion for those he loved most.

His parents had been with him when he received the first letter. His mother was distraught, her eyes red with brimming tears, but his father remained silent. The look on his father's face, however, spoke volumes. It was a mixture of pride and sadness, a silent acknowledgment of Mattis's potential and the sacrifices that lay ahead.

That look gave Mattis the push he needed. His father knew that Mattis was destined for more than the small town he grew up in. They wanted more for their son, and deep down, Mattis wanted more for himself too. His mother eventually came to terms with the situation, her initial distress giving way to a reluctant acceptance. She agreed that Mattis deserved to expand and hone his powers. Their abilities were simple compared to his own, and they knew he couldn't rely on them for guidance in this unfamiliar territory. His powers were complex, to say the least—dangerous was an understatement. His family had already been forced to leave their previous home, settling in a small, almost vacant town after a disturbing incident involving a classmate. It was the safest option for Mattis and the residents as he began to explore his powers.

Memories of the incident flooded back to Mattis, his hands curling into tight fists. Blood, glass, and screams echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the destructive potential within him. It was a painful chapter in Mattis's past, one that he carried with him as a constant reminder of the need for caution and restraint. It was the memory his father often brought up, a stark reminder of the consequences of losing control of his abilities.

With a deep breath, Mattis steeled himself, attempting to push aside the swirling emotions within him. Seeking a momentary distraction, he reached for the ice bucket and poured himself a small glass of wine. As he brought the glass to his lips, the bitter taste assaulted his senses, causing his face to contort in disgust. How did anyone even drink this stuff? It was nothing more than bad grape juice, a poor attempt at sophistication that only served to amplify his unease.

Yet, despite the unpleasant taste, Mattis forced himself to swallow and finish the glass, hoping that the alcohol would numb the doubts and fears that threatened to consume him. However, as the bitter liquid slid down his throat, it offered no solace, only adding to the turmoil within.

He sat in silence, the rhythmic humming of the engine the only sound permeating the luxurious confines of the limo. Restless, he twiddled his thumbs and stared out of the window, the passing scenery a blur of endless farm fields and forests. Michigan was truly beautiful, yet Mattis found no comfort in its serene landscapes.

Try as he might, Mattis couldn't settle into the journey. His excitement mixed with apprehension, creating a whirlwind of emotions that left him feeling adrift in an uncertain sea. He noticed a little button and began to press it, realizing it opened the partition. Almost immediately, Mattis started moving it up and down, watching Mr. Walker’s eyes crease in annoyance - yet still not saying anything. Finally, Mattis gave it a rest, only because he was scared of breaking it. He leaned forward, his head on his arms, resting where the partition would come up, his blonde curls falling slightly onto his face.

“Mr. Walker, can I ask you a question?” Mattis asked, adjusting his position so his chin was resting more on his wrists, facing this windshield. Mr. Walker’s entire face said no, but Mattis couldn't resist the urge to inquire further.

“What… Who is Mistress Morrigan? What is she like?” At that, Mr. Walker stiffened, his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. Mattis’s eyes burned brightly for a moment, his fingers barely touching Mr. Walker’s neck, easing the old man’s guard down. He had to know what he was getting into. Who he was dealing with.

“Mistress Morrigan,” Mr. Walker started, almost confused as to why he was even talking, hesitation lingering in his voice, “is a very kind woman. She is lonely though, the mansion isn’t quite the same since...” He paused, glancing at Mattis, whose clear blue eyes were dancing with mixed emotions, his fingers still gracing the side of the old man's neck. Mr. Walker cleared his throat gently, “She does not laugh the way she used to. Almost haunting the home now.” The old man’s face was riddled with sorrow, a sight that made Mattis almost tear up.

“She is very gracious,” Mr. Walker smiled at that, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, “Perhaps you and the others will allow our Mistress to smile again, a genuine smile.” He nodded, pleased with himself. The exchange left Mattis with more questions than answers, but he relented.

“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” Mattis murmured, sliding back into his seat. He leaned his head against the window, leaving the partition down. It was almost 5 pm at this point, yet the sun still raged on, letting the warmth sink into his skin. It wasn’t long before they pulled into the gates, a large M guarded the front.

It was about a 20-minute drive before they reached the actual mansion. Gods, was it gorgeous. Better than anything Mattis had ever seen. And the Mistress was still depressed? Mattis jumped out as soon as the car slowed enough, letting out a low whistle as Mr. Walker came over, a ghost of a scowl on his face for not being able to open the door. Mattis smiled at him, appreciating the old man's efforts nonetheless.

The sight of the mansion left Mattis in awe. Its architecture was majestic, standing proud amidst the sprawling grounds. The sun cast long shadows, accentuating the grandeur of the structure. Every detail seemed meticulously crafted, from the ornate carvings on the doors to the intricate patterns in the glass windows. As Mattis took in the sight before him, all doubts seemed to wash away, he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling within him.

Mr. Walker plopped Mattis’s luggage on the ground, with a curt nod, before disappearing into the limo, leaving Mattis to walk to the house alone. He opened the door to find multiple individuals gathered inside. One tall young woman, with tattoos covering her arms, caught his eye. His jaw basically dropped; holy shit, those are awesome! Mattis had a few tattoos himself, but they were not as prominently displayed as hers, mostly on his back, chest and upper thighs. He made a mental note to befriend her.

As Mattis stepped further into the room, he noticed the diverse group of people gathered there, each with their own unique appearance and aura. He quickly studied the shorter man with fluffy hair next to the tall woman - who seemed to be friends, before looking at a frigid-looking woman with snow-white hair. Moving to another short individual who had on black cargo pants and a jacket - despite how warm it was. Mattis took in the group before him, he looked at a few others there, but found himself glancing back at the person with the black wolf-cut hairstyle.

He frowned as he realized everyone seemed very separated, each lost in their own thoughts and worlds, besides the two who appeared to be friends. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, and Mattis could sense the reluctance of the others to engage in conversation. He wondered why that was—shouldn’t they all be trying to get to know one another? How often did this happen? A group of enhanced individuals, brought together to one strange place, at the request of some random woman.

Mattis stretched his neck, a loud popping noise echoing in the air as he cracked it. Rolling his shoulders once, he strode over to the duo, his eagerness to break the ice evident in his strides. As he approached, he offered them a friendly smile.

“Hey, I’m Mattis,” he introduced himself, extending his hand in greeting. He loved making new friends and had no issues befriending strangers. Sitting idly by was not his style; he preferred to dive into conversations and connect with those around him, especially since Mr. Walker was not much of a conversationalist. Left to his own thoughts for majority of the ride, Mattis was eager for some lively interaction.


Edited at March 30, 2024 07:06 PM by The Bewitched
Catching Fallen Stars | RP ThreadApril 3, 2024 05:39 AM


Salem

Neutral
 
Posts: 5380
#3008841
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Chase Corvin | Male | 24 | Hydrokinesis | M: Riku Azalea (dir) Everyone in the Manor (ind)

He'd love to say that he woke up to sunlight hitting his face in the morning, like a normal person might. Sadly, or not so sadly because he did enjoy it to a certain point, it didn't work that way for Chase.

It was around 11:50pm by the time he woke up and he only knew that because the first thing he did was turn over onto his side and check his phone. The screen was bright and hurt his eyes, he had forgotten to turn the brightness down but oh well.

He put his phone down onto his bedside table and flopped back to his bed. He spent what felt like forever just laying there, and it felt very calm. Peaceful.

When he checked his phone again the screen told him it had only been a few minutes since the last time he checked it.

“I guess I do have to get up at some point..” Chase groaned. He sat himself upright and propped a couple pillows behind him as a way to keep him getting up because he knew as soon as he laid down one more time, he would just sleep again.

He pulled his laptop off the bedside table, turned it on and typed in his password. He was getting distracted again, checking various different websites he liked to browse, some were actual games and some were sites you could browse art.

Finally, once he was done doing all of that, he managed to rip himself away from it all and step out of bed. He got himself dressed in his usual white hoodie, black sweatpants and debated putting his hair up today but decided against it.

Grabbing his phone and some other small things he didn't really need but took with him anyway, Chase made his way down the first floor hallway and straight to the front door. Yes, his bedroom is on the first floor of the house. He finds it the most comfortable place for him, don't judge.

He slipped on his boots and headed out. The weather was warm enough that even a small vest wouldn't be needed but it wasn't warm enough that he couldn't wear his hoodie.

He didn't have to walk very far, he was going to his best friend and neighbour's house. He took out a second set of keys from his left side pocket, slid the key into the lock and in a split second he had the door open.

He didn't steal these keys, Riku had given them to Chase because Chase very rarely stayed at his own house any more so it seemed like his thought process was to just give a set of keys to Chase.

He took his boots off since he didn't want to get his friends floors dirty, putting them neatly away.

He went to the kitchen first, breakfast always came first. Food was for always. He took out a frying pan, setting it on the stove and unfortunately there was a loud bang from it hitting other pans. ‘Shit..’

Chase winced at the loud noise, hoping nobody else heard it. He went about the kitchen and made himself a breakfast consisting of eggs, bacon and toast. Unfortunately throughout the process he hit more things and many more loud bangs and thumps happened. Each time, he winced and hoped nobody noticed.

Chase placed everything beautifully on a plate he took from a cupboard, yes it also made a loud noise. ‘Seems like all the objects in this house are against me today.’

He sat himself down in the dining room, scrolling on his phone while he ate. Everything may be against him today, but at least the food was better than ever.

He wasn't paying attention to anything, he didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him until it was too late.

Chase set a glare on Riku when his head was touched, “I do get sleep. Plenty of it. They're just never the right hours.”

He watched his friend leave and in the meantime Chase cleaned up. He wasn't going to leave it all dirty after he made a mess.


Again, Chase woke up at the weirdest time. 2:37PM flashed on his phone's screen. He had been there when Riku came back with the letter and they had both read it together. Chase almost regretted telling Riku it was a good idea to go.

He went through his regular routine again; using his phone and laptop, getting dressed and heading out to Riku's.

There was something off about his mailbox when he passed though, even when nothing seemed wrong. He just had a feeling that he should check it, and so he did.

He pulled out the letter and opened it right there. As he read through it, the letter seemed to be the same one Riku had received but for Chase instead.

Since Riku had already left.. the hydrokinesis user decided to follow his friends footsteps. Surely his friend hadn't left too long ago so it was perfectly reasonable if Chase went there… now?

And so he did, and when he arrived, Chase found Mr. Walker. He went through everything Riku had.

He got his bags from Mr. Walker after thanking him for everything and confidently walked into Scarlet Manor. Well, it looked like he was confident. He was actually having a bad bit of anxiety hit him.

He looked around when he arrived, eyes landing on many different people. Some seemed happy to be there and others were chatting, some were hanging around in quieter places. His eyes landed on his friend and immediately his legs took him to sit beside Riku Azalea.

“Hey man!” Chase grinned happily at his friend.

Catching Fallen Stars | RP ThreadApril 3, 2024 09:54 PM


Moose

Neutral
 
Posts: 708
#3009345
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Mila Monova || 22 || Mycokenesis || Mentions: [Ind.] Everyone inside

From the moment Mila had returned to her apartment to find the envelope on the windowsill - just to the left of her front door - she had been on high alert. Or on higher alert than usual, with the last week spent more often than not interrupting her usually well-focused work to stare aggressively back behind her or around an obscured corner. It was bad enough that she was starting to get in trouble with the customers and then her bosses, but even worse when even they could recognize her discomfort as it finally started to show itself in the furrowed brows on her face. It wasn't often that she'd let herself be paranoid like this, least of all outwardly, but the strange letter felt a little too convenient in timing with its large stash of money and plane ticket. Not to mention the highly unusual circumstances of its very appearance inside her run-down flat.

The main thing that had caught her eye in reading the actual letter was – of course – the fact it had her full name scrawled out in an elegant handwritten font. Dear Mila Svilena Monova, it was written, in limited detail describing something that sounded far too good to even be plausible. Such a place for Enhanced such as herself to freely practice their extraordinary abilities was not what she doubted the possibility of however – that she could imagine; while rare, she didn’t doubt it could exist if given the right circumstances. No, the legitimacy she was doubting was the writer’s desire for her to enter this sanctuary. She had no idea how she’d been discovered by them, let alone tracked to her secluded apartment. Nor was she sure how they’d even gained access to it, for her security systems seemed to be working fine otherwise. She knew she hadn’t used her powers outside of her apartment for years now, and certainly hadn’t discussed anything to do with her secret abilities with anyone, so they should not have found her or even been aware of her enhancements... Mila couldn’t recall anything that would have put herself at risk which was terrifying, to put it lightly. She had spent the latter half of the week staring at the letter and around her tiny apartment, uneasily balancing the pros and cons of following its instructions in her mind.

Firstly, with that kind of money, she’d wager she could pack up and disappear into the wilds like she’d always wanted to – with just enough to get by if she gathered her belongings and favors up fast enough. But there was a shadow of doubt clouding that idea: if the mysterious letter-writer already had enough information on her to both identify her as an Enhanced and find her name and address, could this turn out to some strange ploy to lure her out of the city and into a more desolate area so that they could get her? Or was that simply too complicated for the Catchers? ... How long exactly had they known she was here? How did they find- cool it Monova. If they wanted to get her so badly, why the hell would they waste so much on a plane ticket? Knowing exactly where she was, they could’ve got her any time before without her having any idea of their presence. With that, Mila had managed to calm herself soon enough but the lingering uneasiness had kept her wide awake for the last couple of days. But despite those sickening feelings of uncertainty, there were potential positives too.

For one thing, there was her piqued curiosity. Many things stood out to her, catching her interest, but most of all was the individual only identifying themselves as G. Morrigan. She could only wonder what kind of person they’d be, and what kind of host. Even if they turned out not to be some kind of Catcher with a twisted obsession with mind games - perhaps an Enhanced themselves - she wasn’t sure how welcoming they’d turn out to be. Handwritten refined words was one thing, actions by far another. There was, on the opposite side of this, the quiet potential for them to turn out to be just as kind and generous and they had portrayed themselves as in the long elegant script. Plus there was also their promise of other enhanced, which both excited and worried her. She hadn’t met another Enhanced before - unable to find another to relate to and share the burden of their powers with, due the danger of being caught – but she knew they existed. The possibility of meeting others who had perhaps experienced similar difficulties in life as her was a comforting idea, however unrealistic.

And then there were more cons. She recognized there was probably no better, private way of contacting her in order to share the required resources and information to get her to this ‘Scarlet Manor.' but she felt as if she couldn’t trust this unknown person purely because of that fact. Catchers were known to be more devious these days, and she hated the idea of falling into some insane twisted trap because they’d outsmarted her. It seemed, Mila reflected as she sat half-asleep in a cramped plane seat, as if the worst case scenario would be her entrapment with other Enhanced and whatever consequences that would come with that. She’d be alongside others who could, despite their differences, understand her... Fuck, that whole idea felt foolish even in her head. And, while scolding the selfish begging of her heart for affection as she tried to rest, she felt anger rising in her chest over her final thoughts from the evening prior to travelling. Against all her piled logic reasoning not to go, she had finally decided she would leave her stupid apartment for the promise of the luxurious manor. She had decided she would rather risk her life and her freedom for the tiny chance of ending up in a place she could find allies in - or even genuine friends – instead of running off again and hiding herself like any idiot with brains would do.

Her curiosity had won over logic this time. She could only hope it wasn’t about to put her in harm’s way.

・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚.

And so here she was, sitting with one leg overtop the other in the back of the limousine with the handwritten note in her gloved hands. This one was just as ambiguous as the first had been, but at least it offered a glimpse of an identity of the chauffeur – or butler – naming him as Mr Walker. With nothing else to do aside from rummage through her bags for the millionth time, Mila began to speculate about this curious gentleman. It was weird, for the more she glared at him – trying to catch his eyes in the rear-view mirror without any luck – the more she felt unsure on what his temperament or history could be. He had been very courteous since picking her up from the airport, in a sort of well-mannered but ‘this is my job’ kind of way and while Mila hadn’t found any reason to dislike him so far, she still felt a baseline level of mistrust. She could only imagine what his personal life must entail, outside of rounding up various Enhanced in order to deliver them to the Scarlet Manor, which only aggravated her uncertainty over him. Neither of them saying a word, a sense of uneasiness developed across the large car.

She had, upon entering the deceptively large limo, considered stretching out on a row of seats and finally getting some sleep; she hadn’t managed to get any on the flight either, too stressed about the plane potentially being delayed or her bags somehow being stolen from the overhead compartments. But still not quite comfortable though, Mila decided to remain awake and instead had found her gaze constantly shifting over to the old man. The fact that she couldn’t relax or at least let her distrustful glare leave the direction of the driver’s seat was something that bothered her heavily, and she leant back on her seat with a low sigh of dismay. Forcing her eyes to shift away from Mr Walker, she looked around the limo again and the wine bottle in the ice bucket caught her attention.

Mila slowly reached forward to grab it, swirling it around for a few moments before she grimaced and put it back down. She wanted nothing more than to ease her anxieties or erase them entirely with some good (and damn this stuff was fancy lookin’) alcohol. She’d like more than anything to be oblivious to the potential death trap she was being driven towards, but cautiousness would be the best strategy for now, if she wanted to have any chance of making it through the evening even in the best case scenario. Frowning, she considered trying to speak to Mr Walker in an attempt to keep awake, but decided against it just as quickly as the initial idea popped into her mind. He hadn’t said a single word so far, so she doubted she would get much out of him even with some particularly persistent persuasion. There was something about him that felt a bit unusual, and she began to wander whether he too was an Enhanced – and if so, what his abilities could entail. Those ideas were whisked away from her as her attention flicked over to the large black gates they drove through, undoubtedly leading onto G. Morrigan’s property.

Her face, which had began to settle in something resembling a scowl relaxed as her gaze followed the hedges and large patterns of plants and flowers lining the gravel road. She subconsciously adjusted her gloves and leant closer to the window, her nonchalant facade slipping - impressed would be a good descriptor of what she was feeling right now. The fields spread out a decent range both sides, and Mila found herself practically drooling at the possibilities: with so much greenery and space, she would have more than enough privacy to explore the possibilities of her powers. She’d heavily considered running off to the countryside once she had vacated her parent’s house – longing for that freedom to be herself with no restrictions... but she couldn’t bring herself to separate her from people. Despite the fact she would rarely pay attention to their ever going ramblings, having grown up with many siblings Mila would never have been able to adjust to silence. Mental isolation she could do, but loneliness? That was a little more difficult. But here she could have both: companionship and privacy... hopefully.

She caught her reflection in the window and glared at her messy appearance – dark circles under her eyes and unkempt hair. That she was able to sort while the limousine cruised down the driveway, finally reaching a satisfactory state as it pulled up by the front of the manor with her hair in a neat half up ponytail. The sun began to lower, setting the Scarlet manor in a dusky glow and prompting Mila to shade her eyes with her hand as she looked out of the window at it. Something about it’s design was appealingly regal, and she made a note to herself to admire it properly later. If this didn't turn out to be some insane ruse.

Mr Walker beat her to the door, opening it with a polite nod. Mila offered a quiet “Thanks,” in response alongside a respectful nod of her own. Before he could act however, she hopped out and grabbed her bags of which she had insisted on keeping with her despite the man’s wordless protest. The last thing she was going to do was get separated from all her shit, even if she could potentially be dying soon. Luckily her bags were lightweight – albeit also raggedy looking - so she could keep them on her person without much hassle. They consisted of her stuffed backpack, a messenger bag and her drawstring bag of which she carried in one hand. Most their contents was crap she should’ve thrown out earlier in honesty, but she clung on to each bag with the same amount of determination.

Mila stretched her arms out at the foot of the stairs, slinging her bags over her shoulder and listening to the limo pull back out over the gravel. Mr Walker hadn't said a word upon leaving and Mila wondered if he was off to fetch the next curious Enhanced. On that note, would there already be some people inside? She pushed open the heavy wooden doors without a moment of discernible hesitation, silhouetted between the long boards of oak for a second before slipping through. For a moment she paused in the foyer, glancing around for about a minute with her eyesight resting on various people for about five seconds before she turned away and adjusted her coat. She easily settled herself in a corner, almost self-consciously brushing some missed earth off the beige flared trousers but regaining a self-assured composure as she glanced up at the ceiling. Somehow she’d missed it, and probably had embarrassed herself in front of the more... flamboyant looking people. Not that she cared though. There were a few others with even more scruffier clothing and belongings than herself – not that she was judging.

Her judgments, she was saving for later. Right now she wasn’t at her best, nor could she imagine anyone else would be. Mila would save her assessment of everyone until they had settled in... or at least got some rest and food in them. Plus the invite had been so vague with no inclination to a dress attire. Her own outfit of a honey-yellow turtleneck and her favourite long black-grey blazer wasn't by all means an informal choice of clothing, though it looked terrible in comparison to the outfits of some of the more... aristocratic looking of the group. There was a burning of curiosity to investigate these strangers but she decided against approaching any of them for now, instead content to pick at her sleeve and wait patiently for their host to show up and introduce them all.

Then she's get to interviewing.


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