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An Artists' Outing; Alana and Rosiahn (On Hold); Graded
Topic Started: Feb 2 2017, 08:54 PM (471 Views)
Queen Harmonia
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Queen Harmonia, First of Her Name, Ruler of the Realm
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How on earth she had managed to make it here, to such a glorious place, only on a shoestring budget (if that), was a true mystery to Alana.

After she touched down and spent a little time in Osaka to gather some funds, she sold a few of her paintings of the local scenery, which, surprise surprise, sold much better than her own imagined works. The Japanese paid well for good artwork, she realised, and it was how she found herself almost drowning in cash for all of… well, two days, perhaps. Art supplies were always expensive, no matter where she was in the world. Especially if she didn’t want to skimp out and got herself some good paints and brushes and canvases. With a good amount of stocking up, and also purchasing a sturdy artwork portfolio (A2 size, to carry everything inside it), she turned her attention to different areas in Japan to explore. She made a promise to herself when she was back in Ireland that she would try and see as many places as possible, and never get too anchored down to one area. She had to explore, try to understand the world a little better, before she ever even considered the concept of settling somewhere. Until she knew more about who she was, and where her origins laid, she just couldn’t bear the idea of staying in one place for more than was absolutely necessary.

And so, she planned a trip to the city of Akita, the capital of the Akita prefecture. It wasn’t too far away from her current location in Osaka, so she was able to book a relatively cheap train for her to get there. It would have been much quicker if she had flown in a plane, but… that was far too pricy. As such, she had to make do with a four/ five hour train journey, but at least it was direct. Back ‘home’, whether it be in Glasgow, Cardiff, or Belfast, trains to get anywhere always involved a great amount of switching and unnecessary stress. That might be because all of the countries she had previously lived were far off the beaten track, and not much was in them aside from the capital cities. There was an awful lot more happening across the whole of Japan, not just its big cities. This was certainly new and exciting for the young woman, and it gave her a hell of a lot to sketch while on the journey to Akita.

In the broad scheme of things, the city she was visiting was hardly on all the tourist maps and to-do lists of visitors to the country. Far from it. But while she was browsing through her smartphone, perusing pictures of potential destinations (words and descriptions were boring, after all), she was struck by the absolutely stunning scenery that seemed to be on offer from this relatively small city. Well, small by comparison to Tokyo and where she had lived previously. When she stepped off the train and ventured out into the city proper, safe to say, she wasn’t disappointed.

There was still the hustle and bustle that came from a city location, understandably, but everything here had a sense of… serenity. She made a few stops at tourist booths and picked up a couple of leaflets, reading about a nice park on the outskirts of the city. From the pictures in the brochure, and the small snippets of English translation given, Alana’s mind was made. She navigated with great competence towards this park, already becoming familiar with the practically alien city. A great amount of time wandering city streets, plus a brain that worked in the visual, meant that she was very good at navigating and gathering her bearings, even in places where she had never been before. No matter the size of the city, every place was more or less the same. Business workers. Small or large amounts of tall buildings. Rush hours. A city square. Alleyways, small streets, and high streets too. They all followed a similar pattern, and she found it very easy to figure out. It always paid to have one’s wits about them in a foreign place, after all. As proved with her time in Osaka, she could never be too sure when she would be caught out.

It was a pleasant walk out of Akita’s central city area, and towards the park that she was so very intrigued by. By all accounts, it was fashioned in a traditional Japanese style, and that was something that she was very new to drawing and painting. Styles and cultures were so wildly different to what she was used to. Way back west, she was used to sketching and painting rather straight-edged, large, practical structures. Here, especially in the more picturesque areas, structures were flashy and curved and embellished with huge amounts of detail. She enjoyed a good challenge when it came to her artwork, and it became obvious from the moment she set foot through the park gates that she had come to the right place.

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Denshō Teien


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She had no idea what the bizarre markings and foreign words meant, positioned with pride over a beautiful redwood archway, but it wasn’t half beautiful. She took a good couple of seconds to drink the whole atmosphere in; breathing the fresh air deeply and smiling with glee. God, it felt so good to be out here, so close to nature! As a kid, she had never really been out in the countryside until she lived with old Crystin in Wales, and that was a pretty short-lived experience. Concrete jungles and mortar meadows were her reality. As such, it was a wonderful change of pace to be in a place like this. After appreciating her surroundings, she hurried through the park like an overgrown child, avidly searching the area for a good place to set up shop, so to speak. She kept hurrying through, underneath a glorious redwood shrine and over a matching redwood bridge. Before long, after reaching a grassy bank with a spectacular view over the large lake that made up a large part of this park, she found a spot that was just right. In the springtime weather, she had no fear of getting her skirt wet as she hunkered down cross-legged, whipping out her trusty sketchpad and a case of sketching pencils. As always, she wanted to sketch out the landscape before painting anything, especially in an unfamiliar environment like this.

She laid down her portfolio case and started to drown in skilled pencil strokes, her tongue slightly protruding from between her pearly whites while she concentrated. Her left hand worked wildly to keep up with what her eyes were seeing, and she rarely looked down at her work.

This was her idea of paradise.
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BeruChan
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Some Appropriate Attire


The pinkette teen only looked across the bridge, letting a gentle spring breeze take up loose strands of light colored hair. A clear blue afternoon sky was the ceiling above him, Rosiahn himself taking deep breathes of the early spring air. The still waters of the stream echoed throughout the tranquil garden, a far more conducive environment to Rosiahn's own liking rather than the one he had experienced at the building that held he and father's shared name. Clear blue eyes blinked partway close, staring down at the lazily floating leaves on the water’s surface. His face held no expression, except for the tight lipped neutral shape of his mouth. Shoulders relaxed, he adjusted the light-colored scarf around his neck, letting breathes of air escape through nose. His mind was reeling, thinking back to events of the day happening only hours before.




He sat at the desk, head and shoulders straight and erect. The collared shirts and tie felt as if it was choking him, but yet he could not let himself adjust it comfortably. There was nothing comfortable about his position. He nodded his head several times, only partially listening to the business jargon happening before his very eyes. Sunlight and blue skies shown from the outside, down into the board meeting room, shadows casting at Rosiahn's back from his position at supplement head of the board, taking temporary place and duty of his father.

Papers were signed, deals made and presented, and Rosiahn said the words he was expected to say, agreed and disagreed as it was required of him. His impression was perfect, his discourse precise and clear. His smiles came at the right time, and so did his financial threats. Even at such a young age, he had already gained years of experience working and leading his father's company, groomed and propered to the inevitable inheritance. He was perfect for the job, perfect to one day replace his father, perfect for the role of leading financial empire and business minded tycoon in the circus that was the corporate world.

But it was Rosiahn that knew, his mask of perfection was just that, a mask. Yet the further truth was, he didn't know what was underneath that mask.

A hero?

Later that day white waiting in his father’s office, the secretary had brought the young teen's attention to the television news. Specifically, to witness an interview of the very man that the pinkette was replacing for the day. President and CEO of one of the most influential financial institutions in Japan and... in the world, Raika Industries head himself, Ryuumaru Raika.

"Mr. Raika, With Yuuei Academy's most recent villain attack as well several other incidents regarding the school, there has been a growing concern among parents and others of the safety of these institutions. With these most recent incidents, you yourself have become a very outspoken critic of heroes and the Hero Association. Yet you still allow your own child to attend Yuuei, can you give us an explanation regarding your actions?"

"To begin, I do not believe that it is truly 'heroes' that so many people desire in this society. What people want and what people need is safety, upholding of the law, and protection against villains. Heroes of our time have simply decided to take upon all those duties themselves, in addition to becoming celebrities and idols and everything in between. So many of us encourage our youth to take upon this path and so many dream of living it, that it is almost forgotten how truly dangerous the profession of, not being a hero, but upholding righteous values and protecting our citizens can be. Yes, I am a parent of a child who attends that Hero Academy and my child was there that night of the invasion. Parents of children who attend these institutions know better than anyone, the risks and dangers of allowing their children to pursue these careers. But under no circumstances did I agree, or any parent, that while my child pursues this career, that their school environment would become a villains' free-for-all.”

“Are you saying then, Mr. Raika, that we should no longer trust hero academies to keep our children safe?”

“I am certainly questioning the reliability of them and the respective heroes and Hero Association who oversees them. As with the latest incident, there were no reported fatalities, but several students were injured and even withdrawn. Months have passed and now we allow ourselves to be distracted by the grand event of the sports festival, but we cannot simply allow Yuuei to divert focus—”


Zzzzztt!

The man had gone on, but Rosiahn had already grabbed the remote, pink electricity crackled upon this hand. The television itself had gone black with static. The secretary gasped in surprise, not accustomed to such a display from the bank heir himself. Rosiahn dropped the remote, just as astonished of his actions. He had felt so… strange while watching his father. His head felt rushed, his heart beating faster than it should, his breathing heavier than normal. He couldn’t understand himself. His father… wasn’t the elder Raika saying sensible things? Wasn’t he only trying to protect him? Shouldn’t he, as his son, understood the views that he held? Yet Rosiahn couldn’t return sensible thoughts back. No… ‘sensible’ was not the term.

His electric pinks eyes, color change curtesy of his quirk usage, dared not to look at the secretary in the room. He said a few words, something about how he’d finish the rest of the business within the company later. His body moved on its own, to the door, down the hall, the elevator. He heard the woman calling after him, but he ignored the pleas to stay. Once the doors of the elevator closed, the teen nigh collapsed onto the wall. Some electrical current arced on his exposed skin, his hand further going to his neck to loosen that unbearable tie.

He knew he needed to get out of the damned building.




He rested his forearms on the bridge’s railing, looking curiously at his hands. It took just a twitch of his finger and a small, considerably more controlled, current of electricity arced from one hand to the next. He sighed again, considering how much more simple his life could have been if he never had the quirk to begin with. It wasn’t that he regretted having it, the experiences he had because of it and the people he had known through it, he would never exchange for anything else.

But if he had never had it, he never would have been so encouraged to try that hero profession. And perhaps he wouldn’t have all of the strange emotions regarding his father. People often told him how much potential a quirk like his contained, yet he still wasn’t certain what to do with that so-called potential. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad to return to a much simpler time, such as when he had believed he hadn’t had a quirk at all. Unlike so many other children, his own quirk had only developed when he had been twelve years old. That had only been five years ago.

While the pinkette couldn’t turn back time, there were some things he could do that, at the very least, took his mind of the current complexities of his life. When he had so recklessly charged away from the company, he did have some place in mind that would be a nice change in scenery. And so that was how he had ended up in that park for the day. The teen eventually left his contemplating from the bridge and began walking through the garden itself. His clear blue eyes scanned the beautiful scenery, hands casually placed in his coat pockets. Over his shoulder was a light-colored satchel, which held a sketchbook and set of drawing pens. The scenes of nature relaxed him, and the vibrant colors of greens and the traditional style of Japanese temples caused the edges of his lips to curl up just slightly.

His eyes soon spotted a curious sight, one of another visitor to the particular garden. She was a small statured girl, with long light brunette hair that trailed behind her. Curiously still, she held a portfolio with her. A fellow artist? Rosiahn tilted his head as he observed the girl before him, watching her smile and soon enough set herself up in the grass next to a redwood shrine and bridge (not the same such bridge he had once occupied). Her movements were light and airy, matching her rather cute appearance and attire. However there still heled a certain air of confidence about her, confidence and an independence of sorts, such qualities that fascinated the other teen.

He made his way slowly towards her, careful not to be so distracting as the girl was already beginning her sketch of the awestriking garden and surroundings. For his height provided such a perspective, he could look over to her beginning sketches, smiling slightly just witnessed another take such time and excitement in capturing the essence of world around them. Within the moment, Rosiahn too took a seat in the grass, allowing the girl to notice him if she so choose. He decided to set himself just enough away so he wouldn’t be intruding on the girl’s own space, well aware of some artist’s preferences. Shifting through his own bag, certainly something less formal than the girl’s own portfolio, he produced his own simple sketch book and set of ink pens. He took put pen to paper, carefully looking to the scene before him and back to his drawings.

“I would hope you don’t mind sharing the same subject matter, Mademoiselle.

He spoke to her without looking up from his task. Though he spoke Japanese rather fluently, his still littered French terms within his words. In truth, it was probably too late to say such things as he had already set himself up next to her, but the light tone in voice only revealed his intentions of making some casual conversation.
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Queen Harmonia
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Queen Harmonia, First of Her Name, Ruler of the Realm
While certainly a street-wise and savvy young woman, she was still prone to something that all creative minds would tackle on a day to day basis.

Becoming lost in their own world.

The blonde often day-dreamed in vivid, fantastic colour, and was able to drown out the mundane life around her when things became very bleak. It was how she learned to deal with the pain of losing her guardian at such a young, fragile age; the first person to be like a mother to her in her life. She hadn’t found one since. But, imagining a world that Crystin inhabited beyond the living, Alana came to terms with what had happened. She was lost and unresponsive for a long time afterwards, as one might expect, but she came round from it, relatively unscathed. She was able to recall her times with her mother figure with excitement and happiness, with only drops of sadness and regret. All because the world within her mind had helped her, no, saved her from the true depth of sorrow that would have overcome anybody else. So, in some ways, this vivid imagination and tendency to become wholly lost within her own fantasies, her paintings, her drawings, her poetry and stories, was a wonderful thing.

In occasions like this, however, when she was in an unfamiliar country, it could become quite dangerous. While she worked, she was entirely contained in her own little bubble. She was entirely unaware to the sound of footsteps approaching her. This person could have been anyone, could have meant her harm, and she wouldn’t have noticed. She didn’t flinch or react when he sat down near her, when he looked her, when he started to address her. The foreign words deflected on the outer shell of her ‘bubble’, and she continued to work, entirely undisturbed and unperturbed.

That was until she heard a familiar word that wasn’t all too foreign, and she stopped in her tracks.

Her pencil hovered above the page and her ice blue eyes widened as she drank in that term. ‘Mademoiselle’. That was French, she remembered, from her studies back at school. Whatever the stranger had said to her beforehand was entirely lost. Had they been speaking in Japanese? She raised her head from her work, and turned to look at the youth who was sat with his own sketching utensils. He wasn’t looking at her, merely absorbed now in his own work. When had he got here? She cursed herself internally for that tendency of hers to become lost within her own mind, her work, but exhaled a sigh of relief as she realised that this youth didn’t mean her any harm. Heck, he had the perfect opportunity to subdue and hurt her while she was working. She wouldn’t have noticed. She was still a little wary, understandably, and tilted her head to the side as she watched him briefly while he sketched the same surroundings as she had been doing. She looked back at her own page, seeing that she was all but done with this rough sketch. And while she considered it to be ‘rough’, it was honestly far from it. High amounts of shading and detail were included within this first draft, to the point where it could easily pass for a finished piece that could be hung and become a talking point for affluent men and women who saw ‘meaning’ in rough pencil lines and ‘rawness’ in art. There were people like that everywhere, and Alana saw their logic. There was something very beautiful about sketches, and how honest they were. But nowhere near to the point as these people would see.

She gently tapped the end of her pencil against her sketch pad, biting her lip as she considered how to respond. All she had understood was that French word he used to address her, to call her ‘miss’, but she knew no more of that language than the very basics. As for Japanese, well, that was even worse. She had barely learned how to say that she wasn’t from around the area, and as such, her Japanese was appalling. Whenever she tried to use that phrase, she stumbled and it failed and the locals around her quietly judged her and her floundering ignorance. What was it she had heard somewhere? English was the business language of the world, and Japan had a lot of business. Thus far in her travels, the Japanese were very fluent in English. Hopefully, this youth was as well.

“Sorry, I was in my own world there.” She laughed soft, courteous of the fact that he was working. That, and she didn’t wish to disturb the tranquillity of the gardens they were sitting in. She paused, her gaze shifting from their surroundings, to her sketch book, and back to the pink-haired stranger. “I suppose this place is popular for artists to be inspired by its scenery.” She spoke slowly, and cursed herself for the usage of her words. Before she started dabbling in poetry and short story writing, her language usage was a hell of a lot simpler, courtesy of being an orphan child. If you used big words, you were a nerd. And nerds were beaten up. Same as freaks, and she was already dubbed to be one of those. She hadn’t wanted to give herself two black marks. But, as she grew up, the bigger, ‘fancier’ words she found in other writing ended up slipping into her speech patterns. Tinged with a Scottish/ Welsh/ Irish accent, they never ceased to sound funny coming from her lips. Kids had stopped caring by the time she started to speak this way, because she was soon the oldest person in the orphanage, and nobody dared stand up to her.

“Oh, and uh, in case you can’t tell… my French is awful, and my Japanese is even worse. Hell, English is literally the only thing I can speak. Pretty bad for somebody travelling in these parts, huh?” She poked a little fun at herself out of habit, smiling crookedly at the stranger as she tapped a slightly calmer rhythm on the open page of her sketch book. “Name’s Ignacia. Iggy is shorter, so people started to call me that instead. Either is fine. Ignacia sounds a damn sight more graceful though.” She introduced herself casually, her ‘rough around the edges’ upbringing filtering through as she spoke with a bit more of a slight Scottish accent, especially at her nickname, ‘Iggy’. Something about it seemed very Scottish indeed, especially with the way she pronounced it. “So, what brought you here, bubblegum?” Oops. She had let that slip entirely by accident. Always had a bad mind to mouth filter. Never mind, she rolled with it rather than faltered. “Suppose it’s nice out here to lose yourself, that’s for sure.” She mused aloud, sharp ice blue eyes fixing on him in a sideward glance.

If there was one thing she knew more than her artwork and other forms of expression, it was people. That came with a lifetime of dealing very closely with them, all kinds of them; mainly on the receiving end of their punches or their kicks. This stranger certainly exuded an air of serenity and calm, but she knew that something was hidden underneath there. She wasn’t sure what, her prowess with deduction of emotions didn’t span that far, but there was certainly something.
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BeruChan
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He didn’t receive an immediate response, which was something that the French teen could have expected. For the most part as well, he seemed lost in his own world, putting his pens to paper and capturing a rough ink style scene of the garden before the two. His own style was careful, somewhat meticulous in the idea of truly capturing the essence of the scene rather than a picture-perfect copy. Done only in black and white, the true forms of the buildings and trees were captured in shape and shading, instead of color. The few moments of silence were only accompanied by the gentle breeze of the wind, but as time did go by, the pinkette wondered if the girl had even heard him speak or notice his presence.

“Sorry, I was in my own world there.”

Rosiahn finally looked back up, hearing some light laughter escape the young girl’s mouth. He tilted his head toward her, clear blue eyes examining the girl more carefully. The words she spoke were not of the land’s own tongue, but of a foreign one he recognized as his own. Perhaps it was just as expected, she certainly didn’t appear a native to Japan and therefore just as likely was a tourist of some sort who didn’t speak the language. Being only half-Japanese himself and knowing quite a few other foreigners and ‘halfies’ at Yuuei, he didn’t show surprise at realizing she was in fact, foreign. It seemed that Japan these days was becoming quite the melting pot. He listened carefully to her words, bemused by how she first spoke slowly and deliberately, especially with some of the ‘big words’ that littered her initial dialogue. Her attempts to appear sophisticated fell somewhat flat, especially to the pinkette himself. But he nonetheless found her rather adoring in that sense, along with a curious accent he couldn’t quite place. Keeping his face neutral, he nodded calmly back in agreement to her, adding a small sigh, thus displaying little of the amusement he did find endearing about her.

The girl went on to comment how her language skills didn’t happen to be the greatest, which as Rosiahn agreed, was quite a predicament since she didn’t speak the very language of the country she was traveling in. It confirmed her status as a ‘visitor’ rather than a ‘native’ or even ‘halfie.’ However, she still seemed quite resourceful having made it thus far without so much trouble or going broke or being swindled. He smiled at hearing more of her speech, find the bluntness to her words and the more ‘rough and tumble’ of it all an amusing contrast to her girlish appearance. She even gave an introduction, and a nickname, though her preference seemed to be for her full name rather than ‘Iggy.’ Through more of her speech and more specifically, the nickname itself, Rosiahn could place the Scottish accent.

“You likely are not so terrible as you think, Mademoiselle Ignacia, but I can agree that it is much more natural to speak a language one is familiar with.” He spoke back to her in the language she stated she was capable of speaking, English, something that was likely more natural for them both. It just so happened that Rosiahn was a bit of a connoisseur that he had studied various languages. It had been for the sake of his father’s international business affairs (and push for studies), and that he generally enjoyed studying them. He transitioned his words smoothly, his now English speaking voice holding a faint French accent. His soft tone was further emphasized almost musically in the more harmonious sounding tongue. Though English was not still his true ‘native’ tongue, he found himself enjoying the change to a romance language since he had been so accustomed to speaking Japanese for the recent months. “My name is Rosiahn Raika.” He further gave his own introduction with a slight bow of his head, returning a gentle smile back to the girl.

“So, what brought you here, bubblegum?”

Her next question came fast, along with an apparent nickname that had so quickly assigned him. Rosiahn tilted his head at the mention of the candy, usually colored pink, just like his natural hair color. He simply retained his soft smile, allowing a single chuckle to escape his mouth. Titles and formalities came naturally to the teen, accustomed to only being called ‘Raika-san’ or ‘Monsieur.’ Yet in the latest months, he was growing accustomed to others referring to him casually and with nicknames of their own. It might’ve been just as literal as ‘Pink’ or mixed with a sense of friendliness as ‘Ro-chan,’ other times, it was simply ‘Rosiahn,’ and now he could add ‘Bubblegum’ to the mix. The mentioning of the sweet candy did hold its slightest bitterness, since it reminded the teen how he had long lost the need to eat or taste food. However, the fact that the girl referred to something so childish did emphasize her own childish and cute persona, which was probably why Rosiahn himself was being so casual with his own laughter and smiles.

She further commented that the natural scenery could easily consume someone, her musings words that Rosiahn could agree with. He took a breath in and then out, relaxing his shoulders as he looked out to the garden, clear blue eyes calmly searching through the leaves and the greenery. He could feel the girl’s own icy blue orbs casting a sideways stare to him, but his mask of serenity defied the girl any further prodding. Though, it was just as odd to think she was searching for something. The girl certainly was unique… for often people had trouble discerning what the pinkette was feeling. However, she seemed to know that mask he wore was truly a mask.

One that recently had been starting to crack.

“It is something I wish I could do more often.” He turned back to her, his clear blue eyes matching her own. “…Lose myself to a world far simpler and more beautiful than my own.” He specified further his ‘desire,’ surprising himself at the admittance, but knowing his feelings were once being honest. Indeed, the nature, the art, it reminded of times when it was just simpler, when he knew what he wanted to do with his life, when his father and mother understood him on a far better level and he them, when he didn’t have such confusing emotions regarding ‘friends’ and ‘lovers’ and… ‘heroes.’ For a moment, his natural smile faded, before returning as if it had never gone. “Forgive me if I seem sentimental, I had no intentions of dropping my life’s troubles upon a stranger.”

Perhaps it was somewhat out of line for him to admit to suffering under his own life’s complexities and other such issues, but perhaps it was a stranger who could provide some better advice. He said nothing in regards to asking for counsel, she was still a girl he just met. In the end, it was simply her presence that was able to calm the pinkette. At least, she seemed a nice enough girl anyway.
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Queen Harmonia
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Queen Harmonia, First of Her Name, Ruler of the Realm
The work of other artists was always very fascinating to see, because everybody had their very own unique style. No matter whom they copied when learning pen and brush strokes, every artist had a very distinctive way of approaching their work. Alana looked curiously at the work that was done by the youth sat relatively close to her, and from what she could make out, he was using ink pens. How interesting. She had never really bonded with pen; whether that was because she couldn’t get good enough ones that allowed for the shading or detail she wanted, or for another reason entirely, she always ended up screwing up pen work and throwing it away in a huff. As such, she had a huge amount of respect for artists who were able to utilise the tricky medium, especially to this level of skill that she could see. When she had finally spoke up and apologised for her delayed response to the stranger, he looked up from his work and instead fixed his gaze on her. As she babbled somewhat about this place being very beautiful to sketch and draw, he seemed to sigh somewhat and nod his head, but he was smiling. Was he… able to speak English? There seemed to be some level of comprehension there, she assumed, but she wasn’t quite sure.

Nevertheless, she just kept going. She always had been a talker. When somebody could pop her bubble of artistry and work, she would never stop yammering, even to people whom she had just met. Whether this was down to her self-confidence, her yearning for companionship, or… something else entirely, it was unclear. In a way, her arrogance allowed her to talk too much, not because she was especially over-confident about herself, but more so that she was confident in her ability to read people. Those who meant her any harm, she was able to pick out and stay away before much could happen. And she was often able to speak circles around people, bring amusement and laughter and joy, and have meaningful interactions before her wanderlust demanded her to move yet again.

It was the little things in life she appreciated.

Thus far, it seemed that her weird brand of orphan gal charm was rubbing off (even only a little bit) on the pink-haired stranger. After she introduced herself and gave her little spiel about her lack of mastery over languages, he assured her that she probably wasn’t quite as terrible as she thought. However, he appreciated her comfort when it came to speaking with a language that felt more natural. It only registered after she listened to him speak, with that twinge of French in his accent, that he was speaking English. Thank the lord! That meant he could understand her and she wasn’t just some crazy tourist lady rambling on at natives who had no idea what she was talking about. Well, she might still be doing the latter. Judging from what she had recognised earlier, when he spoke to her in Japanese, and now his mixed French accent, she got a good feeling that he was of mixed heritage. And it was quite the bizarre one, she found herself thinking. That being said, it wasn’t like she knew of her own heritage. For all she knew, she could have an even stranger mixture somewhere in her genetic makeup. “French and Japanese isn’t the most likely of combinations, I must admit.” She ended up speaking her internal thoughts aloud, hoping that her companion didn’t find any offence in them. He had taken what she had rambled about in good humour so far though, so she assumed that sort of thing would continue. “But wow, your language skills are amazing! I could do with learning a thing or two from you.” She laughed good-naturedly, obviously pointing out his mastery over the three languages that she knew of. His English was impeccable, and he must be fluent in both French and Japanese as well, courtesy of a mixed heritage.

His introduction was a lot simpler, more humble and to the point, than hers had been. She smiled and nodded in comprehension, mouthing his name as if to memorise it in a bizarre fashion. “Well, it’s great to meet you, Rosiahn.” She claimed enthusiastically, gently blowing some air across her sketch pad to rid it of any excess pencil residue before she resumed with her work. She was mostly done, with only the western side of the view they shared left to sketch. As she continued sketching, dividing her attention between the view, her sketch pad, and her current companion, she appeared to be in her element. She heard him chuckle as she absently referred to him as bubblegum, and this had her smirking somewhat. Extra brownie points for a cute, albeit odd, nickname? Earned.

She wasn’t truly aware of her companion’s inner turmoil while she worked, and it was only after she felt the elongated silence that she paused and looked up at him, head tilted to the side curiously. His neutral expression didn’t shift or change while she watched and waited, but she knew that something about what she had asked was playing heavily on him. When he eventually spoke again, he turned his head back to face her, meeting her gaze and admitting that he wished he could do this sort of thing more often. He went on to elaborate by saying that he wished he could lose himself in a world that he deemed to be simpler and more beautiful than the one he inhabited, which sufficiently piqued Alana’s interest. What sort of world was that? She knew it wasn’t her place to pry, so she simply nodded and smiled wistfully. “Don’t we all?” It was a rhetorical question that she posed, and added a finishing few pencil strokes to her sketch before laying the implement down on her page. If she were alone, she would take this opportunity to snap varied artistic Instagram photos of the finished sketch, juxtaposed with the view itself. But, instead, she considered Rosiahn’s words. She knew about that all too well.

She blinked when he spoke up again, asking her to forgive him. He hadn’t meant to burden his problems onto a stranger, which had her smiling and shaking her head. “It’s a hell of a lot easier than dumping them on somebody close. Heck, you may not meet that stranger again, and you were able to unburden yourself simultaneously. Sounds like a win-win to me.” She was grinning lopsidedly, tilting her head over to meet her companion’s gaze as she put her hands behind her to prop her up on the grass. Her gaze tilted upwards after that, looking at the sky as the few wisps of cloud floated serenely by. “As for wishing to lose yourself in the sort of world you described… that’s what I’m doing.” She shrugged as it wasn’t a big deal, that she was literally living out her life as he had described. “I live for the beauties of the world, to travel, to find some answers, and have fun while I do it. Stand out. Be an individual.” She was able to live that life because she was resourceful; not everybody could simply up and leave everything they had to travel and do as they wished.

They weren’t all orphans without any ties to the world.
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BeruChan
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The girl was certainly more on the talkative side, something Rosiahn could admire in other people. She had her own charm in a way, once again all complementing her rather cute persona. Her words were a welcome change of informality and sincerity he was beginning to want to hear more often. It reminded of students at Yuuei, childish and naive in many of their own ways, but so many genuine in what they believed. It made Rosiahn wonder if he could act the same way. Strangers and other teens in general had that effect on him, many times Rosiahn himself forgetting that he was nearly as young as them. He, a teenager, it could’ve been true that his parents may not have realized that he was. He kept working on his inking, still listening to the girl with a half-smile.

Regarding his choice of artistic medium and material, there was something about the pen and paper that seemed almost rustic. It was traditional, simple even, just a pen and piece of paper. There was also something permanent about it, every stroke mattered and there was no inherent room to cover up mistakes or errors. It was the permanence regarding pen and ink, that sometimes made it a less favored a medium among certain artists, it did require some practice until skills could ever be ‘perfected.’ Of course, he was far from what he considered perfect, it was true that no artist truly felt that way about their work.

Once he had responded back to her, promptly in English, he was glad to find that she could so quickly figure out his mixed heritage, giving the girl another nod and smile. It reminded him of how another teen had only so recently figured out that he was indeed half-French. Since the girl was more than likely of English descent, she could probably pick up on it better. “I consider myself more French than Japanese. In truth, I am as much as a foreigner in this country as you may be, though it does help to speak the language.” He admitted to the fact that he didn’t so much consider himself actually ‘Japanese’ other than maybe knowing the language itself. Born and raised in France, he hadn’t come to Japan until little over half a year ago. He ended his comment with half laugh, poking fun at his ‘amazing’ language skills as the girl claimed. “I like to imagine that if I’m stranded on a continent I don’t know, I’ll always be able to communicate with someone.” He hinted at the fact that he knew more than a presumed three languages. The reasons regarding his multilingual abilities did overlap with his father’s corporate agenda for his heir, but Rosiahn generally was interested in learning the nuances of other tongues not his own. But then maybe it was true that he had more time on his hands than necessary.

Then naturally came introductions, Rosiahn still amused at the girl’s nickname of ‘Iggy’ and then respectively ‘Bubblegum’ for himself. She certainly put on the face of rather cute girl and somewhat aloof artistic type. He had no reason to believe she was anything more. But she seemed to think something similar of him, a rather aloof artist and somehow talented linguist. Taking appearances quite literally at a ‘face’ value, often it was how Rosiahn saw other people and how other people came to see him. He never thought much of it, knowing that for much of his life he was expected to be seen calm and controlled. He always knew he could hide whatever confusion, whatever anger, whatever emotion with a practiced smile and even, restrained voice.

He admitted to what he wanted to do. To be part of a world that was simple and was beautiful, though it was nothing but that, a wish or a want.

“Don’t we all?”

Her question was a rhetorical one, he knew. He stayed only silent when she had posed it. It was odd to think that there were indeed, others who had the same wishes as himself. Perhaps it wasn’t so unusual of a thing to desire. Perhaps everyone did wish to part of a world that was simply just better than their own. It was what drove some to make it that way, but it wasn’t as if the pinkette could just make his world change. Could he?

He had apologized to her for appearing ‘sentimental’ or rather, burdening his problems on somebody not involved in his life. She spoke up again and to hear her words made Rosiahn stop. Her line of thinking wasn’t wrong. A ‘stranger’ may have been the best person to dump all his problems on. She wasn’t somebody close and therefore perhaps she could look at the situation objectively. He had heard of such suggestions before, but never believed it could apply to himself. But, he never did believe that his life would become so complicated it required a catharsis to deal with all the confusing emotions he held within.

She went on to tell him of the world he desired. And… that it was what she had pursuing all her life. The way she spoke, almost nonchalantly, it was hard to imagine that she did live such a life of her own desire, her own design. Her words were straightforward, simple, he liked that. He admired those who could speak their mind, himself often confused as to what his mind wanted to say. She said her words frankly, stating such because she obviously spoke from experience. He was right to suspect his tendency to accept people at a face value. This girl was far more than a cute, aloof artist. She lived in a world where she was an individual, where she could lose herself and decide for herself at will.

Sighing again, he leaned back from his work, setting his hands on the soft, slightly dewy grass. His smile stayed his face, now turned to a more serene neutrality. Even if he did wish to rid himself of that ‘facade’ that never faded, it was truly all he had ever known.

“You make it sound… so easy.” A laugh mixed with melancholy sounded from his lips. There was no simple answer to it, some people were just fortunate enough to be able to do what they wished. It was only recently that Rosiahn was beginning to realize that ‘freedom’ came in different degrees. He stayed silent for a moment, wondering what the girl was beginning to think of him now. Perhaps that he was truly as a moody as artists were sometime pictured to be. She seemed as independent as others. For a long time he had believed, that Japan and the hero academy could give him the journey he wanted, allowed to him by the development of his quirk. Yet making his own decisions and feeling his own independent thoughts brought to light, many of the obstacles, the ties that his life still held to him. Could it have been just a romantic concept as ‘fate’? But perhaps it was more romantic to think that people could make their own decisions, just as the girl beside him.

Yet she did just make it look so easy.

“If I could say something about my life to someone I might never meet again…” He paused, referring back to what she had suggested just moments ago. “I would say that it’s a far more complicated than it should be. That I’m confused over what I should feel, versus what I’m expected to act like. That I tend to deny what my heart tells me, feigning an ignorance that it better than the uncertainty. That I do, want more than anything, to make a choice that I want, instead fearing would happen if I did.”

And though he spoke calmly, there was little carefulness in his words. He said no specifics, no words like ‘lover’ or ‘father’ or ‘hero.’ He knew he was saying the same thing just over and over again, but never before had he said it aloud. he had thought it, he had known it.

He wanted to step out of his father’s control.
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Queen Harmonia
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Queen Harmonia, First of Her Name, Ruler of the Realm
It was perhaps a little obvious by now that, when in conscious company of others, Alana felt a little uncomfortable with silences of a prolonged variety. She was completely at home with the idea of sharing company and connection over artistry, as she and Rosiahn were doing, but she always felt a little awkward when things were too quiet for too long. It didn’t help that she was a natural chatterbox; she could find something to talk about and go on and on for hours, if she so pleased, or had the conversational partners to do such a thing. There were small relaxing pauses between the two of them, but before things became too uncomfortable (for her, at least), she would pique up with something different, or adjust herself, or focus a little deeper on her work to fill her concentration. Her conversation never seemed forced, however; she had a natural conversational talent, something which probably obvious by now. She was always so casual, so calm, so bright and airy. It made conversation flow that much better, and helped put even the most nervous person at ease. That is, if they didn’t mind her chattering away. Luckily, her companion didn’t seem to, so she was completely in her element.

He told her that he considered himself more French than Japanese, which was something she found interesting. Filing this away in her memory bank dedicated to people, she nodded attentively and smiled. Heritage was a funny thing, she thought. It was rare that somebody ever truly felt that they belonged in both aspects of their mixed race. At his claim that he was perhaps as much of a foreigner here in Japan as she was, and his following teasing that he at least knew the language, her ice blue eyes widened in surprise. Bubblegum didn’t seem like the type of person to crack jokes! It took her entirely by surprise, and before she could compose herself, she felt her cheeks heating up with a soft pink hue. As if in a spread effect, when using watercolours that soaked into the paper, her eyes lit up the same shade of pink, and her hair too, from root to tip, turned a soft pastel pink shade. “I-I mean, you don’t always need language to communicate! I’ve managed just fine so far!” She pointed out in defence of her lousy language skills, but she laughed all the same. The flush on her face darkened, as did the hue in her eyes and hair. It was still embarrassing, even if she had the sense of humour to laugh off a joke… especially a true one! He expressed a sentiment that she could totally agree with. It would indeed be very useful to communicate with others in an unfamiliar place, and she admired it, but that didn’t mean that she felt as if she needed to do the same. She spoke a very common language; thievery and trickery. It was a universal language across the globe, and she could often find what she was looking for while using her quick wits and street smarts to get what she wanted. Well, that and other… even less savoury means.

Her hair and eyes returned to their natural colours when the pink hue in her cheeks dissipated, which was when she took time to inspect her handiwork after completing the sketch. Now that she had a good grasp of her landscape, she could have a go at painting! After a few more silences and interspersed speech, she posed the question of how everybody wanted to live in a world far more beautiful and simpler than they currently experienced. Well, at least, she was sure that this was the case in a lot of instances that she could see. There was a lot of natural beauty around them, but it was clogged with manmade monstrosities, cities, towns, scars on the land that would never heal. As an artist, it made her very sad to see human expansion progressing too far, so that it choked the natural world around them. But, as a writer and poet, she loved to see the stark contrasts between man and nature. And, to see the beautiful melding of the two, like she could see in this park. The structures, while grandiose and marvellously decorated, seemed to melt into the trees and plants and rivers. It fitted like a jigsaw puzzle; perfectly.

She had a habit of making things sound easy, and Rosiahn confirmed it for her. When she became a legal adult in the eyes of the law, she upped and left the orphanage she was living in, and had never looked back. In a way, it was easy. She knew how to sustain herself and her way of life, and didn’t care through what means she could achieve it. “Well, I can imagine that it wouldn’t be easy for people with ties and bonds, you know? I never had those. Still don’t.” She shrugged nonchalantly, obviously referring to family and friends. The places she had grown up in were never like a home for her. Perhaps Wales was the closest place that she remembered to being ‘home’, but even there just didn’t feel right. She needed to go elsewhere, and she hadn’t found that place yet. Maybe she never would. “There’s a lot of rules that never apply to you when you’re an orphan.” She smiled, her statement so matter-of-fact and… cheery? It was her life, all she had ever known. Why would she see it as such a travesty?

Her companion spoke up about what he would tell a stranger, hypothetically, whom he would never meet again. It was obviously supposed to be her. She smiled, waiting patiently as he picked his way around his words and told her what was on his mind. As he told her, she knew how careful he was being with what he said, which she could respect. That, and she could feel his feeling of entrapment from here. It was something that she had grown to despise; that feeling. Every day spent in her various orphanages growing up had felt that way. The only way she could free her mind, at the very least, was through her artwork, her writing, her poetry. “I see, I see. And how might a stranger respond to what you’ve said? I’ve got a pretty good idea.” She played along with the whole ambiguity of it all, her smile changing into a small, barely-there sort of smirk as she turned properly to face him while she was sat there. “There are certain situations that you need to be patient in waiting out. But they should never quell who you really are. You can express how you feel, who you are, and have it be respected. I’ve already got a pretty good idea that you and your family are quite ‘well-to-do’, and have obviously put all of this pressure on you about how you should behave.” She waved off her astute observation, and how she had picked up on various habits of his through their meeting. That, and from what he had just said, it cemented it in her mind. “Appearances are everything for them, to make up for their lack of substance. Apologies if that’s not the case, but that’s certainly how it is with most of ‘em.” She obviously had some issues with those who were quite wealthy, made obvious in how she referred to them as a group. Nevertheless, she moved on from that and made to finish what she had started saying.

“The way I see it, your head is there to balance what your heart desires. Your heart says that you wanna be an astronaut. Your head says sure, but let’s start by flying a plane. Your heart says that you wanna stop world hunger. Your head says sure, but let’s start by helping in local soup kitchens.” She paused and grinned, shaking her head a little fondly at her own little nuances of explaining what she was trying to say. “It’s important to do what your heart tells you, because that’s what’ll make you happy. But you can’t do it all at once, one hundred percent.” In spite of dropping a truth bomb like a golden nugget in terms of value, she shrugged and smiled calmly as she delivered it. To her, this had been a truth she had been following since she was quite young. Albeit not in such a well-worded manner. “It’s like… the precursor to total freedom. And when you’re ready, you can go out there and soar. That’s what I did when I broke open my cage.”
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ZetaAzuel
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Earnings:

  • Alana "Ignacia" Glenn 12 EXP, 1200 cash
  • Rosiahn Raika 9 EXP, 900 cash

Comments:
A shame that she was a thread that got cut short, it was getting really interesting and seemingly introspective for each of them. But alas, it was not meant to be. Hopefully next time the thread can get a little deeper.[/spoiler]
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