- Pronoun
- they or she
-
Welcome to The Cave of Dragonflies forums, where the smallest bugs live alongside the strongest dragons.
Guests are not able to post messages or even read certain areas of the forums. Now, that's boring, don't you think? Registration, on the other hand, is simple, completely free of charge, and does not require you to give out any personal information at all. As soon as you register, you can take part in some of the happy fun things at the forums such as posting messages, voting in polls, sending private messages to people and being told that this is where we drink tea and eat cod.
Of course I'm not forcing you to do anything if you don't want to, but seriously, what have you got to lose? Five seconds of your life?
Whisperywind Comb
- Thread starter Jackie Cat
- Start date
Sinderella
Voted Most Likely to Romance the NPCs
- Pronoun
- That/Bitch
"Kimiko!"
With the whisper of Odette's call in her ear, Kimiko would open her eyes to a bustling backstage area. Stagehands, managers, and ballerinas dressed to the nines, rushing around her to get to their places. When the initial shock wore off, she'd turn her head to catch sight of herself in a floor-length mirror.
Except, it wasn't herself she saw staring back. It was a human child.
Diminutive, but she had the round face of someone who was at least six or seven. Thick, black glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, but not doing much to mask the intense maroon hue of her eyes. Her black hair, styled into two braids, would remind Kimiko of the tassels on a certain mawile she knew and was trapped in this mess with.
Most strikingly, however, was her costume. A white tutu, covered puff-sleeves to stiff skirt in opulent, swanna-like plumage. Even the headband that rested atop her braided head donned some to match.
She looked astounding. She looked vivid against the dark backdrop of the dim backstage area. Most of all, she looked pure.
Kimiko wouldn't have enough time to gawk at her incorrect image. Not before the din of anticipating applause thundered into the wings. Before she realized what was happening, an unknown hand was ushering her onto the stage and into the beam of a blinding spotlight.
However long it took for her to get used to the roaring crowd spread out before her, or the melody of an unseen orchestra, one thing rang clear in her head over it all.
Dance. You must dance.
With the whisper of Odette's call in her ear, Kimiko would open her eyes to a bustling backstage area. Stagehands, managers, and ballerinas dressed to the nines, rushing around her to get to their places. When the initial shock wore off, she'd turn her head to catch sight of herself in a floor-length mirror.
Except, it wasn't herself she saw staring back. It was a human child.
Diminutive, but she had the round face of someone who was at least six or seven. Thick, black glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, but not doing much to mask the intense maroon hue of her eyes. Her black hair, styled into two braids, would remind Kimiko of the tassels on a certain mawile she knew and was trapped in this mess with.
Most strikingly, however, was her costume. A white tutu, covered puff-sleeves to stiff skirt in opulent, swanna-like plumage. Even the headband that rested atop her braided head donned some to match.
She looked astounding. She looked vivid against the dark backdrop of the dim backstage area. Most of all, she looked pure.
Kimiko wouldn't have enough time to gawk at her incorrect image. Not before the din of anticipating applause thundered into the wings. Before she realized what was happening, an unknown hand was ushering her onto the stage and into the beam of a blinding spotlight.
However long it took for her to get used to the roaring crowd spread out before her, or the melody of an unseen orchestra, one thing rang clear in her head over it all.
Dance. You must dance.
Last edited:
Shadow Serenity
Lurking
- Pronoun
- He/Him
As she watched the controlled chaos around her, the most prominent thought in Kimiko's mind was, understandably, 'Where am I?' Understandable to her, perhaps, anyway. She'd been on a fair few stages in her past, and it was astounding how similar many of them looked behind the curtains... but she couldn't place this one at all. Which, in and of itself, wasn't enough to cause panic - after all, who could be expected to recall every venue they'd ever visited in perfect clarity? No, it was the people around her, scurrying here and there checking off last-minute preparations that set off alarm bells. Who were these people?
Whoever they were, they all were going about their business, which probably made Kimiko - frozen in place, staring uncomprehendingly - look like a frightened deerling in headlights.
But examining her surroundings more intently offered no answers, only further confusion, and an audible gasp, as she caught side of the mirror. Her (?) reflection - for that's certainly what it seemed, copying her hands' gentle probing of her face and all - wasn't her at all... yet it was familiar. But it wasn't her. It wasn't anything like her, or anyone else she knew (which was itself a silly thought). So who was this black-haired child she was dreaming about, and why did she feel so familiar? If anything, yes, the reflection and the outfit reminded her, oddly, of a mawile more than any human she recalled...
For a fleeting moment, Kimiko thought she could grasp a name, right there on the tip of her tongue, and had a vague notion that she shouldn't be here... and then it was gone.
She let out a silent groan of frustration, but that was as long as she was given to dwell on it. A less-than-gentle nudge sent her stumbling forwards, and she made her way directly into the waiting spotlight. Now this, this was more familiar to her... bright lights, a cheering crowd, gentle music... And yet, Kimiko still felt uneasy. True, she was a singer first, and a dancer second... but ballet hadn't been in her arsenal since she'd been... well, about the age of whoever she was impersonating right now.
But as the crowd's cheers and applause began to go silent and the melody becoming clear, Kimiko stood, blinking, into the mass of unrecognizable faces. She'd been wrong before; now she looked like a frightened deerling in headlights. She could feel every eye on her, even though she couldn't see them. When was the last time she'd felt nervous about a performance? She turned her head to the side, back towards where she'd come from. All she saw was a hand making gestures, urging her onwards, to start her performance.
So she danced. And, much to both her astonishment as well as relief, it came surprisingly easy. Almost as though she'd been practicing for some time now, although she currently had no memory of doing so. And the longer she danced, the more her nerves settled down. But it wasn't quite like second-nature, either... although she performed the motions fluidly with as much ease as breathing, she couldn't quite remember how she knew what to do and where to step; she just moved.
But at the moment, there was nothing for it; all she knew was, this was why she was here. So, she danced.
Whoever they were, they all were going about their business, which probably made Kimiko - frozen in place, staring uncomprehendingly - look like a frightened deerling in headlights.
But examining her surroundings more intently offered no answers, only further confusion, and an audible gasp, as she caught side of the mirror. Her (?) reflection - for that's certainly what it seemed, copying her hands' gentle probing of her face and all - wasn't her at all... yet it was familiar. But it wasn't her. It wasn't anything like her, or anyone else she knew (which was itself a silly thought). So who was this black-haired child she was dreaming about, and why did she feel so familiar? If anything, yes, the reflection and the outfit reminded her, oddly, of a mawile more than any human she recalled...
For a fleeting moment, Kimiko thought she could grasp a name, right there on the tip of her tongue, and had a vague notion that she shouldn't be here... and then it was gone.
She let out a silent groan of frustration, but that was as long as she was given to dwell on it. A less-than-gentle nudge sent her stumbling forwards, and she made her way directly into the waiting spotlight. Now this, this was more familiar to her... bright lights, a cheering crowd, gentle music... And yet, Kimiko still felt uneasy. True, she was a singer first, and a dancer second... but ballet hadn't been in her arsenal since she'd been... well, about the age of whoever she was impersonating right now.
But as the crowd's cheers and applause began to go silent and the melody becoming clear, Kimiko stood, blinking, into the mass of unrecognizable faces. She'd been wrong before; now she looked like a frightened deerling in headlights. She could feel every eye on her, even though she couldn't see them. When was the last time she'd felt nervous about a performance? She turned her head to the side, back towards where she'd come from. All she saw was a hand making gestures, urging her onwards, to start her performance.
So she danced. And, much to both her astonishment as well as relief, it came surprisingly easy. Almost as though she'd been practicing for some time now, although she currently had no memory of doing so. And the longer she danced, the more her nerves settled down. But it wasn't quite like second-nature, either... although she performed the motions fluidly with as much ease as breathing, she couldn't quite remember how she knew what to do and where to step; she just moved.
But at the moment, there was nothing for it; all she knew was, this was why she was here. So, she danced.
Sinderella
Voted Most Likely to Romance the NPCs
- Pronoun
- That/Bitch
Her solo was effortless. Perfection. It came on like second nature, and she didn't miss a beat. The silence of the audience was warm, the music was clear, and it felt as if all was right in the world. Until it wasn't.
As Kimiko lunged into a turn and stretched out her arms, her wrists were suddenly ensnared in string, winding down from an unseen starting point in the rafters overhead. Their intrusion interrupted the flow of her dance and stopped her in her step. Further examination of the strings would find that she was unable to remove them no matter what she tried, and it wasn't long before such string also came to tangle around her ankles.
The ensuing thoughtful silence from the audience gave some indication that this was part of the show, but something about it what feel off to Kimiko. Her befuddlement would only be interrupted by the sound of footsteps striding across the stage, coming up behind her, where she was standing at the dead center.
When she turned her head, she would find a man towering over her. With a broad frame, ornate style of dress, and long black hair that framed his strikingly wicked features, his presence felt like a pressure on Kimiko's lungs; like he had begun to suck the air out of the auditorium just by being there. Something about him bore uncanny resemblance to the reflection of the young girl Kimiko had seen in the mirror.
Despite this, he smiled at her. It was meant to be a warm smile, but the way his red eyes crinkled under the grin sent a chill up Kimiko's back.
Without a word, he kneeled down and planted a loving kiss on Kimiko's cheek. Then, he plucked a feather from the small of her back.
It stung. He had only pulled the feather from the fabric of her costume, but it ached as if he'd pulled it straight out of her skin. He remained quiet as he turned heel and exited the same way he'd come.
As soon as he was offstage, the audience erupted into a state of raucous applause. The curtains remained open, bathing Kimiko in more streams of stage lights and the cheers of her seemingly adoring fans sitting before her. Just before it felt like it was going on for an uncomfortable length of time, the curtains shut, and the stagehands around her went to work changing the stage for a new scene as she was ushered off.
And yet, the strings remained tied around her wrists and ankles, pulling her along as if she were a puppet.
As Kimiko lunged into a turn and stretched out her arms, her wrists were suddenly ensnared in string, winding down from an unseen starting point in the rafters overhead. Their intrusion interrupted the flow of her dance and stopped her in her step. Further examination of the strings would find that she was unable to remove them no matter what she tried, and it wasn't long before such string also came to tangle around her ankles.
The ensuing thoughtful silence from the audience gave some indication that this was part of the show, but something about it what feel off to Kimiko. Her befuddlement would only be interrupted by the sound of footsteps striding across the stage, coming up behind her, where she was standing at the dead center.
When she turned her head, she would find a man towering over her. With a broad frame, ornate style of dress, and long black hair that framed his strikingly wicked features, his presence felt like a pressure on Kimiko's lungs; like he had begun to suck the air out of the auditorium just by being there. Something about him bore uncanny resemblance to the reflection of the young girl Kimiko had seen in the mirror.
Despite this, he smiled at her. It was meant to be a warm smile, but the way his red eyes crinkled under the grin sent a chill up Kimiko's back.
Without a word, he kneeled down and planted a loving kiss on Kimiko's cheek. Then, he plucked a feather from the small of her back.
It stung. He had only pulled the feather from the fabric of her costume, but it ached as if he'd pulled it straight out of her skin. He remained quiet as he turned heel and exited the same way he'd come.
As soon as he was offstage, the audience erupted into a state of raucous applause. The curtains remained open, bathing Kimiko in more streams of stage lights and the cheers of her seemingly adoring fans sitting before her. Just before it felt like it was going on for an uncomfortable length of time, the curtains shut, and the stagehands around her went to work changing the stage for a new scene as she was ushered off.
And yet, the strings remained tied around her wrists and ankles, pulling her along as if she were a puppet.
Last edited:
Shadow Serenity
Lurking
- Pronoun
- He/Him
Doing ballet was a curious sensation. It was a far cry from what Kimiko had been used to on stage in years, and yet it felt as though she could have performed this routine as recently as yesterday. It was a refreshing change of pace. A curious sensation indeed, but not an unwelcome one.
That is, until that curious sensation changed to a far less comfortable one. She'd frozen in place again, performance all but forgotten, as she inspected the strings attached to her wrists, feeling far heavier than they had any right to. She tugged experimentally downwards, but whatever they were attached to, far above and in the darkness out of her range of vision, it was sturdy. The only thing she accomplished was stumbling over her own feet, the strings around her ankles having gone unnoticed until then. The strings themselves refused to snap, even failing to be cut by her teeth.
"What the...? I don't recall this being part of the show," Kimiko grumbled under her breath. She wasn't quite sure why she'd said that; it wasn't like she knew. She'd been proceeding on autopilot, relying on muscle memory to get her through, as she did during most performances. The ballet simply came naturally. These strings did not.
Kimiko turned as a shadow dampened the light, and a bubbling dread stirred in her gut at the sight of the man who had appeared there, looking woefully out of place. She'd managed to forget she wasn't in her own body in this dream, and her flight response triggered at just how high above her the man towered... or perhaps it was rather due to, again, that feeling of familiarity, as though she should recognize him. But she did not, and something inside her told her to be glad of that. And that was before he smiled at her!
It wasn't unlike the feeling she got when confronted with a cult ghost-type, she realized. Every instinct told her to run, but she couldn't move even had she attempted to, bound as she was to these strings. Her body stiffened in place as he planted a kiss on her cheek.
And if that wasn't shock enough, she physically jumped from the sudden prick of pain with a small yelp when he pulled the feather out.
And then he started to walk away as though none of that had just happened. Kimiko opened her mouth to shout at him, ("What the hell was that for?") but found herself unable to raise her voice against the sheer oppressive vibe of the man. Instead, her hand reached behind to her back, poking and rubbing tenderly at the spot on her costume that the feather had been stolen from.
She winced again, though more subtly this time, as the audience reminded her of their presence. Again, she found herself simply staring ahead, blinking dumbly at their applause. Her hand raised in almost shy acknowledgement before she'd even considered reacting. It was, by far, the longest ovation she'd ever gotten on stage, aided by the fact that her legs felt like cement blocks. Just as she was contemplating how rude it would be to simply leave - assuming she could do so much as drag her feet - the curtains mercifully closed.
She found herself walking then, again as if on autopilot, the heavy strings feeling more like chains as her limbs responded to their forward motion rather than her own path. As she made her way backstage, out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the crew stagehands at work, she surveyed her surroundings. When she didn't immediately spot her quarry, she called to no one in particular, "Hey! Who was that man? He didn't look like one of the crew..."
That is, until that curious sensation changed to a far less comfortable one. She'd frozen in place again, performance all but forgotten, as she inspected the strings attached to her wrists, feeling far heavier than they had any right to. She tugged experimentally downwards, but whatever they were attached to, far above and in the darkness out of her range of vision, it was sturdy. The only thing she accomplished was stumbling over her own feet, the strings around her ankles having gone unnoticed until then. The strings themselves refused to snap, even failing to be cut by her teeth.
"What the...? I don't recall this being part of the show," Kimiko grumbled under her breath. She wasn't quite sure why she'd said that; it wasn't like she knew. She'd been proceeding on autopilot, relying on muscle memory to get her through, as she did during most performances. The ballet simply came naturally. These strings did not.
Kimiko turned as a shadow dampened the light, and a bubbling dread stirred in her gut at the sight of the man who had appeared there, looking woefully out of place. She'd managed to forget she wasn't in her own body in this dream, and her flight response triggered at just how high above her the man towered... or perhaps it was rather due to, again, that feeling of familiarity, as though she should recognize him. But she did not, and something inside her told her to be glad of that. And that was before he smiled at her!
It wasn't unlike the feeling she got when confronted with a cult ghost-type, she realized. Every instinct told her to run, but she couldn't move even had she attempted to, bound as she was to these strings. Her body stiffened in place as he planted a kiss on her cheek.
And if that wasn't shock enough, she physically jumped from the sudden prick of pain with a small yelp when he pulled the feather out.
And then he started to walk away as though none of that had just happened. Kimiko opened her mouth to shout at him, ("What the hell was that for?") but found herself unable to raise her voice against the sheer oppressive vibe of the man. Instead, her hand reached behind to her back, poking and rubbing tenderly at the spot on her costume that the feather had been stolen from.
She winced again, though more subtly this time, as the audience reminded her of their presence. Again, she found herself simply staring ahead, blinking dumbly at their applause. Her hand raised in almost shy acknowledgement before she'd even considered reacting. It was, by far, the longest ovation she'd ever gotten on stage, aided by the fact that her legs felt like cement blocks. Just as she was contemplating how rude it would be to simply leave - assuming she could do so much as drag her feet - the curtains mercifully closed.
She found herself walking then, again as if on autopilot, the heavy strings feeling more like chains as her limbs responded to their forward motion rather than her own path. As she made her way backstage, out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the crew stagehands at work, she surveyed her surroundings. When she didn't immediately spot her quarry, she called to no one in particular, "Hey! Who was that man? He didn't look like one of the crew..."
Sinderella
Voted Most Likely to Romance the NPCs
- Pronoun
- That/Bitch
A stagehand who happened to be rushing by, assorted props in hand, stopped mid-step to stare down at Kimiko with a quizzical notch in his brow.
"You don't recognize your own father?" he asked. Something on the stage seemed to set him on high alert, and without looking back at her, he gave a half-hearted, "He's strung you up, and you don't even know it yet," before rushing off to help with the rest of the setup.
If she went looking for the mysterious man, she wouldn't find him. If she tried to ask another stagehand or ballerina about him, she would get similar, and perhaps just as cryptic responses.
"He's your father, didn't you know?"
"He technically set all of this into motion, didn't he?"
"Your father, the demon king himself."
"Are you just as bad as him?"
With the onslaught of strange responses to chew on, she was soon ushered back out onto the stage, just in time to see the new set: a dance studio. Fit with mirrors, barres, and several new dancers, ones appearing just as young as Kimiko's strange reflection. She'd only have mere seconds to take in her new surroundings before the curtains parted again to more applause. The will to dance took over once more, but this time, she was joined by a partner.
A boy rushed up beside her, far more giddy than the oppressing man from before (and more her height, of course). His hazel eyes sparkled under the spotlight that shone on them, and his costume--far less ornate than hers, resembling that of practice attire--didn't deter from the absolute presence he brought to the stage.
But above it all, it was his smile that stuck out the most. Wide, reassuring, and genuine. His geniality contrasted heavily with that of the man from before, and brought on an air of comfort. As Kimiko settled into the new feeling, he took her hand and led her into a pas de deux, one that was soon joined by four other children.
Throughout the upbeat dance, echoes of laughter would flutter in and out of her mind.
"I've...nev....er...ad...riend bef...Noel..."
"...ats ok...ay! I'll be...y...our...friend...and…e...can…ance…to...get…!"
"We're...all...fri...ends...f...or...ever, Od...ette!"
It was as it was at the start of her first solo. All was right in the world. The suppressing strings around her limbs no longer felt like an issue. The unnerving event from just before, forgotten, as she got lost in the jovial nature of her dance with the other kids, namely that one boy with the contagious smile and the stellar turning technique.
She'd feel at ease. She'd feel comfortable.
Then, without as much as a warning, the strings jerked her arms taut, and the world around her slowed to a crawl.
The light in her eyes was suddenly blinding, and a shrill ringing vibrated in her eardrum, sending shockwaves of nausea through her body. Her legs, once strong with the ability to leap and turn, went numb, and consciousness would leave her before she even hit the floor.
"You don't recognize your own father?" he asked. Something on the stage seemed to set him on high alert, and without looking back at her, he gave a half-hearted, "He's strung you up, and you don't even know it yet," before rushing off to help with the rest of the setup.
If she went looking for the mysterious man, she wouldn't find him. If she tried to ask another stagehand or ballerina about him, she would get similar, and perhaps just as cryptic responses.
"He's your father, didn't you know?"
"He technically set all of this into motion, didn't he?"
"Your father, the demon king himself."
"Are you just as bad as him?"
With the onslaught of strange responses to chew on, she was soon ushered back out onto the stage, just in time to see the new set: a dance studio. Fit with mirrors, barres, and several new dancers, ones appearing just as young as Kimiko's strange reflection. She'd only have mere seconds to take in her new surroundings before the curtains parted again to more applause. The will to dance took over once more, but this time, she was joined by a partner.
A boy rushed up beside her, far more giddy than the oppressing man from before (and more her height, of course). His hazel eyes sparkled under the spotlight that shone on them, and his costume--far less ornate than hers, resembling that of practice attire--didn't deter from the absolute presence he brought to the stage.
But above it all, it was his smile that stuck out the most. Wide, reassuring, and genuine. His geniality contrasted heavily with that of the man from before, and brought on an air of comfort. As Kimiko settled into the new feeling, he took her hand and led her into a pas de deux, one that was soon joined by four other children.
Throughout the upbeat dance, echoes of laughter would flutter in and out of her mind.
"I've...nev....er...ad...riend bef...Noel..."
"...ats ok...ay! I'll be...y...our...friend...and…e...can…ance…to...get…!"
"We're...all...fri...ends...f...or...ever, Od...ette!"
It was as it was at the start of her first solo. All was right in the world. The suppressing strings around her limbs no longer felt like an issue. The unnerving event from just before, forgotten, as she got lost in the jovial nature of her dance with the other kids, namely that one boy with the contagious smile and the stellar turning technique.
She'd feel at ease. She'd feel comfortable.
Then, without as much as a warning, the strings jerked her arms taut, and the world around her slowed to a crawl.
The light in her eyes was suddenly blinding, and a shrill ringing vibrated in her eardrum, sending shockwaves of nausea through her body. Her legs, once strong with the ability to leap and turn, went numb, and consciousness would leave her before she even hit the floor.
Last edited:
Shadow Serenity
Lurking
- Pronoun
- He/Him
Her... father?
Kimiko had been young when she'd last seen her father alive for the final time, sure, but not that young. Certainly not young enough to fail to recognize him. That man was, in no way, shape, or form, her father.
But then... she wasn't exactly herself at the moment, was she? She held a palm out in front of her, staring curiously at her too-short, child-like fingers. He was this child's father, then. She didn't envy the little girl for that. The reactions she'd gotten from her questioning had confirmed the odd vibes she'd gotten from him... one even went so far as to call him 'the demon king', and Kimiko ceased her questioning there, for fear she might discover they meant that literally. (That, and the odd looks she'd been getting, which made sense at least; what little girl didn't recognize her own father?)
And just what the hell did that mean, glaringly obvious literal strings aside?
No time to muse further as she was once again trotted back into the spotlight. But just as anxiety began to flare up again, suddenly, she wasn't alone. She couldn't make out the faces of most of the children, but found she didn't really want to look away from the boy who danced right up to her with a bright grin. In an instant, her anxieties, both fresh and those lingering fromher- this child's father, evaporated, and she found herself grinning too as they danced together effortlessly. The level of comfort she felt in this moment being around this Noel, despite never having so much as seen him before now, told her that her vessel knew him intimately, knew his ins and outs, trusted him completely. The question of why she knew that already, at what she guessed was around age 8, was another matter entirely. But none of that really mattered; the important note here was that whoever he was, this boy - Noel - was just as skilled a performer... and more importantly, he was safe.
She stumbled. Or, rather, she felt like she did, but somehow, Noel twirled with her as though the motion was part of the performance, and they moved on like nothing had happened. But though she continued to move fluidly, whatever whisper had reached her ears now had unlocked something. This was Odette. She was Odette. A younger Odette, at any rate.
That sudden revelation completely took over her thoughts and cut through the hypnotic haze she'd been drifting through up until now, as though it brought with it some kind of clarity to her situation she'd been missing. Continuing to dance, she tried to puzzle out just what was happening here, as if that one new piece of information would answer everything. If she was Odette, then this was... an event from her childhood, perhaps? A memory? It would explain the profound comfort she felt in Noel's presence. Kimiko was used to her dreams feeling realistic, but suddenly, she wasn't so sure anymore that that was the case.
Which meant that that creepy guy with the oppressive aura was Odette's father.
Whether due to that realization or not, the scene around her slowed and shifted, and her dancing was cut short as those damned strings held her limbs in place. At the same time, that safe feeling shattered like glass, replaced with overwhelming nausea and and concern and a loud ringing sound and a bright light that forced her to close her eyes. Her body felt weak, and for a brief moment, during which she felt like she was falling, she wished she had some water. She tried to reach out, find something to hold on to (hadn't she just been holding someone's hand?) but her arm refused to move.
"Noel?" she tried to call out, but with the ringing in her ears, she couldn't be sure she'd even made a sound.
Kimiko had been young when she'd last seen her father alive for the final time, sure, but not that young. Certainly not young enough to fail to recognize him. That man was, in no way, shape, or form, her father.
But then... she wasn't exactly herself at the moment, was she? She held a palm out in front of her, staring curiously at her too-short, child-like fingers. He was this child's father, then. She didn't envy the little girl for that. The reactions she'd gotten from her questioning had confirmed the odd vibes she'd gotten from him... one even went so far as to call him 'the demon king', and Kimiko ceased her questioning there, for fear she might discover they meant that literally. (That, and the odd looks she'd been getting, which made sense at least; what little girl didn't recognize her own father?)
And just what the hell did that mean, glaringly obvious literal strings aside?
No time to muse further as she was once again trotted back into the spotlight. But just as anxiety began to flare up again, suddenly, she wasn't alone. She couldn't make out the faces of most of the children, but found she didn't really want to look away from the boy who danced right up to her with a bright grin. In an instant, her anxieties, both fresh and those lingering from
She stumbled. Or, rather, she felt like she did, but somehow, Noel twirled with her as though the motion was part of the performance, and they moved on like nothing had happened. But though she continued to move fluidly, whatever whisper had reached her ears now had unlocked something. This was Odette. She was Odette. A younger Odette, at any rate.
That sudden revelation completely took over her thoughts and cut through the hypnotic haze she'd been drifting through up until now, as though it brought with it some kind of clarity to her situation she'd been missing. Continuing to dance, she tried to puzzle out just what was happening here, as if that one new piece of information would answer everything. If she was Odette, then this was... an event from her childhood, perhaps? A memory? It would explain the profound comfort she felt in Noel's presence. Kimiko was used to her dreams feeling realistic, but suddenly, she wasn't so sure anymore that that was the case.
Which meant that that creepy guy with the oppressive aura was Odette's father.
Whether due to that realization or not, the scene around her slowed and shifted, and her dancing was cut short as those damned strings held her limbs in place. At the same time, that safe feeling shattered like glass, replaced with overwhelming nausea and and concern and a loud ringing sound and a bright light that forced her to close her eyes. Her body felt weak, and for a brief moment, during which she felt like she was falling, she wished she had some water. She tried to reach out, find something to hold on to (hadn't she just been holding someone's hand?) but her arm refused to move.
"Noel?" she tried to call out, but with the ringing in her ears, she couldn't be sure she'd even made a sound.
Sinderella
Voted Most Likely to Romance the NPCs
- Pronoun
- That/Bitch
Kimiko would awaken to the cold glow of fluorescent lights.
Whether she shot up with a start, or was slower to regain her composure, she would find herself dressed in the same attire, but a different, unfamiliar setting.
A hospital room. Bustling with nurses and doctors, who practically jumped down her throat as soon as she sat up. No children, no Noel. Just the masked faces of medical staff, coming at her one after the other.
One put a thermometer in her mouth. Another wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her forearm. Another knocked one of those rubber hammers against her knees and made note of how fast she kicked. Another shined a light in her eyes, and then one in her ears. No matter how Kimiko protested, or what she said, the onslaught of medical checks didn't let up. Whispers from the past once again lingered on her eardrum, sounding slightly clearer than the ones she'd heard before.
"It seems like...endocrine issue...not su...re..."
"Lower...percen...ti...le...in height..."
"She's ill, she's al...ways...goi...ng to be...ill..."
"Still...un...su...re the cause, but...more...tests..."
"You're such a brave girl, Odette. This'll only pinch a little."
As if it was rehearsed, every doctor and nurse in the room wrenched a feather from the tutu, sending flicks of pain across Kimiko's skin from all directions. They file out of the room without acknowledging her, leaving her to stew in the burn of stolen feathers, the gaps in the plumage on her costume, and the two new strings that had appeared, tied around her elbows.
As if the sensory overload wasn't enough, the far left wall of the hospital soon disappeared between blinks and gaps in her attention as she tried to regain full understanding of her surroundings, revealing that she was back onstage. The hospital room, now relegated to a mere set, filled with the audience's cheers.
But this time around, Kimiko's mind would remain blank. There was no thought of what to do next; just a lingering feeling that something was still wrong.
The only instruction she got was the strings tugging her back offstage.
Whether she shot up with a start, or was slower to regain her composure, she would find herself dressed in the same attire, but a different, unfamiliar setting.
A hospital room. Bustling with nurses and doctors, who practically jumped down her throat as soon as she sat up. No children, no Noel. Just the masked faces of medical staff, coming at her one after the other.
One put a thermometer in her mouth. Another wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her forearm. Another knocked one of those rubber hammers against her knees and made note of how fast she kicked. Another shined a light in her eyes, and then one in her ears. No matter how Kimiko protested, or what she said, the onslaught of medical checks didn't let up. Whispers from the past once again lingered on her eardrum, sounding slightly clearer than the ones she'd heard before.
"It seems like...endocrine issue...not su...re..."
"Lower...percen...ti...le...in height..."
"She's ill, she's al...ways...goi...ng to be...ill..."
"Still...un...su...re the cause, but...more...tests..."
"You're such a brave girl, Odette. This'll only pinch a little."
As if it was rehearsed, every doctor and nurse in the room wrenched a feather from the tutu, sending flicks of pain across Kimiko's skin from all directions. They file out of the room without acknowledging her, leaving her to stew in the burn of stolen feathers, the gaps in the plumage on her costume, and the two new strings that had appeared, tied around her elbows.
As if the sensory overload wasn't enough, the far left wall of the hospital soon disappeared between blinks and gaps in her attention as she tried to regain full understanding of her surroundings, revealing that she was back onstage. The hospital room, now relegated to a mere set, filled with the audience's cheers.
But this time around, Kimiko's mind would remain blank. There was no thought of what to do next; just a lingering feeling that something was still wrong.
The only instruction she got was the strings tugging her back offstage.
Last edited:
Shadow Serenity
Lurking
- Pronoun
- He/Him
After months of waking up her boyfriend with her nightmares, Kimiko was used to controlled re-awakenings by now. She sat herself up slowly, blinking to clear her vision and take in her new surroundings.
In a flurry of activity, Kimiko was reminded why she hated doctors. Fussing over his and that, her insistence that she was fine going unheard or ignored by the staff around her, they poked and prodded her all over. Every single one insisted on yanking out another feather, and every single time Kimiko winced... and yet, none of them seemed concerned about that! She resigned herself to enduring the tests; if she had somehow fallen into Odette's memories, resisting wasn't going to alter the outcome. Instead, to take her mind off the discomfort, she focused on the whispers.
Odette was on the shorter side. Fine. She hadn't looked very short as a mawile, but then, Kimiko being out of her own normal body as first a snivy, then a servine, perhaps her estimation of height was skewed. She's always going to be ill... what was wrong with her? She hadn't seemed ill, not by any definition Kimiko knew. A bit quick to anger, perhaps, but that hardly qualified.
Kimiko was left feeling like she was missing something. If she was in Odette's memories... why? Not that she didn't care to learn more about her friend, but... why was she seeing these things in particular?
Between her thoughts and the dull ache left by the stolen feathers (and more strings, the fuck, when did those get there?), the shift in her surroundings went dismissed as secondary, until the cheers of an audience pulled her back to... well, not reality, but whatever the present was.
But as she waited for some subconscious notion of what to do, what to perform, waiting for someone else to show up and take the lead... nothing happened. She just stood there, staring back into the crowd. There was no sudden urge to dance this time... maybe she should anyway? With no indication of what was to come, Kimiko began to consider what she should perform.
"Um..."
The second she began to move, she felt another tug of the strings, pulling her away. But this time, she resisted. She'd been allowing the memory to flow and pull her along so far, waiting for answers to come, but it just kept flowing. As though she were being puppetted along. She'd thought maybe the strings were a reflection of how Odette felt, sure... but Odette didn't seem the type to sit still and take it, either. But what could she do to resist? She tried and failed to snap the strings and fight back earlier, and was rendered immobile.
"Wait, hold on a sec!" she called out, her head tilted upwards. The source of the strings remanined stubbornly out of sight, but it seemed that her voice was her only tool. "Let me back on stage, I'm not finished!"
In a flurry of activity, Kimiko was reminded why she hated doctors. Fussing over his and that, her insistence that she was fine going unheard or ignored by the staff around her, they poked and prodded her all over. Every single one insisted on yanking out another feather, and every single time Kimiko winced... and yet, none of them seemed concerned about that! She resigned herself to enduring the tests; if she had somehow fallen into Odette's memories, resisting wasn't going to alter the outcome. Instead, to take her mind off the discomfort, she focused on the whispers.
Odette was on the shorter side. Fine. She hadn't looked very short as a mawile, but then, Kimiko being out of her own normal body as first a snivy, then a servine, perhaps her estimation of height was skewed. She's always going to be ill... what was wrong with her? She hadn't seemed ill, not by any definition Kimiko knew. A bit quick to anger, perhaps, but that hardly qualified.
Kimiko was left feeling like she was missing something. If she was in Odette's memories... why? Not that she didn't care to learn more about her friend, but... why was she seeing these things in particular?
Between her thoughts and the dull ache left by the stolen feathers (and more strings, the fuck, when did those get there?), the shift in her surroundings went dismissed as secondary, until the cheers of an audience pulled her back to... well, not reality, but whatever the present was.
But as she waited for some subconscious notion of what to do, what to perform, waiting for someone else to show up and take the lead... nothing happened. She just stood there, staring back into the crowd. There was no sudden urge to dance this time... maybe she should anyway? With no indication of what was to come, Kimiko began to consider what she should perform.
"Um..."
The second she began to move, she felt another tug of the strings, pulling her away. But this time, she resisted. She'd been allowing the memory to flow and pull her along so far, waiting for answers to come, but it just kept flowing. As though she were being puppetted along. She'd thought maybe the strings were a reflection of how Odette felt, sure... but Odette didn't seem the type to sit still and take it, either. But what could she do to resist? She tried and failed to snap the strings and fight back earlier, and was rendered immobile.
"Wait, hold on a sec!" she called out, her head tilted upwards. The source of the strings remanined stubbornly out of sight, but it seemed that her voice was her only tool. "Let me back on stage, I'm not finished!"
Sinderella
Voted Most Likely to Romance the NPCs
- Pronoun
- That/Bitch
Kimiko's cries of protest were mostly drowned out by the crowd, who continued to cheer on as if this was a rehearsed act of the show they were watching. But, in the moment, it seemed as if they didn't matter. This part was between Kimiko and the strings, alone.
However, despite her protesting, the strings did not let up. In fact, they pulled harder against her resistance. If she tugged, they yanked. If she yanked, they wrenched. Wherever they were coming from, they seemed dead set on getting her off the stage.
It was as if no matter what she did, or how she much she struggled, she no longer had full control of her own body.
However, despite her protesting, the strings did not let up. In fact, they pulled harder against her resistance. If she tugged, they yanked. If she yanked, they wrenched. Wherever they were coming from, they seemed dead set on getting her off the stage.
It was as if no matter what she did, or how she much she struggled, she no longer had full control of her own body.
Shadow Serenity
Lurking
- Pronoun
- He/Him
While she struggled - and failed - to pull back against against the strings that held fast, more like steel cables than fragile threads, Kimiko found that her voice proved equally ineffective. Even had she not needed to shout to be heard over the cheering crowd, she doubted she'd have gotten a response. She truly was at the mercy of whatever was to come. It dawned on her that perhaps this wasn't exactly a memory... surely Odette was not being physically puppeted around so literally. The strings were more likely a physical representation of how she felt. That would explain Kimiko's lack of success resisting it.
If that were the case, then... what would she gain from resisting it? Whoever was in control her certainly didn't want her to, that was for sure... in fact, they were being quite selective in what she could and could not interact with. She couldn't resist the urge to dance, yet she was able to interact with the stage crew.
One thing was clear, then. Rolling with it hadn't seemed to be presenting any answers... but resisting was sure not to. So, with a sigh, Kimio relaxed her limbs, muttering under her breath, "Fine, take me where I need to go, then. Show me what I'm meant to see."
If that were the case, then... what would she gain from resisting it? Whoever was in control her certainly didn't want her to, that was for sure... in fact, they were being quite selective in what she could and could not interact with. She couldn't resist the urge to dance, yet she was able to interact with the stage crew.
One thing was clear, then. Rolling with it hadn't seemed to be presenting any answers... but resisting was sure not to. So, with a sigh, Kimio relaxed her limbs, muttering under her breath, "Fine, take me where I need to go, then. Show me what I'm meant to see."
Sinderella
Voted Most Likely to Romance the NPCs
- Pronoun
- That/Bitch
Upon relenting, she'd be pulled offstage, barely catching as the curtains closed. Upon crossing the threshold into the backstage area, she'd feel...different. Like something about her had changed.
She'd stop back in front of that mirror she looked in before, just in time to chance a peek at her evolved reflection. No longer was she a child, but a grown adult. That childish face had matured, settling into its soft yet austere features. Her glasses finally seemed to fit on her face, but her hairstyle hadn't changed much (and neither had her height). All that remained of her previous form was the same costume, grown to match her adult body, and still several feathers lighter than it was to start.
There was very little warning before her hand was grabbed, and turning her head, she would see it was the same boy from before. Noel. He was much older now, but still hadn't lost that radiant smile, or those bright hazel eyes. He said nothing to her before leading her back out onto the stage, which had been rearranged into the set of a university classroom. Desks, posters depicting both human and Pokemon engaged in acts of dancing and singing, and a chalkboard. Many older students already occupied some of the desks, and Noel appeared to be leading her to the last two empty spots.
But, before she'd have the chance to sit, her body would be racked with chills. Her fight-or-flight senses would kick into gear, stalling over one another and leaving her standing beneath her spotlight, frozen. It wouldn't take her long to find the source of her newfound unease.
He strode across the stage in brown trousers and a button-up, taking his spot near the teacher's desk set at the front of the faux classroom. He was clean-cut and confident, but his presence would make Kimiko want to crawl out of her skin.
If the first man's vibe had been oppressive, this one's was utterly draconian.
He turned to her, allowing her to see that dark shadow had been cast over his face, obscuring most of his prominent features. However, his eyes, stark and cruel, glowed against the shade. They bore into her, filling her with a discomfort so foul, she'd feel unclean.
Then, he gestured to the empty stage floor before him. Inviting her to dance. A sense of determination would quickly eclipse her deep feelings of anxiety, and she'd know exactly what to do.
Dance. Dancing will make it go away.
She'd stop back in front of that mirror she looked in before, just in time to chance a peek at her evolved reflection. No longer was she a child, but a grown adult. That childish face had matured, settling into its soft yet austere features. Her glasses finally seemed to fit on her face, but her hairstyle hadn't changed much (and neither had her height). All that remained of her previous form was the same costume, grown to match her adult body, and still several feathers lighter than it was to start.
There was very little warning before her hand was grabbed, and turning her head, she would see it was the same boy from before. Noel. He was much older now, but still hadn't lost that radiant smile, or those bright hazel eyes. He said nothing to her before leading her back out onto the stage, which had been rearranged into the set of a university classroom. Desks, posters depicting both human and Pokemon engaged in acts of dancing and singing, and a chalkboard. Many older students already occupied some of the desks, and Noel appeared to be leading her to the last two empty spots.
But, before she'd have the chance to sit, her body would be racked with chills. Her fight-or-flight senses would kick into gear, stalling over one another and leaving her standing beneath her spotlight, frozen. It wouldn't take her long to find the source of her newfound unease.
He strode across the stage in brown trousers and a button-up, taking his spot near the teacher's desk set at the front of the faux classroom. He was clean-cut and confident, but his presence would make Kimiko want to crawl out of her skin.
If the first man's vibe had been oppressive, this one's was utterly draconian.
He turned to her, allowing her to see that dark shadow had been cast over his face, obscuring most of his prominent features. However, his eyes, stark and cruel, glowed against the shade. They bore into her, filling her with a discomfort so foul, she'd feel unclean.
Then, he gestured to the empty stage floor before him. Inviting her to dance. A sense of determination would quickly eclipse her deep feelings of anxiety, and she'd know exactly what to do.
Dance. Dancing will make it go away.
Last edited:
Shadow Serenity
Lurking
- Pronoun
- He/Him
Planted right in front of the mirror, Kimiko couldn't help but stare at her updated reflection. The tiny girl had grown up, pretty cute too (and somehow, fleetingly familiar... though she couldn't tell if this was her own thought or one forced upon her by this place). Still short, though, but by this point Kimiko was starting to feel just a bit more used to that; being a snivy for so long has adapted her well enough apaprently. So, she was to be given the whirlwind tour of Odette's life, was she?
The amount of relief she felt upon seeing Noel again, albeit a bit older, was surprising. But there was no denying that feeling of safety and comfort he brought; Odette cared for him deeply. Unlike the strings, Kimiko had no problems taking his hand and letting him lead her along.
At least, until she got to where he was taking her.
The stage had been rearranged into a performing arts school classroom of some kind. One which, apparently, involved performing with one's pokemon, an intriguing notion which momentarily distracted her. Unfortunately for her, she'd somehow lost Noel's hand in that momentary lapse of attention, and shivered as that void was replaced by a chill running up her spine. She found herself rooted in place again, though this time through no fault of the strings, but rather from coming face-to-face with the source of her shivers.
Save for his eyes, there was nothing notably remarkable about the man that should be causing this level of panic, just like with Odette's father earlier. He looked to otherwise be just another student (teacher?), although rather more well-dressed than most. But Kimiko made eye contact once and maintained it for all of about three-tenths of a second before she was forced to avert her gaze, focusing on a poster over his shoulder instead. Even that felt insufficient, but one of the things dealing with ghosts taught her was that in cases like this, turning your back to the threat was a huge mistake.
Not that she could have turned around if she tried, anyway. With no Noel nearby, fleeing was quickly at the top of her priorities list. If she weren't frozen in fear, his sheer being would have pushed her back a step or ten by now. She could feel his eyes on her, almost greedily, and she felt a sudden urge to cover up, as though he didn't deserve to see her in her feathered getup. She felt exposed, and wasn't sure if that was a result of the missing feathers.
He moved, and Kimiko was quick to put him back into focus - just his hand. Towards the stage. Dancing will make it go away.
Kimiko accepted the idea instantly; anything to get rid of this terror she felt. In the instant before this dream-realm-whatever put her into motion, she wondered if more ballet was in the cards... and please god not with him.
The amount of relief she felt upon seeing Noel again, albeit a bit older, was surprising. But there was no denying that feeling of safety and comfort he brought; Odette cared for him deeply. Unlike the strings, Kimiko had no problems taking his hand and letting him lead her along.
At least, until she got to where he was taking her.
The stage had been rearranged into a performing arts school classroom of some kind. One which, apparently, involved performing with one's pokemon, an intriguing notion which momentarily distracted her. Unfortunately for her, she'd somehow lost Noel's hand in that momentary lapse of attention, and shivered as that void was replaced by a chill running up her spine. She found herself rooted in place again, though this time through no fault of the strings, but rather from coming face-to-face with the source of her shivers.
Save for his eyes, there was nothing notably remarkable about the man that should be causing this level of panic, just like with Odette's father earlier. He looked to otherwise be just another student (teacher?), although rather more well-dressed than most. But Kimiko made eye contact once and maintained it for all of about three-tenths of a second before she was forced to avert her gaze, focusing on a poster over his shoulder instead. Even that felt insufficient, but one of the things dealing with ghosts taught her was that in cases like this, turning your back to the threat was a huge mistake.
Not that she could have turned around if she tried, anyway. With no Noel nearby, fleeing was quickly at the top of her priorities list. If she weren't frozen in fear, his sheer being would have pushed her back a step or ten by now. She could feel his eyes on her, almost greedily, and she felt a sudden urge to cover up, as though he didn't deserve to see her in her feathered getup. She felt exposed, and wasn't sure if that was a result of the missing feathers.
He moved, and Kimiko was quick to put him back into focus - just his hand. Towards the stage. Dancing will make it go away.
Kimiko accepted the idea instantly; anything to get rid of this terror she felt. In the instant before this dream-realm-whatever put her into motion, she wondered if more ballet was in the cards... and please god not with him.
Sinderella
Voted Most Likely to Romance the NPCs
- Pronoun
- That/Bitch
It was the best dance she'd done the whole "show." Her lines were immaculate, her technique was impeccable, and she felt like she was standing on top of the world. Applause from the audience was met with those from her fellow "students" on the stage, including that of Noel.
But the shrouded figure--the professor--was not as enthusiastic about her performance. He'd taken to leaning against his desk, arms crossed tightly across his chest with an air of disappointment. When they made eye contact again, he tilted his head at her in a way that she would register as mocking. A voice would ring through her mind, despite the fact he didn't look to be speaking. The slightly ironic inflection in his tone would grate deeply on her nerves.
"Honestly, Odette. I expected better from a student here on a full scholarship."
He shooed her back to her seat next to a perplexed looking Noel. Other "students" in the "class" got up to perform solos, spinning and leaping across the stage with not nearly the same amount of fire she had had. And yet, they received full praise from the shrouded man. One after the next. One "student" even stumbled through her steps, and he approached her to assist her with the rest of the dance.
Wrongness coalesced in Kimiko's chest. Not just wrongness, but a feeling of fury. What had she done wrong? She was certain there was not a thing she could have done differently. Not a single step out of place, not a single beat missed. To be met with such disdain not only angered her, but confused her.
What had she done wrong?
The final student danced the last step of his solo, and after being brightly regarded by the shrouded man, he waved toward the rest of the "students," evidently dismissing them. Kimiko would stand with Noel and begin to make her way off the stage, but the cocktail of rage and a carnal need to know what the man's fucking problem was left her slowing to a halt. Noel walked a few paces ahead before turning back to her, a quizzical notch in his brow.
He didn't speak, but she could hear the conversation echoing off the walls of her mind as if it was happening in real time.
"Do you want me to go with you? Morale, or whatever?" a heightened male voice said.
"No, it's okay. I think he's more likely to deny it if someone is with me, anyway. Can you hold my bag, though? I don't want to have anything in my hand that I can break his teeth with," replied Odette's voice.
"Okay...if you're sure. I'll be right outside the auditorium. We'll go get lunch at Honey Gather after."
Noel regarded Kimiko with one last apprehensive look before he turned and walked off. A flicker of regret lit up her nerve-endings, but it was quickly overshadowed by her need to get to the bottom of what the problem was. What his problem was.
When she turned back, the lights suddenly cut out. All that was left were two spotlights--one on her, and one on the shrouded man, who was standing just off center-stage, arms crossed with that same disappointed flair, as if he was expecting her to stay. He narrowed his eyes, but despite the shadow over his face, Kimiko could tell he was smirking. Again, though no words were spoken, they were clear as day.
"I know for a fact I don't deserve the grades you've been giving me. Margot forgot her routine mid-test and I didn't miss one fucking beat. You and I both know it's bullshit."
Odette sounded like she was holding back. Like she was trying and failing to censor herself.
"I don't know what to tell you, Odette. You just haven't quite met the standard I set for my classroom. However...your gusto really speaks to me, so I'd be willing to...arrange some way to get those grades up, hm?"
The way he growled around the word "arrange" was enough to knock some panic into her otherwise steady breaths.
"...what?"
Then he was close. Far too close; wrapping his fingers around her wrist despite the string in place and pulling her close. And his smile--his godforsaken smile--was visible within the shadow. Just as cruel as the vile glint in his eye.
"You'll never get anywhere unless you do things like this, Odette."
"DON'T TOUCH ME."
And Kimiko smacked him. Hard. He reeled back, pressing a hand to his shadowed cheek. That smile shriveled up into a sneer, and he leered at her with the vigor of a pyroar about to pounce.
"Oh. You're going to regret that."
The world spun, and the gravity of the situation crashed down on her with the weight of a rhyhorn stomp. Her legs froze under the grip of the utter terror that surged through her body. Luckily, her brain seemed to be just far enough ahead to kick everything into gear.
Run. Oh no. RUN.
Kimiko would turn to get away, only to be promptly wrenched from her form. The pressure in her limbs where the strings were tied let up, and she felt weightless, as if she'd promptly become a ghost. It happened so quickly, she'd only register it once she saw her body--Odette's body--sprint off into the darkness, tailed by the shrouded man.
But the shrouded figure--the professor--was not as enthusiastic about her performance. He'd taken to leaning against his desk, arms crossed tightly across his chest with an air of disappointment. When they made eye contact again, he tilted his head at her in a way that she would register as mocking. A voice would ring through her mind, despite the fact he didn't look to be speaking. The slightly ironic inflection in his tone would grate deeply on her nerves.
"Honestly, Odette. I expected better from a student here on a full scholarship."
He shooed her back to her seat next to a perplexed looking Noel. Other "students" in the "class" got up to perform solos, spinning and leaping across the stage with not nearly the same amount of fire she had had. And yet, they received full praise from the shrouded man. One after the next. One "student" even stumbled through her steps, and he approached her to assist her with the rest of the dance.
Wrongness coalesced in Kimiko's chest. Not just wrongness, but a feeling of fury. What had she done wrong? She was certain there was not a thing she could have done differently. Not a single step out of place, not a single beat missed. To be met with such disdain not only angered her, but confused her.
What had she done wrong?
The final student danced the last step of his solo, and after being brightly regarded by the shrouded man, he waved toward the rest of the "students," evidently dismissing them. Kimiko would stand with Noel and begin to make her way off the stage, but the cocktail of rage and a carnal need to know what the man's fucking problem was left her slowing to a halt. Noel walked a few paces ahead before turning back to her, a quizzical notch in his brow.
He didn't speak, but she could hear the conversation echoing off the walls of her mind as if it was happening in real time.
"Do you want me to go with you? Morale, or whatever?" a heightened male voice said.
"No, it's okay. I think he's more likely to deny it if someone is with me, anyway. Can you hold my bag, though? I don't want to have anything in my hand that I can break his teeth with," replied Odette's voice.
"Okay...if you're sure. I'll be right outside the auditorium. We'll go get lunch at Honey Gather after."
Noel regarded Kimiko with one last apprehensive look before he turned and walked off. A flicker of regret lit up her nerve-endings, but it was quickly overshadowed by her need to get to the bottom of what the problem was. What his problem was.
When she turned back, the lights suddenly cut out. All that was left were two spotlights--one on her, and one on the shrouded man, who was standing just off center-stage, arms crossed with that same disappointed flair, as if he was expecting her to stay. He narrowed his eyes, but despite the shadow over his face, Kimiko could tell he was smirking. Again, though no words were spoken, they were clear as day.
"I know for a fact I don't deserve the grades you've been giving me. Margot forgot her routine mid-test and I didn't miss one fucking beat. You and I both know it's bullshit."
Odette sounded like she was holding back. Like she was trying and failing to censor herself.
"I don't know what to tell you, Odette. You just haven't quite met the standard I set for my classroom. However...your gusto really speaks to me, so I'd be willing to...arrange some way to get those grades up, hm?"
The way he growled around the word "arrange" was enough to knock some panic into her otherwise steady breaths.
"...what?"
Then he was close. Far too close; wrapping his fingers around her wrist despite the string in place and pulling her close. And his smile--his godforsaken smile--was visible within the shadow. Just as cruel as the vile glint in his eye.
"You'll never get anywhere unless you do things like this, Odette."
"DON'T TOUCH ME."
And Kimiko smacked him. Hard. He reeled back, pressing a hand to his shadowed cheek. That smile shriveled up into a sneer, and he leered at her with the vigor of a pyroar about to pounce.
"Oh. You're going to regret that."
The world spun, and the gravity of the situation crashed down on her with the weight of a rhyhorn stomp. Her legs froze under the grip of the utter terror that surged through her body. Luckily, her brain seemed to be just far enough ahead to kick everything into gear.
Run. Oh no. RUN.
Kimiko would turn to get away, only to be promptly wrenched from her form. The pressure in her limbs where the strings were tied let up, and she felt weightless, as if she'd promptly become a ghost. It happened so quickly, she'd only register it once she saw her body--Odette's body--sprint off into the darkness, tailed by the shrouded man.
Last edited:
Shadow Serenity
Lurking
- Pronoun
- He/Him
The man's words cut through her like a dagger. Though Kimiko couldn't see herself performing, she could feel it, and she was an experienced enough performer herself to know that she (Odette, anyway) executed that damn near perfectly. Not only that, but to try to call her out like that in front of everyone else? Was that Odette's anger she was feeling, or her own?
She was so ticked off that when her head snapped back in his direction, she glared him in the eye without a second thought to all the dread that had come before. It was still there, but somehow, easily drowned out by the surging wrath boiling over. As she returned to her seat, she felt slight satisfaction that at least Noel looked as confused as she felt, so it definitely was not just her own ego.
That ping of regret at sending Noel away shocked her. Kimiko found herself wishing he'd simply waited out of sight just outside the door or something... but no, he wasn't even going to be nearby when she inevitably confronted the the professor. Still, it was familiar, and in more than simple recognition. It wasn't like Kimiko had never run off to handle a problem on her own...
She steeled herself before turning around, but as before, found that her anger at the situation weighed down the unease enough that staring him in the eye wasn't actually impossible. So, it had been an exam? And somehow one girl was allowed to get help from the professor himself mid-test to get through it? What kind of... favoritism, or...
Her thoughts came to a grinding halt as he caught her by the wrist and drew her closer, her eyes wide with sudden realization. But she - Odette - had enough awareness to fight back, and while she'd never say she enjoyed giving people what they deserved, it did feel good. If only she'd had the foresight to pretend that was Costas's face...
And then his next words oozed venom, melting whatever momentary satisfaction she'd gained. She'd turned on instinct, somewhere in her subconscious grateful that the dream-memory-wherever allowed her to move this time, and immediately had an odd sensation of falling. Or, comparable, she realized, as she'd somehow drifted upwards.
All this time, she'd been reliving the events of Odette's memory as though going through them herself... so what could it mean that now, of all times, she'd become a spectator rather than a participant? The only answer she came up with was that whatever happened next was so traumatic, so devastating, that Odette herself had tried to lock away, bury it deep inside, and forget it ever happened.
She was so ticked off that when her head snapped back in his direction, she glared him in the eye without a second thought to all the dread that had come before. It was still there, but somehow, easily drowned out by the surging wrath boiling over. As she returned to her seat, she felt slight satisfaction that at least Noel looked as confused as she felt, so it definitely was not just her own ego.
That ping of regret at sending Noel away shocked her. Kimiko found herself wishing he'd simply waited out of sight just outside the door or something... but no, he wasn't even going to be nearby when she inevitably confronted the the professor. Still, it was familiar, and in more than simple recognition. It wasn't like Kimiko had never run off to handle a problem on her own...
She steeled herself before turning around, but as before, found that her anger at the situation weighed down the unease enough that staring him in the eye wasn't actually impossible. So, it had been an exam? And somehow one girl was allowed to get help from the professor himself mid-test to get through it? What kind of... favoritism, or...
Her thoughts came to a grinding halt as he caught her by the wrist and drew her closer, her eyes wide with sudden realization. But she - Odette - had enough awareness to fight back, and while she'd never say she enjoyed giving people what they deserved, it did feel good. If only she'd had the foresight to pretend that was Costas's face...
And then his next words oozed venom, melting whatever momentary satisfaction she'd gained. She'd turned on instinct, somewhere in her subconscious grateful that the dream-memory-wherever allowed her to move this time, and immediately had an odd sensation of falling. Or, comparable, she realized, as she'd somehow drifted upwards.
All this time, she'd been reliving the events of Odette's memory as though going through them herself... so what could it mean that now, of all times, she'd become a spectator rather than a participant? The only answer she came up with was that whatever happened next was so traumatic, so devastating, that Odette herself had tried to lock away, bury it deep inside, and forget it ever happened.
Sinderella
Voted Most Likely to Romance the NPCs
- Pronoun
- That/Bitch
The stage was gone now. In the darkness, a long hallway came to form, winding between dressing rooms, costume racks, and assorted hardware from a patched hole in the wall. It ended in a bright red door with the word "EXIT" glowing like a lighthouse in a foggy harbor.
The saving grace. And Odette was running right for it.
But the shrouded man...he was so much bigger than her. Taller, just slightly too fast. What happened next happened in slow motion.
[[TW: GORE AND IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT]]
Odette was so close to the door. But he was closer to her. His hand shot out, and he caught her by the neck. In one horrendous motion, he slammed her against the brick wall, and with a deafening 'THUMP,' she fell limp. The void-like darkness surrounding the hallway engulfed the scene shortly after, leaving Kimiko stranded in a sea of nothing for what could have been seconds, or maybe hours.
She heard something rustling. She heard a groan. The sound of metal rolling on wood. A scream. Then a sickening 'crack.'
Then another.
Then another.
Then another.
Light flooded the hallway again, uncovering the back end of a horrific moment.
Odette's dress hung onto her body by mere threads. What was left of it would have fallen off of her were she not hugging it to her chest as if her very existence depended on it. Every feather had been stripped away from the fabric, now strewn all over the floor in haphazard piles. Streaks of red soaked the specks of white, leading from the bloody pipe Odette had in a white-knuckled, tremoring grip and to the gory mess that was now the shrouded man's head.
Odette's shrill, heavy breaths echoed in every direction; the only sound that could be heard now. Sobs threatened to break through each inhale, and her eyes, just pinpricks of what they used to be, were wild. Yet, they were completely trained on the corpse laying before her.
Her fingers released the pipe, and it clattered to the floor. With her hand now free, she raised it to the grisly, finger-shaped bruise that had darkened the shape of her neck. Her hand trembled so badly it looked like she wouldn't be able to settle it against her own skin. But, once she did, she slowly sunk to her knees. The tears were quick to follow.
She cried. She cried for so long. Her sobs were stomach-churning, laced with an anguish that very few humans would have the misfortune of feeling. They built into screams, directed at the corpse. Though she gave no words, they were cutting enough to get the point across.
Why?
Why did you do this to me?
Just when it seemed as if she was going to scream her throat raw, she fell silent. Her tears continued to flow freely, mixing with the blood that was pooling from a gash in her lower lip. Her sobs subsided, leaving her staring at what was left of her assaulter with a grave emptiness in her eyes.
Then, she looked up. Right at Kimiko, wherever she was standing, watching the scene unfold.
"I guess I shouldn't be shocked. Monsters like me always get what they deserve."
As she finished speaking, three more strings dropped from above. One looped around her neck, causing her a moment of discomfort based on the way she grimaced. The other two caught her knees, and she stared at them without an ounce of feeling on her face.
"Yeah..." She sniffled. "They truly do, don't they?"
With a breath, she stumbled back to her feet, and left through the "EXIT" door, slamming it shut behind her.
The saving grace. And Odette was running right for it.
But the shrouded man...he was so much bigger than her. Taller, just slightly too fast. What happened next happened in slow motion.
[[TW: GORE AND IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT]]
Odette was so close to the door. But he was closer to her. His hand shot out, and he caught her by the neck. In one horrendous motion, he slammed her against the brick wall, and with a deafening 'THUMP,' she fell limp. The void-like darkness surrounding the hallway engulfed the scene shortly after, leaving Kimiko stranded in a sea of nothing for what could have been seconds, or maybe hours.
She heard something rustling. She heard a groan. The sound of metal rolling on wood. A scream. Then a sickening 'crack.'
Then another.
Then another.
Then another.
Light flooded the hallway again, uncovering the back end of a horrific moment.
Odette's dress hung onto her body by mere threads. What was left of it would have fallen off of her were she not hugging it to her chest as if her very existence depended on it. Every feather had been stripped away from the fabric, now strewn all over the floor in haphazard piles. Streaks of red soaked the specks of white, leading from the bloody pipe Odette had in a white-knuckled, tremoring grip and to the gory mess that was now the shrouded man's head.
Odette's shrill, heavy breaths echoed in every direction; the only sound that could be heard now. Sobs threatened to break through each inhale, and her eyes, just pinpricks of what they used to be, were wild. Yet, they were completely trained on the corpse laying before her.
Her fingers released the pipe, and it clattered to the floor. With her hand now free, she raised it to the grisly, finger-shaped bruise that had darkened the shape of her neck. Her hand trembled so badly it looked like she wouldn't be able to settle it against her own skin. But, once she did, she slowly sunk to her knees. The tears were quick to follow.
She cried. She cried for so long. Her sobs were stomach-churning, laced with an anguish that very few humans would have the misfortune of feeling. They built into screams, directed at the corpse. Though she gave no words, they were cutting enough to get the point across.
Why?
Why did you do this to me?
Just when it seemed as if she was going to scream her throat raw, she fell silent. Her tears continued to flow freely, mixing with the blood that was pooling from a gash in her lower lip. Her sobs subsided, leaving her staring at what was left of her assaulter with a grave emptiness in her eyes.
Then, she looked up. Right at Kimiko, wherever she was standing, watching the scene unfold.
"I guess I shouldn't be shocked. Monsters like me always get what they deserve."
As she finished speaking, three more strings dropped from above. One looped around her neck, causing her a moment of discomfort based on the way she grimaced. The other two caught her knees, and she stared at them without an ounce of feeling on her face.
"Yeah..." She sniffled. "They truly do, don't they?"
With a breath, she stumbled back to her feet, and left through the "EXIT" door, slamming it shut behind her.
Last edited:
Shadow Serenity
Lurking
- Pronoun
- He/Him
Kimiko watched the scene form and unfold below her, drifting slightly closer for a better angle in the void she now resided in. Unable to tear her eyes away, she spotted the bright red EXIT sign, lit up tauntingly close, but Kimiko just knew that Odette wouldn't reach it. Just knew that she wouldn't be witnessing this if she'd simply ran for it and escaped. Like watching a movie she'd seen a dozen times. She knew what was coming.
The line echoed through her head, and filled her with more dread than simply seeing the man had done. She couldn't let that happen, couldn't just sit by and watch with a bucket of popcorn as it appeared she was expected to. Maybe, now that she wasn't living it through Odette's perspective, she'd be able to move, to act, to do something about it.
Kimiko ran, or swam, or whatever the fuck she had to do to get herself down there. It didn't matter. She knew it wouldn't. The scene never got any closer. It didn't stop her from trying, sceaming in growing frustration and worry.
"No no no no no no..."
Kimiko called out as the man grabbed Odette by the neck and slammed her down. She looked dazed, if not outright unconscious. Regardless, it left her far too vulnerable. Still Kimiko had not managed to get any closer. Despite having the ability to move, she couldn't help. Couldn't interact. Couldn't interfere.
"I shouldn't be watching this," Kimiko said aloud to no one, covering her mouth. She averted her eyes, unwilling to simply close them because gods knew what would happen then. She was not about to be caught off-guard here. Still, she was all too aware of where she would be had the memory not separated her moments before; Kimiko wasn't one to believe in gods, but she thanked them nonetheless.
Perhaps because whatever demon was showing this to her offered some mercy, or because Odette had tried so hard to forget that even she couldn't see it in her own memory, the darkness overtook the scene below. It did not, however, muffle the sounds, and she didn't need to guess to figure out what those sickening cracking sounds were.
"Okay, stop! I-I get it, you don't need to... I shouldn't be- I won't...!" Gods, no wonder Odette tried to delete this from her memory.
Waves of nausea rolled in, far different than the ones brought by the fear earlier, but the area remained dark, and the waiting was almost as agonizing as knowing what was happening below. Kimiko had no sense of time in this place, but when the lights finally came back on, her head instinctively snapped back to the scene, and she regretted it instantly. Not only was it an enormous violation of privacy, but what she saw only amplified the illness washing over her. She counted herself lucky she didn't presently seem to have a physical body to actually be sick, because there was no way she'd be able to keep this overwhelming feeling down otherwise.
Still, though, concern for Odette took priority and so she looked back without hesitation, regret aside. Kimiko again drifted closer (internally cursing that now she was allowed to approach), positioning herself directly above and slightly in front of the mangled body; the less time spent looking at that, the better. Odette looked like she'd just survived a horror movie; dress in tatters, heavy breathing, body shaking, blood everywhere... and a nasty-looking bruise at her neck.
Kimiko had no words - not that Odette would hear them anyway. But she felt helpless simply watching this... she reached out a hand, but just as Odette's shoulder came into reach, she'd sunk to her knees in tears. Tears, then screams. Kimiko's hand withdrew, and instead she simply watched. Watched, and waited, her own eyes beginning to well up, and she had to blink them away. Anger swelled alongside the nausea, helping to drown that out, at least, but otherwise meaningless.
She gave a start when Odette spoke, seemingly directly at her:
Kimiko blinked back at her. What... was that directed at the corpse below, or....?
Again, she reached out a hand and opened her mouth to speak as Odette turned and walked away, either unbothered by the new strings that latched themselves to her, or ignoring them with dull acceptance. But the door slammed shut, echoing loudly in the relative emptiness.
Kimiko remained detached, however, the scene not shifting, at least not immediately. She set down on the ground, casting another glare over her shoulder at the corpse, careful not to focus on the mangled bits. She was fairly confident that the anger she felt was her own and not stuffed into her by the memory. She spared a glance for the metal pipe and the shed, bloody feathers at her feet, not bothering to prod the parts of her own body that still stung with phantom pain where the feathers were torn out of her costume. Then she walked the rest of the way to the EXIT door, leaning forwards to place both her forehead and her palm against it, eyes closed.
"I'm so sorry..."
Odette didn't need her pity. Still, it felt wrong to say nothing, or to pretend she hadn't see any of this.
Her attention re-focused on the door, ready to give it a push. She took a deep breath to steel herself for what - if anything - would come next, but after that, she was confident the worst of it was behind her.
The line echoed through her head, and filled her with more dread than simply seeing the man had done. She couldn't let that happen, couldn't just sit by and watch with a bucket of popcorn as it appeared she was expected to. Maybe, now that she wasn't living it through Odette's perspective, she'd be able to move, to act, to do something about it.
Kimiko ran, or swam, or whatever the fuck she had to do to get herself down there. It didn't matter. She knew it wouldn't. The scene never got any closer. It didn't stop her from trying, sceaming in growing frustration and worry.
"No no no no no no..."
Kimiko called out as the man grabbed Odette by the neck and slammed her down. She looked dazed, if not outright unconscious. Regardless, it left her far too vulnerable. Still Kimiko had not managed to get any closer. Despite having the ability to move, she couldn't help. Couldn't interact. Couldn't interfere.
"I shouldn't be watching this," Kimiko said aloud to no one, covering her mouth. She averted her eyes, unwilling to simply close them because gods knew what would happen then. She was not about to be caught off-guard here. Still, she was all too aware of where she would be had the memory not separated her moments before; Kimiko wasn't one to believe in gods, but she thanked them nonetheless.
Perhaps because whatever demon was showing this to her offered some mercy, or because Odette had tried so hard to forget that even she couldn't see it in her own memory, the darkness overtook the scene below. It did not, however, muffle the sounds, and she didn't need to guess to figure out what those sickening cracking sounds were.
"Okay, stop! I-I get it, you don't need to... I shouldn't be- I won't...!" Gods, no wonder Odette tried to delete this from her memory.
Waves of nausea rolled in, far different than the ones brought by the fear earlier, but the area remained dark, and the waiting was almost as agonizing as knowing what was happening below. Kimiko had no sense of time in this place, but when the lights finally came back on, her head instinctively snapped back to the scene, and she regretted it instantly. Not only was it an enormous violation of privacy, but what she saw only amplified the illness washing over her. She counted herself lucky she didn't presently seem to have a physical body to actually be sick, because there was no way she'd be able to keep this overwhelming feeling down otherwise.
Still, though, concern for Odette took priority and so she looked back without hesitation, regret aside. Kimiko again drifted closer (internally cursing that now she was allowed to approach), positioning herself directly above and slightly in front of the mangled body; the less time spent looking at that, the better. Odette looked like she'd just survived a horror movie; dress in tatters, heavy breathing, body shaking, blood everywhere... and a nasty-looking bruise at her neck.
Kimiko had no words - not that Odette would hear them anyway. But she felt helpless simply watching this... she reached out a hand, but just as Odette's shoulder came into reach, she'd sunk to her knees in tears. Tears, then screams. Kimiko's hand withdrew, and instead she simply watched. Watched, and waited, her own eyes beginning to well up, and she had to blink them away. Anger swelled alongside the nausea, helping to drown that out, at least, but otherwise meaningless.
She gave a start when Odette spoke, seemingly directly at her:
Kimiko blinked back at her. What... was that directed at the corpse below, or....?
Again, she reached out a hand and opened her mouth to speak as Odette turned and walked away, either unbothered by the new strings that latched themselves to her, or ignoring them with dull acceptance. But the door slammed shut, echoing loudly in the relative emptiness.
Kimiko remained detached, however, the scene not shifting, at least not immediately. She set down on the ground, casting another glare over her shoulder at the corpse, careful not to focus on the mangled bits. She was fairly confident that the anger she felt was her own and not stuffed into her by the memory. She spared a glance for the metal pipe and the shed, bloody feathers at her feet, not bothering to prod the parts of her own body that still stung with phantom pain where the feathers were torn out of her costume. Then she walked the rest of the way to the EXIT door, leaning forwards to place both her forehead and her palm against it, eyes closed.
"I'm so sorry..."
Odette didn't need her pity. Still, it felt wrong to say nothing, or to pretend she hadn't see any of this.
Her attention re-focused on the door, ready to give it a push. She took a deep breath to steel herself for what - if anything - would come next, but after that, she was confident the worst of it was behind her.