ʜᴇʟʟᴇʙᴏʀᴇ / ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ

Shinobuki stopped what she was doing and looked over to the other people. Man I'm surprised, I was sure the tall one would get annoyed... She thought before standing up. Pinkie is really something, to be able to pull out another side of people like that is impressive. Kinda reminds me of a show I watched a while back... Shinobuki continued to think which anime she was thinking of, finger holding her chin up. Ahh oh well, I just wonder who's the next one to enter.

"Looks like another finally came to join us," Shinobuki said to no one in particular. She got up and searched the room. Maybe there's some sort of ointment in here. She thought as she began to search, opening cabinets and looking on shelves. Standing on her tippy toes, she reached up on about the third shelf she checked. She felt some sort of container and reached out further to grab it.

Ignoring the stinging pain caused from her burns, she gripped it and brought it down. "Here we go..." She mumbled before applying it to her arms and leg. It stung like a b*tch that's for sure, but she knew it would help in the end. "Anyone else need some?" She offered to the rest of them, as they probably got caught somewhere.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:450px; height:auto; word-spacing: 1px; font-size: 10px;]When Tori started laughing, Milek flinched slightly and retracted their hand, a confused and rather embarrassed scowl briefly flashing across their face. Why was he laughing? Had they been too forward after all? They really saw no reason for this lad to be as entertained as he was. So, patiently, albeit uncomfortably, they watched bemusedly in wait for him to calm down enough to reply. Surely he was the kind who would.

When he reply did, however, he would not stop talking. More questions, incessant chatter. Words that flew too fast for them to catch them all. They tried, they really did, to make sense of it. Perhaps someone this energetic was not the best choice for them to make conversation with. When they finally managed to wrap their sluggish mind around the words, they, in turn, replied.

"...Ja." Which statement that response was meant for, they didn't know. It worked for all of them. But what troubled them was if Tori would understand them through their thick Germanic accent. They had adapted it sometime in the earliest ages of the empires, but it had been come back at a staggering pace during World War II.

At the sound of a new voice, they looked up from the shock of brilliant hair to a feminine figure across the room. She was offering what appeared to be an ointment for wounds. For pain. Pain was a concept Milek had never tested, never theorized, never imagined. They didn't know what pain was, what it felt like, even though they'd seen what it did. They'd seen what it brought. They saw it now in the thin red lines and the burns on the girl's arms and legs.

Because they had not been hurt, they quietly declined by adjusting their vermillion gaze elsewhere, back to the small figure before them, the one that demanded so much attention. Why would anyone bring attention to oneself? Attention was unforgiving. Attention released you into a sea of judgmental glares and words you did not ask for.

Milek had revealed themself to the mortal eye once, to try to convince a pained young child that it was his time to leave.

Physical pain was foreign. Otherwise, Milek was very familiar with it.[/fancypost][align=center][size=6pt]▲ polaroid

[color=black][font=pristina] Adva narrowed her eyes, and stood up from her spot, exiting the room she was in. Her black eyes blinked softly at her surroundings, noting a person with Candy-floss colored hair. She gave him a small nod, and continued on her way.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:450px; height:auto; word-spacing: 1px; font-size: 10px;]With a slow blink and a conflicted expression briefly flashing across their face, they began to follow their newest acquaintance. They weren't entirely sure why, but they felt entitled to follow the boy, even if it required them to speak with more than one person. One was already too much for them to tolerate-- how on earth would they be able to bear with the rest? Well, they would figure it out when they got that far. For now, it seemed that their awkwardness had been saved by a crackling voice overhead.

With a new set of instructions, Milek shuffled over to the stage and picked up a map of their own, looking it over. The grounds were much larger than what they had seen from the windowsill, which piqued their interest. The academy seemed to be very prestigious, with rich decorations. It was an archaic building, they supposed, but it appeared to have been outfitted with much more modern 'equipment.'

They pocketed it quickly and moved back over towards the door, planning on leaving immediately before remembering that they had to wait for the others. With that in mind their resumed their statue-like posture, just to the left of the door and peering out at the room.

[a bit rushed, sorry][/fancypost][align=center][size=6pt]▲ polaroid

[color=black][font=pristina] Adva glanced at the group of people, not wanting to join in. She leaned on the wall nearby, intimidating pitch black orbs fixed on her feet. They don't seem like much, the usual idiots who tend to follow me around if they need to, but they're like me, so I suppose I could stick around.

[color=black][font=pristina] Adva blinked, trying not to seem as hostile as she was before. "Huh? Yeah, I'll be going," she began, crossing her arms. "And yeah, I wouldn't want to make too many enemies, but I work best alone, you know what I'm saying," she replied, with the usual sharp edge to her voice. "It's just that I'm a person who controls the dark most of the time, and the dark tends to work alone. It's a instinct us reapers have." The young Reaper raised her palm upward, causing the shadow of a door to form. Clenching her fist, it crumbled into a ball before it fell into the ground, and spread out to its original form as she let go.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:450px; height:auto; word-spacing: 1px; font-size: 10px;]Milek watched silently-- it was what they were good at, after all. Simple observance with little action unless movement was absolutely required. They tried to keep their movement down to a bare minimum, at most, to attract less attention. Nobody wants to see the person coming to take them away. Even here, where they didn't expect to kill any of their fellow teammates, the oldest of habits weren't fading. Their lifestyle was almost the same, having only taken away their born duty to collect and occasionally devour souls. Souls were what they fed on, after all. It wasn't unusual for them to starve themself.

Not only because they hated doing it, but because it cut down on their powers intensely. Sometimes the hunger became near unbearable. Not now, though. They had fed several weeks before entering the gates of the prestigious academy. They would be fine for several weeks more.

They excused themself without notice, exiting the room but leaving the door ajar for the others. The crowchild sincerely doubted anyone had paid mind their exit or immediate absence. Quirks and perks of muted movement, they supposed as they glanced down at the map to reorient themself. The dorm halls were a couple minute's walk away, in an adjacent building to the school. Better for organization, they thought, trying to catch on to what the old creators of the place had been dreaming up.

There were no footsteps behind them, at least not immediately, so they let their tense shoulders slump a little as they leisurely strode over marble floors and intricate carpentry. The silence left them alone with their minimal thoughts, and that was, they mused, a comforting thing. Solitary had become a usual thing, so now that they had forced themself into a world of communication, they figured they would have to relish those few minutes they had alone.[/fancypost][align=center][size=6pt]▲ polaroid

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