Oh. Olivia touched her cheek. The afternoon sun was bright, and this was not her room. Her skn did not feel as smooth. Her hands were rough and her hair short. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. Historics? What a love of Rome. She had certainly been here before. All this time, she had been in the body of Ben. Ack. What a terrible time for this to happen. That appointment with Elliot! It was just about to get wonderful. Or terrible. Perhaps both. But rigt now she had a terrible, terrible, headache. Did Ben always have these, or was it because of those events with the . . . crazy, supernatural lady? At the time, Olivia would hardly believe it. But the e-mail was true, alas. Which meant that everything so far that would and will.happen is all true. Olivia pouted. At least the cops would stop looking for her. First things first was to try and contact Ben. Was he in a dandy shape? Olivia hoped that if he was in her body he would treat it with respect, or that boy would be getting a saber to his backside. She slid her long legs to the edge of the bed and looked around for his phone. Picking it up, she dialed her own phone. Ben would seitch with her, yes? Please pick.up, please pick up. While Olivia did all of this, she remained calm. Beyond the immediate panic that had grasped her soprano in the first wakes, she was able to settle herself.after all, when dealing with an issue such as this, she must stay calm. Ack. His joints felt so stiff compared to hers. Did this boy get any exercise? While she waited, her mind drifted to the vernacular of one of the people at the table. It was familisr. All too familiar. But if he truly was here, whose body was he in? And how did he also get caught up in this e-mail nonsense? Olivia rapped her thicker, bonier fingers against the mahogany bedstand. --- The very first thing that Cherno noticed was the colour that brigtened his world. Everyhing was sparking with life and hope, and it seems such a great relief from his dulled vision. Vague answers. How expected. How typical. Cherno rose into his unrealistically brighgt world. It seemed false. Fake. He noticed that he was much shorter.his frame was lighter, his feet were delicate, his body young and feminine. Looking across the bedstand, where the white flower lay resting, it did not take him pong to realize he was in the body of Hyperborea. But something felt off. He could hear something, voices, views,hidden at the very back of his thougts, nagging him, almost like white noise. It seemed unnatural. It seemed as if the feeling did not belong here, in this world, or in this girl, and yet here it was, existing, yet just below the point of awareness. As he walked over to the mirror, a headache wracked his small head. Even in this body, he could not get away. He pulled his rose cheeks. He widened his left eye with his scarless left hand. Cherno sighed. He promised himself, he would change. He would change for the sake of John and Hyperborea. He would change for the sake of that lady Temperance. He raised his head and closed his eyes, the cold December air tickling his nose, and with a swift moment of mental discipline. He killed his thoughts of doubt and fear and closed off his emotions for the day. Let him be monotone. Let him have no emotions, it would work better for him. Let the world be screwed to the edges of its grey corners. But he slowly opened his eyes, aunable to hide his mild surprise. It felt as if he had physically made a difference in his body. As if by magic, he was able to altr his own consciousness just abit, if not temporarily. But magic of this sort did not exist. Was it perhaps Hyperborea's brain power? Regardless. He exited the room after changing clothe, having tied the white flower into his hair. It was time to get to his room and meet the Hyperborea in his body. Step one. Settle all of this, and gather as many others as possible. And yet, as he entered the grea Heliocanthea with his petite form, his very eyes -- Hyperborea's that had once been lively and full, as if to show the body's original occupant, were now filled with Cherno's silent dullness, caring little about the colour that danced in his newfound vision.
Olivia touched her cheek, her hair a mess. Except it was not her hair. Oh dear, she was in Ben's body and she began freaking out as she threw the ablet to the floor in rage and decided to make her next post more detailed. Cherno did not want to deal with this right now. His head hutt badly and he lifted his tiny little legs to the mirror. He needed to gather his thoughts in his next post.
I tried (and did not do well) at basic messy wildly varying concept art for Psychedelic so here you go: Spoiler
Unable to access my laptop. Stuck on a tablet. How are you?
A girl from far off on the table appeared to be asking questions. Who was she? Olivia had not seen her before. Was she a child of the Bellhurst chorus? All of this was very incessant and sudden. But Olivia, long ago, had learned to keep her nerve under times of duress, en point. From her time and experience in her . . . shall we say, past? She had learned a few tricks about interrogation and information deduction. First note. From the very fact this inexplicable location exists, let us accept that the e-mail was for all intents and purposes completely true, and this C, or Crestatia, was indeed the rogue falsetto in their world. Olivia placed her hands on the table and stared in Crestatia's direction. "Please explain to us our roles, and what this game board works like? Is there any purpose to our pawnhood, or do we have special roles?" "How are we to win this game, excluding just following the rules to the very end?" "And--" She was interrupted. Off on the other side of the table, a voice -- familiar in vwernacular, not tone, rattled off their own questions. Hm? "Is it right possible to alter the count of days in the advantage of our pawns? I mean, one would be straight tripping playing a boring game where pawns all eventually die, right?" "Is it possible for you to change them straight up rules, or for the rules to be changed at all, or are you still hiding any from us -- and if so, what are they?" "Dp you act so damn cruel -- from our mortal standards -- just because you follow these rules to a tee?" "How do we summon you? Are there consequences?" "What gives you the most . . . straight-taking excitement?" "Are deals the key to winning this game?" "Can the deceased contact us, or vice versa?" "Why do you oppose Enny, and why does she oppose you?" That method of speech . . . That could only be one person . . .
Why are you putting Chevalier's face on Chevalier's face.
I kingdom hearts forum.
... What-- what was this? Oh. Oh hm. Olivia slowly opened her eyes. This was not her room. It was far from it. She lifted herself upward and looked around the space she found her in. Snowy white filled the space. A glass orb? She was sitting at a large white table, circular, touching her hand to its cold surface before realizing that her puppeteer had to fix this post later when his laptop was not unable to be charged and about to die and would fill this post with contents later. Cherno also woke, looking around puzzled at the room he found himself in. What was this space? Eh. It must be another dream. Cherno rested his head on the table, not even bothering to look at the others around him. Why should he?
Tenth grade math exam content is the most tedious to study in existence. I am not even halfway done this book because it is just so boring.
OreShura, from this season. It is cute and hilarious so far, but I hope it segways into a lovely plot. Because the ending is too pretty. For...
Peking order? This is chick school, not duck school, young'un.
