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 Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2007 7:03 pm
- You find a parchment of paper. All it reads is an address and information to what appears to be a bank account. How do you, as the Owner, react? Find your way to the Past Legacies Corp. building. Interpert this in anyway you please. Note: This portion is to be ignored when the RP is transcribed into your Record. -
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Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2007 9:15 pm
A pounding noise had entered Reve's mind as he slipped on his coat near the front doors of the Medical Institute. With caution, his bandaged wrist had been pushed into the sleeve, the cool feeling of the fabric surrounding it comfortably. His feet had shuffled a little. The pounding noise had remained. While the awkward nature of an obnoxious throb was cause for alarm from anyone in the world, Reve had resigned himself to the idea that there was nothing strange about a drum-beat that only he could hear. It wasn't the first time he had heard the noise, and it had never done him harm before. In some ways, it was enticing and ritualistic. At the end of every hospital visitation, as he would slip his coat on and stare through the glass doors, he would hear the consistent tha-thump within his mind. His chest would heave. His breathing would stagger; then, as he passed through the doorway, it would all fade away into oblivion and be greeted by the massive orchestra of life and its noise.
As he buttoned up his coat and fixed the hooded collar in the back, he had felt his feet moving once again. Soon he was leaning on the door and heading out. The moment the exit had been opened, his mouth had fallen ajar and he had been overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all. It had been one full week since he had last set foot outside of those doors. Fortunate for him. He would have time to himself - at last - and everything would be the way it always was. It was enough to make him smile. In fact, he had not been capable of resisting the smile as he realized he was free to do whatever he pleased for the first time in such a long while.
... And he knew precisely what he was going to do. During his stay, he had found a piece of paper on his bed. An address had been squibbled onto it, along with an account number. It had appeared to be a bank account of some sort. Reve did not have a bank account - to his knowledge - though he supposed there was a chance that he may have opened one prior to entering the Hospital on Sunday. With that on his mind, he had work to do. He had his own mystery to solve about the number on the parchment and the location the address would be pointing him to. Curiosity was a curse - one that he had never been capable of shaking. It was as much a part of him as him left hand - his ... Injured left hand, at that.
A loud rush of air had slipped through his teeth as he thought about his wrist. He'd hurt the bloody thing just the day before - had rammed it right into a counter and had skimmed it. While nothing serious had happened, the bandage had been needed. A skinning was always accompanied by blood - or, usually, anyway. He supposed there were exceptional incidents.
Pursing his lips at the thought, he had patted his sore wrist lightly before he had began on his way. His thoughts flying into the distance and his figure becoming oblivious, he lost what might have been considered common sense to do: Paying attention. He had nearly hit two poles outside the door within the first few seconds of being outdoors! A klutz. That was what he was - and each step he took had seemed to deliver a new hazard as his lack of attention became more dangerous. However, things were on his mind. As he strolled and caught the bus, he had only been engulfed by the possibilities of numbers and what they meant. The paper had been on his bed. It had to be his ... Or had a doctor left it by his side on accident? No. Yes. No. Yes. Reve's eyebrows had furrowed together in frustration over the ordeal - and thus they had remained the entire trip as he was encased in his own little world of questions, answers, and possibilities.
It was not until he had arrived at the designated location that he had snapped out of it. As soon as he had found the numbers 10809, and the name Old Gambino Dr., his mind had clicked. He had stood without a care over the origins of the paper, his mouth slightly open, his narrow eyes gawking. Their pale, weak green color had seemed to grow brighter - and a particular eagerness had entered his soul. With no hesitation, he had found himself seeking out the entrance. Once he had found it, his bony fingers hand touched it, as if he were preparing to go inside.
Something had stopped him, though. A shift in the breeze - a coolness to the wind. With haste, he had pulled his hood over his head, hiding the dim and faded blond hair atop his head, as well as his eyes. He had even settled his injured wrist into his coat, allowing the sleeve to dangle without a limb. When it all had been taken care of and he felt comfortable again, he had tapped the door with the fingers of his right hand and had began inside. Mustering all of his eagerness together, Reve's jaw had fallen down. Air had brushed against his vocal box, and a squeaky, stuttering voice had fallen into the world. "H-H-Hello?" He had called as he had cracked the door open and had peeked inside.
What a way to begin the day. He had his own personal mystery to solve! Then again, didn't he always? Grinning softly, he found himself dwelling over it all. Mysteries.
How he loved the great unknown.
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Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2007 9:43 pm
The place was a mess, it had been since it came into the young doctor's care. The general disctruction that comes from part of a building exploding was taken care of but the space was still raw, unfinnished and there were plenty of surplies lingering around to prove that work was being done. He was attempting to rebuild what was lost, sadly he was actually very unsure to what those things were. He found a blue print but since his degrees in history and litaerture didn't ever teach him how to read them he wasn't really sure what it meant, so he handed it off to the contracter and decided that was that.
He had more important things to do, like figure out what the hell those things were. The woman who dragged him into such an affair was...werid, and wasn't very complete when it came to details. Luckily the man who did this before was. He got a list, a long one, full of items, dates, names all seemingly random to the new owner and runner of Past Legacies Corp. There was lots of things that Ethan Reed wasn't, but he didn't shirk from his duty. And aparently Past Legacies Corp was his duty now.
Sometimes Ethan wondered if God hated him when he decided it was his task to deal with the mess. A betrayal, a bombing, a theft, a death...all happening weeks before Ethan was suddenly given the job. Needless to say he wasn't all that pleased with the mess that entered his boring but peaceful little life. Since he agreed to this mess Ethan felt like he never got peace. He often got so busy he forgot to be lonely. He already had to drop several classes he already paid for, his family wasn't too happy about that, but he really was trying to make this job work.
And part of his job was aparently meeting account owners or something like that. The list told him one was suppose to arive today. At least he thought one was suppose too. So he walked out to the front desk, looking down and realizing that he would really need a secretary for this. The old one, Veronica something, quit with the old secuirty guard....Ethan then realized he'd praobly need one of those too.
"How the hell am I suppose to afford that?" he groaned as one hand reached up to rub his forehead. Growing up sucked, he decided before he heard the doors open slowly and then a soft voice called out.
A deep flush went over his body as he realized he'd actually have to deal with a person....He was horrible at dealing with people, just another reason for a secretary...How would he get one? Oh he'd ask later....Though Ethan paled at the thought of being a boss and therefor, in charge of someone, someone who'd want a paycheck and stuff to do. Maybe it was better to just deal with the account holders.
Then Ethan looked up and saw the man.
Maybe not.
"Um...Hello." Ethan's soft voice was far from threatening, in fact if he wasn't so shy he would have become a professor, he had a calming voice, that nether put people to sleep nor kept them on edge, just relaxed them even as they eaned forward to hear more. Sadly he just had a horrible time speaking in front of an audience. "Are you here about an account?"
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 6:35 pm
The door had soon opened completely, a young man slipping inside. He appeared fragile and strange in his own right - lean and sharp, but cursed by an air that reeked of illness and sterilization. His habit of dress seemed even more childish and petty the more he would come into view. An armless sleeve to his jacket dangled like that of an amputee with no replacement; and his hood had seemed to fall further over his face as he bowed his head in seeming thought.
Not another noise was made beyond the quiet greeting he had given upon opening the doors. He had stood strangely, gawking at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world; then, gradually, his surroundings had began to sink in once again. Reve had nudged one of his sneakers into the ground before shifting his arm back into its sleeve. Shortly after, he had removed the hood from his head, thusly reveling his face. It was soft and pale, almost ghostly - even the eyes housing a particular glow that seemed almost ghastly. Even despite such paleness and such brightness, he did not seem to be a ghost, nor did he appear to be of any particular threat.
Of course he was not. Or was he? It was almost difficult to say - but, then again, was it of any real concern? Reve had simply stood there in that mundane and odd manner - occasionally jamming his sneaker lightly into the floor as if crunching the top of it into his toes. "I..." He had began, his voice trailing off as he held up the parchment he had been carrying, the one with the address and number. Carelessly, his hand had been lifted over his head and the paper had been displayed for all about to see. As Reve performed such an act, his smile and face had become less ghastly. It had seemed to fill with its own color and health - which was good. He felt warmth; that was nice.
"I found this - this morning. So those numbers ... They do belong to an account." Reve had lowered the paper. Both of his hands had gripped it, holding it in front of his face. His lips had seemed to twist, and his eyebrows had furrowed. "I don't remember ever having an account - but I don't remember a lot of things. But I'm here about this." Reve had lowered the paper, peering over it from behind. Each action he made seemed distinctly immature. He was like an elementary student, simply bigger in size! Even his expressions seemed controlled by that eagerness and quirkiness.
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 7:54 pm
Ethan stared at the man then looked back to his precious list. It seemed odd that such a weird man would be here for an account. His eyes glanced to the list and then the man again. He knew he should accept this person, after all if they have the note they must be the right person. He sent the notes who he was told to send them too. He just hoped he didn't make a mistake.
"Well...it's not you who first opens the account...I think. I'm new here." Ethan warned as one paled hand reached up to adjust his glasses so he could see the scruffy man better. He wasn't use to dealing with odd scruffy men. He was a student, the son of a very rich man, who was use to dealing with uper crust people. Why was he in charge of a weird bank that delt with all kinds? he didn't know how to handle normal people. He barely knew how to handle his kinds of people, "Accounts are opened up a long time ago, by someone in your family and when they're ready to open we here at Past Legacies Corp contact you, the most eligable of the family, to pick up the account. Now...um...I'll just give you your key."
Ethan trailed off as he realized he forgot the key. He let out a small groaned and rubbed his forehead, he wasn't very good at this yet. He sighed a bit, and looked around. Did he have anything to offer him while he waited? He'd need the guy's paper to make sure he got the right key too, damn he didn't like this.
"Um...if you could just give me the paper you recived, I'll go get your key, then lead you to the room. You know your number right?" he asked. They had to know their number, or else...something happened. Ethan didn't really know what, he hadn't done this much and when he did everyone knew their number.
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 8:19 pm
Several words had began sticking into his mind the moment Ethan had began talking. A variety of tangents had opened; rail-road tracks of thoughts had veered into their own directions and had left him with more curiosity than he had walked in with. A long time ago. Family. Most Eligible. Like flashing lights signaling an emergency, they had triggered something and he had felt a jolting sensation. It had been enough to make him nearly drop the paper he had been holding tightly with his hands.
His lips puckered somewhat, and his eyes had widened. Reve had looked from the paper to Ethan several times before lowering it entirely and staring in a rather astonished manner. A certain contemplation came to light. Should he ask? What were the odds that he would know? But, if he asked, then maybe there were an answer. The more answers he got, the better he felt - and the more chance he supposed his life would make sense. His mouth falling ajar, Reve had seemed ready to ask a question before Ethan had mentioned handing over the paper. Naturally, Reve had complied to the request. He had held the paper outward, his lips twisting and his eyes flittering about the room. When he had regained his focus, once more he found his voice wishing to find light.
"Someone ... In my family? Who? Do you know? What was their name?" Reve's thoughts had seemed to spill out, and not even for a moment did they cease - until he found himself wincing and drawing back.
"I'm sorry."
He had hunched his shoulders and began nudging the ground with his foot again. Lightly, he had chewed the inside of his cheek. "I didn't mean to ask so many questions. Number... You need a number? The one on the ... Paper? That number?"
Reve had touched his bandaged wrist with his right hand, rubbing it loosely as he tried to recall the entirety of the number. What had it been? "35-935-36. That's it. I think." Quickly he had shaken his head to himself. "It's on the paper, though. Isn't it? That one?"
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 10:50 pm
Ethan took the paper with a smile, glad to have that one thing go right...now where were the keys? They were kept in a different safe, the old securtary use to use them. Ethan really wished that he wasn't the only person working here sometime. It be nice to have someone else to trust, someone who actually knew how things worked. With a small sigh the man started to turn...when he was brombarded with questions.
"Um...Sir...I don't actually know. I just got this place a few weeks ago and am going off what some girl told me. I don't know anything about the history of this place but I do know that this account was made a while ago, decades, perhaps centries, depends on the account, so I doubt even the pervious owner would know." Though Ethan had no idea just how much the pervious owner knew.
"Look Sir? I need to get your key, I'll be right back with it, okay? Just make sure that you remember your number. You'll need it to get your heirloom." Ethan warned before slipping down the hall. After going into a few odd rooms whose purpose he hadn't figured out yet he finally found what he was looking for, the key vault. He quickly found the right key and slipped out again, returning to the odd man with the million questions and quick apologies.
"Here you go, um, Obscenity, your key." Ethan said quietly, handing the man the wine bottle opener. It wasn't an obvious key but Ethan realized that the keys didn't need to be obvious to be keys, not here at least. It was almost interesting, if he wasn't dealing with people and trying to figure out a half explained job.
"Now if you would just follow me...oh...and I'm Ethan, Ethan Reed." he introduced himself, putting out a hand as he blushed. He should have done this as soon as the man walked in but he got distracted. God he was no good at this stuff. He wished he could go back to talking to no one and studing for tests. At least then he knew what he had to do. "And what was your name? I don't believe I caught it."
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 11:13 pm
Were he to tell himself that he were not disappointed with the response, he would have been lying to himself. Such questions to spring into his mind, They had been enticing and almost relaxing. He knew so little about himself or his family. In fact, the only thing he rightfully recalled was that his last name were Walter and that a claim for refuge had been filed several years into the past. Refuge. How silly a word? Yet it was the truth.
Reve had seemed to sink as he had listened to Ethan's words. Eventually he had let it all go with an inaudible murmur of an apology towards himself and towards Ethan for having bombarded him. He had repeated it - for the third time - when he had finally ended it entirely and had focused on the business matters. A key. The man would be going to get him a key - for his account - or what he suspected was his account - or at least that of someone from the past.
Feebly, he had smiled when the man had returned and handed the key over to him. The name, however, had brought a chill down his spine. Obscenity? What name was that for a key - or for anything? The obscene were not often desirable. To make the matter even more strange, the 'key' was nothing more than a cork with a twisted piece of metal sticking out of it. Whoever had invented such a key must have been bored, creative, and mad. Perhaps they had even been a mixture of them all?
"What a weird key..." Shaking his head, he had brushed off the concern over the state of the key and had held it, enclosed, in his good hand. All the while he had listened and taken in the sounds. Before he knew it, a hand had been extended towards him. A name had been given.
Was he receiving a formal introduction?
His good hand filled, Reve had cautiously maneuvered his left, wincing a little as the wrist shifted for the hand shake. Several moments of solitude had seemed to pass, as if he were trying to think of what his own name were.
"Uhm... Reve. Walter. Reve Walter." He had spoken in a certain manner, even giving a firm nod after declaring his identity. "That's my name."
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Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 11:07 pm
Ethan nodded slowly, wondering why the man was so odd about his family. Was it possible that he was adopted? Even then it could have been his adopted family. Ethan honestly didn't know so he just backed off from that topic. He wasn't good with families. His own was stiffly formal family didn't make him an expert on the problems or the joys of families. He lacked both he found.
"Yes, well keys here aren't normal. Nether is accounts, or what's in them." Etha admited, rubbing the back of his head as he sighed a little. "You aren't gonna get money, just so you know, but an heirloom. Anyway, please, follow me." Ethan suggested as he moved down the hallway.
He glanced over his shoulder once to make sure he was followed then walked down the hall. The signs of construction was everywhere, though no contruction workers or equipment could be seen anywhere. Ethan mummbled something about the work but it couldn't be made out as he lead him into a back room. A room that looked like a cross between a bank heist movie vault and an intergation room.
Ethan was terrfied to change it.
"Anyway, um...see this is where you put in your code. When you're done putting in your number, an account should come out, if you put it in right. I...don't really know what happens if it's wrong...But I suggest we don't find out. Um, good luck. The account shoud come from there." Ethan pointed to a drawer in the wall as he turned back to Reve. "Uhhh, well, I think that's all. When you get your account, just come back though the door. There are some...things....I will need to tell you, after you have your account."
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Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2007 5:02 pm
Family. The very prospect of information filled Reve with excitement and hope. Never a day went by when he did not wonder about them. What were his parents' names? What did they look like? How did they smell? How did they act? Such details of his life had grown to a mysterious blur, along with the list of contacts he may have utilized, if there were such contacts in existence. Life was an endless haze of fog - occasionally riddled with those depressing moments of solitude and wonder over what life had been like before he had awoken that one morning.
Oh, how he did not want to recall that morning. It brought a chill to his spine thinking about it. A cold, crisp day in the late winter. He could remember feeling numb and sick; the noises and movements all around him had seemed frantic - and then he had fallen asleep, only to wake up in that hard bed without an idea of anything.
That morning. Everything had faded into oblivion when he had opened his eyes, except for that one little sketch and sliver of recollection of what he had been doing prior to it all, and of whatever he had been dealing with. He had been so small. Sometimes he wondered if he remembered it all correctly - but, certainly, he remembered it.
Unfortunately, that had never brought him any real solace, nor had it ever answered the hundreds of questions and problems he felt within his own heart. No one spoke to him about such things. He assumed they did not know - and, in that respect, it was his duty alone to find whatever he wanted to know. However, that required patience, and work, and finding any hints and clues. He wasn't good at such things. He simply didn't know where to start!
Yet, something interesting had just occurred - he was certain - and he could fiddle along the lines and appease this heirloom and key he had come into contact with. Who knew? Maybe having something attached to his name, if it truly were, would trigger further back into his mind.
Reve found himself in a situation of faux satisfaction. He smiled, he seemed perfectly fine, but the truth of the matter was that he had suddenly found himself nervous. Ethan's words had began to reach him; his brain slowly inhaling their sounds.
He had given a half confident nod before thinking back to the number. He needed to get it right. He had to have the number right - or else something would happen - and neither of them had any idea as to what it would be. A soft, quivering breath had been taken in. "I won't put it in wrong. Okay. I've got it." He had spoken before forcing himself to give a wide smile.
With those words uttered, Reve had gone towards the drawer in the wall. His fingers had seemed to twitch on his left hand, itching to move. He had, begrudgingly, allowed them to partake in the task, maneuvering them with great hesitation and care.
"35.", He had began inputting the number, muttering them to himself all the while. "935..." His eyebrows had furrowed. What had been the last set of letters? What? Grinding his sneaker into the floor once again, he had leaned back. A clicking noise had been made with his tongue. "36."
And with such numbers set, he had stood, hoping he were correct.
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Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2007 10:03 pm
Ethan had escaped the room a little after telling Reve what to do. He knew that it was for the account holder to handle. He waited outside the door, moving to the side as he steped up to the twoway mirror. It fit with the interegration room feel that the lifeless account room had. He watched though, as the young man put in his code. Ethan relaxed to realize nothing would go wrong today, at least...nothing yet.
Inside the room the drawer that Ethan had pointed too opened with mechanical percision. Inside was a box, simple and old, made of wood and etched with gold lettering that bore the same information on his tiny slip of paper, expect for the PLC address. The account number and the key's name were stamped on a box looking old enough to be completely hand made. Not because it was important or alot of money was put into it but because it came from a time when things were just hand made.
The box had an interesting lock on the front, tarnished gold with a twist hole instead of a key hole. It seemed a person would have to push in the key in, twisiting it till it came unlocked. The box itself seemed very unimportant, but what rested inside...well what rested inside was a legacy and Ethan hoped that the young Reve would be able to accept what he was about to be given.
It wasn't a gift, Ethan knew that, it was a bargin, give this person a second life and get a second chance for yourself as well. He had seen such odd people come about here, and so many of them would get the oddest rewards from there legacies. Ethan wondered what Reve would get and he wondered how long it take to recive.
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Posted: Sun Aug 12, 2007 11:30 am
An uneasy feeling had settled within his chest as the drawer had opened. With little control, he had covered his mouth and coughed for a short while, the fit shaking his shoulders and leaving him gasping for a breath once it had passed him. The action had been mundanely average, and Reve had treated it as so. His quivering hands had rubbed against his hooded jacket, discarding any liquid fluid that they may have contracted during the escapade. Something had caused him to cease such and ... unorthodox and insanitary practice. His eyes had locked onto the wooden box; for a moment he had become a stiff statue, his body locking in the way of a deer who had been caught under the beam of a flashlight.
Quietness had surrounded him as he had gazed at the old fashioned article with minor intrigue. The golden lettering on the box had reminded him of a familiarity, though he had been incapable of placing precisely what that familiarity were. Because of such a thing, he had spent longer watching the box than he had touching it or doing anything else. When he had worked up the courage to wrap his hands around it and hold it, he had even gone so far as to trace the little letters of the name of the key and the account number. Reve's motions had been fluid and observant throughout the entire ordeal. Like a jeweler presented with a rare find, he had scrutinized every aspect of the box that he could. Despite its uninteresting nature, he had seemed fascinated by it. Perhaps it was merely the texture? Or perhaps he had a silent obsession with boxes. Individuals had always been graced with awkward fascinations. Some people collected bottle caps. Other collected stamps. It was not unreasonable that someone such as Reve would possibly be interested in the idea of collecting boxes.
However, that had not been the case at all. The texture, on the other hand, had been the sudden cause. Reve's fingers had trailed along the outlines of the box. He had been speechless and occupied for well over a minute. Then, with sudden, unprovoked dedication, he had given the attention to the key he had previously been handed. The jagged blade and the cork seemed an unlikely thing to use to unlock a box. He wasn't certain he believed it to be possible, though his imagination had run wild with the idea. After all, the drawer had opened - and, out of the blue, he had found a note to declare ownership belonging to himself - when, for years, he had heard so very little about himself. His face had twisted uncomfortably over the misgivings and facts. A sloppy step had been taken backwards as he had attempted to cram the key into the lock.
It was a misfortune that Reve seemed to lack common sense or thought. The action of unlocking the box had taken him considerable effort. Each tick of a clock brought that cramming motion of habit - until some unknown force had possessed him to attempt turning it like a door knob after settling it inside. His fingers had quivered weakly as he had gripped the cork and twisted repeatedly. Now and again, he would find himself biting the inside of his cheek out of frustration over the ordeal. It seemed harder than it needed to be, and he couldn't begin to explain why.
"Why won't it...?" He had whispered to himself. Once again, his body had become loose - though no motion had been displayed as fluid. He had stopped all together and had resumed that seemingly habitual tendency of staring. A loud and tired breath had befallen him in the form of a sigh. An air of melancholy had taken hold of his atmosphere and left him disheartened. For the longest of time, nothing had happened between himself, the key, and the box - as if a feud had left each of them exhausted with one another.
In that meek manner, he had taken a step backwards. His feet had abruptly paused, causing him to lean back on his heels as he had twisted the key a little more only to have the jolted feeling of success encompass his sickly figure.
The box had opened!
Without a moment's hesitation, Reve had seemed to brighten. He had opened the thing quickly, his fingers methodically following the guidelines of children at Christmas time. When the contents had been reveled, however, he was left confused and enticed. An eerily old bottle of liquid had stared him in the face; its glossy, green texture reflecting a distorted view of the inside of the box beyond the luxurious blue label. There was an expensive and spectacular feel to the bottle itself, though it hardly appeared to be of value on its own. It had sank in, and Reve had felt an odd emotion about the particular title of the drink. Chardene.
The young man's eyebrows had knitted together as he had surveyed the label, reading the faded text with an obsessive quality. Chardene. Saint Kelly Anne. 1899. It seemed ancient! He could scarcely believe a liquid could last so long, particularly when there appeared to be no cap covering the top.
"That's old." He had found himself commenting as he reached into the box to grab the bottle by the neck. Instantly, he had jerked his hand away and decided against it. The object appeared fragile. Reve had no desire to risk breaking it, particularly when it provoked a familiar, yet hazy, recollection. In an idle manner, Reve had mouthed the name several times, turning to leave the room without a moment's thought when he had collected himself.
The stranger he had encountered had mentioned needing to talk about something. Naturally, Reve's mind had jumped from topic to topic, his interest in the bottle's title clinging only as he recited it as a quiet mantra - as if he were summoning something. "Chardene. Chardene. Chardene." He had murmured. "Chardene. Chardene. Chardene?"
A frustrated, low growl had emerged as he had shaken his head. Nothing had conjured other than the vague feeling of security he felt in saying the title and looking at it. In that respect, he had continued to echo it like a parrot as he had exited the room through the appointed doors. Almost as if he had never been angry with himself to begin with, he had become giddy - a certain, quirky skip to his walk.
The bliss of youthful tendencies - but the danger of a haphazard motion. The young man had nearly dropped the possession. Through a stroke of luck, his arms had managed to catch it before it could fall too far. Because of the motion, he had nearly arched over. His back had stood out in the manner of a hump, his head had seemingly disappeared behind it, and his hair had become a further mess than before. The blond curls had tangled and scattered into his face, hiding his eyes even after he had straightened and heaved a sigh of great relief.
"That one was close! One more second and it would have hit the floor!"
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Posted: Tue Aug 14, 2007 11:54 am
Ethan waited quietly outside the twoway mirror, watching as Reve fiddled with the lock. He smiled softly as he saw the young man struggle with the odd key. Ethan never seen such locks before this but it wasn't his job to care much, at least it lowers the chances for accounts to be stolen. Ethan sighed as he looked over to the contruction area. It didn't stop one man from trying. Ethan sighed as he rubbed the back of his head and then turned as Reve walked out.
When he stumbled Ethan was already rushing forward to grab the bottle, heart jumping as he could see the bottle landing, shattering, destorying, murdering. But the bottle was caught and Ethan let out a large sigh before straighting in an attempt to look dignifed and disaproving, just like his father managed to do when ever he made a mistake. Ethan didn't quite pull it off well.
"Well...um, you should be more careful with that. It's more than just a old bottle." Ethan said as he nodded down the hallway again and he lead the man into a small office where he kept all the information left to him by Prosper. He shuffled though his desk, then found it, the paper work the man would need to sign.
"Now um, I should tell you, that this heirloom isn't just a bottle with some liquid in it, it's a treasure, a gift from someone a member in your family met and recived this from. Attached to this bottle is a soul, a soul wanting a second change, a legacy waiting to be reborn. Here I will need to mark down a name for your child and will need you to sign this paper saying you accept all legal and fincal responblity to care for this child. If you don't want the child we will take him and the key back till we can find another candiate who will." Please don;t reject it, I don't have any paper work on that.
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Posted: Tue Aug 28, 2007 4:43 pm
He had only given a quirky smile at the warning over being more careful. Immature delight had sparkled in his eyes as he had held the thing, occasionally still looking it over as it he expected to find something in the label. "Chardene." He had murmured. In the same manner, he had repeated the name several times over before his eyebrows had been settled together in frustration. "Chardene. Chardene."
The familiarity received no placement - and, before he could begin to ask, he had noticed Ethan having departed. Nervously, he had grasped his belongings. His feet had pattered against the ground. Not a moment of time had been wasted in scampering after the other individual, though Reve's head had consistently reeled around in observation as he was led elsewhere.
Entering an office was not a new experience. Regardless, the young man had treated it as such. His eyes had darted to the left and right as if analyzing everything. A chill had run up his spine and he had backed away for whatever reason, taking the initiative to pull the hood of his jacket back over his head. One arm had cradled his newly obtained articles, the other had focused on holding the hood down over his face as if he were embarrassed over something or another.
It had subsided quickly - fortunately. He had tilted the hood up; strands of soft blond hair had trickled into his face has he had careened his neck in a confused manner. Ethan's words were cryptic and uncertain when Reve attempted to take them in. Everything he uttered made sense, but it was unusual to hear. A soul in a bottle meant that he was coming into the possession of a...t?
"You mean a genie is in this thing?" He had blurted out stupidly. His eyes had widened; his figure had straightened, and he had seemed to smile in earnest. "Those really exist? Someone actually left me one? But I don't remember. Why would...?" Reve's vocals had seemed to heighten and fall at a surprising rate before it had all died down with the discussion of legal concepts. If there was one thing that he could never understand, it was mention of legal responsibility and consent. Such concepts were often left to be explained to him in simpler terms.
Sign this: it's just authorization for something you need.
On such a precedent, he had not known how to react. Further, he had been offered a choice over whether or not he wanted to sign the document and care for ... a genie?
Reve's face had twisted awkwardly. He had seemed to shuffle in an uncomfortable manner, a noise escaping his throat as if to display some for of vexation. Genie. Child. Child? Clicking his tongue, Reve had suddenly cast the thoughts away. Without any forethought or reasoning, he had shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the desk as if he expected Ethan to write a scribble mark of a signature that would later be noted as Reve's. It happened consistently.
He'd never really signed a paper completely on his own. "Uhm... Name? Don't genies already have names? Is its name Child?" He had continued before leaning back on his heels sloppily. His eyes had shut. For a moment, he had seemed to become blank, lifeless - expressionless. "That's a really bad name for someone to have. Like Kid or Person."
The life had returned to his face as he had set the items down on the desk, grasping a pen he had found and reaching to grab the paperwork. All the while he had continued talking in gibberish and spontaneous focus. "I'd hate to have a name like that. It'd be easier to remember than mine, but it's so short. But I know something easier that sounds better that Child. Autumn. Autumn is..." His lips had puckered for a moment. "After Summer. It's nice in Autumn."
The pen had hovered over the paper prior to pressing against it, where he had drawn a shaky line. Did he know how to write? What did the first letter of his name look like? Reve had licked his lower lip before attempting to proceed. "I don't have to ... Come back here every ... Two weeks?" He had asked, his voice uncertain of the matter. After several attempts at trying to continue and write an R, Reve had simply made wild scribble marks before tossing the pen down and covering his eyes with the palm of a hand.
He simply couldn't remember how to write.
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Posted: Thu Aug 30, 2007 12:25 pm
Ethan stared at the man a bit warily. He didn't seem entirely right in the head, and once again Ethan wished he knew why certian people were chosen but he couldn't argue it. With a small sigh Ethan nodded vaugly as he looked over the paper work he had to fill out.
"It's not a genine...It's something completely different. And it's not a genie named Child, this heirloom, this bottle, will become a child, when the time is right. It's just a soul right now, a soul locked into the object. When the soul is healthy enough it will manifest itself into a baby. The baby, the child, lacks a name currently, though if you want, you can name him, for the child is a boy, Autumn. It's up too you." Ethan tried to remain calm, and sound...in charge.
He was worried though, he was hesitating with writing his name and with how he was acting Ethan was begining to doubt it even be a good idea for him to have the child. He seemed...a little unbalenced to Ethan's eyes. Still, the one who built this place...he seemed like he knew what he was doing. And he seemed to know everything. So Ethan followed along, and hoped for the best.
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