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"Their world is in your blessed hands; do what you please with it, for, it is what free will grants us. However, like with all great power, there is a cost. Though, that is not for you to find out yet..."

The voice was faint but it rang true in all the ears of the collectors. Good or bad, these men and women had their minds entangled with the echo of this seemingly ethereal being. They over looked it though, thinking that it was only them slowly losing their minds; the normal people...the excepted people told them that was the case.

Though, what is it? This surge of power that overcomes one when they bless a falling being...it calls at them...wanting them to find all the power of their world.

Character Skeleton

Rules

1. Idlemess is in charge.
2. No God-Modding
3. PM Idlemess the profiles and have them titled "Ava Mi"
4. Be literate, also, try to be as descriptive as you can. Not Jack London descriptive but explain where you are and what you are doing well.
5. Being active is actually kinda needed for this rp; if you can't be active please don't join.
6. this is rule number 7, what is rule number 7? 7 is a nice number though. (lmao..fail)
7. romance is love ,love is romance...kinda, i love you all so have fun.
8. Drama encouraged...just don't get soapy or ghetto about it.
9. Rules can be changed, just keep that in mind.
10. If you have read these rules put "Ava Mori" in your profile you send me.
11. Of course you have to follow the rules given by Gaia Online.

In the fog, there was Rastafarian man with dreadlocks that were filled with dirt and matted against his scalp. His cloths were dirty and old, fitting for an homeless man who hadn't seen the wonders of a bath in five years. In his hands, there was a equally ruined trumpet, it was pressed against his mouth with him buzzing mellowed dissonant tones of jazz scales into the thick darkening cloud. Beside him, sitting on his trumpet case, sat a old Asian woman.

The features of her face seemed distorted at a distance, as if her face was filled with a strange void. Up close however, it was easy to see that she was an elderly Asian woman who dressed neatly compared to the Rasta man standing near her.

"So, we finally decided to see who these people are." The woman said through lowly tunes of his trumpet.

He pulled his lips from the warm mouth piece, as he did so, the fog near them began to slowly fade. Looking at her, the man spoke in his thick Caribbean accent, "I know, I took a bit of time before I could believe all of it was beginning. That these new kids comin' in actually get a chance to do somethin'. We...we just got to sit around and watch us all die off slowly. Now look at us two...the last left--old and weaken."

"It's quite saddening isn't it?" She frowned at the end of the thought then closed her eyes. At the moment of her sending herself into a suspended darkness, her screams left to the other candidates.

****

The scream was scratching and strapping Ava's mind when she woke that faithful morning. Her hand reached for her alarm cloak but she realized that there wasn't one on her dresser. A normal occurrence for her since she was something of a ditsy girl. A girl who lacked appropriate common sense to react to situations in the right manner. It seemed that it was common for her to lose a good sense of her place; and its something she got good at blaming on her mother for. Groaning, she launched herself from her bed in only her panties.

"What the ******** is this!" She cried out, stomping her way into her bathroom. The screaming was still there slowly sending a message into Ava's head but she was being to stuck up to pay attention to it. When she made it to the bathroom, she switched on the light. The reflection of her half naked self greeted her coldly with red eyes that glared back at her from her medicine cabinet mirror.

"Hi b***h." She greeted herself before quickly ripping open her medicine cabinet. Inside, it was a candy store of medical supplies--mostly morphine, vicodin, and strong cough syrups. Her remedy of choice this morning happened to be morphine. Taking a vial of the tonic into her hand, she shook it tactfully...as if she was doing the right amount of shakes for her perfect martini. Afterward, she reached for a needle to set it on the counter. Finally, through the tedious headache, she paused and finally caught on to the message that had been screaming in her mind for at least a good minute.

"Your purpose waits for you in the fog..."

Ava's ears twitched and her entire body froze. She couldn't deny the fact that she had heard this voice before; it was the same damn voice that pushed her to watch her mother die. The one that convinced her into the obsession that caused her to go into nursery instead of following her mother's path. The same damn voice that made her into the girl she hated seeing in the morning. Scolding the thoughts, she quickly ran back into her bedroom to put on something to wear. When she finished, she was dressed in a plain lavender tank top with a black hooded coat over it, dark blue jeans and black boots. Once she was out the door, she hopped into her year 2000 silver Mitsubishi and turned on news radio to find out where fog was, though she could see it in the distance from where her apartment was. It wouldn't be long before she would arrive.

****

"It's only a matter of time before they come," The old woman said breaking her trance. "You ready to die, Aaron?"

Eli’s eyes opened slowly, his face displayed the discomfort of night’s sleep on the hard cold pavement and stomach growled after the second morning without food. He sat silently while he tried to piece together the dream that woke him earlier than usual. He stood, gathered the shirt he rolled to serve as a pillow and the curtain he slept on, shoved the filthy items into his backpack, and carefully scoped the area to plan his escape.

He had to be especially cautious because it was school time and he could be easily mistaken for a rebellious teen skipping class and doing god knows what. Under the cover of the fog he sneaked in between buildings and behind restaurants in hopes of finding food or other useful items that would insure he would live another day free from the horrible foster home system.

After thirty minutes of unsuccessful scavenging, the pain in Eli’s stomach began to intensify. He was reluctant, but he thought it was necessary to contact the number scribbled on the back of a torn piece of a bag from a local restaurant that he recovered from deep inside his stuffed pockets. Instead, he folded the scrap and placed it back into his right pocket and walked deeper into the fog. “I need some money,” he sighed looking at the shoes that were falling apart and ached his feet occasionally, “A promise is a promise granny.”

The wheels spun through the pavement, weaving and whirling through the morning traffic toward the port. The radio was tuned to the news, the mundane yet calming voices of the reporters gave all the latest on the conditions of the city; murders; thefts; home invasion; dense port fog. Ava's ears tuned out the woman in her mind for a moment to listen.

"It seems there's an odd occurrence coming off of the sea; a dense fog has limited all visibility in that area to near zero." The male reported.

"Yes, Bob, and to our surprise, this has been recorded to have happened before. In 1897, thirty sailors disappeared and where never found again when the fog appeared suddenly in that same harbor. Folklore went on to call it an act of the devil--"

"Well, let's hope this isn't Satan coming to devour us all." The male joked before going onto the local sports.


Ava was staring at her self in the rear view mirror with her fingers tracing the black cross tattooed on the nape of her neck. She wondered whether or not she was what her mother called her as a child. A little devil; a little pig. Sighing, she watched the red light turn to green; stepping on the peddle, the car accelerated through traffic. Five minutes later, she arrived about a block away from a police barricade. Instinctively, she turned down the next street to park her car. Ava didn't want to have anything to do with the cops, nothing at all. There was morphine on her, along with a bit of sleeping and pain pills...a lovely cocktail. Even more, she also had an unregistered pistol on her person.

Stepping out of the car, she slide through the back alleys of all the warehouses around until she had a clear sprint into the fog. Ava's run was slow since she wasn't the most athletic thin girl but more so a thin one who was always strung out on something. Nonetheless, she was moving better than she normally did. It was definitely the determination biting her in the a** causing that lump in her throat to grow and adrenaline to roll through her veins. It wasn't long before she'd arrive; she could swear that distant and dissonant sounds of an instrument were playing somewhere in the muck of fog.

****

"Nora, two of them are close now." Aaron said breaking his playing for a brief moment before continuing.

Nora stood from the trumpet case with her bones cracking and popping as she rose. She placed her old wrinkled hand on her face and proceeded to begin ripping at her skin. It peeled off like an orange and underneath the fresh vibrant skin of a young Asian woman came to be. Slowly, the fog surrounded her body ripping away the clothes and skin of an old woman to make the body and attire of a young chic lady.

Aaron smiled from the sides of his lips at the sight of his good friend looking as she did when they first came upon this place. It was good memory but a sad one as well. All in all though, they were ready for the end to come. Like the old man was for his own.

“Elijah.....Elijah”. Eli continued walking aimlessly going deeper and deeper into the fog. He learned to ignore the voices of his dead relatives, especially the one that belonged to his mother. In the past whenever he heard the voices of his mother and sister he would be overwhelmed with a sudden sadness and would immediately run into the arms of his loving grandmother. With his granny gone, he had no time for crying he had to remain as stoic as possible to avoid attention. “Gehen Sie in den Nebel tiefer,” his mother called out to him. “Ummm okay mother,” he chuckled, “I have no choice but to go deeper in the fog the whole d**m city is under it.”

He walked onto one of the main streets to go to one of his favorite hideaways, but his usually calm domineer turned into panic when he saw the police placing a barricade to block future oncoming traffic. “F**k,” he said almost inaudibly before he broke out into a sprint the way he came. He dodged obstacles and avoided contact with people to maintain his smooth youthful speed, but the pains from the hunger interfered and soon slowed him to a stop. “Aber passen Sie auf, vertrauen Sie nicht, dass alle die, die Sie sich treffen,” he heard while he tried to gather his breath. One hand on his chest to feel his rapid heart movement and the other arm dangling feely , barely attached to his emaciated shoulder he hid behind a old brick wall hoping no one was after him. “Don’t trust those you meet?” he asked expecting his mother to answer back. A long silence followed and Eli stood straight and fixed the newly torn bag he wore on his back.“Bumsen!” he cursed loudly at the new discovery.

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to use bad words little one?’’ He was alarmed be the presence of another person but soon composed himself when he saw it was just another black and white person. After his grandmother death he started seeing these people everywhere. Souls that remained on earth, that wasn’t blessed or was misused by their owners. He tried to ignore the man like he did the hundreds of other people he encountered but he stopped to hear the warning from the concerned spirit. “Be careful little one,” the soul advised, “I lost my life walking down this same path in the same dense fog. Those two are deadly…”

With his tired green eyes Eli continued walking holding his bag carefully to prevent the content from seeping out. “I’ve seen a lot of people, but that’s the first time I saw a sailor” he said under his breath hoping the stranger didn’t respond. Soon the further and further he walked the louder and clearer the sounds of an out of tune jazz trumpet got. “Man I hope this guy has some food…and is willing to share” he thought holding his ripped bag and empty stomach. “I don’t think I can go another day.”