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Vast intertwining streets circle through the density of Nilfheim. Though many contain unattainable or restricted areas, these are where some of the major action occurs. One won't need to go far to see a robbery taking place or the occasional celebration. Irony is thick in the air and brawls are more than likely to be taken here than elsewhere. These streets are also known for their diminishing condition. They're worn down and seem to be quite old.

This is the bridge of Nilfheim, where a single street will take you anywhere within the city... anywhere you're supposed to be, anyway.

Important Notes

-This is a very simple role play area and is designed to be the first for the sake of having a place to congregate.

-The streets are ridden with the air of peasantry. Wealth is unlikely and though there are many convenient stores lining them, business seems slow.

-This is the centrefold of gang activity in the evening where fights or arrests are constantly being made.

-Anything goes here, but if a character is seen weapon-drawn, they'll likely be arrested by the Virulent Society's elite police officers who are on constant patrol for any disturbing activities.

A flutter of stale wind blew languidly throughout the mongrel streets of the northernmost junction, before the streets yielded at a giant, highly guarded wall. Beyond this concoction of concrete and barbed wire lived a rare few who, by trickery or by incredible luck, managed to scale the proverbial steps out of poverty and find themselves on the lavished stoop of the wealthy--- the Virulent Society. The stoop could not exist without certain "protection" from the "underlings" that constantly threatened to taint its purity with their ragged, greasy, corrupting claws; so the wall was built all about the perimeter of the elegeant residences as a bulwark against the infinite, ever-fluxing tides of filth.

It is with this contempt that all members of the Society choose to view the bourgeoise that crunch under their feet as they step through life as though waltzing in the clouds. Life is by no means difficult for these individuals; they might as well be dancing while the majority of the battered world crumbles under the weight of chaos. But the Virulent Society's dance could be the only thing holding the world together. According to the Society's philosophy, if it were not for their fortune to look up to, the rest of the world would see no reason why it should not degrade back in the primitive, barbaric lifestyles of precivilization.

Or at least, that is what Kirjio Merita thinks. He walked slowly along the inside of the giant, bare wall, thinking idly of its purpose, of what it could be, at this very moment, protecting him from. Reprobates? Mutants? Perhaps that wily Shiragiku gang, if they thought it would be to their advantage to storm the magnificient mansions that festooned the protected streets.

Kirjio smiled and stroked a dejected looking cat that lay rather frumpled atop his head. He said wordlessly: "I am curious as to what goes on betwixt the Shiragiku, Ephemir. There must be something interesting and to my advantage in the decadence. Go now and find out something useful."

The cat stood slowly and leaped gracefully to the ground from Kirjio's broad shoulders. It glanced back at Kirjio's proud face and with an air of learned helplessness, trotted to the edge of the wall, where it faded into insubstantiality.

Hugging his thick velvet clock tightly around him, Kirjio sat beside the wall and closed his eyes. The contented look he donned would have fooled any aristocratic passerbys into thinking he was simply enjoying the beautiful day inside the atrium of prestige. What Kirjio was really doing was staying as close as he could to Ephemir, waiting for him to return. The farther Ephemir got, the harder it would be for Kirjio's soul to stay repressed inside his body.

Ephemir floated idly along, not in any rush to satisfy his mistress's demands and getting a sort of revenge from making her wait for him to come back. That'll teach her, he thought, but what it taught her exactly he couldn't quite say. Instead, he let the winds berate him and, careening against their breezey battery, he ended up near the four Shiragiku members entirely by chance. What unfortunate luck. Perhaps he'd return to Kirjio sooner than he'd hoped.

Or not. The four of them were walking---strutting, rather--- through the streets they must have felt they owned, though it was common knowledge that the Virulent Society owned all there was in Nilfheim and more. Ephemir followed them easily, invisible and weightless as he was. He only wished the humans could sense him, maybe help him. Perhaps they would even save him from Kirjio.

The four of them kept walking, crushing Ephemir's foolish hopes that these might be the ones to notice him and find him floating along, his face, once a passionately beautiful flower, now wilted from horrid neglect and exploitation. He sighed. At least they hadn't done anything worthy of him noting. Mayhaps it would be a while before he returned after all. That heightened his mood a bit and he scooted closer to the group, seeking to ward away the cold of ostracization that had been his only company for so long.

Ephemir halted along with the others, except rather than acting casual--he didn't need to since nobody could see him-- he peered closely at the leader of the four, Hakuma's, face. He had it tilted upwards towards the heavens where Ephemir dare not look, lest a horrible pang of misery wrack his gossamer body and have him sobbing ghost tears on the ground. When the sun punched a hole through the smoggy remains of a sky and cast its triumphant, smiling rays upon the inhabitants of Nilfheim, Ephemir saw Hakuma's eyes turn purposefully towards him and in that instant, Ephemir felt more than knew that Hakuma had seen him. He had seen him!

In an instant, Ephemir was before Hakuma, waving his arms madly and shouting as loud as he could. Did Hakuma's eyes follow his movements? Did he hear his voice? Ephemir tried as hard as he could to be egregious, but it to no avail. It must have only been in that one moment because Hakuma's eyes now gazed right through him. They glanced over him, ricochetted off of his form onto something more real, something more important. Ephemir was only far too used to that treatment. He got it even then from Hakuma's cronies. But Ephemir remembered that for one instant, Hakuma saw him! This simple thought caused him to feel a warmth in his soul for the very first time since Kirjio stole his body. The warmth of hope.

Ephemir stayed close in front of Hakuma from that point onward, hoping that he would perhaps see him or hear him again. Even when one of his companions (Kouji, was it?) was sent to the wall before the Society's entrance, Ephemir stayed despite the fact he should have followed him.

But this man, this leader Hakuma, gave Ephemir hope, upon which he fed ravenously like a person in a desert oasis.

Hakuma's eyes flickered over to Ephemir several more times and each time he nearly swooned with joy. It proved Hakuma knew he was there and it was just a matter of time before he acknowledged him. Eagerly awaiting that moment, Ephemir followed them straight to the ramen shop, where he floated in front of Hakuma, despite any physical obtrusions that may have gotten in his way were he anything more than a floating ghost.

Back inside the Virulent Society, Kirjio was still nestled tightly in her cloak by the wall, enjoying the stasis of Ephemir's solid body despite the sunshine. It was always the perfect temperature. Keeping his eyes firmly closed, Kirjio thought to herself. She knew that her eyes were changing now, fading to a darker red rather than their normal orange. It would be more noticeable the farther Ephemir drifted away. She could feel him pulling from her. Soon she'd have to yank him back lest he travel beyond safe boundries of their bond and cause the horns hidden beneath the rogueish bandana she wore to poke through, not to mention the tail.

Just as she thought this, a couple out for a stroll in the rare sunlight stopped before her. She did not open her eyes, but judged by their voices that they were Mr. and Mrs. Hurzt, two prominent members who had just recently joined the Society. Apparently, they had connections to the Shiragiku, but whether it be their choice or not was still an object of curiousity.

"My, my." said Mrs. Hurzt in her characteristically thick German accent. "What do we have here?"

"Appears to be Mr. Merita sitting idly all by himself. Why, a strong man like him deserves some company!" replied her equally thick accented husband.

"I'm fine, thank you," said Kirjio. "I'm just resting. Enjoying the weather."

"Yes. So are we. Decided to take advantage of the sun." said Mr. Hurzt.

An awkward silence fell. Kirjio had no desire to talk to this couple and she was certain they simply wanted to goad information out of her. Sure enough, a few seconds later Mrs. Hurzt asked, "So have you heard about the new advancements in the Shiragiku's territory, Kirjio?"

Kirjio had known about this for some time, and she was certain that the couple knew this. They were trying to lure her into telling them something new.

"What? You kid. I had no idea," responded Kirjio casually. "What? Where?"

"Apparently that scuffle from two weeks ago in the West Junction sect of Nilfheim was a territorial battle. The Shiragiku claimed it of course. I wonder what they could be up?"

"You tell me, Mr. Hurzt. I don't know any more than you do."

"Ah, but you must! I overheard you talking with Germaine on the matter, Kirjio. Forgive me for eavesdropping, but you seem to have information coming from the horse's very mouth! I--I mean, the Society--can't have you spouting private information about the Shiragiku like that. Some members depend on the Shiragiku's plans to be top secret in order for certain...transactions to take place. Surely you know this." said Mr. Hurzt.

Suddenly Kirjio had an idea. Of course she had spoken of the secret Shiragiku West Junction attack wiith Germaine, who was attributed to the L'odieux, but this sort of doubledealing was common place with Kirjio. Often, members of the Virulent Society attained their status through associations with the gangs. Kirjio managed to take advantage of these member's dependancies, thanks to Ephemir, by giving them information that would otherwise be unknown, thus helping or hindering the gang's plan in one way or another and affecting that person's status with the gang respectively. In Germaine's case, her status with the L'odieux would be lower than the filth on their diminishing territory.

Kirjio smiled at the thought.

"Well, Mr. Hurtz," said Kirjio, "it just so happens that I could keep my mouth shut...for a favor, of course. As you know, I am a top executive in the genetics department. You are on favorable terms with the Shiragiku. Perhaps you could obtain some...willing test subjects from the likes of them. Tell them we are conducting physical enhancements. That should capture their interests. If you do this, I will certainly keep my mouth closed on the Shiragiku's next movements."

"Done." said Mr. Hurzt. "Me and Matilda will ask them tonight."

"Which is when their next raid is going to be, I hear," said Kirjio. Mr. and Mrs. Hurzt exchanged a glance.

"Yes," said Mrs. Hurzt. "It is."

"Then you better reach the leader before then. I need able bodies for the experiments, not wounded ones."

"Yes. Yes we will. Come, Matilda." said Mr. Hurzt. The two of them hurried away, gazing back at Kirjio, whose eyes were still closed, with a look of fear. Once their footsteps died away, Kirjio allowed herself a laugh. She imagined the thoughts running through their heads when she announced top secret plans as casually as she would comment on the weather. She laughed at their wonderment. How could she have known, they must have thought. Kirjio grinned.

Ephemir watched the leader of the Shiragiku fondly, with loving intentness, waiting for those eyes to lock onto his form once more.

[ Message temporarily off-line ]

Business was slow. Very slow.

With an exasperated sigh, the shopowner melted onto the counter and stared pitifully at her empty shop. Why had business become so slow recently? She saw about, what, two or three customers per day? Did people suddenly decide they no longer had a need for food? No..it was those darn gangs! Fighting for the weak, pffttt. More like scaring the living bajeezus out of them so they wouldn't leave their homes (not like they're safe there anyway), which meant they wouldn't go out to her store and buy her food! What happened to old man Jenkins? Or Mary and her seven sons? Thomas and the crew, they were daily customers and she hadn't seen them for a week! The young woman gave another sigh. She hoped they were alright.

Alisindra, or Sin as people called her, straightened herself and turned to look out the window. Was that sunshine? Nah..it couldn't possibly be. Her eyes were simply acting up again. She rubbed them gently and emitted a loud yawn. It was times like these she truly did miss her brother and Kaisuri. On slow days back then, they'd play a card game or just sit around and talk. The world didn't seem so dark and danger never so close in those times. Maybe it really wasn't. Now however...it was much more apparent, or perhaps things really did just get much worse. Looking out the window was torturous for her. People wandered the streets in terrible conditions; blood was a common sight. The children you saw meandering around were orphans. It was painful to watch, but Sin couldn't do anything but watch. She was having trouble simply sustaining herself.

The familiar ring of the store bell brought Sin out of her thoughts. She peered away from the window by the counter and looked at the person who had entered her shop. It was a young fellow in his teens. Hm, it wasn't often Sin got someone she didn't recognize. He looked like a ruffian, but these days everybody looked kind of torn up so Sin didn't think much of it. She smiled to him and gave a little wave.

"Good day, friend," were her words. He grunted and brought his lips up in a crooked fashion at her; she guessed he was trying to smile. The teen then turned away and began to stalk along the store. Sin watched him prowl about in amusement; a little curve at the end of her lips being the only sign of such, but it was obscured by her hand. He was a strange one, but who wasn't? All sorts of people came here, and certainly this kid wasn't the weirdest she'd seen. She just found it kind of interesting to see the boy moving through the shelves like some kind of hunting animal, except the only prey here were canned goods and some other various items. Eventually, the boy gave another grunt and turned around and started walking back down the aisle. When he came out, his hand passed over a bag of chips and inconspicuously he plucked them off the stand and tucked them into his shirt.

It was a good thing Sin had been watching the boy. Her eyes caught the subtle movement, and the smirk on her face grew wider. Try and walk out of the store with that..I dare you. She thought to herself. The boy looked at her, gave another grunt and started for the door. When his hand was upon the knob, Sin spoke.

"Aren't you going to pay for those?" She called to him. The boy turned to look at her, then suddenly he threw open the door and bolted. Without wasting a second, Sin lept over the counter and flew out the door after him. He hadn't even made it to the shop neighboring her's before she grabbed the back of his shirt, swung him into a wall and pinned him there with one hand. With her free hand she dealt him a smack upside the head and took the bag of chips.

"If you couldn't afford the chips, you should've just told me so. I would've given you them for free." She said before prying him off the wall and releasing her grip on him. The boy rubbed his neck and glared at her angrily. Sin sighed and handed him the chips. "You're lucky I'm not much in a bad mood today. This time you can have them, but understand me that if you ever try to steal anything from my store again, I'll castrate you with a spoon. Now go." The boy fled as soon as she finished. Laughing to herself, she ambled back to her store and resumed her place behind the counter. He hadn't experienced even a smidgeon of her wrath. Sin stared fondly at her cash register as she remembered the time some guy had tried to get away with five cans of peaches and twelve loafs of bread stuffed in his shirt. Oh boy, did she beat that chap up. A grown man! She expected thievery from a child, but this guy? Shouldn't he have known better? Of all grocery store owners, Sin was the most brutal with thieves, and man did he figure that out.

Ah, so much for a peaceful day.

The store bell let a small ring out as the young man entered the shop. Sin looked up from the book she was reading to see who had come in and recognized the fellow as one of her regular customers. She gave him a bright, pretty smile and waved cheerfully towards him.

"Nice to see you again, Hisui," she said as she placed her book back on a shelf under the counter. He was looking well as he usually did, which was always a good sign. It pained her to see anyone come in, especially if she knew them, in a bad condition. Whenever there was a case like that, Sin would take them to her house above the store and help them with whatever it was they needed help with. She may be brutal to thieves, but to honest people she was perhaps the most compassionate person you'd ever meet.

Sin leaned forward on the counter and adjusted her light pink turtleneck with her finger. For a moment, you might've been able to spot the tattoo of weaving designs around her neck, but it was quickly concealed by long curly tresses.

"How are things going?" She continued after that momentary pause, her radiant eyes glittering by the rare rays of sunlight bending through the window.