The Ryslig Memory Loss Meme

[peccatore]

THE RYSLIG MEMORY LOSS MEME

some characters might be better off like this

Maybe your character has died one too many times, or maybe the gods are up to their tricks again; one way or another, your character has lost all memories of home and now thinks they've always lived in Ryslig as a monster. But have they succumbed to their instincts entirely, or are there still remnants of humanity lurking deep inside? And isn't humanity kind of subjective?? Plus, why would a monster care anyway??? Geez! HOW TO PLAY: - Post a top-level; it's not necessary to include a prompt, but you might want to do so anyway just so people have an idea of what your character is like now! - Feel free to have assumed CR, warped memories of current CR if they don't fit with the "always been a monster" background (example: an argument that occurred in an arrival log could now be remembered as an ordinary monster vs monster feud)... The only limit is your imagination. And the confines of the meme, I guess. - Have fun! It's a meme, after all. - If anyone ever feels up to posting a sister meme on monsterotica please be my guest.

Comments

Marco Evangelisti | OC

[peccatore]

[Marco rarely gets out of water these days, but it's not unheard of.

He has been known to move back and forth between Bavan and Vandare - between Lake Dala and the ocean. The lake has always been his home, but it's important to get along with other merpeople. Heck, with other monsters, too. Besides, salt water feels different from the rest, and it's always nice to drift along the waves even if you're used to other environments.

The lake is where he keeps his collection, though. He has thought of starting another one under the sea - there are different trinkets in Vandare, after all, different people - but it would always be... secondary. This one is special. It still has the very first things he's decided to keep; it still has the scales of one treacherous, thieving fairy; it has circuits and motherboards carefully kept in waterproof boxes. He's not sure when or where he learned what those things were, and it bothers him from time to time, but it's strangely easy to ignore that when he takes the boxes above water and opens them to watch the metal shimmering in the sunlight.

That's another reason to get out of water, he supposes. To see what the humans are up to, what the jewellers are selling, what the new developments are. To browse the stores, despite the odd disappointment that wells up in him at the sight of new things that feel somehow antiquated--

Sometimes the humans seem uncomfortable with his presence. He sings, and all is well.

He sings quite often, in fact. Sometimes with little regard for whether anybody is around, sometimes deliberately.

Whenever a human seems nice enough, he tries to make their death as pleasant as he can. Anyone who tries to steal from him, human or monster, is never as lucky.]

A

[Marco's swimming around near the surface, surprise surprise. If he notices you walking past, he'll wave at you with a smile - and if it turns out you're actually someone he is not fond of, he will very much wish he could take it back. Or maybe he'll sing at you.]

B

[Wait whoa he's actually out and about in town! Maybe he's just window shopping, or looking out towards the labs with an odd look on his face. Either way, a shirtless dweeb in swimming goggles deserves to be heckled.]

C. Wildcard!

[I DUNNO COME AT ME GUYS]

Ataru Kinniku/ Kinnikuman Soldier | Kinnikuman

[heirrant]

[Ataru is now a full-time pro-wrestler and cage-fighter in Bavan, and something of a minor celebrity if you follow those circles. Little bit of a pin-up, too, in others. These days he's only ever known as "Kinnikuman Soldier" while he's in the ring, and his face is only a secret when he's fighting- anyone who knows him personally will be on real-name terms with him and will have seen his face.

His night-time werewolf form is always guaranteed to draw in a crowd, especially if there's a monster-on-monster match lined up. There'll always be a few spectators waiting for one of them to snap, of course, and he's only too aware of the possibility. If he did lose it one night he could eat half the audience.

That could be why, in spite of his recklessness (he's considerably more dominant and aggressive as a wolf), he's also more emotionally guarded than before. He's controlled himself for this long, but who knows how long that will last? With others he's kind but distant, something at odds with the propensity he's retained for forming quick, intense bonds. AWKWARD CR IS NOW AWKWARD.]

America | Axis Powers: Hetalia

[findtheatmosphere]

[1; (ง •̀_•́)ง]

[America knows he has two names: America, and Alfred F. Jones. He doesn't remember how he got them, who gave them to him, or in what order, so he usually goes by America. He doesn't remember much of his parents. He knows they must have been minotaurs, though, because that's what he is, and it only makes sense, doesn't it? But that doesn't matter much to him.

He's a very free-spirited monster, and a very feral one, skin sun-kissed and horns dented from previous fights. He only ever wears a loincloth, never having much use for human clothes. They don't fit over his horns and his legs very well, so why bother? On the occasions when he ventures into the great, labyrinthine Bavan, his hooves stomp on the pavement like thunder. He's large and aggressive, always taking up as much space as he can and speaking as loudly as possible.

If anyone should ever bump into him while passing him in the street, human or monster, he'll turn and shove them, nostrils flaring. His strength is immense, enough to send an unprepared person flying several yards backward. The unlucky ones get smacked straight up against a building. The lucky ones die quickly (though that's not his intent).

It doesn't take much to rile up his hair-trigger temper, so be it a funny look or a muttered insult, there's a good chance America will end up glaring at you, lifting his chin in an aggressive invitation.]

What's up, dude?! You got a problem?

[2; Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ]

[He's not all anger. He's actually a pretty happy person most of the time, as long as he gets his way. He speaks in a large tone and gestures with his large hands, the very air around him radiating charisma. He often decorates his horns with nearby items, be it jewelry or foliage, with the direct intent to impress anyone he thinks is cute. He is particularly attached to one specific person, but he can't help himself sometimes. It's in his nature to preen and flaunt.

He's always the life of the party, especially at pro-monster gatherings. Hell, even if something is not a party, he'll treat it like one. He's eager to get to know everyone, bursting in on conversations and telling elaborate stories. Anyone who looks as strong as him or stronger, physically speaking, may be challenged to a test of strength. Fellow minotaurs may find him bumping horns with them in lieu of a greeting.]

[3; (っ˘ڡ˘)っ─∈]

[And he has to eat. He doesn't feel too bad about doing it; he's had to eat humans all his life, so even if they're fun to be around, they're not really like him. They're weak, disposable little things that reproduce quickly. That radical new Bloody Bones group is barely a blip on his radar, dismissed as a fad cult. At best, humans are like very intelligent pets: amusing, cute, even endearing, but at the end of the day, they're inferior.

He has the strength and stamina to hunt aggressively. Even the most well-reinforced doors are no match for a few swift kicks of his hooves, and anyone running out in the open can be expected to get speared through the chest with a horn when he's in his full-bison form. Sometimes it's fun, particularly in the summer, when he needs to burn off excess energy. But sometimes he can't resist the allure of fast food.

He has a collection of instruments stockpiled in his home, over in a cave by the foot of the mountain range. He's always been skilled with every one of them. Tonight, he feels like playing the violin. He moves to the edge of the city where it's quieter, and begins to play a few songs. He doesn't know the words to them -- can't even be sure they ever had words -- but he knows deep in the pit of his gut that they're songs intrinsically linked with him. They calm him; they calm humans, too, but for an entirely different reason.

He can be found wearing a gentle smile and leading one or two humans off toward the forest, music trailing in the air around him. Any nearby monsters will get a knowing, forewarning glance: "These are mine."

His smile never wavers.]

((ooc: feel free to tag in at any point during the prompts, or make up your own starter! new and assumed CR are both perfectly fine! c:))

2 obvs

[keepscalm]

[It's hard to know where such an attachment came from. England — Arthur, perhaps, to some people — feels it, as well, so strongly that it's like they've known one another for an impossibly long time. But America isn't that old; England remembers, faintly, when he was a child. It wasn't that long ago. England must simply be a fool in love.

A fool, indeed, for it seems he's more invested in this than America is, at times. He's not oblivious to the courting signs, the way America shows off for everyone. Greater vampires would probably think nothing of it, being rather arrogant creatures, but England often feels like he's fallen short of that mark.

So he tends to do the opposite of America at social gatherings. He broods, preferably in the vicinity of any present alcohol. It does nothing for him, of course, but there's still a part of him that can't shake the undeniable taste for it. He drinks, and drinks, and watches America prance around with flocks of people all enamoured by his charisma, glaring with his red eyes and bitter expression.

A female demon gets a little too close to America, and England can't help himself. He finishes off the rest of his drink and sets the glass down on the bar with a pointed roughness before marching over with murder in his eyes. He doesn't have to do anything else to get her attention; his hypnosis-laden voice is more than enough to get her to look at him.] Excuse me. Someone at the bar was asking for you. I think you should go talk to them.

[A lie, of course. But he just wants to send her away from America.]

[findtheatmosphere]

[America hears the marching before he sees England approach. His ears are sensitive, and he's memorized England's gait. Particularly his angry gait, which he seems to be using right now. His ears flatten themselves against his head and he smiles, instinctively wary.]

Uh, bye--! [To the demon girl's back. Then, to England:] Uh... Hi.

[keepscalm]

[Once the woman leaves, England turns to fully face America, folding his arms in the most prim way that he can manage. His lower jaw is set in such a way that it causes his lips to form something which is definitely not a pout.

He releases the hypnotic influence from his voice. For now. But it's replaced with an accusatory and, yes, sulky edge.] You seem to be having fun.

Edward Elric | Fullmetal Alchemist

[solperierat]

[There are many, many reasons why shoving your nose into the darker alleys of Vandare are a bad idea, and Edward Elric is most certainly one of them. His job in the Nest has shifted of late, less tending drinks and more knocking heads, but it's a living. He's well suited to be the muscle on Greed's less savory jobs, and goes after anyone threatening the Nest like a rabid dog.]

[His time is split freely between Vandare and Bavan--the Nest may be his home, but he has friends still in the metropolis that he needs to keep an eye on. To those that manage to get close to him the kindness still shows through, though in rougher ways--but it's far easier to get on Ed's bad side, and anyone that does in in for a rough ride. He's not above breaking some bones for an insult, or taking a life to prove a point--you hurt one of his, and you'll get the same in return three-fold.]

[You might find him lurking in darker alleyways, sentry for an exchange that no one needs to know about, or maybe prowling around at night looking for something interesting to do. Or if you happen to be one of those select few, you might hear a tap on the glass of your window, or the sound of wing beats coming in from above. Gotta make sure everyone is still in one piece, after all.]

Skye | Agents of Shield

[hacktivist084]

[ She's a bird as often as she's a Harpy, happily living in the tops of trees or crouching on buildings near her home. As far as she's concerned, she's lived tossed from place to place, city to city until she was taken in by her friends, a ward of various god followers until she strove to find her own way. She's probably one of the nicer monsters most will meet, prone to introducing herself to new arrivals and trying to help them.

But that doesn't stop her from having a sort of distance from most humans, she will speak with them and smile and be pleasant, but there's always something a little off. A little distracted. She's aware she scares them, even if they don't look frightened.

She seems fairly happy, though she will often just go flying, without explaining where she's going or why she needs to leave. But she always comes back. There are things and people to come back to, even if sometimes she feels like she never wants to come back down, she has to. ]

Kaito Kuroba | Detective Conan / Magic Kaito

[whiteofcrime]

{ A. Mischief Managed }

Kaito's wanted to be a magician ever since he was young. That had been what he told anyone who asked, and it was what he worked for despite their scepticism and laughter. 'Why does a goblin who can cast spells with a flick of the wrist need to learn mundane magic?' people ask. But it's the one constant in a stream of lies he tells ("My dad was a magician" [a name no-one knows here]) and it's the one thing anyone who knows him comes to trust about him.

His mother is never around. Travelling, apparently. His supposed father died almost a decade ago, leaving behind the legacy of magic which Kaito has taken up in his stead. The young goblin lives alone somewhere in Bavan (the location changes with each asking) but he has a few regular night performances in various places (including the Triple T). He's a fixture at Liewen labs, working with dangerous chemicals to learn and develop fireworks for future events (if there's a bang every now and again it is absolutely not his fault [yes it is]). While it's hard to pin down personal details other than those, Kaito does still remains a vibrant part of many of the lives he touches - which is all that really matters, right?

"Hahaha! Try and catch me, slowpokes!" he jeers as he flips up to the awning of a shop, dangling a few cheap, shiny baubles from his fingers. It's a busy day at the market and Kaito's light fingers have liberated not a few sly pieces of fruit here and there. Wanting to liven up the atmosphere, he had deliberately let himself be caught over at the artisan's end. Now there's a chase on to catch him.

It doesn't help that he has the wind on his side. Kaito leaps off the awning as cans are chucked at him, dancing on the tops of lamp posts as light as a small faerie. His delighted (haha) laughter rings out across the vicinity, angering his pursuers. Maybe someone should step in...?

{ B. Moonlit Magician }

At some point last year, Kaito had learned (decided?) that his father hadn't died: he'd been murdered. By the Bloody Bones. That had been the first time he donned the identity of 'Phantom Kid'. Since then, he's made a monthly habit of flaunting himself in a white costume, taunting them publicly and daring them to try and kill him. They never do, but he's sure they'll slither out of their holes sometime.

Until then, he masks his outings as very public, daring thefts of precious jewels. The best that exist in Ryslig. Heist notices in writing to the victims, network riddles to fellow monster denizens - and then on the promised night, he makes his appearance like the white wraith he is and bows to his audience, small though it may be. The only reason he has one at all is that they believe in his code of 'no harm at a Kid heist'. And indeed, his thefts - shows - are more of a spectacle which bring a welcome interruption to daily life. As he tips his hat to those gathered below, hiding the one half of his face that isn't concealed by a monocle, he grins behind his hand. It's a grin full of sharp teeth and menace that only those close to him can see.

No harm. Not yet.

After these heists, he unwinds from the adrenaline rush by finding a high-up spot and playing with his prize for the night. Usually the roof edge of a building, sometimes a tree in a park. His favourite haunt is the clock tower, although he doesn't know why.

Tossing up the jewel (necklace, bracelet, or maybe the stone itself), he leans back on one hand with the lazy ease of a panther. People coming close might hear him humming to himself. As soon as he senses he's not alone though, he'll leap to his feet with card gun in hand and jewel slipped into pocket.

"Who's there?"

{ C. You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you? } Because this is a meme so have EXTRA BAD END

"So," he purrs as he sinks to a crouch before the female hunter. She glares as he backs her up against the wall. If he hadn't already disarmed her, she might be sinking a knife into his chest right this moment. He leans in close until she can see the tips of his fangs and the ominous red tint in his right eye beneath the lip of his cloaks' hood. "You know something, don't you? About the guys in masks?"

She shakes her head. Spits a vehement denial. A firm no, just like the rest. He caresses her cheek with a considering hum, enjoying the look of defiance on her face. His eyes mark each minuscule flinch she makes as his nails tap, tap, tap against her skin. The smile on his face doesn't falter once.

"Why are all of you lying to me?" He grips the lower half of her face, palm covering her mouth. Dark magic surges at his beckoning. A shrill scream erupts from her throat in spite of his attempt to stifle it. His strength easily holds her down as she thrashes through a nightmare only she can see, the abandoned lot they're in devoid of anyone human who would be willing to come running to her aid. Humans don't dare face a monster without numbers.

When she finally goes quiet, he sits back on his haunches and sighs. His posture slumps, only to tense a second later at the sound of a clatter. He phases to shadow and flattens against the wall. Then he slinks forward, an indistinct shape moving along crumbling brick and mortar, until he nears whoever it is that had made the noise. Human? Monster? He'll stay his hand if it's a friend, but a stranger will get him leaping at them from behind and trying to choke them out with a wire.

{ D. Wildcard }

Feel free to write up your own prompt. I'm open to pretty much any scenario (really, I am). Meme tags are a lower priority for me compared to game tags, but I still try to answer them in a timely manner.

Basic history: Kaito doesn't actually have any memory of his parents. He thinks he has a mother, but the recollection is fuzzy so he prefers to pretend he doesn't. Easier that way in his opinion. He doesn't remember a father at all - instead he recalls being very influenced by a human magician during his early years and began learning the kind of magic many goblins never bother to master. Since he doesn't remember that magician's name, he's just given them the name 'Touichi Kuroba' (from which he chose the name 'Kaito Kuroba'). That plus his thieving nature meant he stole regularly in order to make a living (at least until he got good enough to perform on stage). Charm helps him eel his way through life but behind that is a very practised liar and manipulator.

Regarding the way he treats his friends, nothing much will change on his part. He is, after all, a very good actor. Whether they ever sense something wrong with him is up to them.

tl;dr Kaito is more malicious goblin and less fluffy magician. Have fun!

D

[yurifriends]

Yuriika feels very confident with her set up. A calm demeanor, shrewd cunning and the ruthless streak of a demon served her very well. She doesn't remember why she's started trying to sway the minds of young humans. Getting them under her influence was easy enough--killing the parents and disguising the means of death to some other sort of monster was, no pun intended, child's play.

That most of their parents died with her sigil (a bird in flight) burned into their flesh... Well. That couldn't be helped. If no one could link the sigil with her then it wouldn't be a problem. All she had to do was stop wearing her most precious treasure: a golden brooch in the shape of a flying bird. Yuriika couldn't remember where it had come from but only that it was important.

She kept it locked away in the office of the orphanage among her numerous mementos of days past. Of course it was where she could get at it easily if she needed to. That's when she realized it was gone. Yuriika's first thought was one of the children had taken it but that was impossible. They wouldn't dare cross her. It had to be an outsider.

Yuriika exited the building in a rage, spreading wings and taking to the sky in search of who could have taken her most precious treasure. One thought came to mind and she headed straight towards the clock tower. She had solved many of the mysterious thief's riddles enough to realize that was one of his favorite spots.

She doesn't land. Her barbed tail lashes out. "I do suggest you hand that back."

[whiteofcrime]

Kid smiles (it's not reassuring) and keeps his finger on the trigger. The edged cards don't hold a candle to her barbed tail but they still hurt. If she attacks him for the brooch in his pocket then he's not going to hold back.

"It's such a pretty thing though." Well-maintained, a shiny addition to any hoard. That isn't why Kid is interested in it though, nor is it the reason why he took it. Kid's smile turns hard and frigid as he watches the demon hover in front of him. Unlike his other self, it's cold anger which characterises him. "More pretty than the brands you left behind on those children's parents. Care to tell me why you need them, Miss Yuriika?"

Kaito likes those kids. He likes performing for them on his days off. Upon first discovering those oddly mutilated corpses with the image of a flying bird branded into their skin, the magician had thought little of it beyond a distaste towards the culprit. Leaving a mark is like leaving a calling card - it lets people identify the culprit. Although Kaito has since done away with naive ideas of pacifism in this kill-or-be-killed world, shreds of decency remain to inspire disgust at the sight of the corpses.

When they had both seen the brooch in Yuriika's office, Kaito had wanted to confront her then and there. It had been Kid who had reigned him back and proposed drawing her out to this isolated spot.

[yurifriends]

She doesn't go for an attack yet. No, she has to be patient. She's a professional. Yuriika takes in a deep breath. Her tail still lashes at the air but she's far enough away that it's merely a sign of agitation and not an attack.

Yuriika doesn't recall how she came in possession of it yet she knows it's definitely hers not this thief's. She glowers at him. There's a fierceness in her gaze that she normally reserves for her victims. "Those brands are merely a side effect of how I feed. How was I supposed to know that they had children?"

It's an obvious diversion to even her own ears. She's been caught and she knows it.

some blend of B & D why not

[peccatore]

Finally, he's tracked down the thief.

Marco doesn't pay as much attention to the network as he knows he used to. The water is where he belongs, and unfortunately, it's no place for a delicate laptop. It's no big deal, though. He remembers slowly losing interest on whatever people were talking about every day, though he can't quite put his finger on why--

He sees the thief tossing something in the air, and the way it glints in the moonlight revolts him, because that doesn't belong to him.

Marco had been eyeing that bracelet for weeks, he had a plan, he was going to sing into the storeowner's ear and ask him, oh-so-kindly, to bring it with him to the lake and he was so close, but now it's in this goblin's hands, and he's just playing with it on a tree, so close to the lake Marco could swear it's a deliberate provocation.

He doesn't have a plan now, nor does he have the time to come up with one before he's spotted. Even during nighttime, his coat stands out too much. The fact that it's dripping doesn't help either.

He puts on a smile, though, raising his hands.

"It's just me."

[whiteofcrime]

A beat passes before Kid pastes a cordial smile across his face. He lifts his finger off the trigger and lowers the gun. The thief sinks to a crouch on the branch he's on, balancing there as easily as a harpy despite his shoes.

The bracelet reappears and twirls around his finger: a deliberate, glittering taunt to the mer.

"Hello there. You've been awfully quiet on the network recently," he says in that light, teasing way he uses when he's greeting a friend. Marco might not consider him one but that hardly matters - Kid uses the same tone to taunt his haters and pursuers as well. "How's the water?"

(Water...) Kaito shudders. Neither Kid's posture nor his expression change.

AM | I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

[godofthemachine]

[OOC: Warning for implications of torture]

AM is such a strange name, isn't it? Two letters, as if to say "I am." Perhaps it stood for something once, perhaps his parents intended some hidden meaning behind it. He doesn't know because he doesn't remember his parents, and he's not sure he wants to. People have asked him what it stands for, and he curtly responds with, "It stands for AM."

People know who he is to some extent. He's the lurking arachne on the edges of Bavan, eyeing everyone with what can only be assumed to be some kind of hunger. He dresses finely in waistcoats, brushes his hair, so he's at least elegant. After all, he's the ruler of his own city. He may be somewhat charming on the outside, but inside there's a vicious anger. Every time one of his villagers tries to leave his city, they find themselves unable to leave, locked away in his deep basement somewhere, never to be heard from again. After all, he doesn't like it when his villagers leave. They have to stay with him.

He's just so angry all the time. Alone in his house he broods, contemplating an immense hatred with no description, no origin. It's just there. An immense anger comes with the hate, but he doesn't know who he's angry at. In a sense, it tortures him each night, leaves him restless in his web. He hates being alone, because then he has to think about all of his hatred. The people in the basement come in handy for this, serve as a convenient distraction. He spends many nights there instead of sleeping, so he's always tired, always running on reserves. Always irritable.

AM's city has a reputation for being decent, but weird. Strange disappearances have happened so often there, but many attribute it to monsters needing to eat. Then again, when some of those who disappear are monsters... Well, that's a bit different, isn't it? There are rumors of a cult in the city too, of an arachne who leads said cult. It's somewhat kept on the down-low, but it exists. AM, after all, is not content with just leading a city. Nothing scratches his itch or quells his anger, so he reaches for the stars and makes others bow down to him.

A. Sim City

You decide to visit the city for whatever reason. Do you want to investigate rumors of a cult, perhaps? Or do you want to move into the city? Perhaps you are just visiting for some other reason. Of course, you find AM in his office as mayor of the city, filling out paperwork. He may or may not be flanked with villagers who are eager to serve him. He looks up with his red eyes, the dark shadows underneath making themselves prominent, and offers a shallow smile.

B. Bavan or Vandare

Maybe you see him elsewhere. Maybe he's in Bavan shopping, or eyeing you from across the street. Maybe he gives you a funny feeling, maybe not. You may recognize him as the leader of that one city, or you think he's just a random spider guy. Who knows.

C. Obligatory torture option

For some reason you're one of the unlucky people in his basement. How did you end up there? Were you a villager who tried to leave? Or were you a cult member who broke away? Or were you just unlucky and caught his eye for whatever reason?

[OOC: If you choose this option, please discuss your limitations with me. Note that nothing sexual will happen in this comm. If there's a sister meme in monsterotica, I'll be happy to take it there if you want, though!]

D. Wildcard

[Whatever else you wanna throw at me.]

Red | Transistor | will match format as always

[silentcrash]

This is what Red knows: she has always been here. Anything beyond the past handful of years is a blank, as though she emerged fully-formed from the ocean, awakening to the awareness of herself after growing up a feral thing. Even now, she spends as much time on the shores of Lake Dala or in the seas off Vandare as she does in her house.

This is what Red knows, too: her voice has always been this way. She can hum and whistle, and that alone is enough to enchant the unwary listener, but never form words. She made a deal with one of the gods to speak for a time, but ultimately wasn't willing to sacrifice her freedom. She doesn't know what she's missing.

She tends to be solitary, leaving Bavan to spend days at a time in the sea, despite having moved into an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city on a whim. Something about Bavan--its lights, the swirling currents of humanity that pass through every day--fascinates her.

(What she doesn't know is why she dreams of another city entirely: a grand metropolis under alien skies, green and white.)

When the man she knows only as "Boxer" washed up, as people do here at the Fog God's call, she offered him a spare room if he'd fix the chimney. The repairs are long finished, but she lets him stay.

(She doesn't know why he looks so sad sometimes when he talks to her, or why she sometimes gets such a strong feeling of deja vu. Curiosity has kept her from chasing him off more than anything else.)

Nothing is wrong. All is well.
Right?

(Possible prompts: She goes swimming or hunting quite often, and likes to people-watch around Bavan. The library and Pandemonium are attractive to her, as even though she doesn't remember she studied linguistics, she appreciates the craft of words.)

[n_ll]

The glow of his eyes is dim, if not missing entirely.

It feels wrong to tell her that her memories are false. She believes them entirely, and just the thought of telling her we used to be one feels...manipulative, on the slim chance that she were to believe him. If she didn't, saying something like that would only injure the trust between them.

Whatever trust that is.

Boxer brings a passing glance to the calendar on the fridge in the middle of making noontime breakfast. Nothing special is written on this day, nor would Red think of it as out of the ordinary, but Boxer remembers and it feels wrong not to celebrate the occasion. Part of him wonders if feeling like this is selfish, but he wants nothing more than to spend special time with her, even if the feelings aren't reciprocated. Is this what it felt like for her, when she spent so much effort for so long pursuing him?

He hears the door close, likely Red coming home after a long morning swim. His head peeks out beyond a corner to spot her.

"Hey..."

This shouldn't feel so awkward.

"Do you want to go see a movie today? Get dinner somewhere nice?"

It's not too outlandish for "platonic roommates" to do together, right...?

[silentcrash]

No, it's not out of the ordinary, yet she has this nagging feeling like she's missing something important. Something she was supposed to do? No, that doesn't make sense.

Boxer catches her picking through the jewelry and trinkets in her room. One in particular has drawn her eye: a triangular ring, set with a red stone. It's no more special than any of the other small lovely things here, just another shipwrecked treasure she brought home. With her webbed hands, she can't even wear it properly. And yet...

Red slips a chain through it and puts it around her neck before turning to Boxer. The question catches her by surprise, and she regards him for a long moment or two, considering. He always seems so serious--unhappy even--that she wonders about the sudden change of heart.

If she goes along with it, maybe she can find out. She nods and holds up two fingers.

Rita Mordio | Tales of Vesperia

[anti_nonsense]

(a: a cottage in the woods)

[Having left the labs long ago, Rita now lives in a small cottage deep in the Lager Woods. There, she continues her research on Hemlig, but has long given up on cooperating with humans. She's not sure why she bothered trying in the first place. A simple sign is nailed to the front door of her humble abode: KEEP OUT.

But perhaps there are those who will ignore the sign. They may be friends who know themselves to be exceptions. Or, they may be ones who have stumbled upon this place by accident or by necessity, having lost their way, or while evading hunters. Whatever their reason for coming to this place, the demon who lives here might not welcome them.

Should someone knock on the door, a voice will answer:] Can't you read? Get lost!

(b: hunters become the hunted)

[It's not just other monsters who wander into the woods, however. Humans, knowing that some monsters take refuge here, sometimes venture into the forest bearing weapons, seeking to hunt the menacing monsters that threaten their homes.

As one such menace, Rita appreciates them coming to her. It saves her a trip to town whenever she needs a meal.

This night, a group of four cautiously make their way through the foliage... but they're not nearly cautious enough. They've already caught the attention of the hungry demon, and without warning, one of them is engulfed in magic flames. His screams echo through the forest, perhaps drawing the attention of others in the vicinity.

The other hunters give shouts of surprise, scrambling to ready their rifles and point them at the darkness around them, searching for their attacker. Somewhere in that darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes watches them eagerly, looking for her opportunity to strike again. The humans don't appear to have spotted her yet, but another monster might. Perhaps they'll assist her... but then again, they may turn out to be competition, or an obstacle.]

(c: wildcard!)

If there's a different scene you'd like to play, feel free to toss me a prompt, or contact me (pzue) to plan something together!

Memloss!Rita will be much like her former self, but more reclusive and wholly lacking in empathy for humans. She is rarely seen in cities, but when she is, it's often at libraries and bookstores where she gathers materials for her research. She also may be willing to cooperate with other monsters in collaborative research, or in shared hunting.

B; assumed he may have visited Rita occasionally at her cottage

[whiteofcrime]

[ Rita isn't the only one who hunts the hunters.

Kaito follows the expedition from the city, eavesdropping on their conversation, dropping in like a ghost while they take turns to sleep and spook them with shadows at the edge of their peripheries. It doesn't do much to deter them from their course - if anything, it makes them more determined to "kill those damn monsters". Kaito, upon hearing that, grins to himself and continues to harry their group into the woods.

Night falls early during winter; the hunters, searching for a camp site, get to talking about the disappearances which have occurred near this part of the woods. They're not sure which monster is responsible, but they're prepared for anything. Holy water, silver bullets - there's even more mundane traps for those monsters without specific weaknesses. (Kaito may or may not have already sabotaged a few of their things already; he's looking forward to when they find out.) The four's progress is wary.

And then one of their number goes up in flames.

From his perch in the treetops Kaito laughs softly at their shocked cries. He knows who the reclusive monster is. Now that she's noticed, he can go all out too.

From the darkened trees opposite Rita, a hawk shrieks. The hunters whirl in that direction and train their weapons on the spot, presenting their backs to the two lurking monsters. ]

[anti_nonsense]

[A distraction. It's a little too convenient... but Rita intends to make good use of it. There are still too many hunters for her to safely close in, so for now, she needs to reduce their numbers a little more.

There's another flash of red in her eyes, and this time, one of the gunmen suddenly falls through the ground as a pitfall opens up beneath his feet. The dirt then quickly closes around him, burying him up to his chest.

The burning man rolls about on the ground, gasping hoarsely. Rita hasn't killed him, but he's injured enough that he won't be a threat. She intends to keep all of them alive long enough to extract all four of their souls at the end of this.]

Ginko | Mushi-Shi

[onegreeneye]

To say that Ginko could be considered mild-mannered as trolls go may not sound like it means a whole lot - and, in some ways, it really doesn't. As comparatively rare as they may be, he won't deny the existence of the occasional bursts of rage, the rumbles and growls and glares that he's prone to in response to the wrong choice of words, or just his own suspicions about the intentions of others.

But he would rather not fight if he doesn't see a good reason for it. So there's that.

It's not all that common for him to show up in the cities; he doesn't like crowds, doesn't like most people, and something about Ryslig's towns has always felt... wrong. Too big, too paved. So he keeps to himself, out in the woods, most of the time, living off what he can get out there - including the occasional human who strays too close to the no-longer-abandoned shack in the forest. If he gets hungry enough, he may even move a little closer to populated areas.

But that's only if he's hungry. Killing seems like something of a waste to him otherwise - and he won't hesitate to make that opinion known to those who disagree.

As reclusive as he may be, though, he's not without his connections. And, when it comes to those who he's found himself attached to, there's very little he won't do for them - in fact, he considers harming any of his little 'family' to be one of the few things that falls solidly under the 'good reason for violence' category.

[solperierat]

Really, it just figures that some of Edward's closest family has to live so damned far away. It's a pain to fly out through the forest to find Ginko's tiny little shack, but at least Ed has a leg up on finding the thing in the first place. He lands, and knocks...

But nobody's home.

Grumbling to himself Ed takes off again, combing through the areas he remembers Ginko often going to harvest herbs. It takes a while, but finally he finds his adoptive father's bright white coat among the foliage. He's about to swoop in for a landing, but...hell, it's a harmless little joke, right? Fishing the box of breakables out of the satchel of supplies he'd brought with them, Ed circles to make sure he has his aim right before swooping low--

And dropping the canvas back right onto Ginko's head. "Catch!"

[onegreeneye]

Ginko starts, giving a sharp click as the bag falls over his horns. He scrambles to pull it off, looking around as a low rumble starts up in his chest - and relaxing again upon catching sight of the minotaur circling over him.

He snorts and opens up the bag, glancing down at its contents. "Thanks. Your delivery methods could use a little work, though."

Incarceron | Incarceron/Sapphique

[wallaroundtheworld]

Compared to some of the other monsters, Incarceron is almost feral - a proper monster, with no qualms about attacking people or other monsters who cross or threaten him. He's claimed a small section of the beach outside Vandare as his territory, out by the caves. Usually he's not completely hostile if you keep your distance; in fact, some even come to the shore to watch him in the water, admiring the flashes of his silvery skin as he basks. As long as nobody gets too close to him, or too close to the little hole in the rock he calls home, he's comparatively harmless, albeit a little wary of humans. Just don't make eye contact for too long.

Exposition aside, let's get along with the prompts!

A - newly-turned

[ The changes have only just begun; Incarceron has only just started to become a mature monster. He's waited a long time for this, and now that it's finally happening he's eager to test his new abilities on anything available, living or otherwise. Someone with a clearer head might try to calm him down or make him less of a threat to innocents, but maybe there are also others who are eager to do some sparring. ]

B - full fish

[ Incarceron is completely turned and, as far as he knows, he's been a merperson for his entire life. The powers he has and the needs he has to tend to come naturally. He enjoys singing, but normally he does it in secrecy, reserving it only for particularly difficult prey. When he does venture onto land, it's primarily to watch people or to scavenge for trinkets that interest him - he's practically a wild animal, but he is a little more inclined to speak with other monsters, especially fellow merfolk. ]

C - wildcard

Have special plans for Incarceron? Want to play with CR? My OOC contacts are right here! I'm open to just about anything.