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paixaorpg2006-11-27 12:26 am
trenchant.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2006-11-27 12:26 am
Entry tags:
Unsuspecting, Unexpected [Complete]
Character(s): Lenne
Content: A certain seventeen-year old summoner-songstress finds herself in a very strange place with a bunch of very angry people. Lost, confused, and mildly frustrated, she wanders into Paixao.
Setting: Muspelheim Gate
Time: Morning
Warnings: None
It was like falling into the sky. The young summoner knew nothing of its beginning, but the gradually recession of the Fayth's presence had not eluded her. It had grown distant, so distant that she could no longer feel it, or anything else for that matter. The lines seemed stretched, strained; the only thing she could see was the endless expanse of nothing that stretched before her. It was then that she came to a realization: the sky had never been so bleak.
She stirred. The hood of the white robe drooped, further obscuring her vision. Slowly, the summoner pushed herself up from the ground. She paused, brows furrowing as she realized that the ground upon which she stood was altered. Brushing the standard temple robe of any residue, she turned her dark eyes upward and beheld...a gate of golden flame.
"..What?" The soft whisper fell away, giving way to confusion. She obviously wasn't in the temple, let alone in the Chamber of the Fayth. As if that wasn't strange enough, the temple was nowhere in sight and the place didn't look anything like Besaid! And..Valefor...
"Hey, you! Back of the line!"
The young woman turned, frowning as her eyes fell upon a semi-lengthy line of fairly angry-looking people she had somehow managed to miss. She was a few feet from them, but they were clearly of the impression that she, despite being unconscious, had every intention of cutting them. She offered a faint smile and a few of the sincerest apologies she could muster in her confused state, then retreated to the back of the line where she began to try to gather her thoughts. The line's length didn't bother her; it was the lack of sense, the fact that everything around her somehow made her think it was a dream, a very strange dream.
As the line slowly moved forward, the summoner immersed herself in deep thought, recalling the events that had brought her to that point. While she couldn't place the time -- or what had actually happened -- between her sudden loss of consciousness and the regaining thereof, the receding presence of the Fayth had not been a dream, only...
It had been violent, tearing her from--
"Next!"
--what in the name of Spira..?
The summoner stepped forward, hands folded before her as she lifted her eyes to the man. She had been so completely lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't paused to inquire as to where she was or where the gate led, for that matter.
"Name?" The blond man asked, his tone so cheerful it seemed false.
She paused, uncertain in her reply, "Lenne."
"Welcome to Paixao!" The man exclaimed, passing her a strange device that looked like it might have been some kind of machina. No sooner had he done this was he ushering numerous brochures into her hands, cheerfully -- disturbingly -- laughing all the while. "There ya go! Next!"
"Excuse me! Sir?"
"Next!" The man cried.
Defeated, the summoner trudged beyond the kiosk, brochures and odd machina in hand. It would obviously do her no good to question the man. All of the brochures, save one, were tucked into the pockets of her robe where here microphone resided.
As she stepped through the gate, she found herself gazing at another unexpected sight. Slender fingers wrapped about the sides of the hood and drew it back swiftly.
"Where in Ifrit's name is Paixao!"
Content: A certain seventeen-year old summoner-songstress finds herself in a very strange place with a bunch of very angry people. Lost, confused, and mildly frustrated, she wanders into Paixao.
Setting: Muspelheim Gate
Time: Morning
Warnings: None
It was like falling into the sky. The young summoner knew nothing of its beginning, but the gradually recession of the Fayth's presence had not eluded her. It had grown distant, so distant that she could no longer feel it, or anything else for that matter. The lines seemed stretched, strained; the only thing she could see was the endless expanse of nothing that stretched before her. It was then that she came to a realization: the sky had never been so bleak.
She stirred. The hood of the white robe drooped, further obscuring her vision. Slowly, the summoner pushed herself up from the ground. She paused, brows furrowing as she realized that the ground upon which she stood was altered. Brushing the standard temple robe of any residue, she turned her dark eyes upward and beheld...a gate of golden flame.
"..What?" The soft whisper fell away, giving way to confusion. She obviously wasn't in the temple, let alone in the Chamber of the Fayth. As if that wasn't strange enough, the temple was nowhere in sight and the place didn't look anything like Besaid! And..Valefor...
"Hey, you! Back of the line!"
The young woman turned, frowning as her eyes fell upon a semi-lengthy line of fairly angry-looking people she had somehow managed to miss. She was a few feet from them, but they were clearly of the impression that she, despite being unconscious, had every intention of cutting them. She offered a faint smile and a few of the sincerest apologies she could muster in her confused state, then retreated to the back of the line where she began to try to gather her thoughts. The line's length didn't bother her; it was the lack of sense, the fact that everything around her somehow made her think it was a dream, a very strange dream.
As the line slowly moved forward, the summoner immersed herself in deep thought, recalling the events that had brought her to that point. While she couldn't place the time -- or what had actually happened -- between her sudden loss of consciousness and the regaining thereof, the receding presence of the Fayth had not been a dream, only...
It had been violent, tearing her from--
"Next!"
--what in the name of Spira..?
The summoner stepped forward, hands folded before her as she lifted her eyes to the man. She had been so completely lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't paused to inquire as to where she was or where the gate led, for that matter.
"Name?" The blond man asked, his tone so cheerful it seemed false.
She paused, uncertain in her reply, "Lenne."
"Welcome to Paixao!" The man exclaimed, passing her a strange device that looked like it might have been some kind of machina. No sooner had he done this was he ushering numerous brochures into her hands, cheerfully -- disturbingly -- laughing all the while. "There ya go! Next!"
"Excuse me! Sir?"
"Next!" The man cried.
Defeated, the summoner trudged beyond the kiosk, brochures and odd machina in hand. It would obviously do her no good to question the man. All of the brochures, save one, were tucked into the pockets of her robe where here microphone resided.
As she stepped through the gate, she found herself gazing at another unexpected sight. Slender fingers wrapped about the sides of the hood and drew it back swiftly.
"Where in Ifrit's name is Paixao!"