Character(s): Reala, Timon, open to anybody else.
Content: Reala angry. REALA SMASH. >| Timon sucks at timing.
Setting: Ceu de Moraria
Warnings: Violence? Mindgames? I'unno.
How could she? How DARE she?! After all Master Wizeman had done for her, after all they..... the nerve! And acting concerned like that, hovering over him, taking off his Persona..... He wouldn't have it. He wouldn't!
But he was damned if anything even remotely worth his time and attention had appeared yet, even if he had stalked some of the city looking for suitable prey. These damned Visitors were all the same, all sheep that would stampede in an ungainly flight for their pathetic lives when he tried to stir some interesting response out of them. Useless, bleating insects. Not one of them had the brains or personality for anything but run-of-the-mill terror. Surely there must be some interesting prey here, someone worthy of his attentions? He would be glad for a little resistance to push against, a bit of spirit to utterly crush. He'd even like different screaming, at the very least.... It all sounded the same from these golden-haired fools, barely changing no matter whether they were men or women, young or old. The same tone and pitch, the same volume and length, the same inflection and expression.... It was as if it were rehearsed. Pre-recorded, even. What, had they mass-produced screams and sealed them into each and every Visitor here, to be pumped out at the push of a button? He deserved better than this!
And so Reala waited, and so he watched, at the only building in this wretched city tasteful enough for someone of his rank and stature: Ceu de Moraria. Reala sat perched over the front entrance, brooding like some grotesque gargoyle made flesh.