The Snowflake of Characters (A Character Development exercise)

Yomiko slinks on his leathery coat; the sleeves flop down inches past her hands, and it comes down almost touching her knees. She can care less of looking awkward in this dress — as long as the coat can cover her up just well, all is good.

She notices a sudden blush of warmth come upon her, spreading around her back (and relieving back tension). It feels like slipping into a soothing, scathing shower after a hard day's night. Resisting the urge to sigh, she tucks her own coat underneath, making her look plump and six-months pregnant.

Yomiko gazes around, noting the other people nearby. "If you're wanting a good read, this is the place to be." She says this like it's a matter-of-fact, and makes a wink of an eye. Hope he gets her drift.

She looks outside, wistful — noticing the silhouette wandering around campus, as if in a daze. Ooh, who might that be? With the cat-like ears outlined with orange light?

"MILO!" she shouts, bursting out from the revolving door with her arms outstretched. "Here you are!"

edited 13th Jan '11 4:59:09 PM by QQQQQ

(OOC: I'm just going to land the bloody helicopter and assume Malcolm somehow got away from Psy-kick)

Malcolm senses life teeming in the distance. He's finally reached shore. Time to ditch this bloody (literally) hunk of junk.

The grey cloud twits about the controls, acting as an interface. He makes a few slight adjustments and walks over to the bandaged Nascimento. There's one parachute left and two of them. The choice is obvious.

He lifts Nascimento up over his shoulder and hauls his limp form to the door. Malcolm slumps him down on the floor and works the parachute around his arms.

Kneeling to Nascimento's level, he slaps his face about a bit. Gotta get the bastard moving. He sees Nascimento's eyes creak open, and his mouth as well.

"No talking. Shut up, you're going to live, whoopee. Don't ask why, just pull the goddamn cord on your way down. I assume you know the rest? Good."

Malcolm sends some of the swarm to patch up Nascimento's legs. It wouldn't take immediate effect, but he should be able to dog paddle to shore.

"Bon voyage!" Malcolm laughs heartily as he tosses Nascimento out the door. He doesn't bother to look back. He'd supplied him with the means. What happened next wasn't his concern.

Malcolm rips open the cieling and the swarm retreats into the folds of his coat. The helicopter woobles and tips like a drunken frat boy. Malcolm hauls himself up top with minor difficulty, spreads his arms, and feels the wind against his hair.

"I'M FREE AS A BIRD NOW! AND THIS BIRD, YOU'LL NEVER CHANGE!" 

Giggling uncontrollably at his own insanity, Malcolm jumps.

edited 13th Jan '11 3:55:02 PM by KSPAM

(OOC: I feel bad that I faded out. My character was Rae Wintra. My computer died the day after my first post so... yeah. What's going on so I can get back in?)

Milo spun around when he heard someone shout his name.

"Yomiko!" he said, breaking out in a wide smile. "You're okay! I mean, you're up and about and everything!" Milo felt a huge sense of relief - she wasn't going to die, she was OK. Funny, even though he'd known her for only one evening, a lot of which she'd spent unconscious, he realised that he already counted her a friend. She was certainly nicer to him than a lot of people he called friends.

He noticed that she was wearing a leather coat that looked familiar; surely he'd seen it before, on Marc. She must have met up with him sometime while he was out of it.

"That flying thing," he asked her, "Was that the airlift you called in? Were they your friends?"

The ocean rushes to meet Malcolm, like an old friend. But more like a slab of concrete. Blue concrete, Malcolm thinks to himself. The moment is interrupted as his body collides violently with the rough waters.

The organic remnants of his once-human body shriek bodily. His eyes feel like they're pulling themselves from his skull and his teeth chomp together with a sharp crack. His ears pop, his vision blurs and Malcolm is pretty sure he can see blood in the water.

At times like these, he thanks the powers that be that his arms and legs are both entirely artificial. Malcolm pushes himself to the surface, stressed lungs gasping for air.

The surface breaks and Malcolm takes a fresh gulp of air. Then, to his dismay, air becomes seawater and he is pulled under again. Surfacing for real this time, Malcolm starts kicking his way to shore. He had the good fortune to not land too far off shore. At best, it couldn't be more than forty meters off.

Malcolm swims, kicking faster. If he could just get a plane ride home...

(OOC: I assume I can count on you good people to see to it that doesn't happen )

edited 13th Jan '11 8:12:11 PM by KSPAM

(OOC: This is Slan. Sorry guys, but I'll have to duck out for a day or two. Too distraught.)

Nasci winces open his eyes to the glitter and blur of the streets, wavering around him like a projector swinging loose on its hinges. Wind gusts and batters him, howling along his ears, scruffing his buzzcut hair. His gut wrenches with the motion.

He is tumbling down.

And he imagines, this must be one of these pipe dreams: you're falling from the heavens, through the clouds, and you're seeing the World coming up at you, to crush you beneath all its titanic mass. A friend had gave him a joint, and he puffed its fumes and saw party party boom boom whomp whomp snake snake snake. After, on blue moon nights, he would have recurring dreams of flying when he wasn't otherwise blankly sleeping. Goodly dreams they were, second only to the naughty ones.

The River Thames is glowing bright this instant — how about giving it a wave? He reaches his bloody hand out, and he sees the blood, and he sees his paper-wrapped knees; the bandages are peeling away.

Nasci has been tossed out like a rock. His face would flash-boil eggs, as he rapidly appraches the river like a meteor, clenching his fists.

He realizes something: he should have shot Malcolm the first thing in the head, or wherever his bleeding heart lies. This especially explains why he — who ought to be tackling less insane missions or sipping Organtian tea at home — is, in point of fact, hurtling down midair approaching a hundred miles an hour. He must have his revenge right now! He still has his sidearm, maybe he can shoot—

The retrieval helicopter crashes, utterly decimating the Elizabeth(2) Arcology — the winding, apartment-like growth housing 12,500 souls in an eight-block neighbourhood. Flaming debris shoot out like fireworks from the point of impact, and thousands of broken-off splinters rain down like hail upon the poor people who happened to be at the wrong place in the right time.

It is what Nasci sees as he just notices the tug cord for the parachute on his back, and slams into the Thames River facefirst.

/...

"Milo..!" Yomiko finds herself nearly smothering the small Milo to death in her bear hug. She thinks he is a soft teddy bear, and she doesn't realize how uncomfortable he's feeling in her embrace until she feels his bony ribcage struggling to breathe. Aah, that's enough!

The coat's sleeves flop around, appearing oversized and without hands on her arms.

Allowing Milo to recover himself, Miss Readman begins to smile cheekily. "I was so worried when I couldn't find you around; I'd thought you'd wandered away..! Ah, but you're here, I'm here now. That airlift's supposed to take me home here— oh never mind that now. You and the others've taken all this trouble to follow me — I imagine there's a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. This is the British Library, Milo, where I work. Admittingly, it might not look like much at first, but.."

She leans in to whisper his feline ears, almost close enough for her lips to tickle them. "The true heart of it lies deep underground, where most of my colleagues are. I'm very glad you're with me now, because I think there's a little something that Research has cooked up, to get you back home to— Cerezlia, is that it?"

Yomiko glances away, almost regretfully — even though she has only known him for one night, she feels as if she will miss the brief excitement she had enjoyed with him.

She looks at the Library entrance, where the two strange men still wait standing. "Do you know these fellows too? They say they've also lost their way cosmically; one of them thinks Venice still exists, and the other one.. I'm not sure yet about him. Are they your friends, by any chance?"

In some far distance, there comes a deep pop.

(OOC: Ja, now I'm done finalizing my post. Sorry if I kept you waiting! To KSPAM— London's in the middle of the country, and as such no oceans lie nearby; what I think Malcolm has landed in is the River Thames, the river running through the centre of the city. It seems that in his rough escaping of the helicopter, he made it crash violently into a place full of people.◊ Malcolm's in some bad trouble.

To Leradny/Slan — hope you'll be feeling better soon!)

edited 14th Jan '11 7:56:44 PM by QQQQQ

Milo laughed, surprised, and tried to hug Yomiko back. He'd never been hugged by a human before, and it was quite overwhelming. Why did they have to be so big?

"I'm really glad you're not hurt," he said in response to her.

She leaned over to whisper in his ear, as if what she was saying was a great secret. "The true heart of it lies deep underground, where most of my colleagues are," she said. "I'm very glad you're with me now, because I think there's a little something that Research has cooked up, to get you back home to— Cerezlia, is that it?"

What? She thinks she can get me home! Milo thought. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Yomiko was still talking.

"Do you know these fellows too? They say they've also lost their way cosmically; one of them thinks Venice still exists, and the other one.. I'm not sure yet about him. Are they your friends, by any chance?"

"Um," Milo said, taking a close look at the figures she was waving at. "I met Marc before, a little bit earlier, but I don't really know him. I've never seen the other one." More people who are lost, he thought. ...I wonder what 'cosmically' means?

edited 15th Jan '11 4:09:46 PM by LoniJay

Wet sloshing sounds approach from a nearby alleyway. Malcolm, clothes soaked and hairdo ruined, walks out to greet them.

"Hey. Sorry 'bout the island. My piloting skills are frightfully lacking." He finishes, then turns towards Yomiko.

"I've repaid my debt. I'm sorry for causing you trouble. I won't make excuses for what I did, but I can at least offer you my services in return. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Footsteps echo in the distance. Malcolm twitches around, sniffing the air. "Well, they caught up faster than I thought. Tallyho and all that jazz. I'm afraid if I stay here, I'll probably be arrested."

edited 15th Jan '11 6:10:41 PM by KSPAM

(OOC: OK, I'm going away again and for longer this time. I'm leaving tomorrow. I guess Milo will just have to black out again.)

Milo blinked - his vision was swimming and grey round the edges, and he felt dizzy.

"Yomiko," he said hesitantly. "I think I should sit down for a second..." He sat down very suddenly on the cold, hard ground. At least, he thought he did but he couldn't be sure...

Milo folded over slowly, unconscious, and lay on the ground as if sleeping.

edited 17th Jan '11 5:13:02 AM by LoniJay

Marc watches as Milo collapses and rushes over himself. He kneels and sings a soft chant for good health. Even at home it would be unlikely to cure him but it should bolster his chances and maybe some kind spirit will offer their help.

"I think he's mainly cold. Is there a fire we can warm ourselves by? And maybe figure out what's going on?"

Waiting for Yomiko's answer, Marc sings again, calling the warmth of the room to gently heat Milo.

Yomiko's eyes widen at the sight unfolding in front of her. Milo looks like he is woozy— ought she go and ask him if anything's the matter?

"Milo.." she goes at first, and her plea goes unheard by Milo as he does not rouse an eye or yawn like the sleepily folk. "Milo! Milo?!" she screams out with further aghast. She clambers over to his furry body on the icy pavement, brushing Marc out the way.

Yomiko runs her fingers along his cheek — he feels as cold to the touch as a lukewarm bowl of soup. Her breath is panicked. She is not sure whether this is a normal habit for a Carlian like him, or if this is something far more serious. She slaps his puffy cheeks— tries pinching his ears, but to seemingly no avail.

"Milo!!"

Then she puts her hand to his neck (no no maybe the pulse does not lie there) to his chest and finds his breathing quite stilted, shallow as a damaged air pump. You can barely see the stream out his nose into the wintery air.

"Uahh—"

Have to get him inside the library, for warmth.

She overtaxes herself trying to carry him on her back — no dice. She stumbles over— her little muscles aren't built for heavy duty work (sadly enough). Her closed wounds begin to bleed again.

edited 3rd Feb '11 8:05:24 AM by QQQQQ