Fun dumb.

I want to do some fun things for my characters, and this is the best way to sum up their personalities and add to being able to write them like people!  www.16personalities.com is what I used, with an alright test and some good stuff on the personalities (in case you wanted to do it, or know more!)

Geo:  ENFP

Idealist, focuses on the connections with people.

Strengths: Curious, optimistic, Energetic, excellent communicator, relaxed.

Weaknesses: No practical skills, Can’t focus, overthinks things, too emotional, Stressed easily, highly emotional, independent to a fault.

Kiko: ISFJ

Best of tradition and the want to do good, feel guilty about taking credit in team efforts, connects with people very well, though naturally introverted.

Strengths: Supportive, reliable and patient, Imaginative and observant, enthusiastic, loyal and hardworking, while being practical.

Weaknesses: Humble and shy, take things personally, Repress their feelings, Overload themselves, reluctant to change, too altruistic.

Kaz: ENTP

Ultimate Devil’s Advocate, Thriving on shredding arguments and seeing the ribbons float in the wind.

Strengths: Knowledgeable, Quick Thinker, Original, Excellent Brainstormer, Charismatic, Energetic.

Weaknesses: Very argumentative, Insensitive, Intolerant, Find it difficult to focus, Dislike practical matters.

Cyril: ENFP

See Geo? That’s actually pretty accurate, actually. Not surprised it turned out like this!

Sullivan: INTJ ‘The Mastermind’

The Bookworm, live life as contradictions: ‘Starry eyed idealist vs cynic’ because they are very rational.

Strengths: Quick, imaginative, and strategic mind. High self-confidence, independent and decisive, Hardworking, open minded, Jack-of-all Trades,

Weaknesses: Arrogant, judgmental, overly analytical, loathe highly structured environments, clueless in romance.

Fun fact: I have the most letters in common with Sullivan! 

Family Problems

Kaz flicked the end of his cigarette out, staring at his hands. Whose hands were they? What was he doing? The girl had contacted him first. Kiko. He had tried rolling Date around in his mouth, but both it and Kiko felt strange. Daughter, was just as foreign, he decided, trying it in the languages he knew. None of them expressed how he really felt. Awful? Tired? Sorry that he had been tracked and found out? Probably all of the above.

She stood a head taller than most of the other people in the crowded streets. She walked with a small hesitation in her step, her eyes locked onto Kaz. She had her mother’s eyes, he dimly realized, flicking his cigarette away. But she was paler than her family. The focused, almost hunting look on her face reminded Kaz of himself. He wished she didn't remind him of that as she stopped a few feet from him, staring at his face.

“So. It was between you and someone else, but you’re winning by a large margin. Mostly because there are actual records of you existing as an adult when I was born.” The young woman sighed, staring at the man. “I've always wondered about it, how was I going to confront you? How would you react? But now I've done it, I feel a little… Spent. Does that make any sense at all?”

“Yeah. I think it does.” He threw the cigarette to the side. After so long of what he assumed was depression, he felt a familiar tingling in his bones. Something strong was in front of him. She was on the cusp of adulthood, but he could feel it radiating off of her, just like he could with his son. He wondered if she felt the same thing.

“So, are you? Are you my father?"

“Did no one tell you that you lack tact? Aren’t we supposed to discuss this sort of thing over dinner or something?” Kaz grinned as he spoke.

“It’s a simple question! I’d prefer to not beat around the bush with this stuff. If you are, maybe THEN we can have whatever dumb shit you want.”

“Yeah. You are. You’re definitely my daughter. I pegged it on you as soon as I saw you for the first time. I heard you survived in the 12 Dimensions for nearly two years. I don’t think your brother could have done that at his age. Then again, he was always full of surprises…”

“I got some questions then! Don’t go talking like it’s all okay, because it’s NOT.” She snarled. “Where the hell have you been? Or did you not even know I existed until I came for you?”

“Didn’t know you existed. I remember your mom, she swore up and down that there was no chance of a kid. So either something took that as a challenge or she was lying to me. I didn’t think you existed until you appeared at the academy, and even then? I wasn’t sure. But now, I’m positive.”

Kiko looked the ogre up and down, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “So, I knew my mom had some weird things and for a little while, I thought I was a mutation, like a shark to her mermaid. But now I know it’s your stupid genetics. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome kid.” God, he wanted to test her, to fight her. Only someone who could put up a good enough fight would have the right to call herself his daughter. He paused, grabbing the box at his feet. ‘Hey, uh. Since I knew what the outcome was going to be, here. I got you a gift.”

The girl’s frown deepened, but she opened it, the frown slowly disappearing. The D-pad inside looked like one she had made on a website, with the way it all looked like a serpent’s tail, the scales…

“Everyone said you were a bum! How the hell are you even affording this shit? How did you even know?”

“Public wish lists have made gift giving very very easy.” The older man grinned sardonically, then waved his hand. “Look, it’s yours. If you want to hang out and do things and try and connect, great. If you’re not comfortable with that? That’s also fine, I don’t want to force it.”

“…Give me a few days. Maybe this weekend. It’s a big commitment if I’m going to skip classes to come to Domino or miss out on precious homework time.” She crossed her arms, trying to not look delighted with the small gift. The man in front of her seemed uncomfortable now, his red-brown eyes now cast towards the ground.

“So, I have a brother too?”

“Yeah. Geo Briar? He’s the guy who runs the Flamvell bar and Grill. He and his fiancé met doing their hero work at the academy.”

"So he’s strong? Is he as strong as you?” Kiko leaned forward, feeling the smile creeping across her face. “I don’t want to fight YOU yet, but I think I wouldn’t mind testing HIM out.”

“Hard to say. He used to be on par with some of the big wig kids, but I think he stopped doing hero work. Don’t know if the flame with him went out or if it’s just cooled.”

She didn’t need to hear anything else as she turned around.  Kiko had marked the bar when she first came back, but for different reasons. What did Suguru even see in that idiot? “We’ll do dinner this weekend father. Maybe even a duel! I’d love to catch up.”

“Hoo boy. Alright. Don’t hurt anyone, kid. Or get hurt yourself.”

*                               *

Geo Briar had almost everything set-up. Orders had gone in, they would fare well with Kurochi at the helm for a month. Or a month and a half, he mused. Two months of just he and Suguru, with no wacky supernatural happenings, no worrying about his restaurant. Sight-seeing, having fun… And then the door swung open fifteen minutes before they were going to open.

“I heard you were some kind of bad ass, Briar!” The young woman at the door shouted, her face in a snarl. “I heard you kicked ass at the academy.” Oh. It was the girl who was probably his sister. Definitely his sister, with the face she was making. It reminded him of his father, if he got carried away.

“I guess.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I do it much anymore. There’s no big things. At this point, I think it’s all of our pasts coming back to haunt us. And that? I can deal with. I didn’t leave any unfinished business.” He grinned at her.

“Well. I demand a duel, brother!”

“I’m about to open.” He was nonplussed by the reveal she clearly thought would hit harder. “Actually tell you what, I can open late one day.”

“Sweet!”

The open air parking lot was a little chilly, and Geo cursed himself for leaving his suit jacket inside. The girl didn’t seem to be very bothered.

 “So, no limiters? Full force attacks? Or can you even take it?”

“Fine by me.” Something in his blood boiled now as he looked at her. This girl thought it was cute to crash into his bar, probably even thought she’d prove something to Suguru by beating him. It stopped here.

 Duel here

Geo was sent flying by the dual assault of the two massive sea serpents, his shirt torn and his pants tattered. He groaned from his position and sat up, laughing in spite of himself.

Kiko tapped on her pad, grinning. “Looks like you can still open in time.” She gave a small wave as she walked off, leaving her brother on the ground.

“I’ll take a rematch soon, sis!”

“Anytime you want your ass kicked, Briar come see me. I'll be happy to trounce you again and again."

Prequels and Aubades

Prequels and Aubades 2??

Geo polished one of the last glasses of the evening, musing over his reflection in it. Maybe he should cut the stupid beard off. Lose the hat. Cut his hair. He looked a little too much like his dad, now that the fucker had resurfaced. It was pretty uncanny, he had to admit, but didn’t serve his esteem too well. He was going to be married in about a month, maybe he shouldn’t look like the person who had poisoned the idea of this for so long for him.

His reverie was broken by the sound of the door opening. He had sent Kurochi home early, leaving just him and Spike, wherever the little guy had run off to. Expecting some regular or another to have staggered into his bar super late without any regard for his hours, he reached for both the whisky and beer, preparing for both his father and Shian. Sometimes they were even there together.

“’Oly fuck ya look like a fuckin’ goofball with that shitty ‘at.”

Cyril grinned at him from the doorway, his hands up. Geo nearly dropped what he was holding, but reminded his hands how much they both cost as he put them back.

“I thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, I’ve been gettin’ that alot. Surprisin’ ‘ow I ain’t. Myself included. Shit, do ya know ‘ow much I’ve ‘ad ta tell people ‘oh I went on space fuckin’ adventures ta die.’ An’ then apologize? Be some fuckin’ sentimental bastard for a few seconds?”

"That sounds awful.” Geo rolled his eyes. “You want a drink, or we just chatting?”

“I’ll take a scotch. Cheapest shit ya got, I ain’t made o’ money.” Cyril sat at the bar, resting his elbows on it. “Shian was fuckin’ right. Ya cleaned the fuck up out of this place. Fancy food, fancy drinks.  Hell, ya fuckin’ even look like a bartender now.” The spirit laughed as Geo began to pour the scotch out, a little miffed he didn’t ask for the specialty stuff.

“So, you went off to… do what exactly?”

“Fight, y’know. Take on the numbers. Go out swingin’ ‘cause that’s the only way I know ‘ow ta be.” Cyril sniffed at the drink put in front of him. It had higher alcohol content than water, so he disguised his face as he sipped on it. “I really fucked the pooch on it, Geo. Izzy’s gone to fuck off nowhere, e’ryone was so fuckin’ worried, an’ all I got fer it was a good beatin’.”

“…Oh.” This was the last reaction he had expected out of Cyril. He expected threats or a fist fight over who got to be his best man, if he had even heard about that yet. Not an outpouring of emotions. He put his hand on his near double’s shoulder.

“Dude, it’s fine. Weird shit happens all the time here. You going off to fight isn’t even that surprising. I figured you had done SOMETHING like that, considering you needed shittons of energy because, let’s face it, you weren’t exactly in a stable state.”

“I ‘ppreciate the sentiment, but I ‘ad a video that was gonna play when I died. But I fuckin’ didn’t. Was gonna ‘splain all that shit, I didn’t want people to boohoo over me like I was some fuckin’ terminally ill patient. They shoulda thought ‘oh fuck that was an awesome brief time ‘e was with us, I’m glad he did what ‘e did.’”

“Like I said, it’s fine. I know we’ve been worried about you. Sanshi too, I bet. I can’t speak for Isabel, but you’ve been missed here.” Geo gave a small smile. “Look, I’ll make some arrangements, we can get you up in a hotel for you to stay in.”

“Onni already made those, but. Thanks. So, we, huh? Gross.” Cyril chuckled. “But for fuckin’ real, congrats. Ya two are fuckin’ perfect fer each other. Picture fuckin’ perfect high school sweet hearts.”

“That’s remarkably bitter, coming from you, Cyril. We can even go looking for Isabel, wherever she fucked off to.”

“That’s not fucking it. I can’t get your fiancé out of my fuckin’ ‘ead.” There. It was on the table now and Cyril couldn’t take it back, even as it felt like his stomach was bottoming out. He drained his drink. “I mean, I can’t get Izzy outa my head either, but that actually makes some fuckin’ SENSE.”

“I figured.” Geo said simply, starting to work on a larger, more elaborate drink. “It’s not painfully obvious, like with that girl who may be my half-sister, but it’s obvious for someone who knows you really well. And, for what it’s worth, probably my fault it’s welded to you like that. So, y’know. Sorry.” Some gin, a few drops of vermouth…

“’ow the fuck did you figure it?!”

“Look, we shared a body for more than a few months. Everything there is to know about me, you know. It went both ways, hot head. I just didn’t DO anything with it. Like, what use is knowledge about a dead kingdom going to be to a student? So it kinda. Got dumped? But like, you liked her. You had… Kinda dates with her.” As Geo spoke, he produced two chilled glasses from under the bar. “It ain’t a big deal. You tell her?”

                

“Fuck no. I’m pretty fuckin’ content bein’ yer friend, fer both of ya. Jus’ figured I’d tell ya. I ain’t plannin’ on actin’ on it or anything.” The prince watched as Geo poured the martini out. “Didn’t think ya ‘ad all this fuckin’ finesse in ya.”

                

“I mean, I figure if I’ve got enough control in my body to make pretty minute changes in my battle stances, I can easily just pour fancy drinks.” He laughed as he slid Cyril the drink and took a sip of his. “Thank you for telling me.”

                

“Ain’t nothin’ ta write home about. Jus’ thought ya should know that it’s ‘appenin’.” Cyril took a larger swig of his, letting out a small sigh. “Fuck, that’s good.”

                

“I know how to make things that taste good. If you’re hungry, I can go fire up the grill again. Also, I already got Onni as my best man, but if you want, you get to be part of my groomsman or something.”

                

“Yeah. Y’know what, I dun even gotta be yer best man. I’ll settle for fuckin’ that.”

                

“We’ve got a few weeks to get it together. Also, if you see my dad trying to get ANYTHING together for a ‘bachelor’s’ party? Stop it. Please.”

                

Cyril chuckled darkly, unsure if he’d put a stop to it or be the flames for the gasoline. Geo sighed and finished his drink off.

                

“It’s good to see you back Cyril. I’m glad you didn’t die, as much as you thought it needed to happen then.”

                

“Yeah, well. I guess I’m pretty fuckin’ glad I didn’t get recycled into the beyond or whatever the fuck ‘appens ta us spirits. Good news too. I’m pretty fuckin’ stable since my people found an’ fixed me. Ain’t ever gonna need yer or yer dad’s body.”

               

“Good to know. So is it our freaky blood that would allow you to bond with us? I’m really curious. Does that mean we’re distant relatives? I seem to remember some human girl in those memories… She was pretty fuckin’ bestial too. …Holy fuck if you’re some sorta Gilgamesh was she an Endiku?!”

                

Cyril turned a shade of crimson and polished off his drink. He was surprised that Geo even knew those words.

               
“So, it’s, ah. Gettin’ fuckin’ late. It’s been a fuckin’ long ass day an’ I’m gonna welcome a shower an’ a normal fuckin’ bed. Good seein’ ya Geo. Glad ya grew up ta be some sorta respectable guy.” Cyril left his glasses  there as he moved out of the bar, leaving Geo to laugh and shake his head at the retreating form. 

oh god why

Loose Ends

The large man pushed his way through New York, retracing steps that he had walked over two decades ago. His hair was long and wild, kept out of his eyes with a headband, skin tanned by years of labor outside. He looked uncomfortable in his buttoned up shirt and slacks, hands constantly adjusting the collar, when they weren't lighting or holding a cigarette.

Nearly a pack in and it was barely noon. Ivan Briar, sometimes Kyle, sometimes Kazuo, wondered what he was doing with his life as he approached the street café, smoke billowing from his nose. A sign read ‘no smoking’ but he cared very little for it as he pushed through the line, to look at the woman who was watching the poor young man make an espresso shot.

She was just as beautiful as she had been years ago, when he had asked her to marry him as soon as they had found out she was pregnant. Before they had moved to Japan for his ‘work.’ Her crimson hair was up in a bun and she stared at him with an expression of rage over her glasses. Nina’s mouth opened and she just pointed to the patio.

Kaz walked with slightly less swagger than he was used to as he headed to the outdoor area and took a seat in a chair that was slightly too small for him. Nina closed the door behind her and sat down, her face belaying her absolute rage at Kaz despite her controlled motions.

"What the fuck are you doing here you worthless lying cheating abusive fuck?”

Ouch. Straight to the point it was then.

“Our son is getting married. I got him the money to do so, but he wants you there before he confirms for anything. You’re not responding to his phone calls, you’re not responding to anything he’s sending you, and he’s too busy with the business YOU left to him to come and do this.”

“Oh, so you thought it’d be fucking okay for YOU to come, AFTER this was announced? I’m not going there just to see you at a happy day. I’m afraid I’d shoot you again and you wouldn’t make it through this fucking time. Elephant bullets, maybe engraved with some magical chant to kill arrogant pricks.”

Kaz thought better of calling her on the bluff, or if the attempt would kill him. He had proven himself stubbornly resilient time and time again, even when he had scraped the bottom of the barrel and would’ve welcomed a release into the afterlife, wherever he was destined. But if someone could kill him, he had no doubt it’d be Nina.

“I did think it was okay. I’m fucking sorry, alright? I was a shitty husband, a lousy dad, and I don’t blame you for taking the pistol to me.” He unconsciously ran a hand down his shoulder and his stomach. “But Geo doesn’t deserve to pay for what I did to you. I do.”

“Then don’t come.” Nina grinned now, pulling out her own pack of cigarettes. “If you’re so fucking dead set on redemption and seeing that our son is happy, I’ll believe you if you don’t come. Don’t show your fucking grinning mug anywhere near there with your slut of the week and I’ll MAYBE forgive you. If you promise me that, I’ll RSVP to my son’s wedding. And, you can’t tell anyone why. Promise me all of this on your honor as a warrior, on the last bit of goodness your black heart may have left, and I’ll get my tickets. Even send you a confirmation.”

He felt his heart stop. All of the work he had put into the last few years of trying to reconnect with his son. The hate had cooled after a little while, and they were getting along. He’d even paid off his massive tab. Once they even hugged, after Geo had started to see how serious he was about trying to be a good person.

“A few good deeds can’t make up for a lifetime of wickedness then. I accept, Nina. I’ll keep my fucking hands out of the whole thing, alright?”

“Good. Now get out of here before I call the fucking cops.”

The ogre nodded as he climbed over the fence around the patio and landed back onto the sidewalk. His stomach was in knots and he felt like throwing up. His hands shook as he tried to light another cigarette, failing quite a few times. Just a sip, he told himself as he unscrewed his flask, taking a gigantic gulp, letting the whisky burn down his throat.

He wasn’t sure if he was happy with this decision. It was what was best for his son, he was sure. Nothing could make up what he had done, so he hoped it was in the right direction and that someone, somewhere, would listen to him if he needed to tell someone, promise to Nina be damned. 

By the time he had arrived at his shitty hotel, he had taken down all three of the flasks in his pockets and felt even more sorry for himself than he had in years.

“There goes the legendary warrior, Ivan, nothing more than a fucking drunk.” He said to no one in particular, besides maybe the brotherhood of the fire fist spirits that sometimes congregated around him. For the first time in a long time, he felt like crying.

Ivan Briar, or Kyle, or Kazuo, whatever the name he was going by that year, imagined a woman who he hadn’t knocked around, lied to, or just slept with and left gently rubbing his shoulders as he laid in a drunken stupor, staring at the awful painting on the wall. She told him that everything was going to be alright and that he was doing things the right way as he felt his eyes dampen, the hands on his back relaxing knotted muscles and relieving tension.

“I love you,” he slurred to the imaginary woman, his last coherent thought before he felt a hot wetness on his cheeks and the stress and alcohol begin to claim him as he faded into unconsciousness.

                Old legends spoke of a time when the gods fought the rulers of the world of the fae, the Eldest, for possession of Othrombar. That the gods had not truly won, merely separated the ‘first world’ ontop of parts of it and had quickly fallen to squabbling amongst themselves once again, only uniting to imprison Rovagug under the earth. Some only united to advance the cause of good or the vast empires that were now ruined by wars.

                These were the songs that the oracle sung as Arcturus joined with the two ‘sacred whores’ he had paid for. He didn’t speak anything but a smattering of celestial as she sang, the nubile young man and woman having helped his mind calm down. Focus more. He hated magic if he was fighting against it. But on his side? Arcturus wanted to buy that warforged a drink. He was sure that without him or those bestial fighters, he’d have died in that forsaken place.

                He was buttoning his trousers up as he walked out of Calistria’s temple, his mind never having felt this great. His pockets were empty though. Hands shook as he tried to bring a glass of wine to bear but he could only think about the things that had stolen his friend’s voices. How they had all fallen trap to the daemons and the hag, whatever she was plotting.

                “Hello friend!” Came a far too bubbly voice that sat next to him. Jera leaned over the table and sniffed at the wine. “Strong stuff, eh?”

                “I’ve drank stronger.” He groaned and with a great effort, drained it in one go. “’course, that was what feels like a lifetime ago. Why the fuck did I live, Jera? Why didn’t Janice make it out? She was a good woman. Why did they take Woods?” He whimpered, remembering the thing that they had never encountered their second run through, the thing as big as the trox, face like a horrifying fish. That he swore had reached in and pulled the soul right out of Janice, and then blocked the entrance out of the building.

                That the things from upstairs had attacked them as the two of them panicked, the hallucinations from the ghost thing he had carved through had slowly driven him mad until he posted himself in a corner of a room and waited for the end, but the daemons had only crippled him and waited for him to bleed out after what had felt like an eternity.

                “Because the world is cold and cruel.” Jera said simply, ordering two more glasses of wine. “They did not deserve their fate, but you lived. The recovery team can’t find their bodies, Arcturus. Without them, we cannot raise them. Assuming the daemons didn’t consume their soul stuff already.”

                “I know.” Arcturus croaked. “I was afraid of it.” He took the wine and didn’t bother to look at what Jera had ordered, only knowing that his hands had started to steady. His teacher had once told him that his body and mind had to be steel to wield a blade perfectly. He was afraid he wasn’t tough enough now.

                “How do you feel about ruins that are slowly sinking into Dashmana’s Lake?”

                “How about you fuck yourself?” Arcturus slowly stood up. “I don’t think I could handle another job right now.”

                “Understandable.” Jera rose with him. “You’ve been one of my closest friends, Arcturus. My father used to say that you were the best swordsman he had ever trained.”

                “Your father was a liar.” He took a mug of dwarven ale that was left on a table next to them and drained it. “A great swordsman, but a liar.” Arcturus’ head was spinning as he started to push out of the bar, the ground swaying underneath him.

                “We have only the greatest admiration for you, Arcturus. You could’ve been something great.”

                That stung, but he didn’t care. Arcturus had already picked up another patron’s drink and had downed it as quickly as the others as he staggered out of the bar and nearly fell over into the mud outside. He felt hands around his arm as someone threw it over his neck.

                “I never even got to tell those fucking new recruits thank you for saving my ass, Jera. Or that Woods was the sexiest man I had ever worked with.” He felt his stomach lurch from the giant influx of alcohol, but managed to not add throwing up to the various indignities he had suffered.

                Arcturus slept then. He dreamt of his father, a grizzled old man who could have easily been his grandfather, swept up in some current of something he wasn’t old enough to understand when he disappeared and left him to Allimar’s sword academy. He dreamt of Woods tenderly kissing the scars on his arms, of Janice’s strong arms, their faces superimposed on the whores he had bought.

                The face of Jera’s father told him that his mind had to be as sharp as the blade he wielded. His body had to be as limber as the steel at his side. Then the old man rotted before his eyes and left the blade in his care, as well as his school

                How long he dreamed, he didn’t know. But he had a headache so fierce he was sure a dragon was going to come scrabbling out of his skull and devour him whole.

                “Fuck.” He muttered, wondering at the Lodge symbol on the wall. The warrior half walked, half stumbled to the chamber pot where he voided himself from every orifice he thought possible, and then continued his same slow walk to Jera’s office, who looked up from his paperwork.

                “Don’t get those guys killed. Even the little fucking jotnar. They’re decent enough to have saved my hide. Even though I didn’t deserve it.”

                “Maybe you’ve got another chance, friend. Your goddess is quite fickle, isn’t she? Maybe she preserved you in your darkest times.”

                “Mm.” He grabbed the blade that was leaning at the edge of the desk. “…Thank you.”

                “My father would have done the same.”

                “Wonder if my father would have drank like a fish too.” He laughed, but Jera only half-smiled. “I think I’m looking for a change of pace, Jera. We signed on for excitement in strange places, but all I’ve done is do the watch’s job for ‘em and kill men and women who I don’t think deserved it.”

                “I’ll look into it.” Jera’s grin had returned as he began to go back to his paperwork.

                “Is the practice room still open?” He said, only getting a nod from Jera in return. Arcturus left the room, body still feeling sluggish as he opened a locked door with the palm sized coin. In the middle sat an empty suit of armor. It raised the empty helm as he closed the door behind him.

                He slowly drew his blade as the suit grabbed a bastard sword next to it and stood up, and while his body felt sluggish, he could only grin.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

                Nissa spun the gold pouch on one finger. It was more than she had hoped to gain from the last venture, especially into her past. She supposed she had done well for herself with the group. Everyone has an agenda, came the voice, unbidden in her head. So what was hers?

                She pondered on it as she trailed the swordsman they had rescued. Her and her ‘group.’ Fellowship? Fair weather friends, she decided, as she trailed the man to the bar, then to temple of Calistria. She wrote her findings into a scrap of paper, pressed it into a street urchin’s hand, and gave him directions to Jera. Nissa didn’t have much better to do, but didn’t feel like speaking with the sorcerer again.

                Her flat wasn’t much. On the seedier part of town, where she had been employed until the lodge had come to her with a better offer, a better life than a thief. She snorted as she thought of the wide-eyed girl who had accepted, even accepted an experiment to turn her into something better. They called it an ‘Elan’ whatever that meant.

                What it entailed was ripping her out of her body and putting her into one that was naturally psionic. She had lost much and gained a body that didn’t tire unless she wanted it to, a natural magical body, and entrance to a society she wanted no part in.

                The booby traps that guarded her flat didn’t activate as she walked through them. Her reflection stared back at her, a tattoo across her face that had never been there when she was human. She gave herself the best smile she could before unlocking the mirror, throwing the pouch of coins into a vault, closing it, and frowning at the face staring back at her.

                Dye was enough to cover the red hair that they had ‘gifted’ her with. She paid for a sandy blonde she had in the time before. She sighed, rubbing at her skin, wishing that the tattoos would go away. That the Elan council would stop sending her messages. But wishing never filled up coffers. And all of the gold in the world wouldn’t make her human again.

                “Miss Nissa?” Came a voice from outside, beyond the range of her traps. “We’d like to thank you, on behalf of the orphanage.”

                She stuck her head out, to look a group of dirty children with an old automata, stooped by age, and rust, hands offering a few silver coins.

                “Professor Cog…” She gulped as she saw her old caretaker, eyes whirring.

                “We looked at what we could spare, and it’s this. I know it’s not much to a woman who’s in the Lodge now, but this is our gratitude.” His face whirred as he tried to smile, but she assumed he couldn’t even pay for the maintenance to get that fixed. He had been her caretaker nearly a decade ago, and his eyes had the same amount of kindness. She smiled, held up a hand and disappeared back into her room. Behind her mirror safe, she took half of the gold Jera had paid her.

                Patterns could be broken. She had seen to that. It was one she was good at. Maybe she could break her own pattern of greed and that of the constantly down on its luck orphanage. Gold could never bring back who she was. That wasn’t something she could ever break.

                “This is… This is too much. You helped us. By most people you…”

                “It’s a gift. For keeping me from…  Well, whatever you kept me from.”

                Patterns can shift over time. People are just a collection of patterns that can be broken or changed given the right nudge, weren’t they? Nissa hoped she could do something like that.