Private Roleplay.

Mugiwara and SoulyTer only.

Lurkers are welcome to praise our writing.

Glory to their exploits!

plot :: It's winter in Solfege City. The windows are icing over, the shops are closing early, and even the mice are holing up safe in apartment walls for the night. But what happens if there's nowhere to go? What becomes of those left out in the harsh cold? It might take a little luck to make it through the season this year...

setting :: The tall buildings and cluttered streets of Solfege City create a tattered frame for the clear blue skies that lace it. With home-based shops, interesting merchandise, and underground dealings everywhere you turn, there's always a story to be told here in the city of steampunk legend.

Hajime Sekai "Senbon"
hair :: sure is
hair color :: sandy blonde
eye color :: wine red
age :: 27
past :: was once a skilled a.ssa.ssin, but fled the country when his queen became too tyrannical for his liking.
present :: now resides contentedly in Solfege City as an emissary of the young but insightful Emperor Caspiar. there, he met a lost soul by the curious name of Handlebars. fatefully enough, Hajime had killed Handlebars' parents years earlier. though currently, Handlebars hasn't realized this, Hajime has and knows it will only be a matter of time before Handlebars realizes it. though some still cast strange looks on Hajime's ominous eyes and calculating gaze, few think enough of his similarity to the missing a.ssa.ssin to raise questions to the man.
location :: lives in the upper floor of an old cathedral, despite the Emperor's frequent requests to provide housing for him. Hajime insists that he enjoys the view and indeed, the building is still inhabitable, being well-insulated and having full utilities.
other :: Hajime has a penchant for drinking, especially rum. he also has a slight Germanic accent and a black motorcycle. oh, one more thing. he's now a pacifist, although not above using violence if the situation calls for it.

EDIT:
Dear Lurkers,

Hajime has a perfectly good excuse reason for having his reddish eyes, and it is this: He is partially albino. Incomplete albinism causes his mixture of red and brown eye color, making his eyes appear the deep maroon color of red wine. Also, this is a reasonable explanation for his light hair color. :| Moral of the story? If your character has random sparkledog traits, at least have enough of a heart to Google a reasonable explanation.

Love, Kafrin.

Wut. 8( I have to type a bio thing? AGAIN? Fine.

Myuujikku "Handlebars"

Hair: Longish and messy.

Hair Color: Dark brown.

Eye Color: Dark green.

Age: 18

Past: Once lived in a wealthy family consisting of his mother, father, and older brother. His parents were a.ssa.ssinated after his brother left to pursue his own goals. He fled from his home and ended up in Solfege City.

Present: Like Hajime, he now lives in Solfege City. He has no home, save for a beat up old car that provides shelter from rain and snow. He often visits the local soup kitchen to talk with his elderly friend, Mrs. Matthews. This is also where he acquires most of his meals.

Location: Lives in an old car located in an empty lot behind some old buildings in the deepest part of the city. (Wow, that was a mouthful.) However, he's rarely ever there and can usually be found walking around the city, or at the soup kitchen.

Other: He knows of every song that's ever been sung, no matter what language, and can sing ones he's never even heard before. Flawlessly. He doesn't like being called a 'god', and denied the ti
tle when Hajime jokingly called him the "Great God of Music." He also denies the fact that he has a true name, and refuses to answer to anything but "Handlebars". He experiences severe tinnitus-like ringing, accompanied by pain, whenever something reminds him of his past.

...D8 Geez.

((I'll start? ...I'll start.))

Winter is so beautiful... thought Hajime as he wandered the city streets. So white. Pure. He jammed his hands into his brown leather coat pockets. Looking down at the cement before him, Hajime saw the dirty grey slush by the side of the road and reminded himself that, as beautiful as the season could be, there was nothing beautiful about the harsh cold that surfaced yearly in the area. He wondered for a moment how his old friend Handlebars was faring, and mentally chastised himself for not remembering to learn where the boy lived.

To that end, a mixed feeling of privilege and guilt came over Hajime. Here was he in his warm grey knit hat and scarf, while there existed in the city those less fortunate. And Handlebars, especially, was his responsibility. After all, who knows what his friend would have been doing were it not for Hajime...

Shaking the fat flakes of falling snow from his shoulders, Hajime turned onto a smaller back street, away from the majority of Solfege City's daylight workings. Most would hesitate before strolling through such a place, but Hajime had no qualms in doing so. He looked up past the rusting buildings and exhaled, his breath making a cloud in the already cloudy sky.

Handlebars sneezed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered navy-colored hoodie. I don't remember it being THIS cold... He thought as a violent shiver racked his body. However, it wasn't any colder than it usually was at this time of the year. The truth of the matter was simple. Handlebars was sick. It was the first time he was truly ill since his arrival in Solfege City all those years ago.

The teen continued to slowly and silently trudge away from the rusty old car he called home, not entirely sure of where he was going.

The fever was starting to get to him.

If Hajime were a dog, his ears would have pricked in the direction of the next street over. Not only was the ex-a.ssa.ssin's hearing nothing at which to laugh, he was now in the mostly dead part of the city, and could hear every footstep, every voice... every sneeze.

And perhaps Hajime was imagining it, but it seemed as if he recognized the sneeze. Of every resident of Solfege City, was it at all possible that he could simply run into Handlebars this far from his usual locations? It would take an incredible amount of luck.

Having nowhere to be, and wanting some company, even if it wasn't anyone he knew, Hajime quickly and dexterously backtracked several blocks and cut through an alleyway to come out in the path of whoever it was he had heard.

Luck was with him.

Handlebars lifted his head and met the wine-colored gaze of the man he considered his best friend. "H-Haju!" he cried, his dark green eyes lighting up. He sneezed, then stumbled forward. "Hey! Man, it's so cold outside, huh? How are you?"

Handlebars' body trembled, not from excitement, but from his gradually worsening fever.

((Short post. :c I fail.))

Once again, Hajime's poor social skills failed him. Although he took note of what Handlebars said, he made no effort to acknowledge that he'd spoken, instead responding to the question with one of his own.

"Are you all right?" Hajime asked. "You seem ill." The man frowned. This winter was rather cold, but certainly not cold enough for the way Handlebars was shaking. Eyes scanning his dear friend with concern, Hajime wondered exactly how thin that hoodie was...

 ((c: It's okay. Mine's short too. We'll have a club. With jackets.))

((Yes. c8 And hats.))

Handlebars nodded. "I'm fine," he said, smiling. "I think I just caught a cold or something." The teen shivered violently, and took a step toward Hajime. "Have... you been to see Mrs. Matthews lately? I've been trying to get out to the kitchen, but I've been so dang weak these past few days. I don't understand why."

No one ever said he was the sharpest knife the drawer.

Hajime withdrew slightly before realizing the gravity of that statement. If he was too weak to leave wherever it was he called home, not only did that mean he was deathly ill, but also...

"Handle," said Hajime, again brushing off his friend's attempts at conversation. "When's the last time you ate a full meal?" He put his hands on Handlebars' shoulders, as if doing so would prevent the youth from vanishing.

((Woop. Getting shorter by the minute.))

((Nah, I think that one was longer.))

Handlebars stared up at Hajime for a few moments before the older man's words registered in his brain. "The last time I ate a full meal," he began thoughtfully. "Was..." He bit his lip in concentration, and briefly wondered why he was having such a hard time thinking straight. "I think it was... a few days ago. I can't remember how many... Maybe two or three."

The boy looked down at Hajime's feet and squinted. "Haju," Handlebars said quietly. "Why... is the ground moving?"

Hajime took a deep breath. Here we go... he thought, reflecting on the events of the night he and Handlebars met. One of them seemed to have a knack for pa.ssing out, and it definitely wasn't Hajime. He swiftly crouched and lifted Handlebars onto his back before he could fall. "No worries, Handlebars," muttered Hajime. The teen was much lighter than he should have been. "You're all right..."

Taking only slight comfort in the fact that Handlebars had nothing in his stomach to throw up, Hajime piggybacked him home. And there he was determined to keep Handlebars, at least until the cold let up in the spring.

Handlebars, dazed and on the brink of pas.sing out, weakly gripped Hajime's leather coat in his hands. "Take me back... I'm fine..." he said slowly, barely believing his own words. "Come on, Haju... Don't make me beat you up..."

((Did I mention that Haji can now teleport?))

Hajime shifted Handlebars, who was slipping from his back. "Sorry, kid," he said firmly. "You get an opinion tomorrow. ...Maybe," he amended, pushing his way back onto the crowded streets.

Back at his home above the church, Hajime thought better of lowering Handlebars onto the couch where he had once slept before and instead took him to the only bed in the house--Hajime's. After digging up all of the five spare blankets he owned, Hajime put four of them over Handlebars, keeping one for himself.

Hajime paused. He turned and carried his one blanket out to the couch and dropped it there. Then, looking oddly at his radio for a moment, he picked it up and carried it back to his bedroom, where Handlebars was. Hajime gently set the radio on his dresser and turned it on at a low volume to a cla.ssical music station. He wasn't really sure what that would do, but it didn't seem like it could hurt.

Handlebars shifted and rolled over in his sleep. He was having a nightmare. The same nightmare he used to have when he was younger, right after his parents were killed.

He turned again in the bed, struggling against the layers of blankets. 

"Stay there, Myuujikku."

"But, Daddy, I--"

"I said stay!"

The young boy whimpered and ducked behind a large bush. Minutes pa.ssed. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew that there was someone nearby who obviously wasn't welcome.

Suddenly, he heard a loud scream, and dug his nails into the soft dirt beneath him.

"M-Mama...?" he half-whispered, his quick breathing turning into short, labored gasps. "Mama? D-Daddy?"

Despite the darkness and his father's orders, Myuujikku carefully stood up and began hurriedly stumbling in the direction his father had gone. "Mama?! Daddy?!" He slammed into something tall and hard, and staggered back a few steps. The thing he had run into turned and gazed down at him. Myuujikku started back up at the figure for a few moments, his body trembling. "D-daddy...?" The boy heard a groan come from somewhere in front of him, and his eyes flicked away from the figure. "W-what's going on?" He looked back up at the figure, but it was gone. Another groan drew Myuujikku forward. "Who's there...?"

"M-Myuujikku..."

"...Mama?"

"Get out... Get out of here..."

"...M-Mama! What's going on?! What happened?!"

"Get out of here, Myuujikku! Run!"

That was all the boy heard from his mother. The ringing in his ears blocked out all outside sound.

Confused and not believing that what had just happened was real, the boy put his hands to his ears and ran. Somewhere behind him, in the large and beautiful house he had once called his home, a bomb went off.

Handlebars sat up straight in bed, his hands over his ears, and screamed.

Hajime winced and moved to cover his own ears. For a minute, he was all predator. As out of place as they were to his present life, the thoughts that overtook him when he heard his friend's scream, that intensely familiar sound of fear, pain, and death, were entirely made of adrenalin and action, and he wasn't proud of them. Keep him quiet, I'll be heard, shut him up, kill hi-

That last one stopped Hajime cold in his tracks. Of course, he hadn't meant the thought. But... he hadn't believed himself capable of thinking such things anymore. Something about Handlebars took him directly back to those dark days of his... Not a healthy thing, Hajime knew.

And though he had no reason to think so, Hajime's memories of that night, just two victims among oh so many, led to the thought, which Hajime knew in the back of his mind was irrational, that that's what Handlebars had been dreaming about.

...Oh! thought Hajime. But what should I do now? Time had seemed to cure his friend's pain in the past. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to get too near Handlebars on the off-chance he had been dreaming about that night, Hajime cautiously stood his ground.

((Wanna emphasize that it's a coincidence that Haji knew what Handle was dreaming about. x3 Coincidence caused by paranoia.))

Handlebars' head snapped up when he realized that there was someone else in the room with him. His eyes rested on the unusually icy stare of Hajime. A cold chill went down his spine, and for reasons he couldn't quite comprehend, he pressed himself back against the headboard of the bed. The ringing in his ears intensified. What's happening? he questioned silently, his gaze locked on his friend. He looked away quickly, and the painful ringing gradually lessened. The teen let his hands fall from his ears. Thousands of muddled thoughts raced through his head.

Those eyes... No, I've been through this before. Hajime is my friend. He wouldn't... He... No, there's no way... But those eyes...

...That face... Why did he look like... like he wanted to kill me?

"Stop it!" Handlebars screamed to no one in particular. After taking a deep breath, he sank down a little and looked back up at Hajime."Haju... You..." He shut his mouth. What good would it do to accuse Hajime right now, when he himself was in such a vulnerable position?

Handlebars shivered and shut his eyes tightly. He didn't feel very well.

Hajime pushed away the familiar feelings brought on by his friend's ex
pression as soon as he heard Handlebars' voice. He managed to keep them from his mind long enough to start to make his way towards the bed...

But he recognized a few things that made him stop. Handlebars, it seemed, wasn't much good at hiding his emotions. There on his face were written pain, weakness, a sense of his own vulnerability, and one other thing...

Handlebars, Hajime knew, was afraid. This wasn't the simple sort of paranoia derived from hearing a strange sound in the night or being confronted with a worrisome dilemma. Scrawled across the kid's face was a brief, but knowing panic that one gets from understanding his situation implicitly.

Without bothering to think what that might mean, Hajime moved to the foot of his bed and quietly, apologetically asked,

"I... what?"

((MOOD MUSIC: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ssVj8BH13qk))

Handlebars opened his eyes and glanced up at Hajime. He quickly let his gaze drop from his friend's eyes, and instead refocused it on his forehead. "You..." he began slowly, searching every part of his mind for something he could say. "I meant to say... Can... you... Haju, can you please get me a gla.ss of water or... another blanket or something...?" He laughed nervously. "I'm... just not feeling well, you see..."

He knew he was sweating, and somehow doubted that it was because of his illness. A cold wave kept washing over his entire body, and he wondered if Hajime had noticed his trembling hands yet. Something about the way Hajime was standing at the foot of the bed unnerved him. He felt so helpless, so open to attack...

He pressed himself back against the headboard again.

It seemed as if Hajime's heart fell from its place beneath his sternum upon Handlebars' words.

So he really is afraid...

Unable to hide his crestfallen ex
pression, Hajime nodded, turned, and slowly left the room, glancing at the radio in pa.ssing as he did so.

...And why shouldn't he be? After all...

Briefly deliberating on whether to get a gla.ss of water or a blanket, Hajime settled for both. He filled a tall gla.ss with water from the kitchen faucet and gathered his own blanket from its derelict position on the couch.

...it was my fault, wasn't it?

Aside from Mrs. Matthews, who was more like a parental figure, Hajime was the first true friend Handlebars had ever had. It can't be him...

Not knowing what else to do, Handlebars tiredly stood up and made his way to the radio. He was in the mood for something other than cla.ssical music. He leaned against the dresser and flipped through different music stations, instantly knowing each song as soon as he heard it. Handlebars stopped suddenly on one particular station, and another cold wave washed over him. 

Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine. Keep you apart, deep in my heart. Separate from the rest, where I like you the best...

A burst of frustration and confusion clouded his better judgement, and with one swift movement of his hand, the radio clattered to the floor. Breathing hard, and already regretting what he had just done, Handlebars sank down and waited for Hajime to return.

((8c Bad Handle. Destroying other people's stuff 'cause you're bad at suppressing your emotions.))