Sure, kake. You may join.

AND. WE CAN BEGIN~ :D

((Bump!))

Name: Amara Conlily

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Personality: She has her firm opinions on everthing, but on this she's in the shadows. She doesnt wanna be judged or be in harms way, so she just goes with it. She is a very carefree person who loves to sing and read in her spare time.

History: She ran away from home when she was 14 because her parents were alchoholics and beat and abused her alot. thats when she found Shard, her Zaphao. He was a baby and plain at the time, thats probably why he got abandoned. She saved up her money she got from working at a local diner and dyed him azure. She lives in a small one bedroom apartment, with just her and Shard.

Looks:

Other: none

Creatu: Shard, Her male Azure Zaphao.

Pocoyo stood at the intersection and looked skyward, waiting for the light to change.  He finally admitted to himself that had become lost, long long ago.  But it was to be expected. For starters, he had lived out in a rural area for most of his life, and secondly, this was the first time he had ever ran away from home.

Entering the city had been a big difference for him.  Large TV's adorned the sides of buildings, and people were everywhere.  He glanced around uncomfotably at all the professional people in suits, and wondered if they were on what his parents called 'lunch break'.

A voice over the intercom announced that it was safe to cross the intersection, and Pocoyo hitched his bed up higher onto his shoulders and walked adminst the crowd across the street.  He had no idea where he was going, but all he knew was that he had to find out the truth. It had already been days, and everything had turned up with no lead.  Everything except--

A muffled yip came from his bag and it began rustling.  In a panic, he dodged into an alleyway and took it off his shoulders, praying that no one had noticed.  He looked both ways before opening the bag.

"Thompson!" He scolded the Veram that was just small enough to fit in his bag with his clothing, and several books. "Keep it quiet! Do you want us to get caught?!"

Thompson regarded him with an annoyed look and tried to get out of the bag. Pocoyo didn't blame him.  Even though he had been walking for hours a day, Thompson had hardly been out of his bag.  But he didn't want to risk it.  Thompson had grown up with him on the farm, and he had been allowed to run loose. Now that he was in the city, the environment was too different, and way too dangerous.  It didn't help that Thompson only listened when he wanted to, and liked to wander off.  He pushed the Veram back down.

"No! You can't get out! I promise that once we get out of this city, I'll find a place that you can run around in, and stretch your wings a little."

Thompson looked at him desperately, begging him to change his mind, but Pocoyo stayed firm.  Another good reason that he didn't want to let his Veram out.

There were no Creatu to be found in this city.

It was a huge shock to him.  He had been to a city before, once or twice, and most workers had a Creatu that would accompy them in their jobs.  That's just how Rescreatu, the four planets, all worked. Creatu worked with humans to create a World united.  But here it was just...eerie.  He had not seen a single Creatu, and something was wrong.  Not a person smiled.  Everybody looked robotic, doing the same thing over and over again.  It was so creepy, he couldn't bring himself to ask anyone for directions.  He shivered.

"I'm sorry, Thompson." He said sorrowfully and closed the bag, ignoring the yips of protest.

He had to find someone to help him soon, or else he wouldn't know where else to go.

At first glance no one noticed him. The Otatchie was silent and swift, never pausing in his following for more than a second. He felt distressed. His master had refused to let him ride on his back or even walk beside him, so he was forced to creep and glide on the tops of the buildings, keeping a close watch on the barely visible tan hat that belonged to his master. There was something about this city that made his fur stand on end and, despite his master anting him to stay at the hotel, Shumar had decided he could not allow his master to be alone in this place. His tails lashed violently as he jumped onto another ledge. At least his master had chosen to stick close to the buildings that were easiest to travel on.

Loki pushed his way through the crowd of adults, muttering bitterly under his breath. He felt horribly out of place, more so than usual. Even though he was used to going to many different cities in all four of the worlds, there was something about this city that made him feel out of place. Well, more out of place than being a seventeen-year-old in charge of a major trading industry.

He adjusted his hat and glas-ses. Most of the time when he was out in public he wore these to cover up his white hair and violet eyes. They were too obvious and anyone familiar with business could easily recognize him. The hat hid his hair perfectly, hiding the white but allowing the black tips to stick out and look natural. He glanced upward at the building beside him and allowed his vision to blur slightly. Almost immediately he spotted his creatu, Shumar. The Otatchie may be great at stealth, but Loki had developed the perfect trick to spot him. 

He sighed, continuing to walk. He felt bad for Shumar. He was sure the creatu would like noting more than to be riding on his back like usual. Still, it couldn't be helped. He was adjusting the strap on his messenger bag when his trained ears heard the tell-tale yips of a creatu. He ducked into the alleyway they had come from and was surprised to see a young boy, looking just as lost as he felt.

"Hey, you," he said, walking towards the boy. "What in the worlds are you doing in a place like this with a creatu in your pack?"  

Pocoyo visibly paled and slowly turned toward the man. 

"Uh, what?"

This was bad. Very bad.  This random stranger had just come up to him, and without even seeing Thompson, he knew that he had a Creatu.  Slowly, he started backing away.

"Creatu? W-what Creatu?"  He glanced around him.  The alleyway was a dead end, and the man was blocking the exit. Typical.

He bit his tongue and broke into a sweat.  He was caught. What was he going to do?