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Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

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Athena [Georgeanna]
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Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

Post by Athena [Georgeanna] » Tue Dec 19, 2017 7:45 am

Wintrine was a beautiful place at night. It glimmered with stars that never had hopes of shining on other planets, and the sky dazzled with streaks of color that wove in and out of each other as they danced. A few comets streaked across the sky, leaving lazy white tails traipsing after them. The moon was the most striking of all, so big that the full thing couldn’t be seen all at once from the ground. It filled the sky like an ever-present giant, playing sentinel as it watched over all of the people milling around down below.

Although the tribal areas of Nished and Persan were rustic, they had no dearth of activity. People amassed in the dirt-floored centers regardless of purpose, simply looking around for something to do or someone to talk to. Vendors called their wears out long into the night, voices going hoarse with never-dulling excitement. Some cities are sleepy, but Nished and Persan never stopped to consider it. Ramshackle buildings were constructed of stone or wood, often breaking down quickly—a consequence of a population that worked hard and played harder.

It was in this hectic and beautifully chaotic mess that a young woman wove her way through the crowd. Her hair was a silver jumble and she looked a little worse-for-wear as she skirted amongst the merchants, crowds, and partygoers. However, there was radiance about her, a confidence that fit on her shoulders well despite how out of place she looked. Smiling at everyone, she obviously drew attention to herself as she headed for a local tavern on the Nished side.

Coming in from the chaos to a room cleared out save for the roar from outside, Georgeanna strode up to the barkeeper who was busy cleaning glasses behind a dingy wooden counter that matched the floors and other tables. Georgeanna sat on a barstool with ease, untucking her wings with the appearance of ease, although it pained her. She put her head in her hand, a small smirk on her face, as she waited for the bar tender to turn around.

“Oh!” he gasped dropping a glass or two in the process. “Lady George, I didn’t hear you sneak up on me.” He was smiling all the while, as if looking at a long lost friend.

“Sorry I haven’t been in for a while!” she said vaulting herself across the counter to give him a hug. Twirling her around like a child, they both laughed. “Let me look at you!” he said, stepping back and admiring her.

“Wow you’ve grown so old, my star. How long has it been really? I couldn’t hope to keep track.” Georgeanna let out a tinkling laugh, as the older man looked around his shop, seeming to search for a face he recognized.

“Lady George, where are your parents? I have something for them!” he crooned, turning to look into a drawer or two.

Tensing, Georgeanna’s real smile melted into one of plastic. “They are just enjoying the party outside, Jinji. I can give them the present and your regards if you wish.”

Contemplating, Jinji handed over the small package with the slight shaking of an elderly person. “Take good care to get it to them sweetie, and come back again soon. I so miss our games of chess,” he added with a quick pinch on her cheek.

Waving, Georgeanna strode back outside of the store and back into the throws of the party, tucking the gift into the bossom of her dress. Quicker than lightning though, she was the ever-present and playful party girl—dancing with anyone who reached for her and fluttering her wings to give them a show.
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Re: Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

Post by chaosDesigner » Tue Dec 19, 2017 4:20 pm

Meanwhile, in the very entrance of an alley that branched off from the street in which the party was taking place, a cloaked man stood, leaning against the wall beside him with his arms crossed, sweeping his eyes over the crowd.

His intention really wasn't to hide his figure, as it was clearly seen from the street, but it was clear he'd rather not have people look at his face; not only did his cloak cover the top of it, he also wore a scarf around his neck, pulled up to cover his mouth and nose. In other words, even if anyone present knew him, he was unrecognizable.

He carefully surveyed the crowd before him. He wasn't looking for anyone specific, but not only did he grow accustomed to watching public events from afar without joining them, as he was an outsider to most, if not all of them, but he also learned that these events rarely went by without some sort of trouble brewing within them, and he simply could not let anyone get hurt. It just wasn't in his nature. He also was wary around crowds for a personal reason.
Georgeanna wrote:
Tue Dec 19, 2017 7:45 am
Waving, Georgeanna strode back outside of the store and back into the throws of the party, tucking the gift into the bossom of her dress. Quicker than lightning though, she was the ever-present and playful party girl—dancing with anyone who reached for her and fluttering her wings to give them a show.
As he looked over the crowd, his eyes passed over the young woman dancing and fluttering her wings. The sight made him smile to himself a little, and wish he was part of the party instead of watching from afar. However, in his distraction, he forgot that the very same trouble he was looking for could actually target him.

As he looked at them lady, a gruff guy tapped him on the shoulder, with more force than necessary, snapping him out of his doldrums.

"Hey, mind if we talk farther down this alley?" the thug asked with a smug smirk before letting out a chuckle.

The cloaked man, named Warren Smythe, sighed and shook his head to himself, disappointed in his own carelessness, before raising his head back up and turning around. "Lead the way, then." He figured fighting back out in the open like that wouldn't be smart. An innocent person could get caught in the crossfire, and he preferred to work in the shadows anyways.

He followed the thug down the alley, expecting him to be the only one he had to deal with... However, he was wrong, as he soon would would find out once they turned a corner and got out of sight of the party.

A bunch of other thugs came out of the shadows, brandishing knives and daggers. "What's in the backpack, pipsqueak?" one of them asked, standing tall over Warren.

The cloaked man, scoffing in an attempt to hide his apprehension about fighting so many enemies at once, chuckled a little. "I think you need to pipe down."

"What did you say!?" the same thug demanded, stepping closer to Warren and putting his weapon right up in the man's neck.

"Okay, that's a little close for comfort," Warren said as he pointed his left palm at the thug and placed the index and middle fingers of his right hand on his temple. A burst of red energy jumped out of his palm, hitting the thug and knocking him back. Warren used this opening to draw the sword he'd been hiding under his cloak.

Here we go, he thought to himself as he charged at the enemies in front of him.
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Re: Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

Post by Athena [Georgeanna] » Tue Dec 19, 2017 5:03 pm

Glamor had a way of getting the best of Georgeanna, closing its jaws around her throat before she had a chance of screaming out. It was something to pass the time and to distract her ever-busy mind. She often would host parties such as these in a different life that seemed a million miles away—bodies writhing with a steady beat, drinks being poured like waterfalls, and inhibitions being lowered all the time.

She glimmered and shined in this party. This was her element, and although she might not have been the queen of this particular party, she was a novelty to the area and everyone loves a new shiny toy. Passing her way through different throngs of dancers and streets, Georgeanna held her head high as any royal should. Her favorite part was coming anyways, and the thing she was most interested in.

Glazed eyes and dopey smiles were like an intoxicant to her, as good as any drug or potion. They were hope. The noise bubbled up in her throat like a small sigh, clamoring to climb out, as she sashayed in-between partygoers, sending a small shiver down her spine. Just a few more minutes and she would have the answer she was desperate to know.

Sliding too close to one particularly boisterous group of men, she was catcalled and told that she “must come closer, so they could get to know her.” Fortunately, she knew a serpent even if it wore human clothing. With a gracious smile, she skirted away once again scanning the crowd for a vantage point. She found it at the outlet of a small alley, where a small soapbox stood forgotten, a sentinel forever more.

Those close by giggled as Georgeanna turned over the soapbox and stepped onto it.

Just what is that girl do—

Their thoughts were cut short by what they heard. It started quieter than a whisper of wind that you never felt stir the air, gradually increasing until it seemed to shake the very ground they all stood on. Now every head whipped towards the slight girl making the world tremble, as if in a daze. The song was beautiful and it was tragic, crescendoing and fading like the waves on an abandoned beach. It swirled around them all, reaching down all alleys and into all buildings, like a living thing—and it was searching. With the noise came a subtle command: Calm. Tell me your sins.

Every person, of their own accord, warbled their wrongdoings like crestfallen larks in a damned choir.

“I’ve slept with my neighbor’s wife.”
“I stole a loaf of bread.”
“I’m glad my son died, one less mouth to feed.”

Not one of them was the one she was looking for. Not even one impressed her; she had heard much worse in different dimensions. Closing her eyes, Georgeanna pressed harder with her mind and reached new tones with her voice, a warning buzz in her ears as she strained against every one of the stronger minds. Those who had already confessed, collapsed into tears, blubbering on the dirt. Those who resisted spit out their secrets ruefully.

“I killed her. She deserved it and I wasn’t going to deny her.”
“I sold my sister to the slave market. She wasn’t useful to me anyways.”

Still, she searched. The buzz whined into a high pitch as she pushed one last time, reaching as far as she could with her aria. It amounted to nothing as her smooth melody started wear off in her exhaustion. People began to wake from their stupor and had forgotten their orgy of secret telling. The more boisterous staggered about as if they were intoxicated, and the weaker were still gathering themselves after the emotional tyranny. Georgeanna didn’t enjoy the aftermath of her gift, but it was necessary. They needed her to push.

Stumbling herself, Georgeanna found her way back over to Jinji’s bar, finding him sobbing on the floor. Kneeling beside him, she led him to his bed in the back, stroked his silver hair, and murmured into his shoulder, “I’m so sorry Jinji. I’m so sorry you had to be here.”

Walking back out to the front dining room of the bar and grabbing a drink, Georgeanna decided this really was the worst it could get.

Jinji may be upset now, but he had it good. He wouldn’t remember tonight anyways.
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Re: Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

Post by chaosDesigner » Wed Dec 20, 2017 7:04 am

Warren jumped in the air and slashed in front of him, but the thug he was aiming for jumped out just in time to avoid the brunt of the slash. He did still hit him, tearing a medium-sized hole through the giant's arm.

He quickly stood up and turned around only to have to duck under a swinging dagger. He straightened up again and threw a kick at the offending party, only trying to push him back so he could deal with a knife approaching from the side. He sidestepped the sharp metal, only narrowly avoiding getting stabbed in the ribs, before swinging his own blade at the source, slashing across the thug's chest. The thief then fell limply to the floor, leaving a puddle of blood on the ground below him.

As Warren turned his attention to the one thug he had kicked earlier, he noticed he was swinging downwards. He tried jumping back slightly to avoid injury, but he wasn't quick enough, as the blade tore the skin of his cheek. He clenched his teeth in pain as he thrust his sword forward, impaling the robber in it. He then pushed the lifeless body off of the blade with his foot before turning around to see another one taking a swing at him, and cutting through Warren's side, just below the ribs.

The psychic grunted in pain, as this wound was a little more grievous, before letting out a battle cry as he counterattacked, sending the thug's head flying.

Warren definitely got scared when the next thing he saw where two of the remaining grunts charging at him at the same time.

He barely raised his sword in time to block the two weapons headed straight for his neck, but the force of the impact pushed him back towards the wall behind him. The two thugs then pinned him under their joint force, and in his peripheral vision, he noticed a third thug approaching from the side with a smug grin.

Is this really it? he thought to himself. Am I seriously going to get murdered in a dark alley by some random thugs? As he saw the third grunt raise his knife to bring down on Warren's head, he suddenly got distracted by something else.
Georgeanna wrote:
Tue Dec 19, 2017 5:03 pm
Their thoughts were cut short by what they heard. It started quieter than a whisper of wind that you never felt stir the air, gradually increasing until it seemed to shake the very ground they all stood on. Now every head whipped towards the slight girl making the world tremble, as if in a daze. The song was beautiful and it was tragic, crescendoing and fading like the waves on an abandoned beach. It swirled around them all, reaching down all alleys and into all buildings, like a living thing—and it was searching. With the noise came a subtle command: Calm. Tell me your sins.

Every person, of their own accord, warbled their wrongdoings like crestfallen larks in a damned choir.


A loud, high-pitched ringing sound was suddenly heard. The thugs suddenly stopped their attack, dropped their weapons and took a step backwards, eyes glazed over as they started mumbling things Warren couldn't quite hear over the deafening noise.

He doubled over and used his sword as a cane as he pressed the index and middle fingers of his hand to his temple, completely tensed as he fought against the invasion to his mind this sound represented. He concentrated his psychic energy on his fingers and, after knowing he had a hold on it ripped it out of his head, which caused another blast to shoot out of his hand and towards the ground, making a small explosion where it landed.

He then let out a huge breath and leaned his entire weight on his sword. Resisting that mental attack was very tiresome for him, and he stood there for a while, trying to catch his breath.

After a few moments, he raised his head once again. "I... have to... get outta here," he told himself, before he sheathed his sword, fixed his cloak and scarf back into position, and walked out of the alley the same way he entered, clutching his side and limping slightly. The grunts who were still alive were lying unconscious on the ground, but Warren simply could not pay them any mind. He had to hide, and go as far as he could once he recovered from his wounds enough to travel.
Georgeanna wrote:
Tue Dec 19, 2017 5:03 pm
Stumbling herself, Georgeanna found her way back over to Jinji’s bar, finding him sobbing on the floor. Kneeling beside him, she led him to his bed in the back, stroked his silver hair, and murmured into his shoulder, “I’m so sorry Jinji. I’m so sorry you had to be here.”

Walking back out to the front dining room of the bar and grabbing a drink, Georgeanna decided this really was the worst it could get.

Jinji may be upset now, but he had it good. He wouldn’t remember tonight anyways.
He limped towards the nearby tavern, expecting it to have an inn, or at least being able to point him towards one. Whether he passed any people on his way there, he didn't know, or care. The least amount of people to see him, the best.

Once he entered the tavern, he raised his eyes towards the counter only to see it empty. "Dammit..." he muttered to himself. He slowly went to the counter and, trying to lean on it, he halfway collapsed on it. "Is anyone there?" he called out in a pained voice, hoping someone would hear him.
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Re: Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

Post by Athena [Georgeanna] » Wed Dec 20, 2017 7:30 am

Throwing some coins in the cashbox, Georgeanna sipped on her drink thinking on the night she had had. It was glitz, glamor, and then nothing but a disappointment. She grit her teeth in frustration as she threw her cup against the wall, it shattering in a million pieces.

Damn it Damn it Damn it.

When would the pain be enough to just overwhelm her? When would she just reach her limit and dissolve into dust?

Her body hit with a thud behind the bar top, like a closing of a door. She opened her mouth open in an open scream as she curled in on herself. Anguish wrote sonnets and epic poems across her face as it carved her skin with tears that wouldn’t stop. Loneliness crept in her heart and resumed building the fences it had begun constructing mere months ago. Georgeanna was alone and no matter how many people she knew, talked with, kissed, or danced with at parties, it would never be enough. Some people just couldn’t help but dissolve.

Sniffling, she crept back to Jinji’s home attached to the bar and quietly thanked her uncle as she crawled in the shower. More tears marked her face as it mingled with the flow of water. A gem of every party, maybe, but in this life, she had quickly become nothing. A dirty vagrant, showering in a new place every morning only to pull unsavory truths out of the masses by night, Georgeanna was some type of fallen angel—one out for the truth.

Clean, she put on a simple cotton shift she always kept with her, whether for sentimentality or for its comfort she didn’t know, and stuffed her dirty clothes in the small rucksack by the bathroom door. The dress flowed like water around her knees as she was padding to the spare bed Jinji kept next to his, when she heard someone calling. Making an inaudible groan, she rolled her eyes and came through the door adjacent to the bar top.

Seeing someone collapsed on the counter didn’t move her emotionally. Maybe it was the drain of the night, or the disappointment she had faced that evening, but she only looked at him with fiery annoyance in her brilliant hazel eyes. Her still wet hair dripped audibly on the wooden floor around her bare feet as she crossed her arms.

“Can I help you?” she said boldly and without any empathy, arching a delicate brow. “I have a med kit if you are in need of it.”
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Re: Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

Post by chaosDesigner » Mon Jan 01, 2018 10:21 am

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Warren raised his head just enough to look at the woman that had addressed him, if only because he couldn’t really raise it any more than that. He noticed it was the woman he had been admiring from afar, but he didn’t really care as much about that in his predicament.

He was about to agree to unconditional medical care, as he was slightly desperate, but then he remembered the reason for his paranoia and hesitated. They could be hiding in here, he thought. Most likely unbeknownst by this lady.

“I-is anyone else in this building?” he asked, trying as hard as he could to not seem aggressive, even if he couldn’t really be threatening in his state.

Georgeanna leveled her gaze at the man before her. His slight stutter tipped her off that he was concerned, at the very least, and terrified at the most. Georgeanna didn’t want to find out why. Standing up straighter, very aware of Jinji in the back room, she shook her head no.

“Just you and me,” she said with as confident of a facial expression as she could muster.

Warren groaned in pain and slight frustration. She might be lying… I don’t wanna distrust her, but I cannot disregard the possibility. He placed his head back down on the counter and touched his forehead with his hand, acting as if he was having a headache.

His real intention, though, was to read Georgeanna’s mind. As a psychic, it was only natural that he possessed the knowledge of such an ability. With that gesture with his fingers, he reached out to the young lady’s mind. Prepared to have to overcome her will, he decided it would be best to distract her with conversation.

“Are you… Are you sure? Couldn’t someone have…” He gulped. “...Broken in?”

With a graceful roll of her eyes, Georgeanna set her hand on her hip.

“My gods, are you really insinuating that I wouldn’t know what is going on in my own bar?” she said with a scoff. No need for him to know that it wasn’t actually hers, but her uncle’s--details, details.

As she waited for his reply she felt a subtle push in her mind. If she were any less on edge, she might not have realized what it was, but having bent minds to her will before, she could tell she was being examined. Her mind immediately went into lock down, pushing against the intruder with her persuasive ability. Who was this that thought they could force her memories and thoughts from her? Was it this vagrant, dripping blood on her counter?

She continued to persuade the force to leave, till’ it suddenly disappeared altogether. Furrowing her brow, she searched her mind and found nothing.

Warren could feel her fighting against his attempt at reading her mind. If she’s consciously fighting it… But then, I don’t remember anyone like her back home!

He became confused and even slightly scared, so he stopped trying. “Uh… Sorry if I… implied anything untoward…” He gulped again, trying to resist his pain. Using his powers in such a state really did drain, and he didn’t have the energy to doubt her. He was at least sure that his pursuers would gain nothing by tricking him, and they would probably kill him on the spot if they found him as wounded as he was then.

He grunted as he stood up straighter. “If the offer for help is still open…” he began, “I’d like to take it… Please.”

Despite her chilly exterior, Georgeanna really would rather this man didn’t die right in front of her. Shutting her eyes for a moment, she recalled where the kit was held.

“Give me a moment if you could,” she said with a warning in her voice. “And remember, you break it you buy it.”

The cloaked psychic gave a small smile, as the young woman’s attitude amused him slightly. It was small enough to most likely go unnoticed. As he waited, he decided to sit down on one of the stools so as to not push his body further than he should; he was already too weak.

Traipsing to the backroom as quietly as she could, Georgeanna dug through all the supplies in the utility closet till’ she found the small red box. It was dingy and beat up from years of sitting in the closet, but Georgeanna hoped that the contents would be in better shape.

Padding back out into the barroom, she set the box on the counter. She knew how to use a needle and thread, antiseptic, and the like, but she had to know what she was dealing with.

Coughing nervously, she shifted her weight on the heels of her feet as she tread to the front door and locked it. No need for someone to wander in looking for some refreshment.

“I’m going to need to see the...the wound if you want my help,” she muttered.

The young man looked at her for a few moments, wondering what she meant, before realizing, widening his eyes for a moment. He was apparently too tired to be a fast thinker.

He lowered his hood and pulled his bloody scarf off and laying it on the counter, showing the wound on his cheek, as well as revealing his face. he also undid a knot on his neck that held the cloak in place. It fell to the floor, revealing his backpack and his sword. It really seemed like he was unconcerned about modesty due to the wounds, as he unceremoniously dropped his backpack and sword to the floor and raised his linen shirt to reveal the deeper gash on his right side.

“Do I need to... completely remove the shirt?” he asked as he tried to pull it a little higher. “I might… need help with that…” he muttered, as shame of being so helpless took over his thoughts.

Rubbing the back of her neck with her palm, Georgeanna’s eyes widened at seeing the wounds. They were worse than she originally thought, and guilt overtook her as she realized she had let him sit for so long in agony. Coming around the bartop till’ she was in front of him, Georgeanna examined both wounds with the precision of any physician, although she lacked the formal training.

“Mmm…” she contemplated. “Not quite yet,” she continued, placing her hands on his to lower his shirt--she could tell it was draining to hold it in such a way. At this action, the man obliged, as he would rather let the ‘expert’ work.

Quickly, she dug in the kit for antiseptic spray, gauze, and paper tape. Placing a hand on his opposite cheek, she cleaned the cut.

“You’re lucky,” she murmured. “This one won’t need stitches. But the other one certainly will.” The psychic let out a small breath and nodded. It’s not like he expected to be lucky enough to not need stitches after that.

She continued cleaning the gash until she was convinced that there were no more debris in it. Grabbing the gauze and tape, she bandaged it gently. Examining it one last time, the siren turned towards her materials once more bringing out a felt tip pen. She quickly and lightly marked the date on the paper tape.

“We’ll...I mean you’ll have to change this every few days or so. Just look in the mirror and you’ll see the date I marked here as a reminder,” she said putting the pen back.

Georgeanna then began to collect the needle and thread that was included in the kit. She shuddered slightly, the last time she had had to use these tools was under duress that she cared not to remember. Stilling her hands she turned back to the man before her.

“So, you might want to lie on the bartop for this part,” she muttered. “And your shirt will have to come all the way off.”

Georgeanna gestured for him at least raise the shirt halfway. He complied, raising the shirt as far up as he could without too much pain. Reaching around him, she grabbed the edge of the dirtied fabric and pulled it carefully over his head, removing it entirely.

She glanced at the scarf he had placed on the counter, and grabbed it.

Handing it to him, she muttered: “You also might want to wad this up and bite on it. I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt.”

Grabbing his arm gently, she helped him transition from barstool to counter, supporting nearly all of his weight. Thankfully, Warren was on the lighter side for males.

As he settled on the bartop, she cleaned her needle with precision and looped the thread through it. She then cleaned the wound with care, making sure to not dab too hard on his broken skin. Gritting her teeth, she made the first stitch, pushing metal through flesh as he tensed up from the pain, groaning loudly as he tried not to scream.

Not wanting him to have to suffer more than necessary, Georgeanna made quick of her work, looping stitch after stitch. She noticed though that his eyes started to roll--likely passing out from the pain.

Patting his face gently once she was done, she murmured, “It’s okay, you can stay here. No one is going to hurt you.”

She draped a blanket over his sleeping form and grabbed a pillow and blanket for herself; she curled up in a corner, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, her hands shaking from the adrenaline.
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Re: Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

Post by Athena [Georgeanna] » Fri Jan 05, 2018 8:11 am

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Jinji woke up with a killer headache. Rubbing his eyes with both palms he tried to recall what happened the night before, finding nothing but empty darkness. He was a little unsettled, but not surprised--he had woken up before in stranger places than his own bed with no memory of how he got there. Yawning and stretching, he got up and threw on some clothes. He felt the urge to open up the bar early. Nishedites began drinking early.

As he walked in the hallway between his attached home and the barroom, he looked at all the pictures of him and Samuel, Ivy, and little Georgeanna. He hadn’t seen her in so long. Placing his hand on his head, he felt a tickle deep within his soul. Had he seen her recently? Stumbling into the room his eyes immediately fell on Georgeanna sitting wide-eyed in the corner diagonal from him. He immediately broke into a smile at seeing his niece, opening his mouth to welcome her, but she shook her head quickly twice, nodding towards a lump on his counter. It was a breathing lump.

Jinji knew Georgeanna liked to party occasionally, but she had never brought someone to his bar who was passed out. Blinking, he strode over to the lump, tapping it softly on what he hoped was its shoulder.

Warren, who was hidden within said lump, groaned and turned slightly as he felt the tap on his shoulder. He then opened his eyes drowsily and got the covers off of his face, looking around himself. “Hmm?”

In his stupor from still being half asleep, he tried to remember where he was. Oh, right… The bar. Then he noticed Jinji and raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his confusion in his partly unconscious state.

“Listen, son, I don’t know how my niece lured you here but there will be no--”


“Okay that’s enough!” Georgeanna cut in with a blush warming her cheeks. “He was injured, and I helped him. Please just go do some...laundry or something? I’ll get him off your counter soon enough so you can open up.”

Jinji shot her a fatherly look, mixed with a little suspicion, and slunk back to his domicile abiding by his niece’s wishes.

Warren’s eyes went from Jinji to Georgeanna as they spoke, and he remained in his position, following the older man with his sight until he disappeared down the hallway.

He put his palm to his face once Jinji had left. “Seriously?” he asked ironically before sitting up on the counter, grunting a little at the effort, as he was still slightly sore. “Didn’t you say we were alone?”

Georgeanna narrowed her gaze briefly, before huffing out a drawn out sigh.

“I said no one was in the building, yes. He was in the adjoining building where he lives.”

The psychic man simply looked at the woman for a few moments, immobile, before chuckling in response. Georgeanna gazed at him in confusion before joining him in a tinkling laugh that echoed around the empty room.

“Wow, I guess I’ve been had.” He laughed a little more as he got the covers off of himself completely and sat on the counter with his legs down the front. “In any case, thank you for taking care of my wounds last night… I obviously needed the help.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, getting up from her corner stiffly. She quickly padded over to him and gently grabbed the blanket, folding it with shaking hands remembering the pull of the needle on a different body and the drag of thread with its bone chilling noise. Her simple ring glinted up at her in the lowlight of the morning and she shuddered. “You are certainly welcome.”

With that she disappeared to put the blanket away.

The man followed her with his gaze, raising an eyebrow at her strange behavior. He wanted to confront her about what happened the previous night, but with the way she was acting he wondered if it was the best idea.

At a loss for what to do, he kept looking around and noticed that he was still shirtless. The lack of any immediate danger made him finally feel slightly self conscious about being shirtless in front of a woman he considered attractive, so he stood on the floor and reached down to his shirt, putting it on with small difficulty.

Once he had taken care of that, he continued to gather his things, placing them on top of the counter with some sense of order as his thoughts went back to the woman who had helped him.

Georgeanna was stuck in the hallway, silent tears slipping down her cheeks, as she dug her fingers into the blanket. But the man’s voice drug her out of her memories.

“Are you… alright, miss?”

“Y-yes!” she called, wiping away her tears and putting the blanket up in the cabinet quickly. Coming back out, she raised an eyebrow at how quickly he had gotten ready. Shaking her head with a small smirk, she lithely lifted herself onto the counter, tucking her legs underneath her.

“So, now that you will have the scars of my labor forever, I figure I should probably know your name,” she said with a small smile.

He snorted in response. “Those are not the only scars I have though, and you weren’t the one who sliced me up.” He sat on the counter again, facing her. “My name is Warren Smythe. What’s yours?”

“Georgeanna Aramantha,” she said sticking out her hand. She had learned niceties as a child and had made a point of remembering them.

He gave her a firm handshake. “A pleasure to meet you, Georgeanna,” he said with a small smile before looking away as he remembered what had transpired the previous night, feeling guilty.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke again. “I… may have a confession to make. I’m a psychic, and I tried reading your mind last night...” he confessed in an apologetic voice.

Heat warming her cheeks in anger, she frowned. “Listen, I don’t know what manners you were taught, but my mind is off limits,” she whispered with a look like fire in her eyes.

He leaned away from her and raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know! It won’t happen again, even less so now that I know you’re able to tell when I do that.”

Georgeanna studied him, weighing her next words carefully.

“Fine,” she said, softening her expression. Warren obviously hadn’t meant her any harm and it wasn’t a smart move to burn one of the few bridges she had.

Warren’s hand went back to the back of his neck. “I know you were able to tell because you consciously tried to push me away with suggestion. I was able to tell, too.”

“Yes, well, you attacked me first. All I did was protect myself,” she muttered stubbornly. “It’s all I could do, it’s not like I’m one of your kind.”

“Yes, I know, and I’m not faulting you for it. What I’m saying is that I know of your abilities.” He pauses to think for a moment. “But… What do you mean by ‘my kind’?”

“Well you clearly are psychic,” she said with a bitter taste in her mouth. “Thinking you can push into anyone’s mind just because you can and have the ability to make them forget. But hey, maybe that’s not you, just the way I’ve interacted with psychics thus far.”

The man frowned at her description until she specified that she wasn’t talking about him. “Well, thank you for not lumping me together with other psychics. I admit they can be a difficult bunch.” He knew that was an understatement, but he wasn’t about to reveal his situation. Not yet at least.

“I’m not prejudiced!” she backpedaled, concerned she’d offended him. “I’ve just had some bad experiences.”

“I know, and I understand,” he said to calm her down. “I’ve had those too.” Then he quickly changed the subject. “I wanted to ask you about something else that happened last night, though.”

Georgeanna paused, trying to think of what else he could possibly have to ask her, but didn’t argue.

“You know about the psychic bomb someone let loose last night, right? I was wondering if you know any other people with psychic abilities who could do that.”

“Well first of all,” the siren blurted out without thinking. “It wasn’t a psychic bomb--”

Georgeanna inhaled sharply as she realized she had given up her feigned innocence. She desperately tried to compose her features but could not.

Warren noticed this and raised an eyebrow at her. “Were you saying something?” he asked, making it obvious that he was now aware she was hiding information from him. “How do you know this?”

Closing her eyes briefly, she leveled her eyes to the ground below them, “Do you know what a siren is?”

“I have some idea, but I’ve never seen one,” he answered honestly, already having a clue of where this was going.

Refusing to speak anymore, she painfully extended her wings and wrapped them around her lightly, her grey downy feathers reflecting the morning light. She kept her gaze on the floor, knowing the legends of her ancestors was less than appealing.

He admired the wings for a moment. “So… I’m guessing you are a siren, then?” He was also imagining she was the one responsible for what happened last night, but he wasn’t gonna ask about it, as he knew she had to have her reasons.

“Only part, but yes,” she considered how much she trusted Warren. Enough, she supposed, to tell him the truth. “I am the one responsible for last night, but it wasn’t a bomb, it was a song masking persuasion.”

Warren nodded. “I see… I guess you had your reasons for doing that, so I’m not gonna ask.” He then thought he was curious about the song, as he couldn’t hear it over his mental alarm going off at the massive intrusion, but he hesitated, as he didn’t know the dangers. “I… didn’t get to actually hear the song last night, though. My mind went into full emergency mode when I felt the persuasion.”

“I could...demonstrate if you want,” she said with a small shrug.

“Would it...” he gulped, “be dangerous?”

Indelicately, she snorted with laughter, but quickly smothered it to avoid offending him. “If it were any other siren, yes. But I suppose that’s a risk you have to take for yourself.”

He hesitated for a moment, before placing his index and middle fingers on his temple, prepared to put up mental defenses to protect himself. “Go ahead, then.”

Smiling at his more obvious attempt to use his psychic abilities, she began to sing. Softly at first, but with a richness that couldn’t be replicated. Georgeanna had only planned to give him a sample of her melody, knowing it was intoxicating to those who heard it, but even she couldn’t stop herself once she started. It was a way of emotional release, of closure and acceptance. The tune grew sadder and slower, pricking tears to her eyes as she sang her loneliness out into musical notes, each one plucking a more devastating tune until the song turned into a funeral dirge. Even more enrapturing than before, the siren lost herself in the memories and putting her soul into the song. It radiated around them, swirling amongst the chairs and posts, and echoing down the hall where it found Jinji who was sitting with a ledger going over the finances.

Head snapping up in a daze, Jinji pushed away from his desk and wandered drunkenly down the hall, enebriated by nothing other than the sound for once. He rested against the doorway, eyes glazed over, as he simply absorbed the music.

Warren thought he was prepared to protect himself from the song’s effect, but he was wrong. Once the song started, the hand that was on his forehead was slowly lowered, and he found himself unable to look away from the woman as his mouth hung slightly agape. For once in his life, his mind was blank.

It was a knocking that woke Georgeanna up. Knowing it could be harmful if she just cut off the song, she slowly drew it to a more hopeful tune and finished off with a single hauntingly, happy note. Jinji slowly turned back to his room and sat back down and the knocking stopped. The world was silent once more.

As the song finished, Warren blinked a few times before shaking his head and then holding his forehead, snapping himself out of his stupor. “Um… I guess I wasn’t ready… Huh...” he muttered, feeling awkward now.

“Not many are,” she said with a smile. “It’s like an anesthetic; it just numbs everything you are thinking, but it enhances everything you may be feeling. Some people actually really like knowing a siren, just to have that kind of moment where they can lose themselves.”

Looking up at him, she noticed how uncomfortable Warren was. Interpreting it as disdain for her ability, she let the subject drop.

“Gods, I’m hungry,” Georgeanna said with a nervous giggle. “Want to go grab a bite?”

He sat up straighter, almost looking like he had been startled by her innocent question, and stammered a bit. “Um… Sure,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again and looking away.

Georgeanna smiled, relieved that he wasn’t disgusted with her, at the very least. She knew people didn’t take kindly to sirens. “Just give me a second,” she said running to where she hid her rucksack.

He paused for a moment before he stood up and started gathering his things, shrugging his backpack up, reattaching his sword to his belt, tying the cloak around his neck and looping the scarf around it. This time, however, he wasn’t concerned with hiding his face, so the scarf was pulled down and he didn’t raise his hood.

Ignoring Jinji’s facial expression, she disappeared into the bathroom throwing on some jeans, a black long sleeve shirt, and a leather jacket--all were trinkets she had picked on her way from town to town. But none so prized as the shift that she folded carefully and put away. She tied up her now dry, iridescent hair. Something possesed her to take the rucksack with her as she rushed out, giving Jinji a kiss on the forehead. Quickly, she reemerged into the barroom.

He waited beside the door while she got ready, and he nodded silently once she emerged from the backroom. “So… I think you know the town better than I do, so I’ll let you choose where to go.”

Shrugging, she shouldered her rucksack, and opened the bar’s front doors, making sure to flip the sign on the window to open for Jinji’s sake after she walked out with Warren in tow. Remembering the knock at the door, she expected to find someone waiting to come in, but instead she found no one. A glint immediately caught her eye and she looked down to find a small stone. It was a navy blue drop, with a small swirl on the top. She reached down and let it rest in her palm. Warren followed her with his gaze, a questioning expression on his face.

“I wonder what this is,” she said looking towards Warren and laying it in his hand. He took it and examined it from up close. “Well, I don’t know much about gems and stones, so I don’t know what to tell you...” He shrugged. “It’s certainly pretty to look at,” he concluded, giving her a small smile.

“It is an interesting little thing,” she said looking back down at the gem and gently plucking it from his hand. “I’ll just put it in my pocket for now, for safe keeping.”

With that she lead him to a homey Nishedian pub nearby that, according to her, has the best little sausage rolls. She sat roughly on a chair, stumbling over nothing, as per usual, and smiled to cover up her embarrassment. Warren was about to reach out to her when she stumbled, but she seemed to be in control, so he stood up straighter again. The stone weighed heavily in her pocket; so to relieve her discomfort, she took it out and rested it on the table between them.

He sat down at the table, across from Georgeanna, and looked at the stone for a moment. “What do you plan to do with that?” he asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she mumbled, picking it up again to examine it. “I heard a knock during my song, so I assume someone lost it, but I don’t know who--”

As she spoke someone pulled her chair back violently, making her scramble for the table in alarm. The perpetrator whispered, “You have something, little lady, that doesn’t belong to you.”

Without even thinking, Warren stands up and, with a motion of his left hand, the table that was previously in front of him was flung to the side without even being touch. Quickly, he reached for his sword and unsheathed it, pointing it at the newfound enemy.

“Let her go. Now!” he firmly ordered him.
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Re: Mentalists (Chaos & Georgie)

Post by chaosDesigner » Sat Jan 13, 2018 5:34 am

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Hot breath poured against the back of Georgeanna’s neck as the perpetrator leaned his head on her shoulder. His beard tickled her shoulder and she shuddered, trying not to provoke the ruffian any further than he already was.

“Aw, that’s no way to behave you little tyke! Especially when I have such a prize in my grasp and you have nothing in yours, do you?” the thug said addressing Warren and squeezing Georgeanna’s shoulders for emphasis.

“What should I call you little missy?” the thug said turning his head so his beard brushed up against her ear. “My name is Braunin.”

Raising her head to avoid spilling any nervous tears, she stayed quiet and avoided looking at anything in particular. Now was no time to play the victim.

“Well if you won’t say what I want, I don’t want to hear your pretty little voice at all!” he said gruffly, tying a dirty napkin around her mouth and making it into a makeshift gag.

“You know, I came for that pretty stone over there,” Braunin said gesturing to the stone lying on the ground over by the wreckage of the table. “But I might just have to take you with me, my little gem.”

With that, he hoisted Georgeanna over the chair and then over his shoulder. Kicking and screaming through the gag, Georgeanna felt song brimming to the fullness of her lungs--reaching for a mind to numb in this chaos. Hot tears fell down her cheeks like beads of crystal, crashing onto the dark and muddy fabric of Braunin’s tunic.

Warren gritted his teeth in complete and utter rage. That’s no way to treat a lady, you monster! He thought as his mind raced for a solution to the problem. If he acted too rashly, he risked hurting her, and of course he wanted to avoid that. The comment about the stone then made him look down to it briefly. He had an idea.

“Hey, shitface!” he yelled at the grunt. With a gesture of his unoccupied hand, the gemstone rose from the ground and floated in midair. “You want this?” Then the stone flew to that hand and he caught it, quickly shoving it into his pocket. “Then come and get it!”
“Go get the rock, boys, I have more pressing matters to deal with,” Braunin grumbled lazily to the group of men slowly rising from their various tables in the eatery. Each was armed with longswords and a devilish intensity.

The militia-like squadron rose in unison, around three in all, and unsheathed their swords with master precision, closing in on Warren.
Amongst the ensuing mayhem, Braunin shouldered his way to the counter with his prize in tow. Roughly, he sat her down on the counter so that he could look her in the eyes. Georgeanna shot him a steely glare from beneath her gag, hazel eyes flashing. From this perspective, she could clearly see the face of her captor. Old, around sixty at least, and with the swagger of a mob boss. His hair was a light brown, with large streaks of grey that betrayed his real age. He wasn’t particularly large, but he obviously was rather strong with height that intimidated Georgeanna.

“Now, Missy, are you going to tell me what your name is? Or am I going to have to get it from you the hard way?” Braunin continued, contemplating a steak knife. “After all, you do have my boss’ gem, and he’s gonna want to know what bitch, no matter how pretty, got it from him.”

Warren looked around him at the four goons now closing in on him, metaphorically kicking himself for assuming the disgusting man who had taken Georgeanna was alone. “Oh, you have got to kidding me!” he yelled in frustration at no one in particular.

He quickly turned around and jumped backwards, just narrowly avoiding a downward slice. He used the new opening to slam his shoulder towards the attacker, pushing him backwards while he dealt with the other thugs, who were fast approaching him.

Braunin ran the knife carefully along the plain of his palm, contemplating it as one would a fine instrument. “You know, Missy. I’m no musician, but this little guy makes beautiful music when used in the appropriate ways.”

Georgeanna struggled to retain her composure as the knife started making its way to her face. Ever and ever closer, like a promise waiting to be kept.

One of the thugs jumped on top of a nearby table and then threw himself at Warren, prepared to slash down as he hit the ground, but Warren quickly sidestepped and shot a mental blast at him, changing his course mid-jump. The first eliminated grunt then slammed against the counter where the siren was with a gaping hole on his side, where the blast had hit him.

The jarring shock of the goon hitting the counter knocked the knife out of Braunin’s hand and sent it skittering down the counter. With a grunt he looked at his fallen man and rolled his eyes.

“Knives for hire never get the job done, right,” he muttered to himself. Looking over to where Warren was battling the two remaining ruffians, he whistled, “Oy! Hurry this up boys, I want to get home so little Missy here can meet my other treasures!”

This sent a ripple of laughter through the ranks as the remaining men reformed around Warren once more--two against one.

Georgeanna, now held only in place by Braunin’s hand on her neck, spied the knife still sitting on the counter. Her eyes widened. If only she could just get a hold of it--somehow. She could free herself from the gag and then rain a numbing shower over everyone--just wipe everyone out and leave them crying like she had the night before.

After seeing Warren’s handiwork, the two grunts that remained on their feet hesitated for a moment, as the third one jumped back on his feet. However, they didn’t hesitate for long, and Warren took that time to straighten his stance. The closest enemy saw this as a chance and attacked, forcing Warren to threw his arms up to block the incoming blade with his own.

He was driven back a few paces, and he noticed the other two approaching him from behind his current opponent. He quickly slipped to one side and used the grunts confusion to his advantage, slashing across his chest. The goon dropped to the ground, apparently dead.

However, the slash left an opening in Warren’s defense, which the next opponent used against him. Warren barely had any chance to duck under the ensuing thrust, and it nicked his shoulder, spilling some of the psychic’s blood. He grunted in response and took a few paces backwards.

The thug smirked to himself in satisfaction, closing the distance between him and the psychic. Warren then fired another blast at the ground, in the general direction of his attacker’s feet. He avoided the attack, but Warren used that to his advantage by swinging his sword at the enemy when he was focused on the blast. The blade lodged itself in between his ribs deeply, and Warren pulled it back with both hands to release it from the body.
The force made him back away some more, and the approach of the fourth and final thug made him backpedal further until his back hit the counter behind him. The sudden obstacle broke his concentration on the battle, and he craned his neck backwards, seeing the counter with the dropped knife on it. This made him look at Georgeanna and her captor for a moment, thinking he might use this to save her.

However, his current opponent only saw his momentary distraction as an advantage, and attacked with another downward slice. Warren leaned sideways in order to avoid it, but it grazed the skin around his right elbow, causing him pain. However, the grunt’s blade got stuck on the wooden counter, and Warren used this to his advantage by thrusting forward and stabbing the final thug right through the stomach, the unbreakable sword coming out the other side.

The psychic quickly got the corpse off of him, then quickly turned around and grabbed the knife, preparing to throw it at Braunin using his telekinetic abilities. In his focus on saving the siren, though, he didn’t noticed that the grunt, with his slashed chest, was still alive and had stood up again.

Right before Warren threw the knife, the last thug pushed the psychic’s head down and slammed it on the counter, making Warren’s aim falter. The knife flew in a different direction than intended, and it ended up landing beside Georgeanna.

Braunin looked down, surprised at the sudden clattering near him, but Georgeanna was quicker. Although her neck was still held by Braunin’s meaty paw, Georgeanna reached out with her right hand and quickly grabbed it and brought it behind her--instantly connecting with flesh. The blood dribbled between her fingers and all down the hilt of the knife. Braunin’s grip slackened as she continued to push the knife in, till finally he let go of her altogether.

Spitting out the gag quickly, the song finally bubbled forward and pushed into the minds of everyone in the eatery--the goons, the scared passerby, even Warren, who was, up until then, held down by the remaining thug, a new wound on his head bleeding, caused by the hit he took against the counter. Eyes glazed over as she pushed herself off of the counter, gathered her things, and grabbed Warren’s bag as well. Her aria didn’t allow for anyone to move, let alone think--it seemed having been silenced concentrated her voice. Georgeanna hurried along, grabbing Warren’s arm and dragging him behind her.

Running out of the cafe, she didn’t stop singing until they were several feet away from the front door, hoping that Warren would wake up and start running with more effort and that the remaining assailant wouldn’t have enough time to follow.
A few moments after the siren finished her song, Warren blinked and shook his head, starting to run with by his own accord. “Thanks for that!” he told Georgeanna. “Where are we going now?”

Georgeanna let go of his arm, darting down a small alleyway that led to the nearby sand dunes, with the psychic following closely behind. “Running. Can’t talk. Just follow.” she puffed air in and out of her lungs. Having sung and ran for quite a time, she was entitled to be quite winded. The urge to whip out her wings and simply coast across the sandy landscape came to her quickly, her wings twitching slightly in response, but went away just as rapidly--she didn’t know if Warren would be able to keep up and she could hardly carry him.

The sand tufted under her feet like sprays of water, as they continued to run. She knew of a cave somewhere, long buried behind a mound of sand. Georgeanna just needed to see the lip of the jutting rock to recognize it.

There, right there, covered in a thick layer of sand, the rock formation came into view. Georgeanna just prayed that it wouldn’t be completely full of sand, and that a mound had just formed outside of it.
Chaos has been designed!!!

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