You sigh with relief when your back hits the park bench with a soft thud. You kick your legs involuntarily as they dangle off the edge of the bench. You flick some strands of your blonde hair out of your eyes while looking up at the sky. Gray clouds are closing in from the west, hinting at a possible storm sometime in the afternoon. Though you will not suffer any adverse effects from standing out in the rain, father will be inconsolable if you come home soaking wet. Which means some of your plans will need to be put on hold. You frown in annoyance, reaching for the "Apple Juice" you bought using the pocket change father gave you.
You twist the top off the small green bottle and take a sip. It does not taste anything like apples, but the cool liquid is refreshing. You let your eyes roam across the park as you drink, stopping every now and then when you spot children around your apparent age. Countless minutes pass as you observe the kids. How they interact with each other, with their parents, if they have toys, what groups they gravitate towards, and various other activities they participate in. You did come here looking for someone to be friends with, after all. As of now the only friend you have is Chester, and while he's a great companion, he is only one person. You need to branch out to ensure you have a large group of support to draw from, and to better "fit in" with human society. The last thing you need is to be labeled "antisocial" and begin raising suspicion.
Your observations come to an end just when your bottle runs out of juice. You place the it down while shaking your head at your conclusion; not a single child here could become your friend. Which is not because of any particular wrongdoing on their parts. They are all healthy, mostly kind kids who would probably be delighted at the prospect of making a new friend. They would all be wonderful comrades for any normal child.
But that's just it. You are not normal. This is not a derogatory observation, it is a statement of fact. And, though your father and Chester are both wonderful in their own rights, you require a companion that can...stimulate your mind. Someone who can understand the higher level thought processes of an Eldritch being without losing their sanity. A Jefferson to your Hamilton. The both of you whiling away the long hours conversing over various topics that interest you without a care in the world. Sadly, none of these children will provide you with that. With another sigh, you grab your juice bottle and hop from the bench. It is getting late, and father will be worried if you stay out to—
"Pardon me, Miss."
You slowly turn to your right. You see a boy about your age, standing there with a large piece of paper in his hands. He walks to your side, moving so that you can see the other side of the sheet with him, "It's a nice night for a walk and I seem to be lost. Would you mind helping me?"
He continues without waiting for your answer, drawing a dirt covered finger across the paper, "I believe this is where I started, and I want to get here. But I seem to have taken a wrong turn here and here. Do you see a way for me to get to my destination post-haste?"
He goes silent giving you a chance to examine him. His clothes were ragged and filthy, the smell of dumpster water wafting off them. His plaid shirt and sweatpants were much too big for him, the sleeves and pant legs bunching up near his knees and elbows.
You raise an eyebrow while moving your gaze to the crumpled paper in front of you, attempting to make sense of the writing.
And, yes, "make sense of" is the appropriate turn of phrase.
Because the paper was covered in black scrawls of ink. There were no written street names, nor drawings imitating any of the nearby buildings. Merely multiple lines that lead nowhere, stopped abruptly, or went off the canvas entirely.
After making one last attempt to comprehend the erratic writing, you turned towards the strange boy. His attention was still on his finger as it traced back and forth across the sheet without fail. A cough into your hand gets him to focus back on you. You look at him and speak as gently as you can, "Pardon me if this seems rude, but what are you holding up?"
"A map," he answers without a shred of hesitation.
You look back at the paper, "This is not a map."
His brows furrow as he follows your gaze with his own. Then his eyes widen, "You're right!" he says in surprise. He grips the edges of the sheet with both hands then turns it from horizontal to vertical. Pleased with himself, he turns back to you, "Now it's a map!"
"No," you lightly shake your head, "It still isn't."
When he moves to turn it again, you hold up a hand, "The orientation is not the issue. It is the contents of the canvas. It is, in a word, ineligible."
A look of…disappointment flashes across his face. He speaks in a subdued tone while moving away from you, "Oh, so you can't read it either. That's a shame." He rolls up the paper before you can respond, shoves it into a pocket, claps his hands, then turns erratically back around towards you with a massive grin on his face, "Well you know what they say, 'It's the Journey, not the Destination'. And if I can't find my destination, then you'll lead me to a new one!"
"And if I were to refuse?" you ask, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.
"You can't. No matter what you do or where you go, you will lead me on a new Journey. You have no say in this matter. Compliance isn't required."
Neither of you move. You stand there facing each other, the air thick with tension. Your face remains flat, completely unfazed by the stranger's assertion. The boy does the same with his wide, slightly manic grin. His teeth, perfectly white in contrast to the rest of his attire, only further push it from simply strange to almost disturbing.
Minutes pass, children come and go from the park, dogs bark nearby, and the storm clouds begin to roll closer.
The first one to break the tension is you. You place your hands behind your back, turn around on one foot, and begin walking home. You call back to the boy without looking at him, "As you wish. Follow me, if you would."
The sound of feet hitting dirt is your indicator as you advance. You make sure to stay ahead of him, but to never go too far. You need to make sure you stay within his vision at least until...now.
You come up to the first sidewalk corner that leads home. Calmly accelerating, you turn the corner, and duck into the first patch of green you see. Just as you thought, the line of thick bushes along one of your neighbor's lawns perfectly conceals you. Father will likely get upset over the stains and tears the errant brambles make on your school uniform, but that is trivial. You have a more pressing matter to attend to.
You hold your breath while counting backwards from ten. At five you peer out of the bush with your eyes focused on the corner. When you hit three you hear footsteps again. At one, the boy's shadow comes into view.
Within moments you've seized his collar with your left hand, covered his mouth with your right, and yanked him down into the bush with you. Swiftly, you pin him using the holds Chester showed you yesterday. He struggles but a simple strength augmentation is enough to force him to the ground with his chest facing upwards. Placing a knee on his diaphram you release his collar and shift your free arm into a serrated blade. The moment he sees the small amount of sunlight glint off the edge, he stops.
You place your arm against his neck while speaking in a cold, calculated tone, "Good to see you understand your position here. Now, what was that you were saying about me not having a choice but to lead you on a 'Journey?'"
Your hand leaves his mouth allowing him to speak. The next words out of his mouth are spoken with a sense of ...appeasement?
"Woah, woah, woah!" both of his hands shoot up, waving back and forth in a friendly manner, "I don't wanna fight my….niece...cousin...a fellow mythic! I'm not looking to blow the whole city up!"
"You should've thought of that before...what did you say?" you feel the hostility leave you as you begin to digest his words.
He continues, moving one hand to lift his hair away from his eyes, "I mean, unless this is your full power."
He moves his hair up and you see something that gives you pause. You never noticed them before due to his erratic movements and constant exclamations. But here, underneath the waning sunlight, you can finally see them: his eyes.
Hidden behind his shock of wild, unkempt, navy blue hair were two eyes of broken glass. As blue as Uranus and Neptune, they were filled with cold horror, like someone who knew the world and that they were greater than the others. The shattered pieces floated within the irises with neither rhyme nor reason. You stare into those endlessly deep eyes for a long time.
Five minutes pass of you staring into his eyes. Then you stand up, pushing your way out of the bush while holding a hand out for the boy. He takes it and lets you pull him up and out of the foliage. You both take a moment to dust the dirt and otherwise from your clothes. Once finished you hold out your right hand, now returned to normal, and introduce yourself with a smile, "Anastasia Craft."
The boy returns your smile and grips your hand tightly with his own, "Blue. Just, Blue."
"Is that a name or a title?" you raise an eyebrow at him.
His smile turns into a smirk, "What do you think?"
You return his smirk before letting go of his hand. You return your right hand to your back, "Would you like to come to my house? Honestly, this time?"
"I was going to be there anyway, but who am I to turn down an offer from a fellow mythic," he shrugs happily. He indicates that you should lead the way and you do so, stepping with your head held high. If anyone were watching you, they'd say you had a spring in your step as Blue walked alongside you with both hands behind his head.
Which you couldn't exactly deny.
After all, you just made a new friend.
Ana has met The Broken Lord AKA Blue
Blue/Ana SL Link Unlocked!
Found a Workaround everyone! I'm back in action!
Anyway, the update.
First, I would like to thank @BurningLaugh for helping out with Blue. The Broken Lord was his idea and he helped me write the character that he saw when he came up with him.
Second, no this does not lock you out of the rest of the options. They will still be in the world and you can meet them. You'll just have to either actively look for them or hope you get lucky enough on a roll again. I gave you guys these because of the Artificial Crit.
Third, what they all are/mean:
The Broken Lord: A God that has been shattered into many pieces, making him lose his power. Has ties to the Eldritch Abominations that live in the Universe and Unknown Spaces. Will give more insight into the Divine/Eldritch Side of the world.
The Unending Horizon: A Legendary Phoniex. She looks like a child, but is actually thousands of years old. She ages at an accelerated rate, meaning she could be a toddler today and a teenager within a week. Has many ties to the Supernatural Communities. Would give more insight into the larger world of the Supernatural.
For Whom The Bell Tolls: A Grim Reaper. Maybe the first, maybe one that came after. He looks like an old man and runs an antique shop. Has ties to all groups due to essentially embodying a Concept. Would give more insight into Death, the Afterlife, and Humanity.
The Universalist: The Oldest Living Legend in existence. He has done just about everything in the world, and any Contemporary or Ancient Mythology can be traced back to him in someway. Has ties with the Supernatural and Magic Communities. Would give more insight into Magic, Belief, Myths, and History of the World.
