Hellllllloooo. My name is, as some of you may know, MaoIsSleepy; Mao for short. This is my third fan fiction (that is currently published, right now). Now this anime I created is 100 percent original right now. I came up with the plot, the main characters, and so on.
However, I'd like to do something fun; I will be accepting five Oc's, maybe less, maybe more. It all depends on how many people actually REVIEW! hint hint. (Wait... If it's not a professional anime, are they called OC's?)
I don't care about gender, and if you post as a guest, I will still accept them. If I don't have enough info I'll just make it up myself.
Annnnyway, please, please, please read on! I'll have the sign-up sheet in the next chapter. I will accept PMs and Anonymous reviews, so knock yourselves
This sort of felt like it had a halloweenish feel to it, so... Think of it like that. I apologize for any mistakes; there are a lot of autocorrects, so something I meant to says might not be there, or totally messed up (like my as always turn into A's, It's annoying.)
Enjoy!
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Ch 1; Treasure
POV: The extremely strange narrator
Ghoul City was, un-coincidentally, filled with ghouls.
Ghouls, and ghosts, and creeps, and monsters. But mostly Ghoul: ogres, vampires, werewolves, fairys, and the like.
Demons were welcome, officially, by the king, (Lord Death himself) but they were always kept at a cold distance.
The same with humans: Oddly, because of the shunning, the two races formed an unintentional alliance with each other; the demons stopped killing the humans, and the humans stopped exorcising the demons; unless others were watching, that is.
Ghoul City was also known as, to the humans who mostly lived far away from it, Hell.
It was named after the place where everything (at least, everything in this town) went after death.
And so, even though the official name was Ghoul City, many referred to this as 'Hell'. Actually, Lord Death was the only person who called it its proper title.
My apologies, dear reader, I was getting side-tracked. How about we get on with the story? For real this time.
The bar was loud with music and rambunctious monsters.
Vampires sipped glasses of dark red wine (yeah, right), werewolves howled with laughter (literally), and warlocks jokingly shocked their friends with magic (very, very low-grade magic).
To think a single busy person would bother to quit laughing and joking just to sit and stare at a quiet pair of travelers was strange. Why let two people ruin their night? Especially when the two wouldn't even bother themselves to cause trouble.
But that was what they did; everyone, even the ogre bartender, dropped what they were doing as two, small, scrawny girls silently walked into the bar.
They would have gone unnoticed if not for who they were.
"Humans," sneered one particularly wasted vampire. He bared his fangs and hissed before sipping more blood-I mean, wine. Yes, totally not what you were thinking. Silly reader, you can't get intoxicated on blood unless the victim was drunk first...
Moving on, as the two girls continued to walk to the bartender, the girl behind the first was accidentally tripped.
Yes, accidentally, do you not believe me?
Now, this girl, who was dressed in lighter clothing (weight light, not color light) slowly got to her feet, her 'friend' not stopping, or even blinking an eye, at her absence from her side.
The girl who recovered, rather quickly I might add, calmly followed her friend. She wore a deep red shirt (much like the color of delicious Vampire wine), with a v-neck.
Her hair was a dense, forest green, and wavy at the ends. There were thin white bandages around her forehead, tucked down neatly, and her eyes were a light green; they popped next to her darker hair. Her shirt's bottom half opened up like a coat, and left a tail around her. Her short were black, and she had no shoes... She was obviously not human, although she had the same appearance. Most could tell from her aura. She was... Broken, like she had given up on life. That probably meant she was immortal. Humans never gave up because their life was so short lived.
Her friend, who was in front of her, still, stopped walking and stared at the bartender, who was safe behind the table. His skin was orange, and he had four inch tusks curling up and framing his flat nose. His eyes were beady yellow, and his fingernails were pointed into sharp claws.
"What do you want, human?" he asked in a rough voice.
The 'human' smirked. The lower half of her face was all that was visible. Her eyes, though, did shine through the shadow her black hood created; they were light blue, like ice.
Her long, sliver, wavy hair lay down her front, revealing her gender since her curves couldn't. Her cloak was made of an obviously heavy material, and flowed around her like an unfitting dress.
"Terrance Elonger... Correct?" The ogre snorted.
"Who wants to know?" The girl sighed at this stupidity; it was a confirmation on his identity.
"Fine, if you want to make it that easy, I can play along." Everyone watched silently as she slid the black sleeve up her arms, stopping at her elbow. She raised it and gripped her wrist with her left hand.
"Terrance Elonger is to be arrested and hanged for the murders of the twenty one humans he used to make his 'wine'." Her hand began to glow, a light green... The same color that her friend's eyes were. They radiated light, unlike earlier.
Terrance's eyes widened.
"Shit," he gargled, ripping off his apron to reveal sweaty, and excess, orange skin. He pulled out two, gleaming knives from the folds of his fat (don't worry, dear readers. You're not the only ones that felt like barfing at this point).
The bar-goers whispered among themselves.
"A human with an asset! I've never heard of that."
"Yes, and it's an imp! That's extra rare!"
"Is she... Does the Errand Girl have an Imp Asset?"
"That's what I heard."
"I'd say it's the King's Treasure."
"Charles, you're drunk. They're the same person."
"There's no way she would come out here to do some pity arrest. Besides, this girl is just a kid."
The girl heard every comment, every whisper. She narrowed her now glowing green eyes at Terrance.
"Shira," her voice rang out, and everything and everyone stood still. Her voice was so smug and unwavering that it was difficult to believe that it emitted from her. She smirked again; a wicked curve present on her lips.
"Dance." The girl nodded, her glowing green eyes widened. The wind picked up and, very oddly, the bandages wrapped around her forehead blow off; well, actually, they draped around her shoulders. On her forehead, right in the center, was an ink-black 'X'.
"Yes, Takara-sama. Would you like me to kill him if he resists arrest?" Takara glared at her, though she was still emotionless, and rolled her eyes, like it was obvious.
"He's going to die anyways. It seems easier to kill him even if he didn't." She then mumbled something under her breath, something along the lines of 'worthless', and 'making me repeat myself'. She then sighed.
Then Shira danced. Without any other music than the surprised yelps and pain-filled screams.
This, dear readers, is a little gory. So, I decided to skip this, in hopes of preserving your innocence. Let's just say that there was no arrest made, and that I am never going to order wine again.
Takara and Shira silently exited the bar, blood splattered on the silver-haired girl's cheek. On Shira... Well, she was soaked. But she didn't seem to care. Takara glanced at her and scoffed.
"Don't make it so messy next time. Now I have to get you new clothes." Shira dipped her head, which the bandages now re-adorned.
"Yes, Takara-sama."
"It's late, let's go home."
"Yes, Takara-sama." The two silently carried on down the streets, which still had a few number of Ghouls in it. Some saw the blood and fled, and other just ignored them.
Takara glared at every Vampire, Werewolf, Ogre, Witch, and even the demons, with every depth of hatred in her soul.
If she made the rules, they wouldn't be here; they would all be dead, and they would pay. Everyone had to pay... But this girl was starting to feel tires again, so the burning died down. Takara, her eyes now blue again, rubbed her lids, stepping up the stairs that lead to her apartment door. She unlocked it with a key, and opened it. Stepping inside, and being followed by Shira, she flicked on the lights and made her way to her bed. The stoic girl followed, but Takara turned and glared at her.
"You're covered in blood, don't walk on the carpet."
"Yes, Takara-sama." Shira bowed, shedding off her clothes. Takara yelped, blushing and turning away. Shira stopped stripping and looked at her.
"Was that not what you meant, Takara-sama?" She questioned, as stoic as ever. Her eyes looked uncaring, like she was dead to the fact she was almost naked in front of someone. Takara scoffed to cover her embarrassment.
"No, just warn me. I don't want to see that," she all but spat.
She turned and waited for her asset to finish undressing before ordering her to go take a bath. Shira vanished into the bathroom with a soft,
"Yes, Takara-sama."
"Honestly," she murmured under her breath. She pulled off her heavy cloak, ~ she knew she didn't look good in it, but she couldn't bring herself to just not wear it~ threw it on the floor, and began working on her other clothes.
She peeled off her bright orange tank-top, and then her jean shorts. Left in her underwear and bra, she crawled under her covers. Like every night, right before she flicked the lights back off (usually Shira did this for her) she glanced down at her chest. She would never be as full as Shira; and she found that rather unfair. She sighed and laid her head on her soft, frilly pillow, snuggling under her silk sheets.
She fell asleep before Shira exited the bathroom, fully dressed once more, in fresh, clean clothes identical to her old ones.
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The new position Takara woke up in was usually what she found in the morning. Her comforter was kicked on the carpet, and she was sprawled across the whole mattress. One of her arms and one of her legs were hanging off of the side, and she realized she had slept in barely anything again.
Which was a little embarrassing since Shira had woke her up early (anytime before noon) to let her know she had a visitor. A male visitor.
Her soft snoring ceased when she was gently shaken awake. Shira bowed curtly (it wasn't regal, just in an apology) and said,
"Someone is here to see you, Takara-sama. I let him in." Now, this wouldn't be a problem, unless your apartment was laid out like hers: her entrance came into the small kitchen, which went into the living room (no door), which was adjacent to her bedroom (the bathroom was next to that, and it could also be accessed by the kitchen). There was, again, no door.
Takara jumped up on her soft pink bed (Oh, my, that was unexpected), and clutched the sheets, that were thankfully still on the bed, to cover herself.
"You what!?" Shira blinked.
"Was that not what you wanted?" She wondered, although it looked like she could care less.
Sure enough, there was laughing from the entryway into the living room. Takara narrowed her eyes, her embarrassed air completely gone around her, replaced with one of caution.
Now appearing at her bedroom entryway was a man~ not even~ with evil blue eyes and choppy black hair. His lips piercing, nose ring, earring, and eyebrow piercing, as always, distracted Takara from his handsome face. She focused on them on purpose.
"Shira, I thought I taught you better than to let stray dogs in," Takara said cautiously. She didn't have to look to know that Shira was tense with suspicion as well. There must have been a good reason she let him in here.
"Ichiro," the man smirked as Takara said his name. "What's so important that you had to come to my apartment to tell me?" She unconsciously clutched her sheets tighter. Ichiro laughed carelessly, holding his hands up to show that he had no tricks up his sleeve.
"Can't I visit an old friend? You're practically my sister!" He defended, chuckling to himself and crossing his arms over his chest. He wore a purple mesh shirt underneath a blue jacket, and he had on black jeans with a chain at the pocket.
"That last time you visited me on your own account, I ended up in the hospital," Takara murmured under her breath. Suddenly, her eyes widened in realization, then narrowed again, twice as much as before, in suspicion.
"Where's your Asset?" She questioned.
"Right here," Takara heard someone whisper; it sent shivers down her spine. Her head whipped to the side just in time to see Shira (who had been standing between Takara and Ichiro, yet off to the side, all the way across the room, on the other side of the bed) appear next to her in a blur of red, green, and black. She caught a hand, in her own.
A pale hand. An almost grey hand. That hadn't been there before.
This lifeless hand led to an arm, and that led to a body.
The girl at the bedside, who had been reaching out to touch Takara, had long black hair hanging in her face; to the point where her onyx eyes were barely visible. They were dull, even more so than Shira's. Her dress was also black and strapless, frilly at bottom and top. Almost the entire thing was made out of lace, but was solid black on thw body. It looked like she had a black forest growing on her skin. On her upper arm was a blood red (the only color on her) crescent. There was a full circled scar running around her neck; her cause of death. Her feet were bare; she had been an Imp before she died, (Imp's were known to be barefoot all of the time) before she became an Undead.
She lifelessly glanced up at Shira, who still gripped her wrist. Shira was only taller than her because she was fairly short; around 5' 1".
"Relax," Ichiro broke the tense silence, leaning against the wall. "What harm can she do if I don't say the Activation Command?" He reminded them. Reluctantly, Shira released her. Ichiro smiled brightly.
"Come here, Reira," he instructed. She did, slowly stepping to his side. He slung his arm around her tiny shoulders as he said,
"Anyway, I just came to let you know Dad wanted to send you on another mission, 'Errand Girl'. He wants to see you in person." He turned around to leave, practically dragging Reira, but stopped and looked over his shoulder, back at Takara.
"Oh, and just so you know, pink and frilly look adorable on you," Ichiro teased, winking. Takara's face grew redder than Shira's shirt. She gritted her teeth, but watched them leave.
"He didn't have to come all the way here, just to tell me that," Takara growled once the two were long gone. Shira, like every morning, handed her change of clothes.
"Perhaps he wasn't lying when he said he wanted to visit you," she droned out, obviously not giving a crap. Takara eyed her.
"You're terrible with people skills." Shira shrugged.
"Yes, Takara-sama."
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Now shrouded in her cloak, Takara stood outside the palace walls. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as Shira approached her, a newly purchased omelet in her hand. Takara took it and bit into it, yelping and spitting her first mouthful at Shira's feet. She glared at her Asset.
"Why didn't you tell me it was still hot?!"
"Sorry, Takara-sama." Takara sighed, wiping her mouth and muttering,
"Never mind." She then twirled around and walked through the gates.
The palace had a large, iron, fence circling all around it. Inside the fence was the court yard, which had two fountains and several flowering bushes surrounding them. Then it led to the main entrance, which lead to the foyer. The rest was too big and complicated to describe; Takara had practically grown up there, and she hadn't even seen the entire thing.
She ignored the armed soldiers and marched straight up the grand stairs, all the while chewing on her omelet. Shira was at her heels.
She happened to pass a Councilman's wife, whom she forgot the name of (she only recalled that she was an elf from her pointed ears). The young woman curtsied and stood up tall.
"Greetings, Errand Girl," she said, sounding smug. Takara stopped in her tracks, glancing at her from the former of her eye. A shiny, silver necklace caught her attention. The jewel, a big-ass sapphire, was framed in the silver as well. Takara finally turned to her, an idea popping in her head. She curtsied as well, before sinking her teeth into her lunch/breakfast.
"The same to you." She pretended to notice the necklace for the first time. "How lovely. That must have cost a fortune," she added, not missing the pleased expression now present on the woman's face.
"Yes, it's an heirloom. My family has had it since its creation," she beamed. "It's one of a kind." Takara smiled and took the last bit of her omelet. Shira noticed how strange she was acting and narrowed her eyes. One thought crossed her mind.
'How childish.' None the less, she tensed, ready. Takara swallowed.
"It would look nice at the 'Dance' the King is throwing," She hinted. Her now glowing green eyes narrowed venomously.
The Elf shrieked as her necklaces dissolved right off of her neck, glowing green as well. It literally melted and pooled into a puddle of liquidized silver, the sapphire dead in the middle of it. It stopped glowing. The woman and fell to her knees, her fingers prodding at the puddle. Takara left her there, smirking, her eyes blue once more.
"Was that necessary?" Shira questioned, following her down the hall. Takara glanced back at her.
"No, but it wasn't necessary to call me that. What a stupid nickname." Shira looked as puzzled as her lifeless face could.
"Are you not a girl?"
"I am!" She spat.
"Do you not do errands for the King?"
"Favors," she growled. "He doesn't order me around." Shira shrugged.
"Yes, Takara-sama." The two were silent when she reached the Throne room.
Takara walked right in.
The king, Lord Death, Enma; call him whatever you like. He never seemed to care about formalities. Takara even called him 'father' at one point, although she hadn't for a long while..
No one knew what race he was exactly; although she was pretty sure he wasn't a Werewolf, Ogre, or Fairy. Or a Creep(they couldn't talk). Takara hated creeps.
He looked human; but he had been alive for over two hundred years, so you can count that out. His hair was white and long, and he had a full beard. His smile lines were visible, even when he wasn't smiling. The golden circle, the crown, sat atop his head.
Although his hair was snow white, close to Takara's own silver hair, his face portrayed one of forty. His ever present grin widened when he saw his 'daughter'. He stood, his Asset, a fairy, zooming around his head. She landed on his shoulder, peeking over at the newcomers.
"Takara!" He exclaimed, opening his arms. "Come here!" Said girl didn't; what she did do, though, was cut right to the chase.
"Ichiro said you wanted to see me." The king, unfazed, sat back down in his thrown. His Fairy, Etsu, took to the air again, her insect wings beating faster than a hummingbird. Her hair was long and golden, and her dress was made from real live flowers. She was as big as a robin, with soft pink skin and large green eyes. She always frightened Takara; her element was fire, and boy, could she make thing burn.
"Yes, actually, I did. I have another arrest for you." Takara crossed her arms, glancing up at Shira.
"What is it?" She asked nonchalantly.
The air surrounding the King suddenly changed to one of warning.
"Don't take this one lightly." Takara narrowed her eyes in interest.
"What are the details?"
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REVIEW, PLEASE!