"Kyra Artio and Zelda Kokai, awaken."

a kind voice said. Moonlight shined down on the collapsed school. It was clear that if anyone had inhabited the building, it was long ago. Two lone figures lied prone among the rubble. The tallest figure, about 5 foot 6, had pale blond hair down to her shoulder blades. A pair of dark brown ears with black tips peaked out, twitching softly as Kyra started to wake up. Her clothes, only covered in a little dust, consisted of a velvet purple jacket with a black tank top underneath, the bodice laced up, that fell down mid-thigh, the edges slightly tattered. A long and fluffy tail that matched her ears poked out from her jacket. A pair of black leggings were accented by a pair of brown leather equestrian. She looked to be around seventeen, her pale skin almost glowing. Her oval face was clear of any blemishes.

Kyra was the first to wake up. Dark green eyes narrowed on her surrounding as she grimaced. Sharp canines glinted in the light as she noted the smell of rabbit. Zelda was significantly shorter by at least four inches. She was just as pale, though her face was more heart shaped with a splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her hair, a stark white, was incredibly short and messy, every tuft stuck out at random but with a purpose. This white continued to long, floppy rabbit ears that fell to her shoulders struggled to twitch, but splotches of bright color separated it from her hair. Her small frame had oddly colorful clothes. Her shoes were brown leather ankle boots. Her white shorts were to mid thigh and had suspenders hanging down the side. Her white shirt had flowing, long, off the shoulder sleeves, and a brown leather vest was left hanging open despite having string to tie the two sides together. What made this outfit so colorful was the fact that every white article of clothing looked like it had gone through a paintball war not too long ago. Dashes and splotches of every color were scattered at random, covering most of the white, but not completely. She muttered softly in sleep.

"But I don't wanna get up…" wide eyes snapped open as she shot up suddenly in a burst of energy, "WAIT! Yes I do! Who the hell are you?!" but it wasn't Kyra she was pointing at accusingly. Zelda was pointing up at the moon, apparently not even noticing Kyra.

"I am the Man in the Moon. Kyra, you are the Spirit of Instinct, and Zelda-"

"Ay, ay captain?!" she shouted, saluting military style, ears momentarily slapping her face.

"You are the Spirit of Ideas. Good luck."

then the night was silent as the two spirits looked at each other in interest. Zelda, Kyra noted, had eyes that seemed to subtly shift outrageously bright colors in a smooth transition.

"Good luck with what?" Kyra questioned sharply. They both looked at the moon questioningly but received no answer.

Modern Day

"Why are we here, Idea?" Kyra questioned into her cup of chamomile tea. The two spirits had fallen into the habit of calling each other by their spirit job a couple of centuries ago. Instinct had a very good reason to be questioning their location. They were currently sitting under the six on the Big Ben clock in London drinking tea out of china cups.

"I wanted to drink tea in a place where they actually care."

"Oh…" and that's all that needed to be said. Idea often came up with crack pot ideas without reason and Instinct learned the hard way that leaving her alone was never a good idea. "Well, at least it's peaceful-" two streams of what appeared to be black and gold sand whipped by and took most of their tea with them, almost knocking them off their perch, "Or it was."

"What the hell was that?"

"Well, we only know two people who can do that so I assume that's who it was."

"Oh. This wasn't a very good idea then, was it?"

"When are your spontaneous ideas ever good in the long run?"

"Riiiight!" bright blue flashes of light exploded against an army of black sand down below as what appeared to be a flock hummingbirds tore through a black clouds above.

"That's odd…"

"WE SHOULD PLAY TOO!"

"Uh, I don't think they're playing…"

"I don't care! But what side should we play on?"

"Again, I don't think they're playing…" Idea ignored her as she examined the two forces fighting around them. The figure, undoubtedly Pitch Black, controlling the black sand went around the Big Ben again with Sandman, a short golden dude with a whip, just a few feet below them.

"Well, I'm not fighting with him. Any man that fights in a dress clearly has issues. But I like the new winter Hollister campaign going on there with the brown pants and sweatshirt! Let's play on his side!" Idea kicked her shoes, now colorful neon, knee high converse, in excitement as she pulled out a small wooden paintbrush. Instinct stood up, black leather ankle boots with more buckles than necessary shining in the light of the full moon, in preparation. The paintbrush grew until it was the size of a broom, the white bristles in a perfect teardrop shape with glistening blue paint on the end. Then, without hesitation, the two jumped off the Big Ben, Idea straddling her brush and riding off like a witch while Instinct ran down the side of the clock tower before launching towards a roof with perfect accuracy.

"Do you have something against me using sand as my medium? Do you have something to say Sandman?" Sandy narrowed his eyes at Pitch in fury as symbols appeared above his head too fast for anyone to interpret. Sandy threw his whip and cut through several nightmares, nicking Pitch in the arm, causing him to descend a few more feet as an icy blast nearly knocked him over. Jack froze several more nightmares with his staff as he tried to hit Pitch. Tooth's fairies kept the fearlings from aerial attacks while Bunnymund kept the streets relatively free of fearlings. Santa was leaping around the rooftops taking down any fearlings he encountered. Suddenly, a fearling crashed into Sandy's side, sending him crashing into the clock tower. Having Sandy properly taken care of Pitch went after Jack, eyes filled with malice.

"IN THE NAME OF THE MOON, WE WILL PUNISH YOU!" Pitch turned around as a line of bright blue paint cut through the fearlings and black sand that surrounded him. A few drops hit him and sizzled painfully. The perpetrator was a short girl with floppy rabbit ears and paint splattered everywhere. A ringing laugh filled the air as Pitch turned his head, suddenly flying back by the black combat boot that kicked him in the face. The kick sent him flying into the shadows where he disappeared… for now.

"Aw man! And we were just about to win the game!"

This is a test run of sorts, my friend and I made with two OCs reflecting exaggerated personalities of ourselves with witty banter and humor. If you want it to continue, just ask, otherwise, we'll just day dream this story to ourselves. NO PAIRINGS BETWEEN CHARACTERS THAT IS NOT CANON, shit gets weird fast when that happens. Family relations at best. THAT IS IT!

Keep Calm and OC On