The sun was always half way around the world when people chose to acknowledge my existence. I could slip in and out of rhythm with humanity, touch hands with a stranger as we passed, and breathe the same air as bureaucrats; I would still remain amorphic. Eyes never looked directly at mine; they passed right through my core. I might as well be a ghost, an intangible entity amongst the living. If such activities qualified as being alive.
The night was my only ally, the only source of pure consistency around me. It was when I really became apparent, the faceless shadow guided by twinkling space lights in the sky. I moved swiftly, delicately, and precisely, all for the sake of taking. Having something that didn't belong to you was unreal, but more importantly, it was justified. In the end, the prevailing truth would always be that these things never really belonged to anyone at all. It was all stolen - tainted - goods; courtesy of those better than you.
I found pleasure in my anonymity and I reveled in my power. I have what it takes to survive in a wasteland of cruel mercy. I have a purpose, if, for nothing else, to sustain myself. I didn't need direction, didn't need reason... I just needed to act. To move while others stood still. Morals didn't play a part in anyone's life, so why should it in mine? I just wanted to have ownership over something. That something was my existence.
-\*/-
Dusk was approaching at a rapid pace, the sunfall dawning on all those caught unaware. People's procrastination and lack of self motivation is what sent them into semi-chaos at the day's end. Forgotten chores and errands sent bodies hurling in every possible direction in hopes of accomplishing something. They were so clumsy, striding and running, you'd swear they would die if they didn't reach their destination. People were so amusing this way.
But people were people no matter what was going on. If they had reason to stop, they would treat others accordingly. If they were to take time out of their busy day to turn their head to look at you, it had better be worth it. Otherwise, the unruly consequences of a scoff, rolling eyes, or other such disgruntled actions would be your received payment. It was worthless and you couldn't use it anywhere, so don't bother seeking it out.
She was wearing a hat today. A plain, no-name, dusty sun hat. It was slightly too large for her, but it was precisely why she liked it so much. It was loose, making it unmistakably comfortable, and it was functional. So long as it didn't dip down and block her line of vision every few seconds, she found that it was acceptable.
She was a simple woman, wanting nothing but simple things, to put it simply. She woke up every day past noon, yawned and stretched her thin arms, and rolled out of bed. Preparations included hurriedly tying her hair into loose pigtails, washing her face, and throwing on whatever clothes were at her disposal. It didn't have to look good, didn't have to match, and it didn't always have to be clean. It was all about serving a purpose and fulfilling a need. So long as those objectives were met, she was satisfied.
Before the devastating earthquake had struck, she had been used to a bit more refined way of life. Her family was moderately well off; they owned a small townhouse of sorts near the edge of the city. She had since forgotten its name, finding that it didn't really matter anymore. It was cozy, just enough space for her and her family. Her father was a businessman, his work unimportant and fuzzy for her to recall, and her mother was a caregiver. Her parents were plain, she labeled them, and that was just fine by her.
They were a loving bunch, her mom and dad, and they tried their best to spoil their little girl. She always had cute dresses and ribbons, never extravagant, but never cheap. She was an adorable child who was only ever loved. Her mother was gentle, soft hands tenderly raking through her thick brown tresses. She had a reserved smile and a timid laugh, but it was always genuine and comforting; the best kind of anything. And her father was firm, eyes always tired and dulled, but nothing sparked them better than seeing her run about in her red and white checkered dress. Accompanied by white stockings and ruby red flats, finished off with a bow to tie back her hair, she was the apple of his eye.
She couldn't recall much about them, though she rather gave up on trying a long time ago. They were taken away by the earthquake, her mom being crushed when their roof collapsed, and her dad dying of internal bleeding three days after it all happened. She wasn't too young to remember, the incident happened when she was twelve, but the everyday details were a bit hazy and hard to recover.
She, herself, had been badly injured during the disaster. She had fallen dozens of times, scrapped her elbows and knees, and been hit by various tumbling structures. A light post, for instance, had descended directly upon her. It was cushioned by nearby rubble, but her shoulder still ached at the memory. She was grateful for having been so short back then. Regardless of the small stuff, after her father passed away, she took a nasty blow to the head. She woke up a few days later in a treatment facility. They pushed her out the door the moment she came to.
She'd had slight memory problems ever since, but it wasn't too bad. She could learn new things, remember a conversation from a week ago, had she actually had one, and tell you her current address, should she actually want anyone to know it. It was just the events before that she had difficulties with.
But she hasn't been an ordinary girl since then. She's what people call transient. She packs up and moves at random, sometimes buckling down for a month or two, other's for not even a week. Her actions were decided based slightly on the level of danger in whatever town she happened upon, but it was all really due to what it had to offer.
If the place had good resources, or at least sufficient ones, she was more than happy to stick around. She had no real job skills, not any worth mentioning, and she felt that it would be unfair to apply for a job with her lack of... permanence.
Housing usually meant a tent with broken sticks and a jammed zipper, while sleeping arrangements were a simple blanket and her arm as a makeshift pillow. The last one she had made her head incredibly itchy, so she tended to not rely on them. The blanket was thin, but her clothes were fairly heavy for what they were, so she made out alright. It wasn't like it got real cold in these parts. That kind of unsuitable weather was more often found down south.
A broken down and faded sign placed her in Barthome, and she had to admit, the place was crawling with slime. The air seemed stagnant, the only real scent filling it was filth and poorly manufactured beer. It was probably all homemade, she highly doubted that the government would waste their money importing it. It was repulsive, but somehow tolerable, and she walked through the streets with her hands dipped in her pockets, hat making her eyes almost impossible to see. Just the way she liked it.
She was scouting the area for two reasons today, one being that she needed a new location to pitch her tent, and the other being a bit more on the shady side.
A glimmer in the shop window caught her attention and she couldn't help but make her way to the front door. Any place with anything of value was like a magnet for her. When she pulled the knob, an irritating 'ding' could be heard as the bell sounded above her head. It was only a minor nuisance, but this bell in particular was screaming at her to rip it down. It must be somewhat new.
"... you expect to get paid if 'm not, huh?" She flicked the edge of her cap, allowing her eyes to adjust to the slightly darkened shop. They landed on a burly man, slightly bald, with stark black hair. He was wearing sunglasses indoors, which perplexed her endlessly, and his speech was a bit lacking. He had an accent of some kind, but she couldn't place it. She followed to where she guessed his eyes were looking and found herself staring at possibly the most interesting young man she'd met to date.
"You pay me to tell people's fortunes. What's the point in doing so if I don't tell the truth?" He was tall, a nice slender frame, and very well groomed. His hair looked freshly washed, the most charming shade of purple that she couldn't name, and it was clean cut, even his slightly elongated bangs in the center of his forehead. It was very distinguished. His eyes were dark, a very notable shade of green, unlike hers.
He wore a lot of black, a lot of black that fit very well to his body. It was old and worn, but not tattered and dirty like a lot of people's clothes. They were plain, actually rather boring, but it suited him very well. He was, perhaps, the most professional looking man she'd encountered outside of a government uniform.
She wasn't given much time to stare, however, because as soon as she was spotted (how that happened, she had yet to figure out) the atmosphere had changed.
"Welcome, y'ng lady. Feel fr' to look 'round. If ya want, m'boy here can read yer fortune. How's 'bout giv'n it a try?" She took one incredulous look at him before turning back to the other man. He was looking right at her, those intense dark orbs seemingly piercing her skin. She felt like she was on pins and needles with that indifferent look on his face, but she faked a sense of composure. He slightly bowed at her, pulling out a chair for her to sit in, as he stalked to the other side of the table.
His hands swept lightly over some very precious looking balls splayed out in front of him. What were they made of? Marble? Glass? Whatever the case, they looked expensive. Valuable. She'd be willing to wager that having even one of them would give someone enough money to buy a decent meal and some new pants.
She drew in a deep breath, not wanting to lose her cool in the middle of her "investigation," and she took a seat across from him. He folded his hands and slouched his shoulders, instantly shrouding himself with an air of cool that she couldn't accurately describe. This man was unreal, she decided, and she didn't know what to call these surfacing feelings. He was good-looking, that's for sure, but there was something else about him that had her on edge.
"Very good then, ma'am. In order to begin, I'll need to you to relax, keep yourself as loose as possible, and tell me your name."
She took another breath before removing her hat and placing it on the table. Her bluish-green eyes collided with his as she said, "My name is Cammy. Cammy Aomori, to be exact. And what, may I ask, is your name, sir?"
He casually blinked before saying, "Asuka Tachibana," as he prepared himself to erect his Eternity Eight balls. Despite their now glowing halo, and her awe-inspired expression, she still managed to retort, "Asuka. I must admit... I don't like you very much."
A loud 'thud' echoed throughout the building as the Eternity Eight ceased their glowing, and former hovering, and crash-landed back to the table.
Authors Note: 01/22/2014
Cammy does not have an official last name, so I picked a random one for her. She appeared so little, and with this being an AU, it's kind of hard to deem her in or out of character. Be your own judge of that.
