We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you a very special edition of 'I Got My Laptop Taken Away For Spring Break So Now I Have Nothing To Upload, So Enjoy This Background Tidbits Stuff For The Time Being And Accept My Apologies. Also, I Didn't Edit This Well. Just a Heads Up (I Literally Wrote This One On The Spot)'.
We hope you enjoy.
Somewhere in Marine HQ…
"Where the hell is my coffee?" A very angry, very powerful vice-admiral yelled. (Because we all know coffee is universal, even in OP-verse.)
A trembling recruit handed her a cup of the hot brown liquid, shaking so much it nearly spilled over. As soon as the cup reached the slim fingers, nails painted neon pink and snapping impatient, the recruit stepped back and tried not to attract more attention as the bold-pink haired woman downed the drink in one gulp.
A smooth green haired woman standing next to her raised an eyebrow, watching. "Sure you're not addicted to that stuff, sis?"
The pink haired vice-admiral placed the -now nearly empty- cup down. "Course not. Not like it's a drug," she replied, before returning to the stack of paperwork on her desk, reinvigorated.
The green haired woman just rolled her eyes and smoothed back her perfectly wavy hair, while returning to the magazine ('Fish Feed') at hand.
Allow me to introduce them. The pink haired woman is Marissa Isei. All six feet of commanding power. She had neon green eyes, that could bring down the toughest of men (and had, many times before). She was also one of the most influential (read: demanding) persons in the entire Marine Corps. Her hair was strikingly pink, very long and when pulled back in a high ponytail like usual, reached down to her golden embroidered boots. Her entire outfit screamed 'authority'. Of course the Marine's coat she wore surely helped things along. (Of course 'wore' meaning she draped it over her shoulders, like everyone else.) Still, it was hard to believe this woman was nearing 40.
The other woman is Marissa's younger sister, Meris Isei. She was all curves and bends. Her hair was thick and wavy, all the way down to her thighs, a silky slick sea foam green. She wore a smooth wetsuit, similar green of her hair under a white , flexible armor that was reminiscent of fins. (It also showed a considerable amount of cleavage.) In addition to that, she wore a pair of short white gloves. Every part of her was glossy and calm- but she was normal. Except for her abnormally sharp teeth, but then that was only scary if she smiled a certain way. She was laid-back and almost always relaxed- unlike her sister. In fact, the two were nearly two different people. The only indication that they were remotely related lay in their appearance: the bold neon pink of Marissa's hair was the same shade of pink pigment in Meris' eyes. Likewise, the sea foam green of Meris' hair was the striking green of Marissa's irises.
Meris flipped her magazine closed and eyed her sister, diligently working through the papers. "Need any help, sis?"
Marissa didn't even look up. "No thank you. I'm fine."
It was not that Meris wasn't very good and efficient at doing paperwork either. But Marissa was much too proud to let someone else do work as trivial as this.
Meris shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm gonna patrol the borders then. Nothing like a refreshing dip in the water."
Marissa simply nodded as her sibling left the room.
[***]
Somewhere in a dark tent...
Humming, he dipped his brush into another painted pot, then slowly dabbed the black coating against the opening of the bottle. Wiping off the excess liquid, he brought the brush to his long, elongated nails and carefully smoothed the nail polish on with a finesse and preciseness that came from years of experience.
"Sir! They have breached the border!"
The sudden noise startled the man, who had smeared the polish over his fingers in his jerk of surprise.
A vein popped in his head as he slowly, deliberately, placed the brush down and examined his ruined fingertip. A cold wave swept through the spines of everyone in the room. The poor recruit that had yelled the news suddenly felt a odd chill shooting down his body.
He got off his high chair, and walked over to the poor man, shaking in his boots, aware that he had done a grievous wrong.
He held up his hands, showing the ruined finger to the man.
"Do you see these fingers, my dear?" He said softly.
The recruit, fear causing him to lose his voice, nodded.
His eyes slanted into a predatory glint. "Good."
"Because that's the last thing you'll ever see."
[***]
Somewhere in Marine Branch 153
"Good job as always, Ziggy. Always a pleasure working with you," the commodore said stiffly. He was a middle-aged man, grey hairs showing amongst faded orange. Even so, he was built and strong, and stood proudly, cape slung over his shoulders. His lieutenant, a dark-blonde haired woman with tan skin and sunglasses stood at attention, electric blue eyes carefully scrutinizing the two of them through darkly tinted frames.
Zak Ziggy stood, red-brown hair plastered with sweat and shoulders hunched from his 'work'. But he still managed to look at the two Marine officers and scowl. "Yeah, whatever," he replied back, too tired for a real comeback.
"Your food is being delivered to your room as we speak. As you are regenerating your blood cells, the seastone cuffs will not be put on you. Please allow yourself to be escorted back to your residence."
Zak shrugged. He had heard this general command, worded a hundred different ways. He stood still as the four guards extended their seastone poles and surrounded him, creating a little square 'cage' around him, so that it was not touching him, therefore unable to hinder his devil fruit healing, but it stopped him from making a break for it. They began to walk and Zak followed, careful not to move too fast or too slow in case he accidentally burned himself on the seastone. As he exited the room, the two Marine officers nodded their heads slightly -in recognition? Or thanks? He couldn't tell. He raised a hand and gave a half-hearted, but somehow managing to be slightly snide- two finger salute.
He had been with the Marines for a long time, helped them heal their select critically injured, by giving blood to them. His O-type blood was perfect for this, and his blood cells would then regenerate in their body before dissipating, allowing the person to replenish the blood lost while being healed. The latest patient, a tall dark haired woman who had gotten hurt from something or other straight through the leg, lay breathing normally and in a stable condition on the operating table.
All thanks to Zak, of course. All thanks to me, he thought to himself spitefully. Wonderful.
[***]
Somewhere in the ocean…
Yuki bobbed up and down on the waves, sea spray coating her face in a salty mist. She took a deep breath and lay back, feet propped up on the edge of her small ship. Checking her log pose, she saw that she was nearing the next island- Loguetown.
The wind brushed back her short dark brown hair as she curled her knees up to her chest, hugging her small, athletic frame.
She allowed the dull pounding of the waves to soothe her rhythm and relaxed.
[***]
Somewhere in Loguetown…
I was packing up my makeshift calligraphy stand when a group of people came running past. One of the girls with dark hair bumped her wrist against one of my tent poles. She gave a glance towards her wrist and towards me but hurried on.
I shrugged, bemused at the rush but not that caring. I kept on emptying my ink and cleaning my brushes, preparing to go. Can't stay in one place for too long- the life of a wanted man.
"Excuse me, sir?" I looked up as an old lady approached me. She was short and her face was worn with time and wrinkles; but it was a kind face, and the wrinkles were akin to laughter lines.
"Yes, grandmother*?" I deferred politely. "What can I do for you today?"
She smiled and pulled out an old photo, worn at the edges. Obviously it had been pulled out and looked out many times. It was a faded picture of a woman with a young teen boy who was hugging the woman and rubbing her hair affectionately. "This is me, when I was younger and my hair nt faded to the white it is now," she said, pointing to the middle-aged woman. "And this is my son, Voon." she rubbed her finger carefully over his 2-D face, smiling softly. She paused a moment before looking back up at me. "We were never very well-off, and my husband gone and pass'd away some time after he was born. It was always just the two of us. Then he married a wonderful woman- very rich and noble, you see- and started sending money back to me."
I interjected. "Wait, he didn't invite you to move in with them?"
She had a vague look on her face. "No, he didn't." She sighed, weary. "I understand that he doesn't want an old, fussy woman like me 'round anymore." She managed to bring back her smile. "I don't mind. I do just fine here. It's just...I miss him and want to know how he's doing. But I never learned how to read. When I had Voon, I promised meself that he would learn how to read, that he wouldn't end up like me. I went hungry sometimes so that I had enough money to send him to school, and bless his heart, he always went. Model student, he was. Graduated top of his class and attracted the attention of the Veronas, he did." The little old woman puffed up proudly.
I was touched by this woman's story, but, "I see. What did you need me for then?" I asked, anticipating her answer.
"Well, I was walking along here- I recently moved here, and he hasn't talked to me in such a long time. I just want to know how he's doing, tell him about my address change and other such. Since I saws you writing all them pretty letters, I thought you could write a little something for me," she stopped and looked at my half-packed stand. "But if you're fixin' to leave, I won't trouble you any more." She smiled that lovely quaint smile of hers. "Does an old woman like me good, you know. Talkin' to young folks like you, who're willing to listen to the heartsick ramblings of folks like me." She began to hobble away. I reached out a hand and smiled myself, breaking my usually stoic demeanor. "Wait, grandmother. I'll write that letter for you. Here," I reached for a brush that was drying on the stand and poured some ink on the bowl I just washed. Grabbing a piece of paper next to me, I placed it in front and dipped my brush in ink. "I'm ready. What would you like to say?"
She hobbled back and took a deep breath, beginning to dictate. "Dear Voon…"
A while later…
I blew on the paper very carefully, letting the ink dry a little bit more before handing it to her. "Here you go, and good luck."
The little lady gripped the paper like it was going to fly away any moment before beaming at me. "How much do I owe you?" she asked.
"It was my pleasure," I responded.
She grinned and began to walk away, tucking the paper carefully into the folds of her clothing. She turned back. "By the way, better not get your girlfriend mad by dropping these things," she said, picking up two shiny, thin gold bracelets from the corner of my stand. I shook my head. "They're not mine. Wouldn't you care to take them?" I asked.
She retracted her hand, and pondered for a moment. Then she reached out once again and put it on the table. "Then as it was mine, it is now yours. Payment, in a way?"
I nodded and gave her one last smile. "Thank you, granny."
She went and hobbled away slowly, throwing one last parting behind her shoulder. "Oh no, dear child, thank you."
[***]
Somewhere in the rebuilt Upper Yard…
A woman dressed in shades of brown walked along the street. Her clothing was reminiscent of Native American dress, with the exception of the shiny plated white-mirrors that slung across her thighs. They were quite large, opaque, smooth and rectangular. The same material appeared to be what her sickle shaped weapon was made of. She was pretty looking in an earthy way, tan Shandian skin and dark brown eyes. But not exceptionally beautiful. In fact, the only noticeable thing was the pink v-shaped scar on her face. Its vertex sat on the bridge of her nose and extended outward, the two lines branching over her eyebrows and disappearing into her hairline. Oh yes, and also she had no wings. This can be explained- you see-
*pulls out pointer and map*
100 years before the time period of this storyline, some hundred years after (canon) Pirate Age, some Skylanders decided to come down to inhabit the Blue Sea. Not much, mind you- only a few. However, due to this, their wings slowly started to disappear into their backs, until there was no sign of them but two white marks that faintly resembled small wings etched into their backs.
*pops back out of existence*
The woman neared a house and stopped, looking at the address on the paper and on the house. "Hmm," she said, before she entered the house.
Waiting inside was a man and a woman. The man, of course, is not important to this particular story. So let us call him...Timmy. He has a banana shaped head.
(He's not that important.)
"Nuna!" exclaimed the other woman located in the room.
"Hadan," said Nuna. "Why did you bring me here?"
Hadan was striking-quite literally- and not just because of the drastically different dress. Where Nuna wore shades of brown and neutral, earthy colors, Hadan wore varying shades of (grey- just kidding) oranges and yellows. Her flared half-skirt resembled flames, flowing down from her waist, as did the short, ruffled top that left her stomach bare. Her eyes were a piercing, bright yellow. If this didn't alert you to her Devil fruit power, maybe the fact that her hair was also layered and choppy, short, and orange/yellow. Also it had the tendency to alight in flames when she got excited. As it was now.
(Yes, even her eyebrows lit in fire.)
And just like fire, Hadan Taima was rash, impulsive, and quite literally, 'hot-headed'.
"This here is Timmy." she gestured toward the banana-headed man. "He's a facial specialist."
The flamboyantly-dressed man bowed low. "Delighted to be of service, miss."
Nuna stared at them warily. "And what, exactly, is a facial specialist?"
"Well, I-" Timmy began before being interrupted by Hadan. "Basically he fixes your face!"
Cue awkward. "My face? I was not aware that it needed fixing." Nuna replied despondently,.
"No-no," Hadan hastily repaired. "Your face is fine! But it would look so much prettier without the scar."
The room suddenly grew a little bit tense, as Nuna stiffened. "So that is what this is all about." she said quietly.
She turned and began to leave. "Wait!" Hadan cried. "Nuna, why don't you want to get rid of it? Don't you think the scar-"
Nuna spun around. "The scar that you gave me, you mean." she said coldly.
Timmy, sensing drama, slowly edged away. "Um...I'll be in the back!"
No one gave him a second glance- which was, on some level, totally alright with him, as he closed the door and gave the women some privacy.
Now Hadan stiffened too. "Yes, the scar I gave you. Won't you get rid of it?" she said testily, hair flaring darker orange.
"No." Nuna said the syllable simply, then spun around to leave.
Hadan made a strangled noise, a mix of tears and anger, before falling to the floor in frustration.
"Why, Nuna? Why? Is it because you want to hurt me? To remind me that I will never be forgiven?"
The woman stopped in the doorway. Slowly, she turned to face the sobbing girl on the floor.
"I do not wish to hurt you, Shabeth," Nuna said, referring again to their native language. "But I wear this scar as a reminder to you. I am your reminder to never be so foolish. Your guilt. Whenever you look at me and see my face, I want you to remember how it came to be there. I want you to remember why it came to be there, and I want you to remember how it must never happen again, because it is what happens when you act so rashly and lose control."
She then turned and left. She stopped right before closing the door.
"I never blamed you."
The door closed with a soft click.
Omake:
T: So all her hair goes up in flames?
Me: Yes.
T: ….ALL her hair?
Me: .….
T: *is thrown out for being stupid*
*Hope you guys understand she's not really his grandmother, but that's what you call anyone of her age in asian culture. Again, wanted to use japanese, but thought it would be confusing- hence 'grandmother'.
So yeah...an update for you guys! I'm almost done with ch.6, but it's probably not going to be done til..may...ish..if I'm lucky XD end of school year, desperately trying to get the grades up, yadda yadda. I promise more characters as well~
So to explain this chapter: these are just some characters that will appear throughout the story, giving brief background, etcetc. The calligraphy guy is Russet, btw. I didn't explicitly introduce him, but he will be a main character and I feel bad for not writing him in sooner. It's just that...some of the characters immediately click with me, and I know exactly how I want to write them, you know? And then for other characters I need more information, need more thought.
And no worries~ that baa-chan (gramma) is not evil XD don't be biased just cuz one old man was a stupid pervert LOL.
Leave a review too :P Esp. if your character appeared in here. Give me some feedback on how I should write them~ And even if they're not :P leave feedback on ideas on how I should work with them. Honestly- the more information the better.
The story's just getting started XD