darkSpyro

//I honestly think think we should discuss what we do if Wylrin doesn't come back. And I prefer waffles~ <3//

Ooc: maybe someone else could takebover her responsibilities

ooc: But who would even take over in her absence? It seems like Wylrin should decide who's in charge when she isn't here. Then again, that would still leave us with the same problem...

But, yeah, I do like the direction the rp is going in. The first day can seem a bit uneventful, since we're mainly focusing on the meet-and-greet with the characters, but we've had some exciting moments. And the excitement should continue, whenever Wylrin returns. All the character development is great so far, and I look forward to more. As far as interactions go, I think Syndral needs to be more friendly in general. She needs to work on those social skills. And late-night pancakes sound good. x3

((Late-night pancakes. Yum.

Anyway, I do think I may need to work on Seytrius. He seems like a bland character, compared to some of my other OC/FCs. ))

Ooc: we could vote?

OOC: The final exams are coming up, so maybe she had to focus more on that. But that wouldn't explain why she didn't notify us...
I think it would be best if we waited. We all want the RP to stay alive, and we can continue where we left off whenever we want to, when Wylrin comes back.

I'm just excited for the fun school days to come up, like holidays and crazy clubs and fundraisers. Also the stupid things teenagers do off campus... I can't wait to see how the characters interact with common human things.

Actually, I prefer french toast... yeah...

ooc: Well, If I was still in school and had exams coming up or something, my computer would probably be unplugged until it was over, and my dad probably wouldn't give me a chance to notify anyone. He's pretty strict. But the case could be different for Wylrin. But yeah, I think it's best that we just wait. She'll come back when she can.

Yeah, that'll be fun. I can't wait for that stuff either. Oh man, the fun I could have with Syndral with any sort of holiday or party. Seriously, the girl needs to be taught what 'fun' is.

Also, Waak, your avatar is giving me horrible, painful memories right now. I absolutely hated math. It is my nemesis. I must destroy it.

Ooc: interesting...

OOC: Either way, it'll work itself out in the end. I just hope that she's OK.

"F" is for friends who do stuff together.

Please do not destroy my ultimate passion.

IMPORTANT! NOTICE: 2/8/16

Hello there! If you are new to the roleplay, hopefully you have not burned your eyes out from looking at posts #667 through #710 and beholding the bad plot-making decisions on my part. I warned you not to look there. If you are returning to the roleplay after these 5,000 years of it being dead, welcome back! I do apologize profusely for my absence - I had been busy in real life. But I'm back now! For the sake of my sanity, everything between posts #667 and #710 is not canonical content of the roleplay (because I don't want to have to relive that bad decision-making of mine ). There is a timeskip from post #667 to now. So let's get started anew! (Sort of)

-----Timeskip-----

The first day of school in Casper Hill high school went on without incident. The students and teachers were all returning to their homes, completely oblivious to the threat that loomed over their town. The alien espionage agents still remain undetected, and so long as they remain incognito, they bring with them both a hope for the future and a promise of destruction in due time. What will become of the peaceful, friendly Brotherhood of Worlds agents? Will the Galactic Order agents stand in their way? And what role will the innocent human bystanders play in all of this? That all remains to be seen....

It was late evening in Casper Hill. The sun had long since begun its descent toward the horizon, and was now just barely lingering over the line where the sky meets the earth. The enormous ball of light painted the sky with beautiful colors as it retreated for the night. Clouds were tinged with orange, and the sky itself was a diverse sea of bright oranges, deep blues, and dark purples. It was a beautiful sight, often underappreciated by the town's residents.

Even extraterrestrial newcomers turned a blind eye at its beauty.

Elim Melvyn cared little for the spectacle of colors in the sky. He was most concerned with one thing: the student that was currently unconscious in his storage closet within the school building. The alien threat may not have been discovered by the resident Earthlings, but the Galactic Order agents' plans had not gone flawlessly. While they still remained undetected and preserved their true identities, something had gone horribly wrong on their first day infiltrating the high school, resulting in rendering of one of the students unconscious. Said student was now hidden inconspicuously within one of the school's storage closets, and he could not stay there forever.

Standing at one of the windows of his "house", Elim, or "Mr. White" as he was known by the human population, watched the sun begin its slow descent below the horizon. He cared little for the visual effect it brought. His only concern was the sun itself, and the light it brought. He and his associate would need the cover of night if their plan was to succeed, and so the sun was a problem that needed to go. Unfortunately, not even he, an extraterrestrial with unsurpassed technological capabilities, could banish the sun at a whim. Even if he could, such an occurrence would frighten the planet's residents, and that would be most bothersome indeed. He needed to maintain both anonymity and normalcy, and banishing the sun - even if he was capable of it - would most certainly compromise the latter. Thus, he had to conform to the solution that any other Earthling would be forced to comply with - wait.

As both a spy and assassin, waiting was nothing foreign to Elim, who had been forced to patiently await a target or an opportunity many times over. Still, however familiar he was with the subject, waiting was never perfectly easy for anyone. Unease still gnawed at his stony comportment, and that uneasiness would remain until he knew for certain that the unconscious student was retrieved and reintegrated into human society without suspicion, their identities remaining protected. Until then, the alien imposter would just have to deal with his emotions just as any other lifeform would.

That doesn't necessarily mean he would show it, of course.

Tapping his wrist communicator - which was cleverly disguised as a watch - he contacted his fellow agent, Morph, of whom would be assisting him on this particular operation. His face and voice revealing nothing but stony professionalism, he asked plainly, "It is nearly nightfall, are you ready?"

An agonizing ten seconds passed before Elim's communicator received an answer, revealing the tired, and somewhat tense countenance of his fellow agent. "Yeah, I'm ready," Morph warily replied. His usual fatigued tone seemed bothered, but not so much as in annoyance as in worry.

His botheration primarily stemmed from the fact that the issue in question was his doing. Mindless and brutish retaliation had led to the unwarranted injury of a human student and, subsequently, that student's confinement in Mr. White's closet. Being an individual supposedly above unrestrained aggression, it was not an ideal situation. Unlike the humans, the Galactic Order and its members upheld the belief that violence is only reasonable when necessary. And that move was entirely unnecessary.

((OOC: New character! ))

Real Name: Piidgi Dottore
Alias: Doctor Corbin Finch
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Occupation: School nurse
Faction: The Brotherhood of Worlds
Personality: Piidgi is, in every sense of the word, a gentleman. Formal and polite, courteous and kind, he is the type of person who could never so much as harm a fly. His demeanor is very optimistic, though not to the point of being overly bubbly and energized. Instead, he possesses an air of calm, one that seems to signify wisdom, not apathy. His face is usually adorned with a kind smile, of which is often an expression conveying his caring, fatherly nature. While he does have a parental sort of wisdom, he can often seem very much like a child at times, too. He’s overly inquisitive about the world around him, and always sees the best in the people around him. He’s also a very talkative sort of person, very eager to socialize whenever he can with whoever will lend him an ear. His manner of speech and his enthusiasm may seem eccentric at times to some. Despite this, he can be a very serious individual when it is required of him and he upholds his duties diligently and almost obsessively. He is very proud of his status as a doctor – or, school nurse, in this particular mission – and can always be counted on to help alleviate any physical or psychological trauma.
Opinion on Humans: Piidgi is overly fond of humans. His species has been involved in Earth’s history many times before, one of his ancestors even serving as a plague doctor in 1348. He’s very proud of this involvement in helping human society, and endeavors to do just as his ancestor did. Only this time, instead of helping humanity face a terrible epidemic, he is helping to ensure them a better future when they reach beyond their own solar system. He even seems to identify as Italian, and even has a slight Italian accent.
True Appearance: Piidgi is humanoid in form, but he’s distinctly more bird-like than an Earthling. He has feathers covering nearly every inch of his body, which are black in color and very soft and smooth in texture. These feathers are very fine and small, similar to a penguin’s, giving his body a sleek and shiny look. His beak, in contrast, is stark white. Unlike a normal bird, the keratin that makes up his beak covers his entire face, from underneath his chin to his forehead. Thus, his entire face has a hard texture, seeming perhaps more like a bird’s skull than a bird’s face, and his curved beak is the most predominant feature. Like a bird, he has no visible ears, instead just having two holes in the sides of his head which are obscured by his feathers. His eyes are like an eagle’s, being a brilliant yellow, but they are far more kindly and far less sharp and piercing. Instead of fingernails, he has small, slightly curved talons which are incredibly sharp, but he has long since learned how to avoid accidently injuring other people with them and normally wears gloves just to be safe.
((His appearance is very similar to that of a plague doctor: http://orig09.deviantart.net/3...pig-d85606n.jpg Please note that the image is not my own, and all credit goes to the original artist.))
Human Appearance: In disguise, Piidgi is a tall and slender man, standing at about 6’0. His complexion is neither considerably pale or tan. His facial features are a bit bird-like, with a long nose and angular features. He has sleek black hair that he always keeps neatly swept back, which holds a resemblance to his feathers in his true form, and his eyes are a kind, gentle blue. As the school nurse, he is often seen wearing all white – white shirt, white pants, white shoes, white everything. He often wears a pair of white medical gloves, even during the times that he doesn’t have an immediate need for them. For the purpose of cleanliness, he’ll often go through more pairs of gloves a day than preschoolers do crayons.
Other: Piidgi has the tendency to make very bird-like noises. He’ll chirp when pleased, or squawk when taken aback. He also loves to feed the local birds, often talking to and cooing them whenever he sees one. His school nurse façade is not just for show. On his world, he is a licensed doctor, and thus, knows more than his fair share of medicinal knowledge.

For those several moments of tense silence after Elim had contacted Morph, the alien just stared impassively at his wrist communicator, as if watching the seconds tick by on a watch. Anyone else would have been concerned about the lack of an immediate response, but this Galactic Order agent merely waited without trepidation. It was partly due to his species' natural comportment, and partly due to the training he had received as a xechlar. His kind were normally very solemn and rarely expressed extreme forms of emotion, but Elim had been specially trained when he was young to be apathetic. This training had been intended for the purposes of enlightenment and meditation, that emotion would not cloud his rational thought as he pursued a simple and harmonious life. Well... needless to say, the path that his tetsaar had intended for him was not the path he had ended up taking.

He was roused from these thoughts of his home when Morph finally responded to his brief message. Elim could detect the slightest trace of a troubled tone in his associate's voice, but he did not make any mention of it, as it was his nature to do so. He was not the type to comfort or console. Blinking once - a gesture of understanding and approval on his home world - he said simply, "Good. I will be contacting our colleague shortly. I will meet you at the designated rendezvous point." With that, he ended the transmission, not bothering with any pleasantries. The said rendezvous point was, of course, the school building, but Elim did not want to divulge that information over a means of communication that could potentially be eavesdropped on. He doubted any human had the knowledge or the technology to successfully listen in on their superior methods of communication, but it was a habit that he could not quite shake, for not all his missions were conducted on planets with a species of such low intelligence.

Tapping at his wrist communicator once again, this time with the intention of contacting Syndral, he asked tersely, "It is nearly that time. Are you prepared?"

((OOC: Well... over these couple of years I may have changed the way I roleplay Elim a little bit. He's even more stiff and serious than before, if you didn't realize. I've also taken to adding terms in italics that are in Elim's native tongue. I'm just going to warn you right now, I'm making these words up off the top of my head, so if they happen to actually mean something in some other language, then that is purely a coincidence. :3))

Name: Dax Palmer

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Grade: 12th

Personality: He's laid back, easygoing, and usually quite lazy. He rarely overreacts to things, and doesn't seem to care about much. He slacks off in school, often arriving late, and taking naps during class. He likes to socialize and make jokes, but isn't always very good at it. He can be quite the klutz sometimes.

Appearance: He's about 5'7 in height, with a lanky build. He has shaggy, sandy hair, with hazel eyes. He wears graphic t-shirts usually sporting some sort of witty saying. He wears a black jacket with a broken zipper, jeans with holes in them, and sneakers with the shoelaces untied.

Other: He loves video games.


Real Name: Vuxta Nabali

Alias: Mrs. Aria Moore

Age: 35

Gender: Female

Occupation: Teacher

Grade: 10-12, History

Faction: The Brotherhood of Worlds

Personality: She is generally soft-spoken, with a warm smile, and a certain look of kindness in her eyes. With a sweet, melodic voice, she certainly has a calming presence. She always seems to be in a good mood. Despite how friendly she can be, she seems quiet and a little shy. She rarely approaches people to start a conversation, unless she's doing her job. However, she has a way of sensing when someone may need someone to talk to, and she's always willing to lend an ear.

Opinion on Humans: She finds them fascinating and is eager to learn more about them. Because of her fondness for history, she has studied the human race for years. She has enjoyed watching them grow over time, and is curious to see how they'll continue to grow. She's happy to be able to see some of this first hand.

True Appearance: She is about 5'5 in height, with a curvy body, and she's a little on the chubby side. She's mostly humanoid in appearance. She has pointed, almost bat-like ears, and big, round yellow eyes. She has fluffy, padded paws for feet, and hairy hands. She is covered in short, navy blue fur. She has bright neon blue, bio luminescent spots. She also has a long, bushy, prehensile tail like a monkey. She also has Patagium, furry parachute-like membrane that stretches from wrist to ankle like a flying squirrel.

Human Appearance: She has the same body type as her true form, but with peach colored skin and brown eyes. She has straight, shoulder-length auburn hair that covers her ears. She normally wears long-sleeved, button-up shirts that are often blue in color, and a simple pair of pants, with heels.

Other: She has excellent hearing and vision. There is hardly anything she wouldn't hear or notice in her classroom, making it nearly impossible to hide things from her. She also has an excellent memory. With her padded feet, she can walk silently. She has a tendency to hum or sing.

~~~

Syndral was currently down in the lab of her base, still in her human disguise. She had already put on a slightly warmer outfit due to the coolness of night. She had gone over a mental checklist of things she may need, making sure to have gathered up everything. She wasn't sure how this particular little mission would go, but she wanted to make sure that she was prepared for anything that could go wrong.

She had already checked her robot for any bugs, making sure she was in top condition. Motherbot had just finished charging and was ready to go. The robot was already fully aware of what her new job could be and of course was ready to fulfill any task for her master.

While going over her checklist one final time, her phone let her know of an incoming message. Of course, it was from Elim.

"Indeed. Everything is accounted for." She replied in her usual monotone.

((OOC: Your characters are accepted. ))

"Good," came Elim's deadpan voice from Syndral's phone. "We will meet you there." We meaning he and Morph, and there meaning at the school building. Once again, the agent ended his transmission without bothering with any form of small talk. They could talk once their mission was no longer in danger of being potentially compromised. Now was not the time for that. The entirety of their overall mission depended on remaining undetected and unsuspecting. Having a student knocked unconscious in a storage closet with alien bite marks on his leg was... well, it had to be dealt with. Sooner better than later.

Adjusting his glasses, both to straighten them into a more normal-looking position on his face and to prepare them for any need he might have of their technological capabilities, he stepped out of the house, still in his human disguise and clad in his usual apparel fitting for a teacher. While he noticed that human activity noticeably declined at night, it still was not unusual to see people out and about at this time. It both relieved him and concerned him at the same time. On one hand, if anyone saw him out as the sun was going down, they probably wouldn't think anything of it. On the other hand, the fact that there were people out and about could potentially prove problematic as well. People meant witnesses, and witnesses meant more people that needed silencing, and a greater risk that they might slip up and get exposed. It was a double edged sword, and he could only hope that the circumstances worked out in their favor.

Entering his primitive transportation vehicle, of which he hated with a passion, what with its terrible fumes and inferior capabilities, Elim started driving his car towards the school. He would have preferred walking, but driving a car seemed to be the most normal means of transportation for most humans, and so for the sake of maintaining his anonymity, the alien resigned to driving to his destination.

ooc: Cool. Also, here is Jax's schedule for anyone who's interested. I tried to put him in classes that seemed to need another person.

8:00 – School begins
8:00-8:15 – Attendance/Breakfast
8:15-9:00 – Subject 1 (Math - Mr. White)
9:00-9:45 – Subject 2 (English - Mr. Normandy)
9:45-10:30 – Subject 3 (Science - Ms. Espinoza)
10:30-11:15 – Gym/Art (Gym: Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays. Art: Tuesdays and Thursdays.)
11:15-11:45 – Lunch
11:45-12:30 – Subject 4 (History - Mrs. Moore)
12:30-1:15 – Subject 5 (Spanish)
1:15-2:00 – Elective Class (Band)
2:00-2:45 – Study Hall
2:45-3:00 – Dismissal

~~~

Since the transmission had already ended, Syndral just gave a nod of understanding. She knew the plan and was all set to go. The lack of small talk didn't bother her, as she wasn't one for conversation anyway, and she knew the mission was more important.

So she and her robot hopped into the elevator and up they went to the living room closet. Syndral pulled up her hood while she stepped out of the house and briskly made her way to her spaceship-turned-car. Even though it was in disguise, it was still nicer than anything the humans had. It just didn't appear that way at first glance.

Syndral got into the driver's seat and started the engine. Motherbot had followed behind her and got into the passenger side. As Syndral pulled out of the driveway, a thought had occurred to her.

Did Morph have a way of getting to the school? She didn't remember if he had a car, and she didn't think he was supposed to be driving in his human disguise anyway. He could be riding with Elim, but she wasn't sure. She decided to contact him just in case.

Using the radio in her car that secretly doubled as a communication device, she called Morph. "Do you require transportation? I could provide it, if you need it."

An answer from Morph took even longer for Syndral. The reason for his lack of punctuality as of late had to do with hesitation. Which, in turn, had to do with dread. The fact that they had to even go on this "excavation" was due to his own rashness and bullishness, and it deeply shamed him. He hoped that the others weren't thinking as poorly of him as he was.

Finally, he responded. "Oh, yeah... that would be nice. Thank you." Again, he sounded more uneasy and strained than usual. Honestly, he felt somewhat guilty for her having to run him around. He didn't want to be any more burdensome, but walking to school was out of the question considering the short window of opportunity that they had.

Completely oblivious to his colleagues’ bickering via Syndral’s transmission, Elim drove steadily through town, his car neither exceeding the speed limit nor going unnecessarily slow. It was hard to act naturally when something of importance had to be done, the sooner the better, but it was essential that he did so. Though he doubted any abnormality in his driving would compromise their mission, one could never be too careful. Still, it was difficult to simply amble along in an inferior (and toxic) mode of transportation when he had work that needed done. Seriously though, why did humans have to make everything poisonous? This primitive machine was putting a lot of fumes into the air behind it, and though the alien knew it would not cause immediate death, he could only wonder how many years this planet would take off of his life, what with its dominant species’ habit of poisoning their world.

Primitive. Idiotic. Despicable.

The alien could probably think of a lot more words to describe humanity, but he stopped himself there. This wasn’t the time to be complaining about how stupid humans and their machines are, even though it was incredibly easy to do. Right now he had to focus. Though he hasn’t run into any trouble yet, the real challenge of breaking into the school building and retrieving the human adolescent was yet to come. He had to be prepared for anything, and that meant keeping a clear mind. Resolved, Elim allowed himself to add one more word to the ever-growing list that described humanity before setting his mind on the problem at hand.

Irkbhea.

Syndral didn't quite understand emotions, moods, or tones of voice, but she was observant enough to at least notice these changes in behavior. She couldn't quite place it, but something just seemed off about him, and it sort of concerned her.

She figured his change in behavior likely related to the mission and how he had made a mistake earlier. Syndral could understand that much at least, since failure bothered her as well. She felt bad enough about her own actions, and they didn't even jeopardize the mission as much.

Still, she didn't know what to say on the matter, or if she should even say anything. Syndral didn't want to lie, it was a big problem that urgently needed to be fixed. But at the same time, Morph was her partner, and she didn't want him feeling defeated. They still had a job to do, and they had to work together. Even if for no other reason than the sake of the mission, she did care about the well being of her partners.

Syndral didn't realize how long she had been silently thinking until she glanced down at her phone. She hadn't replied to Morph yet. He was probably waiting for a response, or so she thought. It would be rude to leave him hanging like that.

"Well... Alright. I will meet you there. I should arrive shortly." Her voice had gotten a bit quieter as her tone had softened from before. She paused briefly, wondering if she should say anything else. Should she ask how he was, make small talk, or just end the call? Should she say goodbye first? Syndral wasn't really sure, and her uncertainty just led to another silent pause.

She figured that maybe it was best to just end the transmission, since she didn't know what else to say. So with a sigh, she simply ended the call, and made her way towards his base.

"... OK," he finally breathed when the communication was cut off, and he went off to arrange his disguise.
Not wanting to think too deeply about how his lack of transportation could inconvenience his comrades, he thought about the task at hand. However, the thought of it only worsened his bitter mood. This wouldn't be happening if he had just acted like a civilized being and merely held the boy down instead of outright hurting him. Why were they even attacking the other students, anyway? Wasn't it supposed to be a safe place for young? Wasn't it against the rules? Some people were so barbaric, hurting each other for their own twisted enjoyment. He never understood it.

//took me five hours but im all caught up finally~
@Wylrin, it's the boys leg, not his arms
Also, remember the fight? And how we got detention? Are we to assume that's already transpired since we skipped the second half of the school day? Or are we going to do that at a later time?
I'll be typing a reply at some point today~//

((Oh, darn it. My mistake. I'll edit that. And we'll do the detention thing at a later time. I think it'll be interesting having a lot of the alien characters forced into the same room where they have to put up with each other. ))

ooc: I had thought that detention would take place either that afternoon or the next morning, but whenever is fine I guess. I thought it would be interesting, too, so I was sort of hoping we were still doing that.

It was a long drive to Morph's base, or it at least felt long due to the silent car ride. Syndral was caught up in her own thoughts about the mission. She had thought about what went wrong and how things could have been played differently. This mistake could have been avoided. That fight shouldn't have happened, not just Morph's mistake, but the whole thing.

Syndral knew that she didn't behave any better earlier. She figured she could have easily made an equally terrible mistake. She pretty much felt like she had. She didn't quite understand what had happened. Class seemed to be going along fine until those barbarians began harassing that Shane human. It was their fault that this whole mess happened, but at the same time she knew that she could have handled the situation far better.

Rachel was the only sensible one. She left the scene and went to get an authority figure for help. Syndral should have thought to do that. It bothered her that she didn't, and instead made things worse by retaliating. She was acting no better than the humans she had attacked. She should have been sensible, like Rachel, but she wasn't. She just couldn't figure it out.

She knew something had changed in that moment. Something came over her. Something had chased off any logical thought she would normally have had, and instead forced her to react on impulse. Syndral had felt her blood boil, her blood pressure rise. She knew this added heat gave her the strength to flip one of those brutes over her small frame.

Heat gave her kind strength, but what she didn't understand was where it came from. The temperature in the room hadn't risen. Even if it did, it likely wouldn't be enough to give her strength. Even the strength she did have faded after she had flipped him. She had figured the reason was because she simply didn't have the endurance to perform a stunt like that two times in a row, but she also had noticed that her temperature had gone back down afterwards. It was as if whatever had come over her had left with that stunt. She just couldn't understand it.

Before Syndral could figure it out, Motherbot pulled her out of her thoughts to let her know that they were arriving at Morph's base. Syndral didn't even realize they had made it, she had just been driving on auto-pilot. As she slowed to a stop, she wondered if she should head inside to greet him or just wait there.

A considerable distance out of town was a little house next to a cave and some railroad tracks. Its position there all by itself was odd, but the people who lived within the settlement were even stranger. They had just moved in, not from another city or even another country, but from entirely different worlds. These alien residents were settling down in their new living arrangements just as any other person would, but the nature of their residence outside the little town of Casper Hill was unquestionably different. They had come here not for a change in scenery or business opportunities, but instead to study the culture of the human species in the hopes of one day welcoming them into the vast galaxy around them.

Despite the strange reasoning behind their presence on Earth in this particular house, their current task was surprisingly normal, considering the circumstances. They were unpacking. Now, some of the things being unpacked weren’t necessarily the common household furniture or dinnerware, of course. Technology far more advanced than anything that humans were currently capable of were being installed and put in their proper places for future use. Despite this, had anyone walked in at this particular moment, they wouldn’t have witnessed anything out of the ordinary, for the house’s interior looked as plain and simple as any other normal human residence.

Nothing out of the ordinary except, of course, for the strange bird man walking about.

Plagarius was not concealing his identity at the moment with a false human visage, for so far out of the city and at nearly nightfall, there wasn’t much risk of being seen at the moment. So without the need to disguise himself, the bird-like creature simply took this opportunity to work without having to hide his true features from the outside world. He flitted around the house, whistling in some form of birdsong as he meticulously placed certain objects in various places about the house. Some of them served their own purpose, while others seemed to be purely for aesthetic appeal. Being an alien on a foreign planet, he would eye certain objects with a curious eye before setting them in place. For the sake of blending in, their house needed to be decorated in as human a fashion as possible. Of course, the function of some of these objects was completely lost on him.

Turning to his furry companion, he asked her quizzically, “Pardon my ignorance, but would you happen to know what this is?” He held what appeared to be a rather large, metallic box that had a door that could be seen through. It also had a cord attached to it, which hung limply from the box to the floor. Any normal person would have easily recognized it as a microwave, but Plagarius, who was still learning the basics of human technology, was quite clueless as to what it was.

//Why you gotta ninja me like this Wylrin, why you gotta do that, baby

"Computer, play 'Earth music'"

"Playing 'Let me take a Selfie'"

"Wait, hold on. Computer, Look up definition of 'Selfie'.

"A photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically one taken with a smartphone or webcam and shared via social media."

'Hmm....Computer, look up 'Social Media.'"

Thirty minutes later.

"Okay well if bacon comes from a pig why don't they just call it a pig strip?"

*Beep Beep*

Zurgon picked up his phone and placed it to his ear. "Hello?" No one answered. "Oh!" Zurgon ran over to the front of his ship, each step he took ending in a metal clank. "Silly me, it must be the Holo-transmitter" Zurgon tended to talk to himself a lot, it helped to have some form of company when all alone, plus he was used to it considering he never really had any company ever. On Zurgon's home planet, Xenos, he wasn't exactly what you would call 'popular', in fact he was just another number on a spreadsheet so it seemed, nothing special, just there to be there. That's why Zurgon liked Earth, people looked past his, quote unquote "Abnormality" and considered it endearing. Zurgon pressed a yellow button on his command table located at the front of his ship and a bluish see-through holographic image appeared. The image showed that of a tall creature, dressed in a formal white coat, his hands behind his back, the creature didn't look much dissimilar to Zurgon, in fact it sort of looked just like him.

"Hey dad.." Zurgon said, with little to no emotion in his voice, something that those who knew him would be shocked at.

"Son. How is the mission?" The creature spoke in a deep voice, but it was very calm, not exactly monotonous but steady and very soothing.

"It's, y'know, fine." The young alien fell back into one of his chairs and started fiddling with switches on the control panel, obviously disinterested. Zurgon clearly wasn't interested in this unplanned meeting, it seemed that Zurgon had reserved feelings for his father but the cause was unknown, even Zurgon didn't want to revisit it. "Dad why are you calling me, it's only been a day."

"I just wanted to say I hope you're sticking to what you're supposed to be doing and not slacking off, like usual." That last part was said softer than the rest but obviously wanted to be heard.

"I get that you think I'm gonna screw this up like I do everything else but I'm doing good. I like it here, the people like me, I fit in more than I ever have on Xenos, and people don't judge me, they don't treat me like I'm worthless or neglect me or expect me to fail." Zurgon's frustration grew with every word, obviously the words were aimed at his father."

"Son, I'm only concerned because of your past do-"

Zurgon shut off the hologram and with a loud groan he turned away from the panel began to walk away from it, the metal clanks ringing throughout the dark cave he chose to keep his ship in. With the touch of a button the top of the ship popped open and Zurgon vaulted out and onto the damp, cold floor of the cave. This time every step he took ended with a splash from puddles of water dripping from above, accompanied by a wet, gravelly sound, he dragged his feet across the floor and exited the cave. Once outside he took a look at his surroundings, it was secluded, in the middle of nowhere, not a single soul, except for the two that lived just a little whiles up the hill behind him. The reptilian creature made his way up the hill, grumbling the entire way until he made it to the door and swung it open, slamming it shut behind him. "I'm here." He screamed half heartedly, a mood Zurgon rarely was in, but this wasn't just him being in a random grumpy mood, this was sheer annoyance caused by another being, a deterrence of his seemingly impenetrable emotional fortress of happiness and ecstasy.

"I know you guys just set up shop here but c'mon, it couldn't have been that tiring to set up, I know you're awake, guys!" Happiness seeping back into his words slowly.

//As you can see I've changed Zurgon a bit
I hope this post is alright, I haven't Rp'd in so long ugghhh

Vuxta of course had also been unpacking. She took her time, inspecting each object with a quizzical look before setting them down in a place she had deemed appropriate. Some things she knew about or remembered from studying human history for so long, but other things escaped her knowledge. She was still an alien, after all. She had never visited Earth before, and hadn't experienced anything for herself first hand.

She was in the middle of unloading a box that she held with her tail, trying to find a good place on the wall for the small picture frame she held in her hands. She had been listening to Plagarius's song while she worked, and even started to hum along with him. That is, until he stopped to ask her a question.

Vuxta turned to face him and glanced at the metallic box he held. Oh, she had read about those things. They cooked food, if she remembered correctly. What were they called again? It was on the tip of her tongue. "Ah, microwave." She smiled when it came to her, talking more to herself than to Plagarius. That name felt right. Her memory rarely failed her.

"It--" Her words were cut off by the slamming of the door. Zurgon's voice caught her attention and she turned in his direction. She frowned at his tone, noticing how it was significantly different from usual. "We're in here, Zurgon. We're still unpacking." She called. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she had rather not do that from another room.

OOC: It seems like it would be too late in the day for detention, and we wouldn't want to just skip it, so maybe it can be scheduled for tomorrow? Has there ever been a morning detention?

Shortly after Syndral had arrived, Morph's alias exited the house and hobbled towards the car, staring down at the ground with his arms crossed. He took it upon himself to enter and sit in the shotgun seat. He remained silent, obviously irritated, although the object of his irritation wasn't anyone in particular. Unless you counted himself.

((OOC: @Cynder and Waaksian - Yeah, we'll have detention the next morning. And yes, at my school, they actually did have detentions where you came in earlier in the morning to serve them. :3

((@Lunarz - I'm sorry! D: And what do you mean, "I hope this post is alright"? It's so long and detailed! Now I feel like I gotta make my posts longer and more detailed to keep up. ))

When Vuxta told him what the name of the device was, his eyes lit up in familiarity. “Ah, yes, I do recall now,” he chirped happily. “If I am not mistaken, its purpose is to cook or heat food.” It felt like a small victory to remember this tiny piece of information about human technology. Being an extraterrestrial on a planet of which he’d never once set foot on before, every tiny little device and trinket was completely foreign to him. While certain objects were nearly universal in their usage, like dinnerware and kitchen utensils, others were unique to human culture, and it was these items that Plagarius found himself having the most trouble remembering their names and purposes. Regardless of how well the Brotherhood of Worlds had prepared him for this mission on Earth, one simply could not learn every aspect of a planet’s distinctive traditions, technology, and social interactions in such a short period of time. Thus, every moment spent here would be a constant learning experience. That was the purpose of their mission, after all.

If the Brotherhood of Worlds had known every intricacy of human culture, then this assignment would likely have been unnecessary. They were here to expand their knowledge of humans in order to return their findings to their superiors. Much of human behavior was still entirely unknown to them, and so no amount of preparation could have ever perfectly readied them for the vast variation of human traditions. In some ways, it felt a bit like going into this mission rather blindly, which could be an incredibly intimidating thought if one pondered it too long. Still, this was an extraordinary learning opportunity, a chance that may very well not come again. To Plagarius himself, the opportunity to acquire a knowledge of humans and potentially help the Brotherhood ease the human race’s transition into the rest of the galaxy around them far outweighed the possible dangers of this mission. It would take a great deal of skill and adaptation to successfully blend in so that they could initiate their research, but he felt confident that he and his colleagues were prepared for any possible troubles in the future.

He was about to disappear into the kitchen to put the microwave in its proper place, whistling in birdsong all the while, when a voice sounded at the house’s entrance. The voice itself was easily recognizable as Zurgon, but the pitch and tone were surprisingly different from the alien’s usually enthusiastic one. Plagarius’s initial ecstatic reaction to hearing the sound of his companion’s voice was instantly replaced by a more concerned one. Unlike Vuxta, who had not immediately pried into what was obviously troubling Zurgon, Plagarius had no such qualms with barraging his fellow agent with questions the moment he walked through the door.

“Ah, Zurgon. How good of you to stop by!” was the polite greeting made before the bird-like creature would undoubtedly unleash a torrent of questions and inquiries about his companion’s state of mind. Setting down the microwave, he walked out of the room that he and Vuxta were occupying and headed towards the entrance of the house. Once he had Zurgon in his sights, the concerned remarks and questions immediately started flying.

“You seem troubled, my good man. Is something ailing you? How are you feeling?” Plagarius was instantly very close to his fellow agent, poking and prodding at him gently as if searching for a physical wound. “Tell me, how was your first day attending the human educational institution? Did they treat you well? Were you hurt at all? Please, say it isn’t so!” To say that he was overreacting would be an understatement, but unbeknownst to Plagarius, his comrade actually had been hurt during his stay at school. He’d be even more fretful when he learned of that.

At this point, Plagarius had circled around Zurgon and was ushering him gently into the living room where Vuxta was no doubt still in the process of unpacking. “You simply must tell us about your day! We’re all very anxious to hear about your experiences today!” Well, maybe Plagarius was far more anxious about it than Vuxta, but that was not the point.

ooc: Actually, Motherbot was sitting shotgun, since she's there too. But I guess she's sitting in the back now. It doesn't really matter anyway. Sorry, Motherbot, Morph stole your seat.

Once Morph had gotten in the car, Syndral drove off and headed for the school. While heading down the road, she gave a sideways glance at her partner, wondering if she should say anything. She supposed she didn't have to, and she wasn't one to just make casual small talk, but she was still somewhat concerned. The job came first of course, but in order to do the job correctly they needed to be focused. She wasn't sure if Morph was in the right state of mind for this right now.

Before Syndral could have a chance to say anything, however, Motherbot spoke up. "So, Mort, we haven't had a chance to actually talk before. It's nice to finally meet you." She said with a smile. "I'd ask how school went, but Mari already gave me the basics, and I guess we wouldn't be out here if--"

"Now is not the time for this." Syndral sighed. "I know you are only acting as instructed, but that is not required right now." She glanced at Morph. "You do not necessarily have to respond to her. Although I can give her different directions if she is bothering you."



Vuxta gave a sigh as she tried to focus on unpacking rather than her companions at the moment. Still, she couldn't help but be a little distracted, and her pace had slowed down some. "Plagarius, at least give him room to breathe." She called out. She didn't have to hear and see everything in order to know how close he was getting to Zurgon. She knew part of her job would entail keeping an eye on Plagarius while they were here. He just didn't have any sense of personal space.

//oh god i have major writers block, sorry for short post//

Zurgon let himself be shoved into the next room by the bird-like alien and when they reached the living room Zurgon shuffled his way over to the couch and went limp, falling onto it and groaning loudly. He flipped over so he was laying on his back. "Well, it was alright except for getting multiple inflated circular object thrown at my body and face, then at lunch I got this massive headache and the next thing I knew school was over, don't really remember the second half of it, Lunch is sort of a blur kind of like my mind doesn't wanna really remember...It's probably nothing." Zurgon sat up, his expression bland unlike usual. "Plus.....Eh whatever it's stupid" He turned away, not wanting to look Plagarius in the eyes. "Plagarius, do you have children? Maybe a niece or a nephew?" Zurgon's voice was soft and shaky. "Even if you don't, if you did, would you encourage them in everything they wanted to do or would you take both of their hearts and crush them into tiny bits and then feed that to them?" Obviously Zurgon was speaking of his father.

((OOC: It's alright. We all get writer's block sometimes. Oh, and I named Plagarius's species "Corvonians". Now I just need to find a name for Elim's species. ))

“I would never dream of occupying his breathing space!” he called back, obviously not considering his current position so close to Zurgon to be anything unusual or overbearing. It was in his species’ nature to be at a very close distance when conversing with one another, especially when someone was clearly in need of comfort. Unfortunately, most people outside of Plagarius’s race were rather uncomfortable with how up close and personal he tended to get, something he often forgot to take into consideration.

When Zurgon moved away from him and flopped unceremoniously onto the couch, the Corvonian followed, settling himself into a kneeling position beside the couch. As his companion described the horrors that he had endured at school, Plagarius recoiled slightly, surprised by the treatment he had received. “They stoned you? Whatever for?” he asked indignantly. “Was it some form of punishment? Did they suspect what you truly are?” The alien doctor knew little of modern human practices and technologies, but he was very familiar with what humanity had been like several centuries ago, what with one of his ancestors actually inhabiting Earth around that time. He was familiar with the ancient practice of throwing stones at someone until they literally died from the abuse. Was that what they had done to Zurgon? But surely humans have long since abandoned this practice?

Realizing that he may have a victim of lapidation lying right in front of him, Plagarius immediately started poking and prodding at him gently, questions flying from his beak all the while. “How badly are you hurt? Did you experience any hits to the head? Are you feeling particularly drowsy or woozy? You may have a concuss-“

The Corvonian immediately quieted when Zurgon looked away from him, a small, innocent question escaping his reptilian lips. He blinked once, retracting his hands from their search for any injuries and settling them on the edge of the couch as he considered his companion’s question. “I do not have any children of my own, no. Nor any nieces or nephews, I’m afraid. I was an only child,” he explained softly. Why was Zurgon asking about his family? He had just been telling him of his traumatic experiences at school not moments before. What had prompted this?

As Zurgon went on, Plagarius felt his heart begin to ache for him. Taking his hands in his own gloved ones, the doctor tried to figure out how to respond. He knew his colleague wasn’t just asking a theoretical question. While he didn’t know that Zurgon was speaking about his father, he did know that he was speaking of someone very close to him, most likely a family member. The Corvonian didn’t know too much about his personal life, so he couldn’t possibly know the exact reason for Zurgon’s dejection. Still, it was quite obvious that something was wrong with his companion, and it simply wouldn’t do for him to neglect trying to find out what was troubling him.

“Zurgon,” he began softly. It was unusual for him to be so quiet. He was usually very talkative and eager to converse back and forth with someone. Right now, however, he seemed very hesitant to speak, as if his voice would scare his listener away like a startled deer. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxed gently, rather than answering the other’s rhetorical question. If he was going to be of any help, he needed to know just what was troubling him. Plagarius took a moment to glance up at Vuxta before returning his eyes to Zurgon. He had a feeling he might need her help calming their colleague down.

At Plagarius's first remark, she sighed and rolled her eyes. No, of course not. You never get that close. She kept the comment to herself, not sure if he understood sarcasm. She didn't want him to think that it wasn't possible that he ever got too close to someone.

Vuxta's unpacking slowed to a halt as she listened. Her services were clearly needed elsewhere, and she couldn't focus on inanimate objects when her companions needed her. She set aside the box she was holding, placing it on the coffee table. She sat down in the nearby recliner.

"Humans haven't used stoning as a form of punishment for a long time, Plagarius." She informed him, hoping to ease at least some of his worrying. "Besides, multiple inflated circular objects sound like balls to me."

She silently watched as the Corvonian asked his barrage of questions while poking Zurgon gently. Vuxta debated for a moment on whether or not she should stop him. He seemed too intrusive, but at the same he was merely worried and asking about Zurgon's health. Admittedly, she was worried as well, and just wanted to make sure he wasn't hurt. Since Plagarius was actually a doctor, it was better to let him simply do his job.

However, she quickly figured that Zurgon's health was not the issue when he continued on and asked Plagarius seemingly random questions. It was clear to her that he wouldn't ask these questions for no reason. Asking about kids, and about how you would treat them and encourage them. It would make sense if Zurgon was referring to a family member, a parental figure of sorts. Since he had asked Plagarius this question and not herself, she figured that it was likely a father figure.

Vuxta stayed quiet, hoping Zurgon would open up and tell them what was bothering him. Without knowing for sure, she decided to stay silent and just listen. Sometimes listening and offering comfort was all you could do for someone.

OOC: Crap, I knew this would happen. Morph, you jerkhole.
We should call them the No-Noses: Amphibian Edition.


"Mmph, no, she's fine..."
A long silence passed between the group as Diane drove them to the school. He maintained his dull, exhausted poise. "What were you saying?" he eventually responded.

Zurgon still wasn't looking his alien friend in the eyes for fear of breaking down, he didn't want them to see him like that. Zurgon sighed as he saw Vuxta enter the room and take a seat, he had several choices; Tell them what was going on, brush it off, or lie, he still hadn't decided which to choose. At Plagrius's poking at prodding Zurgon decided to allow him to do such, he knew that the avian creature was a doctor and it was probably a good idea to be checked considering the beat down he'd endured that day at lunch, plus he did feel a bit bruised in the stomach, that may have attributed to his bad mood. That's when it came to him, he could lie AND tell the truth at the same time.

"Well..." Finally composed, he turned his head to look at the doctor. "I made this friend at school, and she's got this dad, right?" He thought carefully whether he wanted to share his experiences and decided it wouldn't hurt to tell them, well, theoretically it wouldn't hurt, physically every breath he took hurt from his previous beating. "All she wanted to do was make him accept her, so she tried being normal, different, someone she wasn't, but she always ended up messing up, she'd embarrass her father in public, be made fun of, berated, belittled, until one day she ran away from home, and somewhere deep down she longs for her father to accept even though she pretends she doesn't care, and it seems everything she does she messes up....Do you think she should just stop trying to please her father or...Or maybe her father is right and she'll always be a dissapointment to the Zar-...To her father?"

Plagarius waited patiently for Zurgon to speak. He knew that whatever was bothering him was probably affecting his ability to talk right away, so the Corvonian simply sat there quietly, waiting for whatever his friend had to say. As he awaited his response, the doctor was busying himself with looking over the reptilian creature’s body. Though Vuxta had reassured him that humans had ceased the practice of stoning – thank heavens – Plagarius was still concerned about the damage these sports balls might have done to their colleague. They appeared to have caused some bruising, but from his gentle prodding, he could discern that nothing was broken, thank goodness.

As he was considering having himself or Vuxta go to get some ice for the bruising, Zurgon chose that particular moment to speak up. The moment he mentioned this friend’s father, he knew that his young friend was talking about himself. He was experienced enough to know the “my friend has a problem” routine, which was used when someone didn’t want to reveal their troubles, but still wanted advice. He had surmised earlier that Zurgon had been referring to a family member when he had questioned whether the Corvonian would be gentle or harsh with a child of his own, but his companion’s words now confirmed it.

He listened attentively as Zurgon described his “friend’s” troubles, nodding understandingly every now and then, but never once interrupting. Plagarius also noted the little slip at the end of Zurgon’s little speech, revealing for certain that these were Zurgon’s woes, not his friend's, but he did nothing to indicate that he had noticed or thought anything of it. When posed the question at the end, the Corvonian sat silently in thought. He didn’t want to outright tell his friend that he had seen through his lie, for that would probably only make him close himself off even more. No, he needed to word this more carefully.

Looking to Zurgon, Plagarius told him seriously, “It is my humble opinion that no one should seek acceptance from one individual alone. Tell your friend to look around her. What does she see? Does she see friends who care for her? Does she see teachers who think of her as brilliant and kind? There are no doubt people who care deeply for your friend, people who see just how special she is. They see what, I daresay, her father may be too blind to see.”

Blinking slowly at Zurgon, somewhat similar to the way an owl would, Plagarius finished quietly, “You just tell her that, won’t you? I’m sure she’ll see that there are many people around her who love her just the way she is.”

ooc: Eh, Motherbot doesn't mind, though.
And wow, Zurgon and Syndral might actually get along if they really sit down and talk.

"Oh, I was just saying that Mari filled me in on what happened today, you know, in the gym, with those other students." Motherbot began. "That's why we're out here now, to cover up our tracks. My understanding is that I'm to take this boy home and care for him while you're all at school."

Syndral simply focused on her driving while they talked. "We should arrive shortly." Was all she said.



Vuxta silently watched as Plagarius gently poked Zurgon, until the latter started talking about his "friend's" problems. Just as she thought, her companion's words had confirmed her suspicions on the real issue. Much like Plagarius, she was familiar with the routine and knew Zurgon must be talking about his father.

She nodded in agreement to Plagarius's words. There's always someone out there who cares. She couldn't have said it better herself. Figuring she wasn't really needed here, she got up and headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She thought they might appreciate a drink, so she made sure to pour glasses for her companions as well, and also included ice cubes. She soon returned, carrying two glasses in hand, and one with her tail. She offered them both a glass.

"Oh... yeah..." Morph mumbled, uncomfortable and embarrassed. Now everyone in their group knew about his outburst, and he hoped with all of his being that they wouldn't have to tell the higher-ups in the end. If the outcome of their mission was bad enough, they may very well have to. The thought of that made him sink in his chair. He would have to live with-- yet another-- blot on his name. He could never avoid his records.

It did not take long for Elim to finally catch sight of the school building through the windshield of his car. He stopped the vehicle about a block away, figuring that it may seem strange for someone’s car to be sitting in front of the school at such an hour. At least it seemed normal to park one’s car off to the side of the road, so the vehicle’s presence there shouldn’t cause any heads to turn. Why someone would park an automobile on the road where there’s supposed to be traffic seemed a bit ridiculous to him. While the car wasn’t technically in the way, surely there were better places to store it? Like, in the lawn, for example?

Dismissing these thoughts about humans and their seemingly strange parking habits, the alien exited the vehicle – happy to be rid of it for a while – and started walking leisurely down the sidewalk towards the school building. It shouldn’t be long before his colleagues show up, and then they could get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Oh, I heard." Motherbot nodded. "You'd think a school would be a safer place for students, but apparently they're left alone to start fights if they want. It's unbelievable. That gym teacher should be given a mean talking to for not doing his job. If he can't be bothered to watch his students, then he shouldn't even be a teacher. Maybe I should file a complaint about that."

"No, that is not necessary. It is not your job to deal with the faulty school system. Just focus on the mission." Syndral said. "Speaking of which, we're here."

Much like Elim, Syndral decided to park along the side of the road about a block away. She would have preferred the parking lot, but that might seem suspicious. However, for some reason, parking on the side of the road was perfectly normal. Humans were strange.

Syndral didn't feel right about leaving her car on the side of the road like that. It was also her spaceship, after all. At least no human would be able to interfere with it if she locked up. She just hoped no one would try regardless.

With a sigh, she cut the engine and set the car to lock up tight once everyone was out. Syndral stepped out of the car, followed by Motherbot. They waited for Morph before heading down the sidewalk.

Zurgon sat there for a moment, he had heard every word that the Corvonian had said and knew that he was right. Plagarius was wise and knew what he was talking about. Zurgon was sure that his fellow alien had been through hardships aswell. He was incredibly thankful for the advice but still a bit down, though why should it bother him what someone thinks? Especially a someone whose opinion Zurgon really couldn't care less about, it was just that knowing his father looked down on him made him feel like maybe there was a tiny possibility his father was right, regardless, it was over now and it would be best to move on. "Thank you." He said before standing up and stretching. "So, where's the food and how much is there and it doesn't matter because when I'm down we'll need more." His eyes flicked constantly in every direction as he sniffed the air.

//Short but I know I needed to post so ah//

The Corvonian watched concernedly as Zurgon seemed to ponder his words of comfort. There was no telling just how much it would take to calm his companion down. He wasn’t concerned about the amount of time it might take – he’d sit here all night holding his friend’s hand and talking to him until he returned to his normal self. What worried Plagarius was the extent of Zurgon’s troubles. The bird-like alien was always one to be overly worried about the people around him, even when nothing was obviously troubling them. But seeing his colleague so clearly upset about the relationship with his father drove the doctor to fret exponentially. He simply could not bear to see someone so devastated, especially when said someone was a dear friend of his. It was in his nature to comfort and console, and nothing save for the world imploding around them would make him budge from doing just that.

On top of the Corvonian’s fatherly instinct to ease his friend’s emotional burdens, there was yet another reason why Plagarius needed to ensure that his colleague would be alright. Their mission here on Earth was arguably a dangerous one, what with the threat of humans discovering their true identities, as well as the possibility of Galactic Order agents interfering with their more peaceful goals. It was essential that they all maintained focus and awareness at all times to protect themselves from outside dangers, and unfortunately, any emotional conflict could potentially cause a deadly lapse in concentration. So for their safety, their minds had to be clear and unclouded by troubles, and right now, the doctor intended to ensure his younger comrade’s safety.

It seemed he would not remain crouched by the couch beside his friend into the wee hours of the night, however, for Zurgon seemed to have calmed down considerably, a simple “thank you” sounding from him. Plagarius sighed quietly in relief, grateful that his earlier assurances had gotten through to him. “You need not thank me, my good fellow,” he told him sincerely, rising to his feet as Zurgon did the same. Seeing Vuxta offering them each a glass of water, the doctor’s lighter, more chipper tone returned as he said gratefully, “Ah, thank you. How very thoughtful.” He took one of the proffered glasses in his gloved hand, bowing his head slightly in thanks as he did so.

Straightening himself back up to his full height, he turned back to Zurgon, who was inquiring as to where the food was stored and just how much there was. Plagarius twittered softly in quiet laughter. He wasn’t sure if Zurgon’s people were particularly hungry creatures, or if his friend was just exhausted by his first day attending a human school and needed food to recharge. Whatever the reason, the Corvonian found Zurgon’s proclamation that he was going to eat all of the food in the house to be oddly endearing.

Tilting his head in a decidedly bird-like fashion, Plagarius answered, “The human food we have is in the kitchen. Much of it should be stored in the…” He hesitated, his eyes scrunching up in deep thought as he tried to name the device he was thinking of. Looking to Vuxta with an unsure look in his eyes, he finished uncertainly, “…the icebox?”

((OOC: Don't worry about it. ))

"You're welcome." Vuxta smiled as she handed Plagarius one of the glasses. She placed Zurgon's glass of water on the coffee table in case he wanted it. She wrapped her tail around her waist, taking the third glass for herself. Once the glass was in her hands, she stretched out her tail and took a sip.

"Oh, my goodness, someone must be hungry." She giggled a bit at Zurgon. Although she sort of hoped that he wasn't actually hungry enough to literally eat all the food. She would have to go out grocery shopping if that were the case, and she didn't know how she would keep the kitchen stocked up if this were to keep happening.

She didn't really mind, though. She could do her shopping later in the afternoon or evening, when she had more energy. She still had to get used to the humans strange diurnal schedule as opposed to her usual nocturnal one. Her job with the Brotherhood helped her to adjust to all sorts of strange hours while on missions, so it wasn't too terribly difficult. She could alter her schedule easier than the rest of the Sagabi.

Still, she was naturally nocturnal and felt more energetic at night. Plus, she had gotten a bit out of the habit ever since she got married. She had started slowing down on her missions, going out on them less, and taking long breaks between them. While spending more time at home with family and friends, she started getting too comfortable and adjusting to a diurnal schedule became harder.

However, she didn't want to miss out on this particular mission. Even before knowing about it, she had always been fascinated with humans and had studied their history. It was her dream to be able to see them grow with her own eyes. So when she heard about the job, she was trilled at the chance to visit Earth. She practically jumped at the opportunity.

Although she also knew that she'd have to spend more time away from home than usual for a mission. This meant being away from her husband for awhile. She already missed him dearly, but work was important, too. She just wished she had left on better terms. He wasn't exactly as excited as she was about the job.

Vuxta didn't realize how long she had been staring at the glass of water in her hands. She was brought out of her thoughts by Plagarius's question. She had almost forgotten that Zurgon mentioned he had wanted food. Now wasn't the time to be thinking of home. She had companions to tend to and a job to do. They should have her attention for the moment, not anything going on at home.

So she put a smile back on her face and looked up from her glass of water. "Icebox is sort of right. Technically, it's called a refrigerator, and the icebox is sort of a separate little machine." She answered. "But that's not too important. I could gladly cook something for you. We could have dinner together if you're both hungry."

OOC: I would like to join this, but have to think about my character.

OOC: OK! There's no rush, as this is a rather slow-moving RP.


The truth in Motherbot's words roused anger inside of him. The school system was absurd. Allowing children to physically harass others, only to punish both parties simply for being involved? That Shane child was only defending himself, he doesn't deserve to be detained along with the brutes!
At least this "detention" wasn't anything serious; it didn't last too long, and it didn't cause any harm. Even so, he wasn't looking forward to it. He wanted to stay as far away from those barbarians as possible. Or maybe they'll be too afraid of him to interact with him at all. At least one good thing would come out of the whole ordeal.
Mort remained lost in his thoughts as he followed the two, trudging behind them as he stared hard at the ground.

ALIEN:

Real Name: Valdarin Hersan (Prefers to just go by, Valdar)

Alias: Mr. Markus Tenai

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Race: Kassar(To be revealed in roleplay)

Occupation: Teacher/Staff

Grade: NA(Determined by GM) Gym/Recreations or Janitor

Faction: The Brotherhood of Worlds

Personality: He is a quiet, elusive and shy character, around humans and other alien races. Part of his elusiveness has to do with the fact that his race were used as weapons by many races and became terrifying legends that races were afraid to even whisper about, let alone interact with. After many wars all but a few of his race remained. Fearing them, many were hunted and killed by both groups to prevent ones from using them again, Valdar was elsewhere in the service of a powerful group and therefore protected by them from the killing. The rest of the race however, either were hunted to extinction or died fighting to protect the race. Valdar's loyalty is never in question, nor is his courage and devotion to those he comes to know, however should enough blood be shed, he can become like a wild beast.

True Appearance: Reptilian/Raptor-like, in nature, thick, smooth black scales cover his entire body, which is also black. He stands taller than even the tallest man, (A lack of physical studies and measurement, but the few who got to study them for no more than two years, say they were a very impressive race. They say that they were enormous and built like an armored tank, with more agility and dexterity than a gymnastist and acrobat combined. Believed to be at least 12"), and is covered in rippling muscles. His eyes are snake-like and a cold, pale blue. A long whiplike tail flicks back and forth when he is uneasy about something, but can easily crush bone with a single swing. Long, razor sharp talons are visible on his feet and hands, sharp enough to tear through the strongest steel and perhaps more. However the most frightening feature of him is his mouth. Thousands of flesh cutting and tearing teeth glint in the light as he smiles, warning all that he is not to be triffled with. His skin is extremely tough but smooth like his scales. His legs and arms are long and his whole form lets everyone know that he is extremely agile and fast.

Human Appearance: He stands about 6 feet tall, has long black hair tied in a ribbon by his favorite student. He is well fit and extremely healthy. His eyes are hazel. He wears a blue and red jersey with purple and black sports shorts as well as black and blue tennis shoes.

Other: To be reveal in roleplay.

((OOC: Your character is accepted, Wyrstel. Welcome to the roleplay! We already have a janitor, so for the sake of diversity, it would probably be best if Valdar poses as a Gym/Recreations teacher. Regarding what grade levels he would teach, our student characters are in 11th and 12th grade, but I've known Gym teachers to teach all students in a school building regardless of grade. So it's up to you if you just want him to teach for 11-12th graders, or for 8-12th graders. :3

((Also, I just want to tell you a few things for how you decide to integrate your character into the roleplay. The other Brotherhood of Worlds characters - Plagarius, Vuxta, and Zurgon - are all posing as a family so that it wouldn't seem strange if they're seen together outside of school. You're welcome to have Valdar be part of this family, if you want (like as an uncle or cousin, for example) or you could make them a friend of this supposed "family". It's up to you how you want your character to be perceived by the humans - I'm just letting you know what the other Brotherhood members are doing. :3))


When he saw a car slow to a stop about a block away from the school, Elim didn’t react much, at first. While it was most likely Syndral and Morph arriving, he couldn’t be certain until he saw them, and thus, he did not quicken his pace to reach the car faster, nor did he really even acknowledge its existence. Keeping the car in his peripheral vision, he did eventually see Syndral, Morph, and “Motherbot” exit the vehicle. Only then did he show any form of response to their presence, walking purposefully toward them.

He did a quick scan of their surroundings, searching for anyone who might bear witness to a supposed teacher, parent, and two students meeting outside the school building at such a suspicious time of day. His glasses – which he had adjusted to reveal to him infrared signatures of anyone nearby – swept over streets and lawns, before Elim finally returned them to their normal setting, satisfied that there was no one nearby.

Approaching his comrades, he didn’t bother with frivolities. They needed to get this done. “We need to get inside. Quickly, before anyone spots us.”

Syndral just gave a simple nod to Elim. "Let's go then." There wasn't really anything else that needed to be said. They all understood the mission. They knew what they came here to do. They just needed to hurry before they got caught. She began heading towards the school building, walking at a quick pace, yet still trying to not seem suspicious. Motherbot quickly followed her.

OOC: My character will be part of the "family", an uncle, the or a brother of the father of the "family". However his true idenity, as the last Kassar, remains a secret to even them. In time he may open up, if those who come to know him prove to be friends. When they do not care what he is, or about his physical appearance; when they see him as an individual, not just a weapon, or a speciman. When they accept and welcome as their friend and do not see him as the monster of the legends.

With a heavy sigh I make my way from the school to "our" house. I was gone for a few hours for a meeting with The Elders, and my substitute had already gotten me into some hot water. Not only did some fights break out in class, but he allowed them to, taking no action to try to prevent them or stop them. Of course the damn staff blame me saying that I lack discipline. Argh, the whole thing makes my blood boil. As if I would allow anyone to get hurt, ha. Coming to the house, I lock up my mountain bike in the garage and knock on the door. My hands clench and unclench as I struggle not to punch something out of frustration and anger. A furious note from the board as well as some parents is folded up in my black leather jacket, barely sticking out of a side pocket.

((OOC: Ooooh, so no one would know that he is a Kassar? I really like that idea. It’ll be interesting to see what will happen if and when Valdar decides to reveal himself. Also, Plagarius is the "father" of the family, and Zurgon is the "son", so Valdar will be Plagarius's brother and Zurgon's uncle. :3))

Before Vuxta answered his inquiry, the Corvonian caught a brief glimpse of her staring rather blankly at the glass of water she held. His head tilted to one side just a bit. She looked rather lost in thought, being very quiet and her eyes not really seeing the glass she was looking at. It was something that seemed to happen among many species, but he still didn’t quite understand it. Belonging to a very social and communal race, if Plagarius was ever thinking something, then he was most likely saying it, as well. He – and Corvonians in general – did not have as great a sense of privacy, nor did they ever truly desire to be left with one’s own thoughts. If something was on his mind, then he would share it with anyone who would lend him an ear.

They were a very open, communicative people, who did not have nearly as many boundaries as most other species do. Complete strangers were often treated in a way similar to how one would interact with a dear friend or even a family member, with an open-heartedness and without any reservations. Being so forthcoming with their own thoughts and feelings, they often found it confusing or disheartening when people of other races did not do the same. In their own culture, silence on someone’s part meant that they were furious and did not wish to speak with you, and for a Corvonian, having someone refuse to speak with you or outright ignore you was one of the most hurtful things someone could do.

While Plagarius knew logically that other species were far different from his own, it still made him pause when someone was being so quiet, lost in their thoughts. He knew logically that those of other races did not always immediately voice whatever was on their mind, but it still felt very strange and made him worry that he’d done something wrong. Did Vuxta not trust him with whatever was on her mind? Had he done something to offend her? While the rational part of his mind knew that this was just a difference in their cultures, the greater part of his mind was dominated by the societal laws of his world that he had been taught since he was just a hatchling. It was practically instinct, similar to how a human would immediately assume that a smiling person is happy.

He was about to voice his insecurities – and probably apologize for whatever he believed he had done to possibly offend her – when Vuxta spoke up, kindly correcting him on his human terminology. His posture, which had grown stiff and rigid during the duration of Vuxta’s quiet contemplation, immediately relaxed at the sound of her voice. At that very moment, his rational thought seemed to finally get through to him, and he realized that he had just been worrying himself. It was nothing but a cultural misunderstanding on his part, for judging by the sound of his companion’s voice, she was clearly not angry or upset in the slightest.

Grateful to know that he had just been overreacting, the Corvonian gladly spoke up again, happy to fill any sort of silence in the room. “Ah, thank you for the clarification. It seems I have much to learn about this place. I am much obliged for your help, as well as the assistance you will no doubt be continually providing me in the future.” The last part was said a bit humorously, for it was obvious that Plagarius’s knowledge on humans and their technology was mediocre at best. He was very thankful that Vuxta knew so much about human culture, for he would certainly need all the help he could get in absorbing so much knowledge about this planet and its people.

He was certainly about to go on about Vuxta’s offer to cook something up when a knock sounded at the door. The Corvonian was momentarily startled by the sound, until he remembered that they were due for a visit from his “brother”. Immediately settling back down again – his feathers returning to their normal position from their previously ruffled state – Plagarius perked up a bit, chirping, “Ah, that should be Valdarin, no doubt! I will see to the door!”

With that, he excused himself, once again making his way towards the entrance of the house. Laying a hand on a secret panel on the door, the door went transparent from his side, yet remained visually unaffected from the other side of the door. It was similar to a one-way mirror. Plagarius could see out, but no one else could see in. He used this to make sure that it was, in fact, Valdarin at the door, for it would be most problematic if it were actually a human civilian outside their house, only for the door to be answered by a strange bird-man. Plagarius trilled a bit at the thought – the equivalent of a human chuckle – before removing his hand from the panel and opening the door for his comrade.

“Valdarin Hersan, I presume? I am Plagarius Dottore. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” He bowed his head politely in greeting, before taking the man gently by the elbow and guiding him inside where they could become better acquainted. Shutting and locking the door behind him with his free hand, the Corvonian started up with his talking again. “How were your travels? I assume you had no trouble getting here? Are you hungry at all? We were just about to have dinner. You would be most welcome to join us, of course.”

OOC: Yeah that will be interesting.

I manage a smile smile despite the frustration and anger that I am feeling after the meeting with the school board and some of the parents of the students. Bowing politely back as is custom with this particular race of alien, I enter the house. There is no reason to be angry with any of the "family".

"Yes, that would be me, sorry for being late, I had certain things that delayed me. No, I had no trouble getting here, in fact, the journey itself was enjoyable. I travel by bike, a custom-made mountain bike, so it was quite nice. Dinner sounds like a good idea to me, but first I think I need to get something off my chest, if you are and perhaps the others as well, are willing to listen. If you want the two of us can talk and then we can get together and talk. It's been bothering me ever since I left school. Argh, I just want to..." I continue to fight the urge that plagues me. An anger continues to grow as all the things that went that day, were nothing but bad. Despite all this though, the others of the "family" can see the veins, in my face throbbing violently as I struggle not to give into the urge.

The first day of the school was going fine at first. The Elders, or whatever they are called, the ones that sent us here on this mission, even complimented me and told me that they were impressed. Though I have not learned much yet, I have already started to blend in with the human population. Part of that fact is that my race, well I, as I am the last, adapt rapidly, but also I find the people enjoyable and sometimes even fun to be around. Well that is what I thought at least. Some people are just so... I can't even describe how I feel toward "Them".