To Earthland... and Beyond! | Job | Yseult Gans

s citizens of the lively Rose Garden swarmed the streets like a stream of water pouring through the ditch, they one-by-one cocked their heads up when they noticed a white anomaly falling upon them. It was cold and stung the skin as it slowly blanketed the people and buildings—it was snow. It was such a strange event in that time of year, and the city's people were so caught off guard by it that they naturally began to clear the streets in retreat of the cold. The writers of the city's newspaper quickly set out to write of the freak snow storm which had so efficiently crept up on the city, and soon it became too much for even the dogs and scoundrels. By five in the evening, only one figure remained on the streets: Yseult Gans, clad in her signature white dress which camaflouged her in the sea of white.

The wind picked up and with it, Yseult's hair which contrasted with her statue-like stillness as she stood before the drab governmental building. She studied as if expecting something from it but shook her head when she was certain she wanted to (reluctantly) enter. Most people would ordinarily have to fight through a bottleneck of bodies eager to get their own paperwork done with, but Yseult's snow had forced most people into their homes. It was not intentional but the white witch took advantage and went on inside where she found a lobby that appeared only more hopeless with the invading coldness outside. There were no visitors as expected when Yseult scanned the room with a surprisingly intent-less expression, though, the usual administrative workers remained and somehow occupied themselves with the work that remained for the day. Only one of them—an older woman at the front desk—looked up from her paperwork as the dark mage approached.

Yseult did not like having her name on paper or going through the pain of filling out forms. Still, she abandoned her preconceptions for the good of her cause and stood before the great wooden desk.

"...I need a passport," she demanded simply and coldly. The older woman looked back with an equal expression before pulling out some papers from her desk's drawers. She slapped them across the desk and took out a pen without a word before filling out various boxes and lines with monotonous information.

"Name?" the older woman asked.

"Yseult Gans," she answered, though, the woman could not spell what she heard and instead played a guessing game.

"Guild?"

Yseult was at least sly enough to know she could not answer with "Basilisk Fang," as she had been well warned beforehand by her allies, and thus she answered with, "I'm from... Black Rose." She answered with hesitation when she both wondered if that sounded realistic enough and hoped that her serpent-like guild tattoo remained out of sight. It appeared to work since the woman made no argument and instead worked in silence as she finished filling out the form with minimal effort needed from Yseult, much to her own humble happiness. The woman then abruptly left her desk and retreated into the back room as if retreating from something, an action that alarmed Yseult until the woman returned with a small booklet bearing the symbol of Fiore.

"Have a nice day," she said with little enthusiasm as she handed Yseult her very own passport, perhaps the only government documentation that proved the white witch even existed.