by  | ♕ Neutral Grounds, at a local government building It was no secret that Lance enjoyed simple, relaxing, everyday activities. That did not include bureaucratic processes. Didn’t even come close. Waiting in a seemingly unending line for what appeared to be an eternity was certainly a thing he did not enjoy. Especially when he was here on urgent business. In hindsight, taking care of his most important affairs in the city before coming here would have been better. Alas, he had reached the Neutral Grounds earlier than he expected. He also knew that if he put it off now, he would never actually convince himself to go through with it. And, even if it wasn’t of the same gravity as his actual purpose of being here, it was an, admittedly, somewhat important thing to do. After all, now that he was officially part of a mages’ guild travelling to other nations for jobs would inevitably be required. If not soon, then certainly somewhere down the line. Thus, Lance required a passport. Not that he didn’t already have one. In fact, he had three. Each one under a different name, each with a different picture of his stamped on. Having hair that – for largely unknown reasons – could change length at your whim made disguises and costumes much easier to pull off. Faster too. But the thing was that none of those three passports gave away his identity as a mage. If it was in his hand, Lance wouldn’t even bother with a mage passport. Giving away the information that you are a mage certainly does reveal a lot of one’s cards. Alas, it was also quite helpful indeed. Being part of a guild could open quite the handful of doors. As a member of a dark guild, Lance couldn’t nonchalantly go around displaying his guild tattoo. A passport, listing him as a mage and displaying his supposed guild, was the next best thing. For that exact reason Lance was currently wasting away, waiting for the clerk to properly do their job so the queue could finally begin to shorten a bit and, who knows, maybe his turn would soon come. An unnecessary large amount of time later For a nihilist Lance could be extremely hopeful sometimes. It had taken at least thirty minutes before it was Lance’s turn in front of the counter. A small part of him thought that the tough part had passed and the whole thing would be over and done soon. If only. Talking to the clerk – a guy who looked so bored to be here Lance would almost bet he’d be rather watching paint dry than do his job – about issuing a passport was only the tip of the iceberg. After that, Lance begun a journey down the horrid, perplexing rabbit hole that is Fioran bureaucracy. Go to the fourth floor and get some papers signed. Then downwards again to the second to receive some credentials. Back up again, to the seventh floor this time, so he could get everything stamped. Those were but the few heroic tasks Lance had to deal with to get his passport. Really, the whole process took way too much time and most of the steps behind it were largely unnecessary. Part of him thought this exhausting way of doing this was solely because corrupt politicians just had to give a job to their nieces and nephews. Or their cousin. Or their latest affair’s sister so they don’t reveal anything to anyone. So on, so on. But it was finally over, and Lance now had his passport. Well, technically it was one Rex Raptor, belonging to a legal guild of not much importance, that had a passport. But potato, potatoh. Those were merely semantics. Glad to finally be done with this ordeal Lance took to the city’s streets. He was now late – not that it mattered much – so a stop for a coffee was out of the question. But that was nothing grabbing an energy drink form a vending machine couldn’t fix. With an apple flavored beast on his hand, Lance begun traversing towards the less…reputable parts of the city. He wasn’t about to do anything overly suspicious, nor anything illegal. But the person he was about to visit wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen either. Grey and metallic colors dominated his surrounding as he leisurely paced through the alleys. The often-dichromatic monotony somewhat broken occasionally by vibrant colors far in the background. Large billboards with advertisements on top of rooftops, high up on the sky. Neon signs of various stores, situated on nearby major streets, visible through the corner of one’s eyes. The alleys kept getting narrower and narrower as Lance advanced further into the city’s ill-reputed areas. By now the neon signs were too far to shed any colorful light on the surroundings, so the view was largely grey. Some would find the sight ugly and the atmosphere downright unwelcoming. Not Lance. The urban alleys, snickets and backstreets practically shouted at him with the promise of adventure. Adventure and potential. Were he not here on business, and he had he not already done so a few years ago, Lance would easily spend the next couple of hours exploring them. And if anyone found his well-dressed, suited up figure out of place it wouldn’t be a matter. No one would actually comment, as very few people frequented these parts of town before sundown. A softly glowing, almost faded and somewhat battered neon sign, bearing the letters EDEN, sprung before his eyes. Well, sprung would be a severe overstatement. The sing was small and covertly placed. Instead of being high up, where one could easily read it, it was closer to the road and pavement. Which made sense as right next to it was a narrow, dark staircase leading to an entrance below the ground. Soon Lance would be inside the cramped, cluttered and dimly lit café one of his best informants run. Not as a cover. It was, in fact, a genuine café. It just so happened that almost no customers ever visited. Whether that was due to its way out-of-place location, or the shitty coffee Ray served Lance did not know. Brushing a hand against the neon sign’s frame, Lance descended the stairs. He hesitated momentarily, before steadying his breath. Obvious public expressions of big, heavy emotions weren’t something he was fond of. And as much as he had perfected his calm visages over the years, the information he was here about pertained to an awfully…sensitive subject. Later Waiting at another line was not what Lance needed. Neither was it something he deserved. Unless, unbeknownst to him, he had dared to somehow cross the gods of irony and fortune. If they even existed at all that is. If they didn’t then this was all a form of cosmic irony. Poetic, yet infuriating. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. A twisted coincidence at that. Then again, Lance didn’t quite believe in coincidences, but rather in people who couldn’t connect the proper dots together. On the other hand, mathematically nothing was impossible…and that included the existence of pure coincidences. Would connecting dots in such a scenario be thought of as looking way too much into it? If so, were does the line between deduction and paranoia fall? How thing is it? This was the line of though the purple-haired, young man was lost in, as his gloved fingers were gently rubbing his temples, in an attempt to dispel some of today’s accumulated stress. He felt tired. Whether it was from irritation at waiting at a line once again in the same day, or due to him nearing thirty hours of no sleep, that he did not know. He knew that after this last bit of business in the Neutral Grounds was over, he’d return at the Crossroads and hit the sack as fast as cursed-humanly possible. He was supposed to have been home at least an hour or two ago. But Ray had prayed on his natural curiosity. Damn her. For all the benefits her aid gave Lance, her seemingly never satiated need to provoke him or press his buttons seemed to take away twice as many. Sometimes. It was no wonder, thus, that Ray just had to mention that new iLacs were being handed out for free at the factory’s doorstep. Today. This managed to grab Lance’s attention in two ways. For one, he was most definitely interested in a new model. Devices such as iLacs made for great communication tools, with quite the array for entertainment options when they weren’t used as such. But the most concerning thing was that they were being given away for free. Sure, it would spread the name, true. But gifting dozens, if not hundreds, of them was more like a monetary sinkhole than a well-thought of advertisement. So, he absolutely had to check it out. Which was how Lance had found himself waiting at a queue for the second time in a day. Once he arrived, he tried to look out for anything out of place. Anything suspicious. Anything weird. But being without magic – for the Neutral Grounds were a place free of that – made it next to impossible. Diligent, calculating and observant as he was, he was nowhere near enough of these qualities to suddenly be able of investigating while deprived of his magic. He did manage to catch sight of some odd…movements near the drop-off area in the factory, but that was hardly enough evidence or proof of anything, and he didn’t want to jump into conclusions. After all, he was doing this to sate his curiosity and not for some morally sound reason. It would be imprudent, and a shoutout from the gods of irony, if fate had her way and made him a cat. You know…killed by curiosity. 'Earlier today, Lance Trystane, member of the Dark Guild Plumed Serpent and mage cursed by a semi-sentient flame, was found dead in an Alley in Neutral Grounds. The cause of death appears to be multiple accounts of stabbing. Early investigations point out to the reason of his death being him not wanting a free gadget.' What a lovely frontpage would that make. So, all Lance could do was wait in line and rub his temples as he was deep in his thoughts. Moving only mechanically, whenever he noticed that the people in front of him had move as well. It would do no good to hold up the line after all. You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain was a saying Lance didn’t wish to abide by. Mainly because he didn’t believe in heroes and villains. He was so lost up in his thoughts that he barely realized it when there were no more people in front of him. It was, in fact, the nudge from two young boys behind him that alerted him to it. ‘Damnit. There goes not becoming the villain. Let’s at least get over with this.’ Lance thought, making a mental note to not mess with the cosmic forces of irony again today, as he moved forward to receive a brand new iLac. Whispering a sorry to the two boys behind him as he turned around, accompanied by a curt nod, Lance hastily made his exit from the scene. The fatigue was beginning to get to him, and one could say he wasn’t as sharp as his usual self right now. It was a miracle he didn’t bump into anyone as he made his way out the Neutral Grounds and to the nearest mirror or pond. Despite being frustrated and tired, he still managed to notice everyone in his path and avoid that, even if sometimes it was done in the nick of time. However, what Lance didn’t notice as he was leaving the factory, was a figure somewhat further away. Tall, dressed in a long, black, single-breasted, cashmere coat. Its long collar slightly raised and protruding outwards gave the man a somewhat sinister appearance. It also perfectly framed his face. It was regal, with high cheekbones and a square jawline. A well-kept van dyke beard added its two cents to the man’s noble appearance, same color as his hair. A pale, almost white, platinum blonde color. Slicked back and shaved on the sides. The strands of hair falling on the side of his head perfectly encasing his eyes. Two ice blue eyes, with speckles of silver, that were never, not even once, peeled off of Lance for even a fraction of a second. |
TOTAL WC: 2100
THREAD WC: 2100
All wordcount goes towards the completion of these jobs. It is 500 words per job, plus 100 words extra.
- Text Legend:
Italics: used to denote location and time
'Italics': used to verbatim quote Lance's thoughts
Italics in air superiority blue: used to directly insert Lance's comments upon his thoughts
'Italics in air superiority blue': used to denote Lance mentally speaking to himself
