✨Run Away✨ Play Song: Punk tactics (if you want) . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ He sighed, tossing the file to Hemat who was already busy looking around for the house. And people stared at them. It wasn't usual for them to stare. And that was something Chite was aware of. But he was also aware that the clothes they wore right now...well neither had his employees gotten the memo nor had he. Having thought that this was a posh sector, they had searched up on all kinds of possible clothes. On demand from Janet, who was like Chite had said, a woman who could not bother about work. A woman who saw the world as a round globe full of all the good things like tea time and dressing up. However, he had pushed Janet aside claiming they could do it. They would fit in. And now he was wishing he had accepted Janet's offer, because right now they stuck out like sore thumbs amongst a group of people, who wore simple day time clothes with shirts and dresses and pants and office uniforms, very modern. But what could you do about these mages who had never once stepped out of their little department, from the ministry or even their school, because they were so self-absorbed about their abilities? On the right side we had Prehni, drssed in a knee length lace dress that was popping pink, her bare neck adorned with different pearl necklaces. Her sleeved were poofed, and the skirt's hoop was more bell like a drooping flower. She wore simple shoes, bell shoes, of the color of popping pink with lovely silver bows on them. Her hair...well it was done something, put up in such a fabulous manner. It didn't make her look lousy at the very least. And she was asking passerbys so many questions, like a child on shopping spree. You had Turine at the front, who was observing the wall patterns of a house next to her. Dressed up in a very fancy suit, the colour black with so many little embellishments here and there. A dangling pocket watch, a pen, a rose a handkerchief, many tiny little charms dangling down form the coat she had draped over her shoulders. Her hair neatly combed to the side, most of it covering her right eyes. She looked...well different to say at the very least. She looked cold. And like a boy. Then there was Hemat. Dressed up like a lousy but very overly shining boy. Dressed up in a plain shirt, with the three top buttons left open, and his lovely tattoo on display. A bunny. Yes, so normal to have a bunny drawn on you chest and show it off like it was nothing. He wore pants. Obviously he did, but the checkered brown and black pants did not match with the plain white shirt of silk. And his hair, which was all messed up and let loose was held in place with a simple clutcher. Why was this man giving pirate vibes all of a sudden? One with a bunny engraved in his collarbone. That was too much. Well, hey, at least Chite got to know what exactly that man was hiding under his shirt. And then there was Chite. Perhaps it was the fact that he was dressed up like a fashionable young lord from the western district, with those long flowing robes also known as Qiu Mian which was wrapped tightly around his clothes. The colour was a pale silver with golden vines drawn over the fabric to represent old life tree. And not only that, he wore a fur cape similar to that of a winter fox tail, which was draped over his right shoulder. And there hung embellishments from his cape to his clothes. And his hair was now tied up in a simple bun that stayed in place, with the ribbons falling on either side of the bun, landing on his shoulders, giving him a martial artist look like those men from the Xianxia and wuxia stories that Prehni was so obsessed over. Despite that, he continued walk down the lane, brewing his own guilt as stared at the buildings. Each one was different. But that was a given. Those posh families from a century ago really cared about being unique. Some houses were made out of white stone, some had already turned a creamy yellow. Perhaps because of the increasing pollution rates. But then again, there was an entire department dedicated to the air quality. But also, humans can't solely survive on pure oxygen. And on and on his thoughts went as he observed the wooden panels of a house maintained all by magic. A house made from red brick with large diamonds placed all across it like some sort of diagram. Sadly that locked house was not their spot. He walked further along the lane until it struck him. A strong sense of nausea. While the other three were still hanging behind, busy talking about like this was a field trip they had waited for years to come, here he was feeling nausea.
Continued: And that was saying something since he was known as the legend amongst the mages, one of the twelve apostles who would never feel fear nor any grudges. It was like adrenaline was pumping through his veins. Screaming at him. To run. Run far away. Like the world in front of him had split into three different images that overlapped together creating an atmosphere of self doubt and flashbacks. He couldn't help but smile. He knew all of this. Why wouldn't he? He turned his head to the side with great difficulty, feeling as if his body had turned stiff. Under such pressure of such strong magic that made him unable to move his limbs, like every movement he tried would drain out his entire life existence. And he hadn't felt that in ages. Not until he had defeated the last apostle to become the next apostle. After all a legend wouldn't be a legend unless he or she defeated an apostle. IN this world anyone could be a mage. Yes, being a mage was rare, true. But for Chite Mala, a man shrouded in mystery and fame, a man who had no connections, who had no parents, no family, no friends (poor Ian), a man who was disliked by all, because truly he had no will himself to fight for himself or provide for someone else. He did not have it within him to care for others, to forge bonds. And that is why he tried to so hard to keep those human emotions locked in. To be as mean as possible, because everyone lies. And because everyone lies the world becomes a harder place to exist. It was his theory that had him brought over so far, to the position of not only a department head, but to the position of an apostle. To be considered the man equal to gods. And therefore, how could this man, who had defeated an apostle, the very man who claimed to be his "father", not know whom this strong magic belonged to? "D2mn your Lanternion, Otieno Lepyokhin." --- The younger Chite stood in front of the tower. His clothes in complete rags. All because he had no choice. He was but just a child. Without a family. Without anyone who could and would care for him. His eyes stared into the depths of the sky, without a single emotion. Like he was everything but himself. Like the world was a fragmented lie he was existing within. It was common to be an orphan. No it dd not make you special. There were countless people who lost their lives everyday, and countless of them were children left behind without their parents. He knew that. He had no aim for himself to be pitied. All because he knew he was not special. And then came the years he would come to regret those thoughts. As he stood in front of the tower, that he had with his own rage, completely destroyed. A magic leak within the soul that had caused the entire tower to fall. That's what everyone whispered. But he knew it wasn't him. No, it could not be him. He knew how to fight, he knew how to survive. He knew how to keep himself above others and not descend low enough to fall from the graces of higher ups who could play with his life like a pawn. So who could it be? Who could want to fight, to create chaos, to ruin his reputation? Back then Chite Mala was just Icarus, a boy with no name and no surname. He was just a cribbing boy with no home and no choice. But he was not alone, and he sincerely hoped that this would not make him different from others. After all, if you were different you were a target. A target to be deceitfully met with your own end thanks to the grand mages who swamped the richer, brighter, greater lands like they were the kings and queens. So who would- And there just then, the man stepped forward. Out of the building. Covered in w0unds, but there was no lying was there? Even then one could see how perfectly simple the man was. Handsome, hurt, but also not hurt to the extent that one would scream and cry in fear for his health. A tall man, with skin pale like those porcelain dolls that Icarus had seen within the shop windows, within the shops he worked as a cleaner boy. His eyes slanted low, with his eyebrows curved upwards, and lovely grey orbs, cloudy like the sky on a rainy day, stared at his own orbs, with deep meaning. A challenge. How did Icarus know that this was a challenge? Because the man had it all written in those eyes. A challenge. Something like saying "You hide great potential. And I recognize that. And yet, you will never defeat me.", something that h1t Icarus deep within the strings of his heart, that in this analogy would be a lyre that is played by the nymphs. But no, he was not a fool. Mages were paranoid creatures. Creatures who feared that there would be a time when they would be overthrown by the next generation. And well that was true, and many knew tales of the coming generation overthrowing the previous. The generations were not marked by a time period, but by rather the existence of an apostle. The longer the apostle lived, the longer the generation lasted.
