Mystic Syn

“But I survived all those three times,” he said, trying to give his best grin, quieting any protesting thoughts. “I think you could ease up a bit.”

Q didn’t respond, instinctively falling into Kuài. Despite having a large blade, she held it with ease. Q glided on the field––light as ever on her feet––then teased a few jabs at the Dark Lord, trying to feel him out.

“Paranoid, much?” Ji asked, raising an eyebrow, but did as she said.

Ji stuffed his hands in his pockets before following. He finally looked down at himself, silently cursing of how many lightn’ holes he got in the hoodie. Ji pulled a hand out of his pocket, putting it through one of the bloodstained holes, feeling his unblemished skin. Thank lights for Lifegivers. He looked up, continuing to follow, his mind wandering to when he had been–– No. Ji shooed the thoughts away. Now was not the time. Maybe later, but not now.

Q blinked back into reality totally not because her author forgot/was a bit too busy to remember this rp, finally seeing the chaos. She stumbled back a little bit. Ellis being the Dark Lord? Melody actually fighting with her sword? Lights. Some crap must’ve gone down when she wasn’t looking. Ellis being… the Dark Lord. Something strained her, tugging her heartstrings. This happened before. Last time she couldn’t… she wasn’t… he… Q shoved the emotions away, tucking them in the dark corners of her mind. He’s my enemy. Should be treated as such. But… lights, were those tears? She wiped them away, determined to hide those emotions before people would notice. Thyella fell into her hand. She brought it up––Krow desperately wanted to take control so she wouldn’t have to deal with this––then readied herself. With a long exhale, Q engaged, a single tear tracing down her cheek.

“Then let’s get outta here.” Ji stood, and brushed himself off from all the dust. “I’ve had enough of the Pacis for a bit.”

“I have some places that might work,” he said, nodding slowly, then turning back to her. “Elya?”

“But you didn’t lose anyone else,” he said, gently lifting her head to meet her gaze. “Nor are you going to lose anyone else. Please don’t use those ‘if’s.’ They lead nowhere.” Ji tore his gaze from Elya to John, then glanced around. “And where might we move to?”

Git gud. K, but actually being serious: References, references, references. When you got those: Practice, practice, practice. When I was learning how to draw clothes, I didn’t know squat. I – more of my brother, really – borrowed this book from the library called: “How to Draw Manga: Costume Encyclopedia Vol. 1 Everyday Fashion.” It was an immense help for me, and now I own a copy of the book that I rarely look at now that I have Pinterest lol. If you want more specific tips, learn about folds. Not all folds apply to every piece of clothing, because every piece of clothing will be different than another; like drawing folds in a hoodies is a wee bit easier than drawing folds in a dress shirt and suit coat. Study those, and especially how they fold at the elbow, because that can make or break your drawing.. if you’re drawing from the head down lol. Try giving it a more 3D look, too. That also comes with – you guessed it – p r a c t i c e . Actually trying to give it a 3D look is… hard to explain lol. It involves adding more lines, and I highly recommend you look at references instead of my own words, ‘cause I have a tendency to ramble on without getting to the point. Also just try drawing clothes on their own. It helps.

Ji gasped at the sudden tackle, then gently embraced Elya. “Miss me much?” he coughed, but didn’t complain. He held her close and tight, swaying from side to side. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” Ji hesitated for a split second, before placing a soft kiss on her temple. “What’s important is that you’re okay,” he added with a whisper, resuming his swaying.

I dunno, man, Just… have a sketchy lol.

Something tugged him backwards. Peace washed over him, gently guiding him back to his body. Ji looked over to the man, smiling. “See? I told you they’d find a way.” The fading man nodded, standing up to walk into the portal behind him. “Have fun in mortality,” the man sang, his voice trailing away. “I wish you luck with your… predicament.” . . . Ji jolted awake, gasping and coughing for breath. He hacked up the last bit of blood, as well as some of that lightn’ dust coated phlegm. High pitched whining rang in his ears, drowning out any other noise around him. He squinted through the brightness, trying and failing to see anything. Waves of peace washed over him, mending the bones that’d broken during the fall. It wasn’t doing much for his lightn’ headache, though; not even going to mention about how well he could see at that moment. There were people around him––that much he could tell––but who was…? He sat up immediately, ignoring any final bits of pain that hadn’t been healed yet. His heart began to race––fighting against the confinements of his ribcage––trying to find her through the midst of bright and pain. The headache dulled, but didn’t fully recede, making itself known to him. “Where’s Elya?” he asked, frantic.

The generals around him argued with one another, debating on which strategy they should use against the enemy. One slammed her hand on the table, pointing at the figurines representing the enemy army in front of a fortress, then pushing some figurines representing their army flanking the other army on the left. The table groaned, bringing up points of how that wouldn’t work and they were trying to make sure their army was relatively intact after this. And what was Aramis doing? Why, tinkering, of course. He fiddled with one of the general’s detached mechanical arms, twisting a few screws out of place to look inside. The copper was well-taken care of––the shiny polish told him that much––but what was confusing was how the arm was, as General Eskel said, acting like a rookie trying the obstacle course on the first day. He placed his goggles over his spectacles, preventing them from falling off his nose. Aramis held the screws in his mouth, freeing his hands to feel around on the insides. “Definitely lubricated, so that’s out of the question,” he muttered with clenched teeth, slick oil coating the insides, ignoring the bickering generals. “Most likely Zeke’s workmanship, can’t be too–– aha––” Aramis felt the Zeke’s engraving on the inside of the forearm “––oh, you don’t disappoint, Zeke; although, I would’ve put more pistons in the joints than what you usually do. Really limits arm movement, tsk tsk tsk.” “What was that?” General Eskel asked, turning to Aramis, trying her best to fold her arms with… well, only one. “Nothing, ma’am,” he sang, wiping his brow with an oily hand. “Talking to myself. Pay no attention to me.” Aramis pulled his hand out, bringing up his candle to peer inside. Again, nothing came up. Everything seemed to be in tip-top order. As forgetful as Zeke was when it came to arm movement and how many pistons he added, it appeared to be in working order. Then what was…? He snapped his fingers, turning the arm to look at the socket where it would attach to General Eskel’s actual arm. The candlelight washed the inside to see… “Aha,” Aramis said, grinning as he pulled out a tiny screwdriver, removing a few screws to see the mechanical heart of the creation. It turned a dull color than what Aramis was used to seeing. Usually, it was full of life, no matter if it was or not attached to the user. Of course Zeke forgot to mention to Eskel that it needed to be brought to a Steam Mechanic––much like himself––that could fix this before it became a bigger problem. It would have resulted in Eskel going to Zeke for an inspection, which would’ve just resulted in Zeke making her pay more money for a new arm. Classic mechanic scam. He touched the heart with his screwdriver. “Time to come back to life,” he breathed, a surge of magical energy traveling down the screwdriver, causing the heart to burst alight with new life. “There you go,” Aramis whispered, grinning as he began to close and clean up. “So, we just keep pushing till they give in?” a general asked, finally catching Aramis’ attention. “What else do you suggest?” another general said. Grumbles of agreement sounded from around the wartable, even from the general who yelled first. Some straightened themselves, beginning to stand up to relay the orders to the soldiers in the battle below. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Aramis muttered, tsking as he wiped the arm down. The generals stopped in their tracks, looking towards him happily cleaning the arm. The general––most likely the one over all of them, but Aramis didn’t care––on the other side of the table glared at him. “What was that, boy?” he hissed. “I said––” Aramis brought the arm up to inspect, wiping down some more spots he missed, ignoring the general’s burning gaze “––I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” “Oh, and what would you do, then?” “Since you asked…” Aramis stood up, walking over to the table, still wiping the arm for a second. He pointed at the fortress with a screwdriver. “First off, their strategy is to tire your forces out. Since they have a fortress, they can have their soldiers come in and rest and pump out fresh troops, while your soldiers haven’t seen a wink of sleep since they were home. “Instead of facing them head-on like an idiot,” he said, dividing the generals’ forces into manageable groups, “just take them on one group at a time while your other troops rest for a bit. Distract them while you figure out a covert way into the fortress. Taking them head-on is a death wish. You don’t need a couple promotions to see that.” The generals fell silent, looking between him and the wartable. Aramis walked over to General Eskel, humming to himself. “Why infiltrate?” another general asked. “May I?” Aramis asked Eskel, who nodded. He set to work on attaching the arm back to her own. “Well, sir, it’s better and more efficient to attack when they’re least expecting it. They’re expecting you to go head-on; in fact, they’re counting on it. That’s their plan. Subvert that plan by making them think that you’re playing into their hands, then infiltrate when they’re not looking. Can’t believe a person like myself without any experience can figure that out. What am I talking about? Of course I did.” He wrapped the leather around Eskel’s arm, tightening it and then a few screws, calibrating the arm as much as he could. He wiped off the copper surface, humming quietly to himself. “Fine,” the head general sighed, footsteps of the generals moving around him to relay the information to their forces. “What did you say your name was, boy?” He looked back at the general, grinning like a dork. “Aramis Darcio, General. Best Steam Mechanic in the land,” he said, finishing up as he stood up and bent over Eskel. “When you’re having trouble with your arm again, come to me. If you like this style of arm, good for you. I just have better options.” Eskel nodded, rolling her mechanical hand, visibly impressed with the work he did, of course. She stood up, nodding to both the head general and Aramis before walking out to her own forces. Aramis removed his goggles, then placed his hands on his hips as he looked back at the head general. “There something you want me to fix?” he grinned.

That you know of.

I recently saw a high school production of “Mamma Mia” –– one of my besties was in it, and I went to support, cos I’m a good friend; at least, I think that’s what good friends do –– and they had shirtless guys, cos the vibe was summer in Greece or something like that. After watching it, one of my friends in the group I saw it with asked us if it was also weird for us to see high school guys with abs. I blinked at her, and asked why in the hecc she was looking there, and she just started busted up laughing. 10/10 show, especially the parts my bestie was in and the parts I was falling asleep. I was really, really tired, and it was not because it was boring; it was far from boring. I had gotten about four hours of sleep the night before––on top of the schoolwork I had to do––so I was hecka tired.

Bleep, blop, bloop. I have no thoughts, oop.