Mystic Syn

I feel like I have to at least try to revitalize this rp now. I dunno why. Q hopped on the motorbike behind Ellis, wrapping her arms around his waist as she looked back at the wall of vines.

"Yeah? So?"

"Look, I dunno what you can do right now," he said, exasperated. "We're going to be leaving here soon anyways, so I guess you can tag along."

“The Pacis,” Ji said as if it were obvious. “Did you not hear what happened to that distribution center?” Gramps pointed a glare at him. “That was you?” “Yeah.” “I knew you were crazy. I just didn’t realize insane.”

As she slipped the glasses on, it first didn’t seem like anything had changed, till she looked over the people in the room. An ball of black and white emitted from Gramps’ chest. Maybe it would have been a tad bit brighter when he was younger, but it was still burning. When she looked up where his head was, pops of red came through as he talked with Ji. Looking over to who Gramps was talking to, Ji’s chest glowed with dark blues with the little spatter of white, but deep red splotches appeared every so often with the faintest hint of orange. The colors in his head was red, practically burning hot. However, there were splotches of gray, dark blue, and… was that pink? They popped out through the red, subduing its anger. Everyone had their own colors within them, except for Lyanör. If Grace were to look down at herself, she did not possess that same Light that most of the others held.

“Yeah, and where are we gonna find one? I don’t see ‘em bouncing for joy and lining up to join us.” As she did so, the glasses sparkled beneath some clothes.

The pinprick of Light was small. The closer she looked at it, the more details she saw. The dark blue light swirled, speckles of white manifesting with every new swirl. Swirls of violet came into play, hints of maroon accenting the existing colors. Though the Light was small, it was as if looking into a new galaxy; as if Ko'ad Himself had just shared the tiniest fragment of His creation. If she were to squint, it almost seemed like she could see into a different dimension.

As she grew closer, the pinprick of Light seemed to be attached to... a pair of glasses?

The veil of the Physical Realm faded as she entered the Enchanted. The cluttered room seemed to fade; at least, the physical things. Whenever she glanced over a person, a floating ball of light––their very souls––stood instead, illuminating the room with their soft, yet bright light. Through the outlines of the physical objects––tables, the piles of clutter, dressers––there were one outline buried deep that held a small pinprick of Light.

"That's different," Gramps said, waving a hand at Kazh. "What you need is a Lifegiver." "Well," Ji responded, flustered, "Grace has a healing thingy." "Not a Lifegiver."

“Well, if she gets lost, I ain’t fishing her out,” Ji muttered, picking up the first aid kits. Gramps looked at Ji’s hands––finally noticing what he was going to take––then narrowed his eyes. “Ya never come here for that.” He blinked, then met Gramps’ gaze. “Well, there’s a bigger group now,” he said, shrugging. “Gotta take care of them, ya know?” “Even… Especially when you were in bigger groups, ya never came for that.” “So?” “Ya don’t have a Lifegiver, do ya?”

No, it’s my pfp Chadified.

“He’s in for a whoopn’ if he shows his face again,” Gramps muttered. The door opened, Ji walking out as he was pulling on a fresh hoodie. He surveyed the room, then frowned. “What happened to the new guy?” “I sold him for body parts to the Pacis,” Gramps responded in a heartbeat. Ji shrugged as if it were an every day thing. “That’s surprising.” “Just because I worked for ‘em at one point does not mean that they don’t make good business.” “Yes, and the evidence of selling that man’s body parts is very noticeable in here,” Ji said with a hint of sarcasm as he threw his soiled clothes in a pile of laundry that looked vaguely similar to what he was wearing now. He looked up and frowned again. “Where’s Grace?”

“Don’t ask me,” Gramps scoffed. “Ask them. Ji trusts them, to some extent, which is high praise from him.” His gaze hardened. “Don’t ya dare worry about me. Worry about yourself before others.” He then gestured off to his right. “Sword oil’s in the back.”

“That’s what ya said last time,” he huffed, still not looking at him. “And the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that… I mean it when I say that my collection will grow if ya still do this.” Gramps waved towards the group. “They’re with Ji.” Ji lifted a hand in response, pulling out some bandages and first aid kits. He opened them, seeming satisfied with what was in there, then turned to Gramps. “I think that’s––” he started. “You’re not going anywhere in those clothes!” Gramps interrupted, sounding an annoyed father. “Light, you look like you take regular baths in blood. I know you hate those dastards as much as I do, but you don’t get to walk around wearing their Lightn’ blood.” He rolled his eyes and gave Ceph a glance, then wandered to a dresser, pulling the drawers open with a yank and pulling out clothes that looked eerily similar to the ones he was wearing now… except without the blood. Ji shoved his way through the piles of clutter, entering and closing the door to an adjacent room. “Light,” Gramps swore quietly, folding his arms, “you’d think he’d learn after his years on the street and what happened to his family.” He glanced at Grace, then finally looked at Ceph, a scowl appearing. “Now, what’sit you want?”

I may or may not have stayed up till two making this; it literally only took an hour lol.

“Bah,” he said, shooing John’s hand away. “Ceph, for the five thousandth Lightn’ time,” Gramps said, not even giving him a glance. “Do not, under any circumstances, pass through my garage door! If ya still do it, my collection of Southern Corhic parts will grow.”

"No," the older man said, glaring at Kazh. "Yes," Ji said with a straight face, tugging a drawer open, sorting through some more things.

"Non' of your business," Gramps retorted, beginning to close the door. "He's not anyone's grandpa," Ji explained, already sifting through the junk on the table. "Everyone calls him that anyways. By 'everyone,' I mean the kids on the street."

T i m e s k i p Thoughts swirled in his eyes as he led the group through the alleyways. He didn't even need to think about where he was going; he just let his feet do all the work, but it did leave him with the thoughts left unspoken. Every so often, he would look back, guiding the group to the safehouse he had in mind... well, the second one that came to mind. The first one... he couldn't go there. Not now. Not in the state he was already in–– What are you talking about? he asked himself, standing taller. Nothing's wrong. Thoughts you're having: Just imagination. You're fine. The wood creaked underneath them, but Ji continued forward. One by one, the buildings became older and rundown. People––most of them children––littered the highways, sticking closely to the darkness of the alleyways, eyeing everything warily. There were a handful of kids that would try to stare him down, one or two setting their hands ablaze, but Ji only had to give them a glare to send them scampering. As they turned the corner, Ji stopped at a battered garage door that's seen better days. He looked up at it, sighed, then rapped his hand against the steel garage door. Clattering sounded from the inside, followed by a stream of curses. "Password," an old voice barked. Ji rolled his eyes. "It's me. Let me in. I need supplies." "I dunno any Me's." "I don't have time for this, Gramps," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's Ji." "Ji? Oh, Ji! You've grown last I saw ya. Surprised those wretched Pacis dastards haven't caught ya yet." More clatters sounded. "And, the people behind ya?" "They're with me." "And ya trust them?" "Well––" "Do ya," the voice emphasized, "trust them?" He glanced back at the group, looking over each of them, then back at the door. "As much as I need to." The seconds of silence dripped past, before the sounds of clicking locks cut through. The door opened to reveal a wizened short Medetish man. Everything around him was just... clutter. What it was was a mystery to everyone who dared set foot in the garage. He regarded each of them, then motioned inside. "C'mon! Before those Pacis dastards see you," Gramps barked, looking left to right, though there was no one there. Ji started to make his way in, before stopping, and also motioning for the group to follow.

I may or may not have an idea for the rp I may or may not do using these sketchys

As you may have noticed, the premise is putting people together and have them fight to the death, because there's plot about it in the books that doesn't really matter here. It's also not just about killing people, but also about surviving in general. In the books, it's set in a post-apocalyptic America that's split into twelve sections called Districts. In each of the Twelve Districts, one male and one female are chosen by random to fight in the Hunger Games; the names of the people in the Games are called Tributes. Let it be noted: Just because you and one other person may be a part of the same District, this does not mean that you are allies. After a week of preparation, the Tributes are all put into an arena near a place called the Cornucopia, which basically has all the weapons and supplies that a Tribute will need. The first few minutes of the Games when everyone is let out is called the Bloodbath, because... well, I think the name speaks for itself (basically a lot of fighting goes down and also maybe probably death). And thus, the Hunger Games begin. Obviously, not everyone will have a chance to go to the Cornucopia to get supplies to help them survive; this is where sponsors come in. While the Hunger Games are going on, there are people watching them (obviously), and the people that have helped the Tributes out during the week of preparation––or the mentors––are working to have some of the people watching sponsor the Tribute(s). If people do sponsor them, they are sent little gifts to help them out (weapons, survival supplies, food, etc.). So, that's what it means when the simulator says that so-and-so received a gift from a sponsor. As I've said before, it's basically putting people together and surviving. How you win the Games is to be the last person standing, even if you had to kill them. I think that's it, unless anyone wants to pipe in and correct or add on some stuff, 'cause this is all I remember about how the Hunger Games work.