The Great Wyver

"What flavor? I only accept blueberry and chocolate chip bagels. Butter is optional but preffered."

"No." She jabbed her finger at Vie. "I am no longer some shy rp-character. Tell me why hes stabbing you over bagels... or... whatever."

They practiced a couple songs until the 40 minutes were completely up.

"Oh, now that I'm self-aware" -she glares at Coder- "I wouldn't mind joining in." She packs up her bag before getting up to join the gruop. Wyver raises an eyebrow. "You... uh... what..." She raised her eyebrow (again). "And so how much HP do our puny vessels of a body have?"

"A couple centuries later, huh?" She checked the clock; 28 more minutes.

Therapeutic

AutoFocuser Glasses 3000(TM)

"So... you could a new drumstick set yet?" She said, trying to make conversation. "The ones you have are practically split in half by now, V!"

"So, like... secretly send a god that didn't previously exist to smite them because apparently the victim chopped a tree in the past and this god was the god of trees and the smite lands a crit and hits 10 times dealing a full 20d10 damage or something?"

"Okay, I guess..." She took out the guitar from its case and rested it on her lap, practicing a song that they were gonna play today, Red Line. "Little nervous. There's been some... oh, I'll tell you about it later." She then focused on tuning her guitar's strings.

"Uhhhhhhhhh..." Oh, this was getting awkard. Why did she engage with them? "Wyver. My name is Wyver." She shook his hand. "And why would you assume I'm a Mistborn?." Wyver raised an eyebrow. "What type?" "Fine. I can't see why I can't exactly be just some unaware fool for discussion though. Even though there seems to be more fights than discussion."

"Huh..." It had been a long while since she'd seen a Radical and their Spren. "And you are...?" She covertly dropped some metal flakes in her coffee before taking a large sip.

Wyver glances over from across the room. "Uh... where'd you come from?" This wasn't Mistborn stuff. Or Feruchemical stuff. These people were, uh... radicals? Radicals was probably as close as she would remember. "Is that a... spill? Sp-spren. Yeah, the word is spren- is that a spren?"

Wyver felt like someone was watching her. She glanced back and saw him watching her again. Was he some sort of creep? She sighed then turned back. A complete redesign for her project was pretty much in order at this point, especially since the last one both looked ugly and had several malfunctions. Before returning to her work completely, however, she burned copper then bronze, flaring both of them. If there were any other allomancers in here, she'd like to know.

You could see her flip the page, then started again, drawing and/or writing quite fast for someone her age.

Half of the page was covered by a book, and all the spren could see was a really messy, nearly indecipherable sketch of some sort of... dragon? Maybe? With four arms? But all of a sudden, Wyver's head twitched up, and she turned to glance an the supposed-to-be-invislbe honorspren. "You looking for something?"

Wyver turned, did a double-take on the two swords the wierd man was now carrying, and looked back on her book. She hoped she didn't have to deal with this, today. Especially compared what happened to that other place. Realizing she probably wouldn't be able to focus on her book with this chaos, she slipped out her sketchbook instead and began drawing something she hid from everyone else near her. When her coffee came, she didn't even seem to notice.

Was the King really that scary? She just kind of... went on her life, ignoring everything except her job, Riri, and the band. of course, Riri was in the band too, along with Kristopher and Violet. So she more like ignored everything except her job and the band. The King had never mattered; he was just a person who decided how much of her paycheck he would take. But now, something wierd was going on. She entered the backstage, greeting Violet; there was still 40 minutes until the show began, and another band was out playing. Kristopher would likely come last minute, and Riri would come whenever she felt like it. "Heya, V." She checked her guitar case; thankfully it was dry. "What's up?"

She sputtered and glanced towards the voice. Some stranger was looking at her, yelling her favorite color at her. What the heck? She turned around, opened her book, and tried to act like nothing strange happened. She prayed her coffee would come soon and she could just leave. Forget relaxing; she could do that at home.

As she walked home to grab her guitar she listened in. "Fraud... Have you heard-" "I swear he-" "The King, I swear it was him-" Whispers in the street? About the King? What could be happening? She gave some of the whispering people a strange glance as she passed by. She didn't know much about him... but what could this be about? She grabbed her guitar, draped two towels over it, before rushing to the concert. Maybe there, among the crowd, she'd find out what the whispers were actually about.

"Riri...?" She knocked harder. Riri was a heavy sleeper, hard to wake up. But surely a knock like that would wake her up. "Riri? RIRI!" She sighed; maybe Riri just went to work early. Her door was locked and she wasn't going to invade her roomates room for an umbrella. So she just decided she'd have to put a towel over her instrument case instead. Abandoning her knocking, she proceeded to get ready for her job, left, and got to work.

"Oh. Um. Thank you." She blushed; she absolutely sucked at dealing with people she hadn't met before. "Uh... can I just have a... vanilla cold brew coffee? With three pumps of sugar?" She dropped her book on the table, cover-side-down.