DON'T DIE ON ME NOW!!!

When do we start?

Right now!

Hazel~

The sun dipped below the treeline in a brilliant display of fiery oranges and yellows. As it plummeted deeper, it cast a warm yellow glow through the trees; lines of sun that escaped the looming forest around surrounded Hazel, who sat with her hands on her knees near her tree house.

Content, she let out a sigh. The sunset always calmed her, and with tomorrow being village day she needed to be calm. Hazel tried not to let the unsettling task overwhelm her. Once or twice a month she'd need a few supplies that couldn't be found inside the woods where she dwelled, and she would be forced to enter the village and purchase them. It always made her nervous being so close to so many people. 

The sun sank lower, and a gentle breeze shook the tops of the trees. Despite the chill, Hazel wore no jacket, just her blue shirt she always wore. Hazel fingered the black headband that held back her long blond hair. Though it brought back bitter memories, she still wore it, because it made her feel less alone.

"If only..." Hazel murmured, imagining what life would be like without her curse. "I'm so alone," she said aloud. "If only others knew what it was like to be me. If only I had friends and I didn't have to worry about hurting them. Oh...If only that stinking tar puddle wasn't in the middle of the woods."

Hazel rarely thought bad thoughts, for fear of them giving way to the darkness that dwelled within her, but she never cared how much she despised the tar that ruined her life. It only seemed fair to her that she could attain one thing to be mad at on her own; to blame; to take the weight off her shoulders for a little while.

You must understand how fragile Hazel always felt. Imagine that you could turn from kindhearted to evil in the blink of an eye, or the fall of a leaf, or the drip of rain. Imagine that if there happened to be any people there when you lost control of an unsteady balance, they could get hurt or even killed. That only adds to the stress. That was how Hazel always felt. And that is why she was careful in what she thought, said, and did.

The sun had fully disappeared, adding to the bite of the cold fall air. Hazel drew her arms close for a few more moments, and finally retired to her tree house. As she lay down on her feather-down bed, Hazel Harrier welcomed the dreamy relaxation of sleep.

~|~ Ash

Ash slunk through the town, ignoring the people around him. Ignoring the way that they shied away from him as they saw the small flames dancing through his jet-black hair. Ignoring the whispers, the jeers, and the sneers thrown at him from every direction. He knew what he was. What his parents had been. What, somewhere along the line, his grandparents or great-grandparents had been. They had been born from lumps of coal that had sunk into the oozing tar that still haunted the edges of Merion. Ash was a Fireling. His parents had been before him, and any children he would have would be too.

As he twisted through the rough streets and crumbling alleys of the large village, Ash was pelted with all kinds of abuse, verbal and otherwise. He had grown thin and lithe during his time in his own, so Ash had no trouble dodging the rotten food and stones thrown his way, but he paid special attention to the catcalls. Fireling, Burner, Destroyer, those were normal, but one name surprised him.

"Firicompi!" Someone shouted. Ash whipped around, dropping his calm demeanor. That one was rare. Very few people knew the proper name for a fire spirit, and even fewer dared to use it. Ash was impressed. He couldn't spot the shouter, which was unusual, as the streets in this part of town weren't often very busy at this time of night. Oh yes, it was midnight. Ash had perfect vision, even in the dark, and he didn't like the day. It wasn't odd for Firelings to operate at night, but Ash took his nocturnal habits to a whole nother level. If he could avoid doing anything while the sun was up, he would.

Ash held out his palm, and a little flame sputtered into existence in his hand. He could dwell on the names another time. Dawn was fast approaching, and he needed to swipe some food. He slipped into an alley, and took of into the grey light.  

~Rena~

He knows how to hurt me. He controls me. I learned that keeping your head down and obeying was the best thing to do from a young age.

But he can't control my thoughts. I can think. It is my only freedom. And I relish in it. He won't tell me why I must do all the evil things he tells me to.

But I know that he is smart. That he is devious. He knows I'd be able to break free somehow if I knew what his plans were.

So for now, I dream.

I dream of being free of this prison. I do not fully understand how he controls me, but i wish to learn.

I wish to learn.

I have an idea for how Hugo is connected to the tar puddles. So, there's someone out there (I'm not sure who, yet) that gives him tattoos at night. What if some of that tar is used to make the ink? Idk, just throwing out ideas here. 

Hugo~

I glance at myself in the mirror one last time, making sure that none of my tattoos are visible. My gloves are on, concealing the newest one; a row of seven parallel arrows that cover the top of my left hand. Seven weeks ago, the first arrow appeared. The week after, a second one, a week after that, a third, and so on. Each one is a different color of the rainbow, and each one represents one of the seven deadly sins, something I had only figured out yesterday. I can't see how they would be of any use, but at least they look nice. Better than the creepy skull inked on my right-arm bicep.

I don't have to go to work just yet, so I sit down at a workbench and pick up a tiny mechanical spider I've been working on. My workspace is covered in gears and screws and random parts I'd found in the dump, (If you can think of a better name tell me) but I like it messy. The spider's legs are unfinished, but the body is a work of art, with it's newly polished bronze plating and flickering, beady eyes that can actually see. It can fit in my hand, and responds to only my voice. I'm hoping that it will be useful in some way, because I'm starting to get attached to the little guy, but I'll probably just have to take him apart and use the parts for something else. "Arachno," I speak, saying his name. His body immediately whirs to life, eight unfinished legs protruding from his shiny body. I take off my gloves and grab a few tools. "Hold still, buddy. I'm gonna fix you up."

He does know how to hold still. Soon, the spider's front four legs are fixed and fully functional. It's only then that I realize I am very late for work. Quickly, I tie up my hair and rush out the door, hoping I don't get demoted, or worse, fired. Then I remember my gloves, but by the time I get to work it's too late to go home to get them. For today, I'll have to make do.

I should not be shamed for something I have no control of, after all.

~~~~~

Hey, Shadowmoon, could Hugo work at the Broken Moon, too? Because then we could all meet each other.

@Shadowmoon: Sure! That's what I was thinking would happen to begin with!

@Bluebird: That's a good idea. What would the tar ink do to Hugo? 

~|~ Ash

I whizz through the streets of town, closely followed by some angry shopkeepers. Cursing, I shoot around a corner and skitter up a drain pipe, coat flapping behind me. I settle myself on the roof, far above the shopkeepers' heads and sneer. So what if I had stayed up a bit to late? I could still always outrun them. 

Still smirking, I gnaw at the rough loaf of bread that I stole. I'll snatch something better tonight when people can't see me as well, but honestly, how do they sell this stuff? Tired of the rock-hard, dry bread, I stand up and peer down over the city, pondering. Not about the shopkeepers, or even how they managed to chase me for so long, but about the girl. Her black hair and purple eyes, they're hiding something. Fighting something. I don't know how I know, but I do. What did she say to me again? "You're not the only one who's different?" This girl is not a Fireling. She's not a Waterling, and Earthling, or even an Airling. I've met plenty of those, and never particularly like any of them. She doesn't even know what I am. But she is different. That, even I can see. So, I slip off the roof and run off towards the tavern.

---------

I know the Broken Moon. I've been there a few times before, but I don't really like it. Too loud. Too bright. I like to live on my own light thank you very much. I slip through the doors, hoping that no one will notice a skinny flaming boy in dark clothes plopping himself down onto their bar. Luckily, it's so early in the day that only a couple very, very drunk men are at the bar, both snoring away. I sit for a while, waiting.

Finally, a grubby-looking man steps out from somewhere, presumably the kitchen, and steps over to me, scowling.

"We don't serve your kind here." He spits disdainfully at me.  

"Well I'm not here for food." I flick a spark into the man's scrubby beard, the the end lights. The man roars and smacks at it for a few moments until it sputters out, on my command.

"Look here Fireling," he snaps. "I don't know why you're here, or who you're looking for, but-"

A small voice interrupts him. "He- he was looking for me."

We both whirl around to see a girl, the girl, standing in a door way.  She's peering at me closer now, and I can tell this is not going to go down well. How can I tell? She looks terrified. Assumably, of me. Well, she knows what I am now.    

Oh! Bluebird! IJUSTHADTHEBESTIDEAFORHUGOEVER!

So, he can use his tattoes, right? Well, how 'bout the more he uses them, the more of a life of their own they get. They can be the insurance that Hazel, Jasmine, and Crystal's curses don't get broken and that they safely find their way to the monster king's tar pool!!! Once he uses them enough, and once they're all there, they'll peel themselves off of him and form a small army that sneaks the cursed three whatever they need to see to make their other side become permanent. If you want, they could even take over him. The tattoes could have been made from the ink of the monster king's most trusted servant---so he becomes the servant after all the tattoes cover him! So either they become an army or he becomes taken over by te servant or both!!! :D:D:D:D:D Eh? Do you like it? 

I'm sorry if I already posted this, but my browser was acting up and im not sure if it worked. 

Jasmine~

I wake up, covered in sweat. The dream that I had last night, the horror of the monster's face..... I tell myself what I tell myself every time I have one of my dreams. Shake it off. It's just a dream. Even though I've told myself this over and over, it still doesn't change the fact that most of the time, my dreams come to pass. I get dressed for work, hurridly brushing and rebraiding my hair, and rush down the creaky wooden stairs. I run into Hugo on the way down. He's holding something tightly in his hand, and I can hear a slight mechanical clicking coming from it. I grin at him, and he grins back. Hugo and his ridicules inventions. I hear Crystal coming down the stairs, and I turn to her with a grin on my face. "Hey Crystal. Late night? Our customers sure do love a good round of "Row Row Row your ship, eh?" She grins back. "Admit it, Jen, you like a good song as much as the next barmaid." I shrug, yesterday's worries disappearing. Almost. The visit with the Fircompi boy still nags at me, but I shove it aside with a shrug of my shoulders. Today feels full of opportunities, and I won't be wasting them. I walk down with Crystal and Hugo. Something about working together, especially in such a rough place, has made us friends. Crystal is the only person who I've told about my wings, and we've often gone for flies together. I've often wondered about her wings, how they slowly are beginning to turn black, but I've never asked. And Hugo never fails to fascinate me with his marvelous inventions. We grab our greasy aprons from the hooks where they hang, and begin the unpleasant morning work of mopping up last night's spilled drinks and food. A few men are still snoozing away, but the tavern is practically empty. Until the boy steps in. He looks hungry, and for the first time I notice how skinny he is. He sits down, and Grub waddles over, an angry look on his face. He says something that I can't here, although I assume it's probobly insulting, and spits. Much to my pleasure, the boy flicks a spark at Grub's beard, igniting it. So he's a Firecompi. I suspected as much, becuase of the color of his aura. But I need to defend him. I'm the one who got him into this, and I need to say something. I step forwards and say "He's looking for me." Both Grub and the boy whirl around, and Grub looks so angry that it terrifies me. "You KNOW this..... this...... Monstrosity? I do not need helpers who conspire with firelings." He spits out the last word, like it's disgusting to even say. On my part, I'm incredulous. I got fired, just becuase I wanted to talk to this boy? "I'll go get my things." I mumble. I know that there's no reasoning with Grub. I gather my meager possessions, and the few coins that I have left from my tiny room. The tattered, faded curtains hang limply from the windows, not a single bit of breeze reaching them. It's not like I'm going to miss this place. I will miss Crystal and Hugo, though. They're my only friends. I trudge downstairs, and run into them. "Guys." I whisper. "I just got sacked. But I know someone who might have answers to our questions. Crystal, your wings, and Hugo.... I just know that you'll have something to ask as well. You both have.....auras. I can tell you about that if you meet me by the old well at midnight." They nod, and Crystal hugs me. "Stay safe, Jen." She says, and I slip downstairs. The boy is gone, presumably chased out by Grub. Grub comes up to me and says. "That creep said to meet him at midnight. Something about a well." I nod. I had had a dream recently, about a well at midnight, and I had just know that that was where we were meeting. I walk out of the inn, my meager possessions on my back. I stroll down to the village boundaries, to a small clump of trees, to make camp for the night. As I'm making myself at home, I hear a strange, whispering noise. Curious, I sneak over to investigate. I see a man standing there, talking to no one in particular. By this time, it's twilight, and the setting sun illuminates his blue-grey eyes and wind-whipped hair. I've seen this man before, in my dreams, and I have to know who he is. I step out of the shadows and ask "Who are you? Who are you talking to?" The man grins, and says "My name is Cobalt Dusk, and I am taking to the wind."