Post by Hayate on Feb 28, 2011 1:07:06 GMT -5
The sun hangs in the sky over Aubade Town. A utopia of white that serves as home to just over a hundred people. A place that shines brightly and brilliantly even at night. A gem among worlds.
Four floating landmasses, with the largest in the center. Connecting the four was a circular track of iron on which a pair of automated monorails ran.
The central landmass housed both the Morning Plaza and Hub Park. The decorative fountain in the middle of the plaza could brighten any individual’s mood, and the park observed visitation by the children of Aubade during all hours of the day.
The northern landmass was covered with rows and rows of housings to accommodate the world’s populace. ‘Hello’s’ and ‘good day’s’ of passersby were the everyday norm.
To the east of Morning Plaza was the marketplace. Like Hub Park, this region of Aubade Town would see traffic on a day-to-day basis, most prominently by citizens looking to take advantage of daily bargains and giveaways.
Lastly, to the west lie Twinkle Ridge, home to the observatory and Twinkle Hill. To couples and stargazers alike, the view of the night sky was one of the city’s marvels.
The city had little going for it in the way of technology, but the people lived simple, comfortable lives amongst their fellow man, and the commodities that the world provided were sufficient. Even the screech and rumble of the monorail was considered by many to be perfectly bearable.
On this afternoon in particular, a boy of 15 and teal-colored hair makes the most of the serenity Aubade Town so often enjoys. With his hands behind his head, the teen lies on the lush grass of Twinkle Hill as a cool midday breeze blows over him. With his eyes closed, the boy takes in and lets out slow breaths of air through his nostrils.
In its mischievousness, the wind picks up a few blades of grass and carries them in the direction of the boy’s nose. The blades tickle his nose hairs…
“ACHOO!”
…triggering a hearty sneeze that stirs him from his afternoon nap. As he rubs the fuzz away from his face, he glances fleetingly at his environment, taking notice of the sun’s position in the sky. With a yawn, he leans back to resume his nap…
…if not for the girl standing over him.
“Whoa!” Startled by her presence, the teal-haired boy shoots forward, now wide awake. He turns his upper body around slightly to face her and hear her laugh. “Come on…”, he starts. “Give me a break, Marin…”
Marin, the redheaded girl of 18, looks down upon her friend with her arms crossed. “‘Top of the morning’ to you too, sleepyhead. How’d I know I’d find you here, Ciel?”
“Do I have a tracking device on me somewhere?”, the boy named Ciel jokes.
“Funny.”
Just then, a third voice -- prepubescent in nature -- calls out from the bottom of the hill. “Hey, Ciel! Down here!”
The two turn their heads to face the voice’s source: a younger boy of 13 with a head of golden-brown hair. As the kid waves in his general direction, Ciel waves back. “Heh. Hey, Roche. Good to see ya.” Rising to his feet, he looks back at Marin. “You brought the half-pint with you?”
“You know how Roche is.”, replies Marin with a shrug. “Where ‘Big Sis’ goes, he goes.”
“Right, right. So…” Ciel pockets his hands and continues. “…To what do I owe this pleasant interruption of naptime?”
“Why else do I associate with you?”, the young woman teases. Marin holds her right hand out to the side and fully outstretches her fingers. A swirl of wind and moisture encircles her arm, and in a narrow flash of electric blue light…
…a Keyblade appears in her hand.
The weapon had a primarily blue color scheme. The shaft was a smooth sapphire, and crystals of ice formed the teeth at the tip. The keychain swung freely by Marin’s wrist, with a tiny teardrop prism at the chain’s end. Marin’s Keyblade-of-choice: the Deepest Blue.
Bringing it up over her head, Marin props the weapon on her shoulder. “…We’ve got work to do.”
Four floating landmasses, with the largest in the center. Connecting the four was a circular track of iron on which a pair of automated monorails ran.
The central landmass housed both the Morning Plaza and Hub Park. The decorative fountain in the middle of the plaza could brighten any individual’s mood, and the park observed visitation by the children of Aubade during all hours of the day.
The northern landmass was covered with rows and rows of housings to accommodate the world’s populace. ‘Hello’s’ and ‘good day’s’ of passersby were the everyday norm.
To the east of Morning Plaza was the marketplace. Like Hub Park, this region of Aubade Town would see traffic on a day-to-day basis, most prominently by citizens looking to take advantage of daily bargains and giveaways.
Lastly, to the west lie Twinkle Ridge, home to the observatory and Twinkle Hill. To couples and stargazers alike, the view of the night sky was one of the city’s marvels.
The city had little going for it in the way of technology, but the people lived simple, comfortable lives amongst their fellow man, and the commodities that the world provided were sufficient. Even the screech and rumble of the monorail was considered by many to be perfectly bearable.
On this afternoon in particular, a boy of 15 and teal-colored hair makes the most of the serenity Aubade Town so often enjoys. With his hands behind his head, the teen lies on the lush grass of Twinkle Hill as a cool midday breeze blows over him. With his eyes closed, the boy takes in and lets out slow breaths of air through his nostrils.
In its mischievousness, the wind picks up a few blades of grass and carries them in the direction of the boy’s nose. The blades tickle his nose hairs…
“ACHOO!”
…triggering a hearty sneeze that stirs him from his afternoon nap. As he rubs the fuzz away from his face, he glances fleetingly at his environment, taking notice of the sun’s position in the sky. With a yawn, he leans back to resume his nap…
…if not for the girl standing over him.
“Whoa!” Startled by her presence, the teal-haired boy shoots forward, now wide awake. He turns his upper body around slightly to face her and hear her laugh. “Come on…”, he starts. “Give me a break, Marin…”
Marin, the redheaded girl of 18, looks down upon her friend with her arms crossed. “‘Top of the morning’ to you too, sleepyhead. How’d I know I’d find you here, Ciel?”
“Do I have a tracking device on me somewhere?”, the boy named Ciel jokes.
“Funny.”
Just then, a third voice -- prepubescent in nature -- calls out from the bottom of the hill. “Hey, Ciel! Down here!”
The two turn their heads to face the voice’s source: a younger boy of 13 with a head of golden-brown hair. As the kid waves in his general direction, Ciel waves back. “Heh. Hey, Roche. Good to see ya.” Rising to his feet, he looks back at Marin. “You brought the half-pint with you?”
“You know how Roche is.”, replies Marin with a shrug. “Where ‘Big Sis’ goes, he goes.”
“Right, right. So…” Ciel pockets his hands and continues. “…To what do I owe this pleasant interruption of naptime?”
“Why else do I associate with you?”, the young woman teases. Marin holds her right hand out to the side and fully outstretches her fingers. A swirl of wind and moisture encircles her arm, and in a narrow flash of electric blue light…
…a Keyblade appears in her hand.
The weapon had a primarily blue color scheme. The shaft was a smooth sapphire, and crystals of ice formed the teeth at the tip. The keychain swung freely by Marin’s wrist, with a tiny teardrop prism at the chain’s end. Marin’s Keyblade-of-choice: the Deepest Blue.
Bringing it up over her head, Marin props the weapon on her shoulder. “…We’ve got work to do.”
