Welcome to Gaia! ::

All at once, three persons would disappear from the Inn. One involuntarily, one the opposite, and one without thinking.

Ueki Kousuke was the third. He had been sitting on the wooden frame of his bed, having lifted the mattress off to change bed sheets. He’d summoned a particularly large frog, about twice his height, that had a very handy (Or was it tonguey? He hadn’t decided through pure ignorance of the possible joke) ability of stiffening its tongue once out, allowing the frog to keep the mattress up as Ueki worked. However, as he had started to lift it, there was a calling like a voice from… water? That was the only way he could describe it. He felt himself suddenly muffled all around in terms of air, and was even, to a point, somewhat immobile. And during this time, a voice called to him from a distance away, a familiar female’s voice from behind the metaphorical hill.

“…Everyone’s waiting for you, idiot!”

Ueki blinked.

“Coming!”

There was a loud snap like a firecracker, startling the frog and making him lose all the stiffness in his mouth muscle and leaving the mattress to fall. But there was nothing to fall on, because the green-haired high school student was nowhere to be seen. The room was as empty as it was before, the cube left on the desk with no owner and the frog, who had decided to name itself Sticklefrapple, jumped out of the window, landing easily on the ground even from the second floor and hopping hurriedly into the forest.

Ueki would blink as he saw a group of boys, freshly out of toddler-dom, throwing rocks at a poor ragged stray cat, walking over as he tugged on his brand new wool coat, which he didn’t seem to question. Whether he was simply ignorant of the matter or had too much on his mind to worry about it was unknown.

“Hey… Don’t do that…”

To move further backwards along the list, the next contestant was Laimu Larocque. His voluntary leave, required by the rowdiness of his parents in the Netherlands, was coincidentally a few hours before Ueki’s disappearance. He looked out his window, about to ready the summoning whistle, but looked down out of his window to see the chocolate crowned riding bird, passed out in a heap of flowers. His eyes bulged slightly, the sight eliciting him to run downstairs, shaking Chocolat awake.

“Ch-Chocolat!”

He groaned, clicking his beak. The chocobo’s voice was strained with a full stomach and sleep deprivation, both developed the night before.

“Naow, naow, no needin’ sach a’ fass… ngyeeh…”

“B-but you ate Adam’s flowers, you plump piece of pompous plumage!”

But the chocobo simply gave out a pained warbling whimper. Laimu sighed, knowing what he would do as he attached his things to the chocobo’s saddle.

“Up you go…”

Despite his thin frame, he was able to hoist the tired bird onto his back, strangely reminiscent of one having hunted a large animal, but with the exception that the hunt was speaking in dry warbles and broken pieces of drinking songs. The poet smirked. His parents, his bird… he had never imagined ever having to take care of them. Well… maybe once or twice. But even so, it was a good time, being useful. His parents were sure to make some sort of deal, too, once they heard that he was talking out of a speaker. Would probably think he had lost his voice to smoking or something…

He stopped. The poet turned around to look at the Inn one last time, clicking off his collar to speak one last piece of prose to the home.

"If ever I did miss a thing
Or place or person feasable
It shall be this, this simple Inn
My sorrow is unpleasable

I met my love within its walls
And found a magic all its own
I loved to walk its hallowed halls
And sleep as solid as a stone

But if there's one thing I will miss
Much more than the inanimate
It shall be all the persons' bliss
A company I shan't forget

And so beloved Inn of thine
The quite lily in the pond
If you wish hearts, you have had mine
And separation grows it fond..."

"...Tha' wuss byoo' i' ful. Do yah do berfday par'ies?"

And at last, the involuntarily removed member. The end was nothing like he expected it to be, and yet everything he would’ve expected. It was a black white, an untrue truth. And it went something like this.

It was during their honeymoon. Enta had gone out to shop for clothes and groceries, and Enra had stayed home, saying that there was something he wanted to work on. Enra had laid awake in his bed all night, dreamful. This was the only way to do away with it... Jump into the trap. He refused to let someone else get caught up in his intrigues any longer. Perhaps it was selfish, but he cared. His eyes were glassy and vacant, staring ahead to the tope ceiling. The color was blank; not so appealing to the eyes, perhaps, but practically chloroform to the mind. It sent him into the sideways easily. He lay stone still, almost as if he was dead, but within his being, his consciousness roiled like a slithering snake in his gut and biting every nerve as he raced back and forth, crashing against the sideways like a pinball. If this didn’t get their attention… Nah, it would get their attention. They were made of the sideways, so this would be akin to placing blows all over their existence. But this being his own existence as well, there were side effects that hit him as well. Million of pictures of his memory flickered on and off on the single screen of his mind, making his eyes twitch in their sockets and under his lids. This would only happen this morning, and luckily Enta was asleep, unable to see this dead state.

”… … … …”

Then there was a voice, clear as… white.

”Hey, you.”

He smiled.

“Do I know you?”

“Nice to see you in one piece, Enradus.”

“Aww, you even called me by my baby name. Which means...”

He snapped out of the trance for the first time since the day before, sitting up in bed as his body gave off an eerie ambient blue glow. It moved with a looseness, hanging off the joints like a marionette.

“… You’re here to do the job, then?”

“Your job, but yes. Garble was unavailable. Something to do with a cat jumping over the moon.”

“Sounds like him.”

The man sighed, hopping off the bed and stretching some as the glow left his body and twisted around his clothes, forming a secondary layer of light and solidifying.

“That’s what I get, I guess… For being the b*****d son of the powers that be.”

A light spun around his head, solidifying into a malleable blue and snapping into its final shape, a top hat with a clock, a blue-ish sash, and feathers. It was the beginning of th regression, the return to his first form, his actual form.

“…You’ve got me, kid.”

Enra blinked.

“You… that was… encouragement? Did you just encourage me?”

There was a silent laughter.

“… fine. Sign of the end times indeed…”

The light that had covered his body before solidified entirely by now, forming into his former uniform: A long coat with various adornments and a black furred neckpiece, a fitting set of blue dress pants with a white stripe down the side, and some rough sneakers of the same colors.

“Welp, I’m all good and dressed now, Whitey. But... Did I really have the hat?"

"Yes."

"I always figured it was a fez or something. Fezzes are cool."

"..."

Enra made a face.

"Fiiine. You know things are going nowhere when the silence is being silent."

He held his hips, turning them about in smooth circles to stretch himself.

"What’ll it be now? This looming death march I've been hearing about. What happens in it?“

“…Death.”

“...Figures. Dumb fart.”

The dreamcatcher closed his eyes, taking a breath as the sight of a catboy’s sleeping smile in his mind touched him in a place deep inside, making his very existence ripple. The hooks of reality began to rip into him, his body convulsing in ways the body wouldn’t normally be able to convulse, like someone had taken a picture of him and folded it randomly. He was glad Enta wasn’t awake to see this. He used his tear glands before he could lose them, his own tears dissipating before they could hit the ground as he spoke his last as Enra Dusman.

“…No, wait…!”

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His body jumped in bed, waking up. He wasn’t the type to scream and shout just because of a nightmare, not him. He was an actor after all. If he couldn’t control his tears in his sleep, how was he supposed to do it for a show?

“MIGUEEEEEEEL!!”

Miguel groaned as he heard the voice through the door, as stinging then as it would’ve been if it were next to him. He rolled his head over, only able to open his mouth to respond.

“COOOMIIIING!!”

He managed his legs over the side of the bed, groaning as he got to his feet. The boy’s body was thinly lined with sweat, the utter humidity of the Philippines tiring him even in his sleep. He stretched some, a sight rather grotesque considering his slight pear shape and the fact that he was only wearing his gray boxer briefs. But that was the safety of one’s room, was his excuse. If you couldn’t get a little comfortable in your own room, where could you get comfortable? Especially with all this damn heat.

“Note to self: Invent a jacket that keeps you cool.”

He sat at his desk whilst still in his one piece of clothing and propped open his laptop, logging onto a website. Gaia, an online community for those with a general like in manga, anime, or simply colorful little avatars. Within this he went to his guild, The Inn of Peace. It was a role-playing guild of people, magical, crazy, normal, and in-between, all living under the same roof. The activity made him smile, a Herculean feat, and the people there were simply too much fun to be with. He typed his character in, humming as he slipped some headphones on to ignore his parents’ cries for just the shortest while.

‘Enra yawned, stretching as he skritched his chest under his shirt…’

Outside his window, watching him even through the closed blinds, was Whitesteel, the pristine white staff of light and blue, floating invisible. This was Enra’s punishment. The quiet life of a mortal for the rest of his days, until death in this alternate dimension of Gaia. He would never know of who he was, deprived of his prior power and knowledge and everlasting life. He would have dreams, definitely; small glimpses of his past in dreams and déjà vu. The castle in the clouds, and the ballroom masques of the most beautiful people in the world, his own people, the Cajazra, whom he’d been stolen away from… All of it, nothing but dreams. Even the fact that the others appeared in the ‘Inn of Peace’ was purely placed there to placate his need to see everyone once again. It was an almost friendly way to kill an immortal, and certainly the quietest. An entire world, an entire dimension his prison and chains… unless

Charlotte awoke that day to a pair of wee fists hammering on her cheek and the distinct cries of a deeply distressed chibi. She opened an eye, finding Ra, rabbit ears listlessly drooped, miserable.

"Piichiibi bi biii-*hiccup* CHIICHI BICHI~!" He insisted, frantically waving his little arms, hysterical. Charlotte was quiet a moment, letting the news sink in. She blankly placed a hand on Ra's head, petting lightly.

"It's going to be all right, Ra...People who are meant to stay in one's life will always come back, even if we have to wait a while. Nothing is permanent, not even death..." she said quietly.

Ra whimpered, cuddling up for comfort. She looked out her window, a quiet morning apparent beyond the curtains. "See you later, Uncle Enra..."

Adam meandered down the stairs to meet the quiet Inn.

Adam blinked, brow furrowing, but knowing the look of a harried woman all too well. He walked into the kitchen, returning from the drink machine with a cup of tea for each of them: not steaming hot, but drinkably warm. He set one by Kristen with a sympathetic smile. "When you're ready, if you want it." he said quietly, stepping back to give a little space.

Adam sat in the nearby chair, frowning sadly. He could guess who she'd meant, but too many questions would be frustrating. "Maybe...it was an emergency."

He nodded in regards to the tea, and sipped his own for a moment. "I'm sorry, Kristen...that's a horrible disappointment. Did he...did he know you wanted to talk?"

"...In its own way, that's the worst part." he said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Kristen...will you be all right?

He reached over, gently patting her shoulder. "There's time enough to heal...just as I'm sure he'll be back, in time. He really was fond of you, after all."

Charlotte quietly descended the stairs, in her finest black crepe de Chine Worth dress. "Day."