[Northstar.]

Username + ID#: Northstar. #65952
Kalon Link: Hopscotch
Chosen Prompt: "How do they handle a bad day?"
Prompt Response:

He did his best to ignore them - the dead, that is.  Spirits. Ghosts. Whatever floats your boat. 

A migraine pounded at his temples. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose.  Sunlight hurts. Sounds hurt. Thinking hurts.

And those lingering spirits? They make it infinitely worse.

You'd think they could go bother some other exiled deity of death for their unfinished business - but nooooo, of course not. It had to be him.

Today of all days, it had to be him.

The city is loud - too many voices, alive and dead, too many noises.  Exhaust, and garbage fill his nostrils.

His stomach turns.

"You! You're him! They said - they said you could help! That you would hear me. It's been so long since I have been heard," a spirit rants near his ear.  A man - late 70s perhaps, with a scraggly beard and a ghostly plastic cane.

Hopscotch ignores him.  He jingles his key ring round and round.

Maybe the spirit will leave.

"I know it's you! They said you're like this, you don't like to help! But who else will help us! Who else can hear?"

Ah. A smart spirit.

He throws a leg over his motorcycle, revs the engine until it drowns everything out.

"I'm taking a me day," he laughs at the sputtering ghost and gasses it.

He flies past city streets, beneath bridges and tunnels, past highways and interstates until civilization is far, far behind him.  A sunset paints the sky.  The colors make his headache pound behind his eyebrows.  And then in his eyes and cheeks.

He needs to stop.

The motorcycle slows and he kills the engine.

A ghost sits quietly on a stump beside a dingy mailbox.  Dark hair, bright eyes, neither very old or young - a dark ball cap pulled over his hair with a blue logo on it. Barely middle aged.  Too young to die by today's standards. He watches a house up the tree lined driveway - well-kept besides the overgrown grass and a few branches in the yard.

Hopscotch presses his knuckles to his temples, a huff of frustration on his lips.  Even here, far from city limits, they follow.  Can he catch a break? For once?

He grumbles and collapses beside the ghost.

"Do you drink enough water?" the spirit asks softly.  Hopscotch's narrow eyes cut balefully to the man - who is still looking up the drive.  "My daughter gets headaches. She doesn't like the taste. I have to... had to fuss at her even as an adult.  She'll forget."

Hopscotch's sigh could topple mountains.

"What do you want?" he asks the spirit flatly.

"Well you sure could take better care of yourself, for one.  There's a cooler behind you for delivery drivers. Take what you need.  Looks like you haven't slept in days."

Hopscotch does, and the pain in his head eases a bit. The empty bottle is tossed in the garbage can... And Hopscotch feels obligated at this point to help the spirit move on.

"What do you need?" he asks, far less abrasive than his previous question. Not quite kind, either, but getting there.

The spirit sighs - a sound that echoes the first breath of winter. Defeated.  He's looking up the drive again, to the house in the overgrown grass and shielded by tall oak trees.

"I left my daughter my home," the spirit says conversationally.  "She lives there now, alone.  She's a good kid..." He scrubs his face with calloused hands and blinks back tears. "She's not doing too well. Ever since -well, you know. She's been looking for the keys to my bike. Tore up the whole house, put it back together. But they're under my shirt on the couch that's been there since... Since I died.  Can you tell her?"

Hopscotch stares.

He's been asked for many, many things as last requests, unfinished business.  Crazy, outlandish, foolish things. And this spirit - this man - only wanted him to tell his daughter where the keys were.

He blinks.

"Yeah, yeah I can do that." The motorcycle revs to life. "Get on."

The bike leaves dust in it's wake as he pulls up to a porch loaded with well-kept plants. Peace lilies, ferns, ivy with a yellow ribbon and a 'sorry for your loss' card still on it.

He knocks. Waits. Knocks again.

A woman opens the door, dark circles beneath her eyes, lips pressed together tightly.  A cap is pulled low on her head - the same one the spirit wears.

"I don't want to buy anythi"-

"His Harley keys are under the Star Wars shirt on the couch."

Her face pales, door left open as she spins around and disappears into the living room.  The telltale jingle as she finds them. And then her sad, tear streaked face as she returns, clutching the keys in one hand, and that old, ratty Star Wars t-shirt in the other.

"Can you tell her to lay off the clutch when she cuts the curb?" the spirit asks softly, roughly wiping tears from his face. "And that I'm proud of her, and I love her and"-

"How did you?? How did you know?" the woman sobs. "I couldn't find them - I miss him so much - I don't know how to thank you"-

"Hey," Hopscotch says firmly, and they both quiet. His chest hurts. "Five minutes. I can give you five minutes. No more, no less," he says as he turns to leave. Down the steps, motorcycle revved to go as both ghost and woman question him.

The pressure in his head releases as his energy is siphoned in one fell swoop. Great, now he was seeing double.

"Dad?" he hears the woman ask, bordering on a hysterical sob.

"Hey kiddo."  A choked laugh, murmured words of love, and 'I miss you's. A final goodbye.

Hopscotch hits the gas and flies out of there. He pretends the water in his eyes is from dust, allergies, even as his hands tremble.

Half a mile down the road he pulls over and collapses in the grass, staring up at the darkening sky.

His headache was gone.


Token Worth: 10 tokens (1013 words)
Previous Responses: 1

[TheWholeCircus]

Username + ID#: TheWholeCircus + 1002681
Kalon Link: Boop
Chosen Prompt: do they have any pets?
Prompt Response:

Token Worth: [please give us the word count or art breakdown] bust-shot (3)
Color (3)
Previous Responses: [please link to each previous response] n/a

[Rosemoon]

Username + ID#: Rosemoon #941592
Kalon Link: Sydney
Chosen Prompt: What's the bravest they've ever been?
Prompt Response:

Crash, crash. The waves felt rough today. A little bit more rough than usual, but that didn't stop Sydney and her friends from playing their usual game of water lacrosse. The surfing kalon gripped her stick tight, ball in scoop. She reared back and tossed the ball forward, passing it to her teammate Darcy. Darcy wobbled a bit on her board but she laughed it off as she regained her balance. Darcy turned and tossed the ball over the head of their friend on the opposing team, Natalie, and to their friend Stacy. Stacy caught the ball but it was immediately knocked out and stolen by Juno. Juno passed it to Hannah. Hannah slipped off her board, gripping the edge of it and losing the ball. She was able to drag herself back up again on her belly. The girls laughed.
It wasn't long though before the game took a turn for the worse. Sydney could hear the girls start to argue over something.
"Hey guys, what're you talking about?" she paddled over. Everyone gasped as a giant wave loomed over them and thundered on top of the girls, sending them reeling around in the foam. The girls washed up safely on shore, except for Sydney. She had been pulled out further than everyone else and was repeatedly getting knocked out by the sheer force of the ocean's wrath. She could hardly breathe, her lungs filled with water and the impact constantly knocking the wind out of her. She struggled to swim. The wave picked her up one last time and slammed her down in the nearby shallows covered in rocks. She hit her head on one of them and blacked out.
Washing up on shore finally, her injury very noticeable, the girls all gathered nearby, pointing at her.
"It's not our fault! It's her stupid idea to play that game that caused this, it's all her fault! Let's get out of here before we get in trouble!" Sydney heard them say before she slipped into sleep.
She woke up a day later in the hospital. A passerby saw the accident and called for help. According to the doctor, she had suffered a concussion and other intense injuries to her head. She sat up, a migraine kicking in. The doctor said she needed to be prescribed new medicine, that every time she put to much strain on her brain she would have migraines.
"For how long?" she asked, crying. The doctor looked at her empathetically.
"I don't know. We won't know until you try taking your medicine and visit your regular personal care provider every few weeks. We'll check your progress and see how you're doing. Hopefully, it won't be forever, but I can't make any promises or give false hope".
Sydney understood. It wasn't the doctor's job to give her every answer, just try and figure out the once they could. She asked to be left alone and started crying. She could feel herself get irritable and antsy, and it felt strange to her. She had always been such a positive and happy go lucky girl. Now she felt stress and despair. It could have been worse, in any one elses shoes. But for her, this was a lot.
A nurse poked her head in to check up on her. Syndey wiped her tears off on her arm.
"You can come in, it's alright" she squeaked out through a lump in her throat.
"Hey sweetie, how do you feel?" the nurse had out a clipboard with papers on it, probably to keep track of her vitals and other things.
"Horrible. I feel so angry, I never feel angry. And everything hurts so bad. And I have these stitches on my head where everyone can see and they said it might scar. And I might have permanent migraines every time I work my brain too hard. And... and..." Sydney started sobbing again, "and I have no friends. The girls I was with left me washed up on the beach with this. I could have died! I'm so lucky that person found me... because those jerks said it was my own fault I got hurt. They left... they abandoned me!"
The nurse sat down at the edge of her bed, putting down the clipboard and resting a gentle hand on her knee. This made Sydney cry more because her gentle caring look reminded her of her mother, and she didn't even know if her own parents knew about this.
"Honey, I know this is a lot. It's understandable. But you wanna know something good?"
Syndey nodded, sniffling.
"You are being so brave right now. A lot of people would have given up and stopped caring after being in an accident and realizing their friends left them. That's an awful thing to go through. But here you are! You care so deeply, and you're letting yourself feel and recognize your emotions, even through snotty crying" the nurse laughed and passed on a box of tissues to Sydney, "you're doing so well. And I know you're gonna walk out of here feeling even more brave and confident".
"How do you know?" Sydney blew out her nose and sniffled again.
"Because you've survive the past day with such a severe crack to the noggin" the nurse joked, "but also because you seem like such a nice girl. And nice girls like you always push through the flames to the other side".
Sydney smiled. She felt so much better already.
"Thank you..." she sighed. The nurse nodded, checked some stuff off the clipboard, and left. Sydney was about to call her parents when she noticed a small pink sticky note on the side of her monitor. She picked it off.
"You are loved, even if you don't know it yet" it said. Sydney could feel her spirits lifting.
Her parents visited briefly, her mother in tears the whole time, her dad making jokes and telling her how proud he is of her for being so strong. When they left, the doctor said she'd be released the next day.
Sydney took one last look at the sticky note.
"I think this is the bravest I've ever been," she thought, "and I'm proud of myself. I'll get through this".

Token Worth: [1042 Words] 10 Tokens
Previous Responses: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

[22tabby]

Username + ID#: 22tabby || 346744
Kalon Link: Forum/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=4597909&start=220#p135680539
Chosen Prompt: Write about this kals earliest memory
Prompt Response:
A white room, brightly lit up like a hospital. One way mirrors instead of windows, too high up for Anova to try to still press his face to to look through. He sat on a brown pleather couch, attempting to solve a 16x16 rubicks cube.
“Come on Anova. Time to go to your new home.” His mother spoke in a soft neutral tone, but her eyes glittered in emotions.
The thought did make Anova feel a small twinge of sadness, but he tried to keep the feeling repressed. It was hard for a 5 year old. Today was the day, however, he would start training for his new life. He was destined to go beyond the planet- all children were tested at a young age for their endurance to those severe conditions. Anova passed with flying colors.
This was the last time Anova would see his mom until take-off.
“Bye mom!”
A large kalon stepped into the room, his pelt was dark, with very few stars shimmering in his pelt. It was intimidating to the young child, in an instinctual way, how dark his pelt was. Like a black hole.
“Anova, welcome to your first day.” He ushered the small kit into the next room, without his mother. “Here, you’ll learn about flight, space, and our mission. This will take place for the next several years. Of you succeed in your mission, you’ll likely be asked to continue your bloodline.” The old kalon chuckled to himself. “For now, let’s get you settled in.”
Anova would never get the chance to admit his future children into The Program, but he almost preferred it that way.
Anova’s room, more similar to a small apartment complex or fancy hotel room than a bedroom for trainees, was fairly bare. The same white walls and floor, a single unnaturally perfect edged bed, a space for all the kitchen essential appliances, a small bathroom, and another one way mirror with an intercom speaker above it.
“It’s bare.” Anova said, plainly.
“Yes. You won’t spend all your time here, but there are plans for a holograph watcher (similar to a television), a text shelf for any reading material or brain stimulating toys, and a calendar and clock for you to keep track of time.” The big kalon replied like he was reading a grocery list.
“Okay.” Anova nodded in response.
Anova walked to his bed, which despite appearance, was impeccably soft. The lights in the room shifted from a daylight LED to a soft white, telling him that it was likely-
“Three o’clock. This is why we’re getting you a clock. Today, just familiarize yourself with the place, and reorient yourself. Tomorrow we will get started.” With that, the big kalon closed the door. His footsteps could be heard on the tile outside for a long way.
Today was the first day for him to truly be a part of society. It was important for all kalons on Calci to join some Program. He didn’t know what his mission would be yet- he wouldn’t for several more years- but he was secretly happy. Even if he wasn’t supposed to express his happiness, his childlike nature couldn’t resist. He would get to be in the stars, his pelt meshing with the ones all around him.
Stay innocent, Anova.
Token Worth: 550 words - 5 tokens
Previous Responses: 1 2 3 4 5 6

[Madziu]

Username + ID#: Madziu + 840708
Kalon Link: Here
Chosen Prompt: Do they prefer a starry sky or a vibrant sunrise?
Prompt Response: Clicky here for size
Token Worth: Fullbody (4) + Colour (3) + Shading (2) + Background (5) = 14
Previous Responses: N/A

[Chickpea]

Username + ID#: Chickpea 921177
Kalon Link: off-oekaki form
Chosen Prompt: “What is their favorite scent?”
Prompt Response:


Token Worth: [please give us the word count or art breakdown]

Art Total (10)

3 - Bust
2 - pixel art
2 - shading
3 - color

Previous Responses: [please link to each previous response]
X

[LostInTheEcho]

Username + ID#: LostInTheEcho + 680104
Kalon Link: Here
Chosen Prompt: What is their nerdy hobby?
Prompt Response:

If there was one thing that would be their nerdy hobby it would have to be their collection of stickers. It was just something about them that appealed greatly to K’atini. It might be the colours, sparkles and pretty pictures or simply the collecting of something small and cheap with infinte variety in appearance. One thing was for certain at least, and that is that K’atini loves their stickers and their hoarding of them won’t stop. At least not any time soon

In terms of stickers, the more glittery and colourful they can get them the better. Textured stickers that you can spend half an eternity absentmindedly stroking, or the ones with volume (or bubble stickers as they’re pretty sure they are actually called, but that just makes them think of stickers with actual bubbles). There’s just so much to be done with the bubble stickers, like press, depress. Press. Depress. In an endless cycle. K’atini might just need something to fidget with, but hey, stickers are as good as anything, right?


How did this sticker-mania start, someone might be wondering. It must have been in school, when one day the teacher decided that, to make them want to listen and behave more, the perfect solution was to give out gold star stickers.

They were however not only given out to those who performed exceptionally well or those best in the class. That could make it into a competition between students and not with oneself and then cause dissent due to that. No, instead they were given to anyone who put in an effort on those assignments that had been selected to be sticker-giving.

K’atini had felt an immideate want, no a need for these stickers, always giving his all to recieve one. Every piece of plastic gold was a victory. Exactly what it was a victory against, they didn’t know, but the surge of pride and pure elation that came every time they saw that flash of gold besides the scrawled ”Good job! : )” was there nonetheless.

Then one day, the stickers disappeared. The teacher didn't think they did much. Which in truth they didn't. In the beginning, the younger kals had been excited by them but then the charm wore off rather quickly. In the end, K’atini had been the only one interested in them.

Now, with their only source of stickers gone it felt as if all joy had been sucked out of the world. (Not quite, but that’s how it is when you’re a sad not-quite-a-teenager). They lived in a tiny village so there weren’t really anywhere he could find stickers without leaving town, which he’d never done before. Their only hope had been the local shop, which didn’t have any. And so the first sticker drought had started. A little dramatic but K’atini is a little dramatic so it's ok.


Salvation came when they went on a class trip to a rather large town that is relatively close. Only a couple hours or so by bus the adults said. Felt like forever thought every child, some even out loud. In town they did things that you do in a town, like going to a museum and looking at important stuff.

But they also made a stop at a souvenir shop (or whatever it was, K’atini only had eyes for the most colourful shelves where they might be able to find stickers). And it was a success! Stickers!

They bought two packs of stickers. One with pink and rainbow unicorns. They were extremely glittery and bright in colour. The unicorns had obnoxiously large a sparkly eyes with the longest eyelashes and the overall anatomy looked impossible. In other words, they were perfect and would be cherised forever. The other pack of stickers was one with christmas and winter motives, because it was that time of the year again. They were less glittery but still very pretty. Their favourite was one with a reindeer on.

After that they could sporadically get stickers on trips or as gifts, since everyone noticed that they liked them. Over the years the sticker collection grew. Some would find themselves stickied to one surface or another while the majority had a comfortable life in the stickerbox.


Now at adult age the collection is still growing. And who knew that it would be easier to get stickers when you make your own money and can spend it however you want to? The only rule they set for themselves is that they can't go out of their way to find stickers. It’s been put in place so that they don’t go completely overboard with the collecting, ending up with a insane amount of stickers and ending up on that hoarder show on tv. Only when they happen to see them in stores are they allowed to buy some (not the entire shelf) and birthday and christmas gifts also contribute to the ever growing hoard.

From the sticker box they’d had as a child the storage has been upgraded to the sticker drawer, the aptly named drawer in which the stickers are stored. Stored untill the perfect spot for them to be stickied to is found.

Because K’atini of course have a ton of stickers stickied to a lot of stuff. Most notably maybe would be their backpack and phone case that both have a large surface area covered as well as being things they carry with them most of the time.

Their phone case is the most covered with stickers, they cover all available surface, making it into a sparkly mess of colours. It’s mostly covered with stickers in different pastel colours, some with glitter and one textured. The textured sticker sits in the top right corner on the back of the case with a motive of a dog on it. More specificly a golden retriever. It was from a pack of textured animal stickers that they'd gotten from a friend for their birthday. They'd had a new phone case then that of course needed new decoration. It had already had some colourful flowers and hearts and, after that birthday, also a dog.

Token Worth: 10 tokens // 1019 words
Previous Responses: None yet

[22tabby]

Username + ID#: 22tabby || 346744
Kalon Link: Forum/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=4597909&start=220#p135680539
Chosen Prompt: Your kal just saw a shooting star, what do they wish for?
Prompt Response:
The sound of kits squealing on the lodge porch made both Anova and Vermouth turn their heads to look at the commotion from where they sat on the couch in the living room. “Shooting stars!! Vermouth, Anova! Come look, come wish!”
Vermouth had smiled and rushed to get up and run outside. He grabbed Anova’s hand, but let go when he saw Anova’s hesitation. Anova stood up slower, not understanding what the hullabaloo was about.
Outside a meteor shower could be seen. The kits, Gimlet and Absinthe, were pointing up and whispering to themselves. Not even each other, but just under their breath to themselves. Anova wondered why they were being so secretive. Vermouth closed his eyes and did the same thing, just mouthing out words. Something about… happiness and safety? Anova didn’t catch all of the words.
“Go on Anova, make a wish.” Vermouth had opened his eyes and was still smiling.
Anova just stared back. “Why…?”
Vermouth blinked, his brow furrowing. “You don’t know about shooting stars? You see them and you make a wish and hope it comes true.”
Anova looked at the sky. “You’re not shooting anything. And the kits are pointing to the meteorites.”
Vermouth pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Sometimes it was hard explaining things to Anova. “Yeah, that’s what we call shooting stars. Just because of what they look like. Comets too. Anything like that really.”
Anova’s eyes widened. “Did you… make wishes when we crashed?”
Vermouth sighed and pulled Anova away from the kits. He whispered, sounding defeated. “Anova it’s different here. It’s just a silly kit tradition, but it’s supposed to be fun. Humor the kits.”
Anova nodded and walked back to the wooden railing of the lodge. “I wish that-“
“Anova no!” Absinthe screeched, cutting him off.
“You gotta not say it out loud! If anyone else knows, then it definitely won’t come true.” Gimlet explained, seeming as concerned as his brother.
Anova took a deep breath. There was nothing logical about saying something to yourself and thinking it’ll magically happen because you see a meteor. Now he understood the whispering though. Like Vermouth, he just closed his eyes and mouthed the words. “I wish that you won’t come for us. I don’t… want to leave, but you would be disappointed, Calci. I’ll relay the info if I can, but do not come for it yourself.”
Once he opened his eyes, he saw the kits were just playing in the yard. Vermouth was still looking at him though, with inquisitive eyes. “What did you wish for?” His voice was more level now, but curious, like a young child asking an innocent but genuine question.
Anova raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that counter intuitive for me to tell you after that whole spiel from those two?”
Vermouth shrugged. “Like you said, it’s illogical to wish. It’s a kit thing. I don’t really believe in it as much as I just enjoy the tradition. Plus meteor showers are pretty.”
Anova nodded. “I wished that the team back on Calci doesn’t try to come find us. They will want their info still, and if they locate us and also deem what we had (and any info we have gathered in Earth) as important, then they’ll surely come looking. But… I’m not sure it’s worth that. Seems like too much for information that is not of much use.”
”Awww you wanna stay here with me!” Vermouth said in a loud, mocking tone.
Anova shook his head. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant” Vermouth giggled. “Look here Stoney heart, you are not some emotionless computer as much as you’d like to hold onto that notion. You can enjoy your time here.”
Blushing, Anova stumbled over his words, flustered, until he eventually blurted, “oh yeah? What did you wish for?!”
Vermouth grabbed Anova’s hand. “I wished that you and the kits would find solace here and that I can keep you all happy and protected.”
Anova let his fingers curl around Vermouths. He didn’t want to admit it, but that was sweet. He knew he didn’t need to say it either, not by the way Vermouth was smiling at him.
Token Worth: 669 words - 5 tokens
Previous Responses: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

[Fantelle]

Username + ID#: Fantelle #399238
Kalon Link: link
Chosen Prompt: Where do they go to relax?
Prompt Response: link
Token Worth: 14

Fullbody - 4 tokens
Shading - 2 tokens
Color - 3 tokens
Background - 5 tokens

Previous Responses: none

[SilhouetteStation]

Username + ID#: SilhouetteStation + 676516
Kalon Link: Aurimelle

Chosen Prompt: What's a quirk of theirs you'd notice right away, or decently fast?

Prompt Response:
Obviously you'd know upon meeting her that she's not mortal. Sprites always have some sort of magical, otherworldly aura surrounding them, and this is no different for her. It may be to a lesser extent, what with her not being a full sprite, but she makes up for it with her own personal aura, if you will. There's something about her personality, her character, just her that feels like it radiates sunbeams. Sprite or no sprite, mortal or immortal, she's one of those people who you would never forget, and always associate with memories of warmth, gentleness, and laughter. But the more you were around her, the more you'd see her 'quirk' begin to unfold. She's not afraid to hide it, though she knows some mortals would view it as strange. Other sprites, being connected to nature themselves, wouldn't think it odd at all. They wouldn't look twice.

Talking to nature comes as an instinct to Aurimelle. She greets the sun, hugs the trees, brushes her fingers through long grass and fern. Flowers receive kisses as delicate as their own petals. Her delicate fingers intertwine themselves with the world around her. And goodness, can she keep a conversation going with them. Hours upon hours, she can talk to the world; from the biggest, puffiest cloud, to the smallest ladybug resting on a daisy. No one ever replies. Verbally, anyway; but she often finds herself with a delightful thrill running down her spine, as though somehow, the world is communicating back to her.

It was a habit she developed as a child. Well, sooner than that, really; from the moment she could make sound. Eriabor would often find her chattering away in some imagined language, babbling like the brook, and pouring out complete nonsense to no one in particular. He thought it was precious. Perhaps mortal parents would discourage their child from doing so, but Eriabor knew she was no mortal child; she was special. On their adventures following the sun she'd delight in making new 'friends' along the way. This quirk of hers has continued well into adulthood - if you can call it that - and she is good friends with everything surrounding their home and beyond. She loves the animals just as much as the plants and trees. There are times when the birds seem to speak back in chirp and song, and these always result in lively conversations. These are the ones that make her laugh, and it echoes through the forest like a sweet, spring melody. But she also loves the quiet conversations with the plants, the insects, the breeze. Her voice becomes very soft, and very solemn.

If talking to nature is her quirk, the gift of the gab also came as a natural talent. Eriabor's not always sure how she can come up with so much to say without ever getting a proper response back. Every now and then he asks if she's lonely but she always shakes her head and looks up with bright, cheerful eyes. "The world has a lot to say, even without a voice," she replies. "You just have to know how to listen."

Token Worth: 5 (522 words)

Previous Responses:
• What does their current bedroom look like?
• Do they have any pets?
• What makes them feel loved?
• Are they an early bird or night owl?
• What are their top three skills or talents?
^ 25 tokens ;; Atticus

• What type of weather would they prefer to never experience again?
• What is their favorite sound?
• A smell they absolutely HATE
• Favorite snack
• What's their favorite accessory?
• If they had to wear one color for the rest of their life, what would it be?
• What is their favorite scent?
• In an escape room, what role do they take up within it?
• What was their favorite childhood toy?
• What power would they want, and why?
^ 20 tokens ;; second myo purchase

• What is their world's creation story?
• Does magic exist? Describe it and its limits.
• What would their secret hide out look like?
• What's a quirk of theirs you'd notice right away, or decently fast?
^ 25 tokens ;; Aurimelle