〖endless summer〗 | kalon tryout

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 〖endless summer〗 | kalon tryout

Postby lysander » Thu Sep 21, 2017 7:19 pm





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A  K A L O N   T R Y O U T   B Y   R I D D L E S T Y X   &   L Y S A N D E R
A R T   B Y   R I D D L E S T Y X  /  S T O R Y   B Y   L Y S A N D E R





Last edited by lysander on Fri Oct 20, 2017 9:26 am, edited 4 times in total.
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 〖endless summer〗 | the hunter

Postby lysander » Fri Oct 20, 2017 4:48 am






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W R I T T E N   B Y R I D D L E S T Y X




       P E R S O N A L I T Y

    vesper never was one for talking. to most, they were nothing beyond a shadow to the royalty they served: silent, stoic and seemingly impermeable. they kept to themselves during all hours of the day not spent next to their superiors. they were nothing short of an enigma-- something just beyond the realm of understanding, yet always lurking. always observing. amongst their associates, it was generally agreed they were the most dedicated to their job. after all, it was the sole duty they had in their secluded, lonely life. the only individuals they ever knew were the ones of the lives they ended. to them, it was all in business. dark, shady business, but it paid well and never did they fret over a night without dinner. they were generally well respected-- but equally feared. they got the jobs done, and they got them done with utmost efficiency.

    their presence was always an unnerving one; no one was ever really certain if they were all there or not. with a gaze consistently downcast and words short and to-the-point, they were never regarded as especially charismatic. this came much to their advantage, as the lack of shift in their disposition during any conversation shaped them into a frighteningly adept liar. even when another kalon managed to rope them into conversation, there remained the ever present uncertainty of whether or not their words were truth or fabricated. unsurprisingly, friends were a rarity for vesper. anyone they ever considered themselves close to always ended up leaving one way or another. even then, their impressively steely exterior made it next to impossible for those seeking kinship to break through to their emotions. they were trained to suppress such things-- why waste time doting over petty matters when there was work to be done?

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       B A C K G R O U N D

    vesper has... vague memories of their youth. it's something they've learned not to dwell on. the most they can remember is a distinct absence of any notable parental figures. for as long as they can remember, they've been deeply integrated into the highly elite network of assassins that worked under the king's reign. the looking glass of childlook innocence utilized by mostly all kits was thoroughly tarnished for vesper before they ever reached adolescence. they have always known their job to be dirty work of the higher-ups-- their missions are far too despicable for someone with as high of a standing as royalty to directly tend to. they know their role and place in society and they have never been one to question their unique circumstances.

    death is no stranger to vesper. they know all the ins and outs of what taking a life entails. this peerless acceptance of the grim nature of their work was a quick ticket up to the top of their organisation. praised for their endless determination to see every mission performed to completion, they were bestowed a ranking amongst the highest. private celebrations were held in their honour, extravagant rewards were ushered into their grasp, and the crowded halls sang with their achievements. but for vesper, there wasn't time for jubilation. they were consistently praised for never failing to complete a task, and yet there remained... one assignment that hung upon their wall, inscribed upon a scroll and describing what little details their royal connections knew about the most slippery of targets they'd ever been designated to.

    they called him a ghost. he was among the most loathsome of criminals: a liar, a conperson, a fugitive. hell, to be frank, his crimes were the last of vesper's worries. the list could be endless for all vesper cared. the only thing the assassin could focus upon was how every single damn time they thought they had him, the guy vanished and without leaving behind a single trace to be tracked. the frustration kept vesper up at night-- it was the one case they were utterly defeated in. they'd had it for years now, and every time they lost the ghost, it felt like the hunt was right back to square one. vesper simply couldn't grasp why. what did he have that they didn't? had the prime assassin finally met their match? it drove them absolutely mad. their life devolved to nothing but fervently searching for what seemed like a specter. soon enough, paranoia and fear muddled their thoughts to the point of uselessness. they continued to receive their typical missions, but they fell short of their duties. their thoughts were consumed by the ghost and in one brazen act of madness they abandoned everything in the dead of night under a new moon. they fled for as long as they could; desertion earned one the harshest of punishments, to risk being found would surely mean execution.



Last edited by lysander on Fri Oct 20, 2017 3:01 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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 〖endless summer〗 | the ghost

Postby lysander » Fri Oct 20, 2017 5:35 am






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W R I T T E N   B Y  L Y S A N D E R




       P E R S O N A L I T Y

    are you part of the world, one with others, or are you alone and apart?

    such questions so often pass vega's lips, through teeth white like sun-bleached bone. he expects no answers — no good ones anyway — inquiring out of curiosity. curiosity is one of vega's fatal flaws; he holds no ground sacred, trespassing through taboo like a cat in the night. he loves to turn others' beliefs on their head, playing devil's advocate, prodding his target of interest with question after question, picking them apart word by word. it's no wonder that vega has so many enemies; vega sees rules as arbitrary things, only obeying his own whims.

    he's taken all kinds of jobs — stealing, lying, murdering, committing fraud, smuggling — the list goes on. although there is not a truly malicious bone in his body, neither is he kind— especially when others get in his way. he never stays in one place too long. often, he's there one moment, gone the next — like a ghost. he's earned quite a reputation for being a nigh-untraceable fugitive, going missing at a moment's notice, never using the same name twice if he can help it.

    vega lives in the present, perpetually moving and never still. he goes where the winds take him, always two steps ahead the hunter in hot pursuit. many find the ghost complex, unreadable— a veritable mystery in the form of a kalon —but in truth vega is simple. he operates only by his immediate wants and needs, finding joy in fleeting moments as simple as watching birds take flight, or fish gracefully gliding through a river. something of a romantic, he's infatuated with the world, believing that divinity lies in coincidence — serendipity. it is this same belief that leads him to be so fascinated with the hunter he baits.


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       B A C K G R O U N D

    a memory:
    he wakes up with a start, sudden realization sending shock through his body. it's so cold — so, so cold — every bone screaming for what little warmth his wet clothing provided him. or, rather, the opposite — evaporation stealing away more of his heat with every passing second. he had to leave. it takes every ounce of strength in his body to drags himself away from the lakeside. patches of snow break up the woodland floor. his feet are numb as he sidesteps the ice and thicket; had he been able to feel, he knew he'd be in pain.

    it doesn't matter. pain or not, he must keep moving forward.
    death is only two steps behind.

    ///

    vega doesn't remember his past — not even his own name. he's missing memories of his childhood, with his earliest one starting with waking up alone in the woods, confused and scared. fortunately for him, an innkeeper temporarily took him in, gave him food and shelter until he was well enough to travel on his own. he joined a group traveling northward, hitching a right on the back of a caravan. nameless, without identity nor a cent to put to his name if he had one, these early months found him saying very little, expressing even less emotion. he was a blank slate upon which experiences could be written.

    he acquired his first name at the advice of an old woman travelling on the same route as him. she explained to him the first rule of agriculture: the star, vega. marking the beginning of the growing season, it was a sign of the new year. when you settle down and start a family, remember the star. your crops will flourish with the right timing. he didn't particularly desire a family. nor did the idea of staying in one place appeal to him much either. yet something stuck with him about her words. vega — the new year star. the end of winter. the beginning of spring —

    — a beginning of beginnings.

    thus, vega began to carve a new identity for himself. a drifter from the start, vega had a distaste for regular occupations and the rules that surrounded them, preferring to steal and operate outside the law in order to support himself. it wasn't long before his petty thefts turned to smuggling, and his smuggling to far more heinous crimes. his hands were gradually stained darker and darker, leading to him being marked for ransom.

    once, he heard a rumor about a kid who'd gone missing from a village nearly twelve years ago.
    he paid the rumor no mind. whoever that kid was back then, that person was long, long gone.
    besides, vega rather liked who he was now.

    i am alone and apart.





Last edited by lysander on Wed Oct 25, 2017 4:30 am, edited 4 times in total.
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 〖endless summer〗 | a meeting

Postby lysander » Fri Oct 20, 2017 9:22 am




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    sometimes, in dreams, vega recalls something from a past he cannot remember — a life he never lived. something distinct about it makes it seem so very real — so tangible that perhaps his waking life is the dream and the dream is reality itself. it's never just one thing, too — but flashes of moments, memories from places — worlds he's never been to, never experienced — and probably never will.

    and in all of them, he is hunted.
    the thought always brings a smile to lips.

    ///


    his feet traverse the frostbitten ground. he's long since learned how to prowl like a cat, slinking between the trees without being seen, nor heard. it's a skill of his that's lent itself to the nickname bestowed on him by the king's guard: the ghost. there's something funny about being called a ghost in his opinion — ghosts are dead, yet vega feels very much alive. and in no other instance is this more true than when his favorite hunter is hot on his trail — in close pursuit in this perpetual game of cat and mouse they've been playing for months.

    or was it years? lifetimes? he could never be sure.

    now, the hunter draws close. vega can hear the sound of their breathing, erratic, strained. in the stone-still quiet of the forest, their minute movements are loud and clear.

    "have we met before?"

    the question comes with a smirk across the ghost's face. it's a question vega finds himself repeating time and time again. the nonchalance of his voice raises no visible reaction from the hunter, but vega can sense the tensing of their muscles, gripping tight the dagger in their hand. any other sane being would flee at the sight of a weapon in well-trained hands like the hunter's, yet vega doesn't move an inch. he makes eye contact, holding his gaze steady against the hunter's own. he missed those eyes so very much. the way they glisten with an enigmatic intensity— he considers them beautiful. gateways into thoughts unvoiced, for surely the hunter has many of them. what he wouldn't do for a taste— a foray into a labyrinthine mind as complex as twin galaxies. he wanted to know if the hunter could feel that very same bond — the red string of fate that bound them together inexplicably across their many lives.

    but the ghost never draws too close. moths to a flame do singe.

    "you've got nowhere to run."

    the hunter's voice. the first words they've spoken since vega eluded capture the first time. seems like an eternity ago, when vega first met them on a mission to seize his life. a wanted fugitive, they called him. had quite a price on his head, too. what the guild wouldn't do to see his head roll down the steps of the guillotine — or brought fresh to them by one of their agents.

    "doesn't seem like i'm doing much running now, does it?"

    he's grinning. he's in his element, walking circles around the hunter — no. the hunted.

    "you, on the other hand... didn't i hear a rumor about a certain assassin deserting their station?"

    a twitch of the eye. the hunter says nothing. the price of desertion was one's life, making the hunter's situation as precarious as the ghost's own. ironic, he thinks. this renders the hunt moot. the hunter's silence confirms vega's suspicions and he can't help but laugh: "i suppose we're both wanted fugitives now."

    to vega's surprise, the hunter collapses to their knees.
    he stops walking, smile uncharacteristically absent from his face. now, he could see bones of their cheeks, almost hollow against the wind— all those nights spent unslept carved into their physique. dark circles around those pretty eyes he's taken a fancy to. all their accomplishments during their tenure gone with the wind, with their peace of mind.

    it's the first time that vega realizes how tired they look.

    "why... can't i catch you?"

    for once in his life, vega has no answer.

    "not even in my dreams. every night, i..."

    so it was true.
    it's the ghost's turn to speak.

    "—i keep having dreams of you," he says. "and in my dreams, you're always chasing me. sometimes as children. sometimes as lovers. sometimes, like this. it isn't coincidence—"

    pause.

    "it's fate."

    vega can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he closes the gap between them, offering his hand. perhaps it was time to break the cycle.

    "run away with me," says the ghost. "let's disappear together."

    the hunter looks up. for all the nonsense their life has been ever since their first meeting, it's the first time vega thinks he's seen their eyes so alive. tentatively, they take his outstretched hand.

    it seemed as if the hunter wasn't going home any time soon.

    [795]


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Last edited by lysander on Wed Oct 25, 2017 2:32 pm, edited 6 times in total.
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 〖endless summer〗 | art by riddlestyx

Postby lysander » Fri Oct 20, 2017 2:53 pm

 


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why waste time doting over petty matters
when there was work to be done?




 
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 〖endless summer〗 | art by riddlestyx

Postby lysander » Sun Oct 22, 2017 1:27 pm

 



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are you part of the world, one with others
or are you alone and apart?




 
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