Hidden

Hidden lifted her cup, the warm porcelain brushing her lips as her gaze settled on Mari. Her words about Raidou lingered in the air — that she felt like he helped her. Hidden let the thought turn over in her head. She had seen both sides of the man. There was the awkward scholar, fumbling through conversations much like her own stumbles. Then there was the other side, the one that picked problems apart with unsettling precision, seeing angles no one else ever caught. Mari slid her chair closer, the scrape of wood on tile pulling Hidden’s eyes toward her. The distance felt smaller, her presence

The inside of the house was calm — a quiet kind of lived-in. White walls caught the remaining light from the windows, touched here and there with pale lavender trim. Everything about it felt intentional without trying too hard. Soft wood furniture, cushions just a little too worn to be new, and shelves filled with a mix of old teacups, books, and little things that clearly meant something. On the kitchen table sat a single blue flower in a narrow glass vase. Bright, delicate, petals gently curved like they were listening. She didn’t wait for a response before motioning Mari toward the tab

Hidden led her across the bridge, her hand still wrapped around Mari’s like she was afraid letting go might undo the whole moment — as if the two of them might snap back to their separate corners of the world if the connection broke. The house came into view as the two crested a bend in the path. It stood with quiet dignity at the edge of the cliff, a two-story home that didn’t quite match the sleepy, forgotten feel of the surrounding woods. Where everything else looked worn and weathered by time, the house had clearly been built with intention and affection. Sloping eaves framed arched w

There was something in the woman’s tone — flat, resigned, like she’d already made peace with being unwelcome. Like she'd done this dance before and knew how it ended. Hidden caught it immediately, and it hit a little harder than it should have. Was that how people felt, talking to her? Like they were already halfway out the door before the conversation began? She offered her name mostly out of habit. Maybe boredom. The day had been quiet in that too-still way, and she'd figured a little small talk wouldn’t hurt. Maybe this stranger would at least be an interesting footnote in an otherwise unev

Hidden didn’t move as the mirror of her dagger hit the grass, its glint of steel flashing once before vanishing into the tangle of green. Her eyes tracked it, but only for a moment. Then they found the girl again, already leaning against the tree like all of this was routine. When the words landed — “pleading and praying for purpose” — Hidden let out a short breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s a bit dramatic,” she said dryly, though there wasn’t much heat behind it. Her gaze dropped to the grass, fingers flexing absently at her sides. “I didn’t beg for anything. I made a choice.” She paused, th

Hidden blinked, half-expecting some pushback, or at least a question — but instead, the woman just let out a sigh and started reeling in her line, all the grace of someone giving up their last bit of peace for the day. No argument. No snark. Just a quiet sort of resignation, like she’d been through this routine before and already knew how it ended. Hidden watched, a little stunned, as the stranger packed up her things with the air of someone being evicted rather than confronted. No fire, no challenge — just a muttered promise to leave, like her presence had been a burden from the start. I

Hidden | HP: 880/880 | EN: 126/126 | DMG: 24 | MIT:20 | ACC:3 | PHASE | EVA:4 | BH:48 | VAMP-O: 97 | REC: 8 | HLY: 16 | LD:1 The air had grown cooler as the sun began to set over the horizon, the trees shifting as they did with each day as the sun began to set. You could only reach the house at sunset. The path didn’t appear so much as it allowed you through — winding past overgrown trees and quiet hills, down into a meadow the world seemed to have forgotten. It was beautiful in a way that felt untouched: wildflowers blooming in every direction, tall grass swaying in the bree

The meadow shimmered as she stepped further in, wind curling through the tall grass like it was painting the air around her. Hidden’s eyes found the woman at the center — pale hair flowing like snowfall, skin untouched by sun, bare shoulders exposed beneath the slow burn of sunset. Still, but heavy with presence. She looked like she belonged here in a way that didn’t feel possible. Then the wind shifted. Not just the grass or the breeze, but something deeper — like the floor itself had exhaled after holding its breath for far too long. The wind rolled across the field with new weight

The path faded slowly beneath her feet, grass overtaking dirt until there was nothing but wild undergrowth and the sound of her own steps. The petals had stopped appearing some time ago, but she didn’t need them now. The pull in her chest was stronger than any trail. The forest broke open all at once. Hidden stepped into the clearing and felt her breath still. The meadow stretched wide beneath the orange sky, glowing in the late light. Flowers bloomed in every color — tall white lilies, violet clover, bursts of red and soft amber — all swaying together like the field itself was alive. The

Leaving Taft always felt strange. Not dangerous — the floor had long since been cleared of anything that could harm her — but quiet in a way that was hard to put into words. The city behind her was still buzzing: bells ringing, stalls opening, players coming and going. But once she passed the gate, it all fell behind her like a closing door. The petals didn’t stop. They caught on low shrubs. Drifted between the trees. Danced across the path like they knew where she needed to be. She followed without forcing it, hands tucked into the folds of her cloak, steps light but unhurried. This wasn’t a

It had been about fifteen minutes since the bell tolling twice echoed across Taft. Long enough for the light to shift again — not by much, but just enough to change the way shadows fell across rooftops. The golden tone of late afternoon had started to settle in, softening the edges of the buildings and turning window glass to pools of orange. The streets, once sharp and cool in morning stone, now glowed like they’d been warmed from the inside out. The petals were still there. They didn’t always fall where she expected, but they were always waiting. One tucked into a shop awning.

The rest of the city didn’t seem to notice. The bells had rung. The light had shifted. People kept moving. Shops opened. Merchants called out. Birds hopped across rooftops. Everything went on, as it always did. But Hidden felt… a step behind it all. Like she was moving through glass. The edges of the world felt thinner than they had this morning. She walked without direction, letting her shoes find the familiar turns. Narrow streets. Back alleys. Overhanging balconies with flower baskets swinging gently in the wind. She didn’t want to go home, not yet. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for

The name was gone. The stone beneath her feet looked the same as it always did — plain, worn down by time and rain, cracks filled with tiny bits of moss. The violet light that had circled her just moments ago had already moved on, carried away by the slow turn of the sun. But the feeling stuck with her. Hidden stood there for a while longer, surrounded by the fading color, eyes half-closed, listening. The bells were quiet now. The streets had gone still again. But something in the way the light had landed — right there, right on her — felt too precise. Like it had meant something.

The bells rang again. That slow, familiar chime echoed across the rooftops, drifting through the narrow streets like it always did — soft and heavy all at once. Taft’s rhythm. Every four hours, without fail. The sound rolled past like a breath through stone, and sunlight followed behind it, slipping through the Grand Cathedral’s stained-glass windows and scattering color across the city. Reds, violets, golds — the usual glow. Gentle, quiet. Moving like water over everything it touched. Hidden stood still, watching it happen. She’d seen this before. More times than she could count. Th

Howdy! I'm currently dipping my toes back into the site to see if its a hobby i'd like to lightly pursue again; however, there has been quite a bit of progress made on the site and my character is a bit dusty as well as my knowledge of every last rule/mechanic on site. During my time gone, stealth got a complete rework and Vanish actually became my Custom Skill as Hidden's Custom Skill, "Lady Midnight", does the following: The user may use the <<Vanish>> mod as a free-action. If I could, I'd like to change my Custom Skill to the below mentioned skills. I don't have a rea