Abelith

Sitting on a oak wood chair in the middle of a bustling diner, the characters continue to slide past her table. Directly in front of her, a sandwich sits idly on a plate. The drink given to her runs cold as Abelith pays it zero attention. In her hands however, a pen scratches angrily across a journal of parchment. On it the greyish outline of a face coming closer and closer to resembling a human being. Her fingers and hand painted grey with all the bleeding from her pen, even the edges of that paper stained in that same shade. A waitress moves to her table, tilting to look at the woman as she'd debate asking if she needed anything else. But clearly she was busy.

Her legs wiggle just a bit on the chair, her tongue poking out as she scratched away in feverish frenzy. A bead of sweat races down her brow, getting caught on her lips. Her eyes getting more and more ravenous with every stroke, turning that drawing into a regular portrait. The contents? A woman she'd met but three nights prior, to which her memory was still so 'fresh'. Every curve of her cheek, down to the very pores on her smooth peach skin recalled and conveyed upon that paper in an immortal recollection. The girl would start to sweat more profusely, squirming more and more before she would almost drop that packet of parchment. Her arms flounder helplessly to the table, almost knocking over her drink in the process.

"Finished." She exhumes in almost a defeated tone, as if every ounce of energy drains from her body the moment that artist's rendition was completed. The pen in her hand rolls limply to the table, as her wiggling in her legs subsides after a few final jerks. The journal placed carelessly as she lays on it. Dazed, she looks to her food and starts to poke out her tongue toward it. Sluggishly, she fights her body up and tries to start eating. She'd drawn up quite the appetite, but her arms threatened to give completely out just with the weight. Taking a few bites she lazily chews it and finally remembers the chilled boba drink she'd ordered that has since started to become soggy. Abelith stands from her chair, leaving the dark spot made from her sitting there behind as she'd pound the rest of her drink. With a fold of her book shut, she'd move to the front counter and pay before anyone discovered it and made her pay for the chair she ruined.... Again.

Back out into the mainstay of the city in all its luminescent glory, like a predator on the prowl. Eyes locked to players as they pass her by, her next victim model was just waiting to be found. Abelith eventually finds another, a man with long red hair and a striking pair of green eyes. Poking out of his shirt is the most well defined clavicles a man could sport. A twinkle in her eye confirms the hit, and she'd slide up as quick as those little damp legs could carry her.

<<Assisting System Engaged>>
Level: 1
Paragon: 0
Tier: 1
True Tier: 1

Final Exp Reward: +10%

Abelith | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 6

A hustle continues as she drags that bar of lead across the page, contorting it from a sharp point to a more flattened use for shading. A slight gasp, escapes her lips as she places it down. "Finished..." and the woman seemed almost limp as she leaned back in the chair she'd found herself into. Revealing a portrait of some undefined girl. The spark of creativity, mixed with some interesting memory, having been quelled for the moment. Her legs grow lax, as she scoots forward. Sizing up the dude she'd paid her order to, and the guy he was undoubtably helping, all the same. Staring out at the writhing masses that begin to peel past the window pane's, just a whole load of assholes trapped in a rat race. Another grumble in her stomach, and immediately her elation flounders. "At least I can die happy." Lifting a leg and draping it over the other, fanning her face with her left hand. She'd much rather be out on the town than trapped in a building, and the temperature in here wasn't giving her any relief to a sudden rise in her own.

Flora was just as much of a boring smattering of unimpressive faces, the woman swaying a bit as she dismisses most of her surroundings. A grumble in her stomach, "Fuckin, shut up." she squeals rubbing the thing. Aincrad, and the beautiful feeling of being annoyed by human problems. Just like reality, she had a habit of forgetting about simple things like eating. Scanning signs, shapely icons that could use some serious design changes. Picking one out simply at happenstance, the first that alluded to food. Finding her way into a quaint building, a rattling bell making a man sporting gold glasses staring back at her. Right to a table, she offloads a sketchbook and a small bag of coin. A menu brought to her, she just points to something at random. What it was, wasn't important, as long as it quieted a gerbil she'd swallowed.

"I'll have this."

The guy ushers off, and she can hear a pyre light somewhere in the distance. A sharp of lead starts to drag hastily across the page, twisting as she continues to slide it flat against the paper. The woman was drawing some chick she'd seen a few days ago on floor 6. Biting her lower lip, and pushing her thighs together. She was really getting into it.

Abelith | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 6