;; hiatus notice

sorry my friends, but I’m gonna be without internet for the rest of the month, or if I can get online, it certainly can’t be with eight (!!!) muses in tow. Therefore, I’m bumping my semi to a full and will probably see you all in a month or so, cheers.

— [ ♟ ] — ❝So-called justice? I beg your pardon!❞

Affronted, completely affronted, the little mayor steps down from his perch. Though the rude stranger evidently has enough courtesy to wait until he's finished speaking. He's been here for God knows how long. Five? Ten years? During this time, he's flourished. A hardworking common man who makes his own way in the city.

❝Of course it is necessary to have a police force or army protecting your citizens. But when you speak of control, I cannot help but think that you are speaking more along the lines of colonialism or war.❞

@exilemayor

.: [ 🐙 ] :. “You talkin’ of civics and so-called justice, but what good is that if you got no CONTROL?”

“What really matters is the turf you own. If you don’t guard that, might as well have SQUAT.”

— [ ♟ ] — [ young lady i haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about but it sounds terribly impolite ]

Cue a tiny and incredibly confused mayor.

✂ — “Alright, which asshole thought it’d be funny to take a big squat in the timestream and flush it?”

— [ ♟ ] — He wriggles for a few moments upon being lifted out of the dumpster, but it is more in surprise than in defiance. In fact, once the realisation sets in, he offers a cheeky grin behind those rags of his. It is definitely a little odd being lifted about by someone who's certainly younger than he, but it is much preferable to anything malicious.

He hums appreciatively when settled down, though it takes a few seconds before his feet are settled. Blunt fingertips brush off residue from his body, though it becomes apparent rather quickly that he is going to need to do more to rid him of all this trash.

Back to his companion, he nods, albeit hesitantly. He appreciates the offer, even finds his mouth watering at the prospect, but would it be too demanding? He is so very humble, to the point that accepting gifts often results in some form of embarrassment. Oh, but he doesn't want to seem ungrateful, either! So he gently tugs on her skirt, hoping that would make him seem extra thankful.

— [ ♟ ] — He blinks, somewhat disconcerted, but altogether curious. She does not at all look like a hoodlum, and while looks can deceive, at the very least, there is a starstruck quality to her. Oh, of course she thinks he’s cute. He notices that most people seem to acknowledge that. What a simple, yet effective tactic to further his own survival. And though there is the consideration that he is more intelligent than he seems, the little mayor accepts the petting, albeit quizzically.

At her question, he lightly shifts himself further out of the dumpster. A look around, quick and concise, before he nods his head discreetly in one direction. The gangs that hang about here have been decidedly lax lately, but activity still rings out, as evident by the shuffling of feet accompanied by a ringing gunshot or two. The bad part of town is always that: the bad part of town.

God, he hopes that together they can make something good out of this. He’s, uh, kind of stinking right now and probably lost his phone.

“No, no, no. You’re coming out of there. “

[[ Junko decided to expedite the process and lift him out of the dumpster, carefully putting down the carapaced creature down on his own two feet. A quick visual inventory. He was rather featureless, but pretty hardy. An independent type, with a tinge of innocence. ]] 

“ You’re not going to be staying here for another second. We’ll get you cleaned up, most definitely. “

[[ An odd maternal feeling is what she got here, that this tiny creature was something to coddle and take care of. If Junko had any kind of weakness at all, it was anything cute and adorable. She also had to applaud how stylish he was with just a simple white sheet. ]]

“ Want some ice cream? C’mon, we have to get you fed. Something tells me you haven’t had a solid meal in a while, upupu. “

— [ ♟ ] — He blinks and blinks and blinks, a wave of nostalgia heavily shrouding his being. The little mayor observes her from all over, and despite obvious differences, she does not at all seem much different from the extremely tall horse queen he used to know.

❝I know,❞ he croaks, without thinking much about the consequences of his bluntness. Tiny claws cover his mouth in complete surprise over the fact that the filly version of his sort-of-friend has caused him to speak. ❝I am a dersite.❞

@exilemayor​ liked for an event starter!!

        Another strange sense of familiarity, yet she’d never met any creatures like the ones she’d been meeting. This one was quite adorable, however. “Hi! May I ask what you are?” She paused. “Well, that’s kind of rude…so, I’ll introduce myself and my species! I am Princess Celestia of Equestria and I am an Alicorn.”

— [ ♟ ] — The girl is adorable, and now certainly disarmingly so. Vigorously, and more than a little surprised, he shakes his head repeatedly in a definite ‘no’ gesture. But that has some unfortunate connotations with it, does it not?

[ i am not the mayor of this city. ] He whips out his phone and types, before showcasing the message to the girl. [ i could not bring you home even at the height of my power. though perhaps i could make your stay better? ]

And it is with great impulse that he scuttles a few paces closer to her and offers a gentle pat on her arm.

@exilemayor

It’s not the fella’s unusual appearance that catches her eye–nah, he looks pretty run-of-the-mill when you’re from where Peacock is from–but that smart little sash reading “MAYOR” in block letters.

“So this dump’s got politicians after all, huh?” She gripes his way. “Hey, can ya do me a favor ‘n deport me?”

— [ ♟ ] — He blinks, somewhat disconcerted, but altogether curious. She does not at all look like a hoodlum, and while looks can deceive, at the very least, there is a starstruck quality to her. Oh, of course she thinks he's cute. He notices that most people seem to acknowledge that. What a simple, yet effective tactic to further his own survival. And though there is the consideration that he is more intelligent than he seems, the little mayor accepts the petting, albeit quizzically.

At her question, he lightly shifts himself further out of the dumpster. A look around, quick and concise, before he nods his head discreetly in one direction. The gangs that hang about here have been decidedly lax lately, but activity still rings out, as evident by the shuffling of feet accompanied by a ringing gunshot or two. The bad part of town is always that: the bad part of town.

God, he hopes that together they can make something good out of this. He's, uh, kind of stinking right now and probably lost his phone.

— [ ♟ ] — There is no shortage of energy in this city. The sights. The sounds. An overwhelming sensation. As it is, he is tiny, and dreadfully so. Even smaller than the smallest human – barring children – he clings about legs and evades stomping of feet. It is little wonder that he prefers the back alleys to any main roads.

That course of action is hardly a welcome one, as alleyways often attract unwanted attention. He is small enough to avoid the brunt of the gangsters who prowl the streets, but occasionally, pairs of unloving eyes track themselves upon him.

Which is precisely why he’s made a dumpster his temporary home.

The small exile looks out and about, shyly observing those who walk by. Unpleasant individuals come and go, leaving him with a significantly trapped feeling. In a rather beetle-like fashion, his clicking blunt claws grasp at the edge of the trash bin, peering out apprehensively. It just so happens, however, that the moment he checks to see if the coast is clear, his little white eyes lock onto those of a teenage girl.

“ You’re precious. “

[[ Maybe after a few excruciatingly long moments of staring did Junko actually open her mouth and go over to approach the small…crab man in the dumpster, clutching her own small, huggable companion to her chest. She brought a hand out to carefully pet his head, hypnotized completely by the cuteness of the creature before her. ]]

“Now why is something as precious as you in a place like this? That won’t do at all, you know. The last place you belong in is the trash. “

[[ Takes trash to know trash. ]]

— [ ♟ ] — And he stares back. Not at all unpleasant, though perhaps a little disconcerting, the small exile watches and watches her until the gesture is returned. A ripple of relief washes through him as he scuttles closer to the alicorn.

At her introduction, he nods in affirmation, and gestures to his sash in return. The Mayor is not his name, not even an especially proper title, yet it is what he is. Perhaps more than anything else, it is a designation that drives him.

He does not speak at first, but when his lips pull back, it is probably more than a little obvious that he is pleased to meet her too. A pause that perhaps lasts just a little too long follows, before he tilts his head to one side and gently reaches to touch a wingtip. A curious little thrum rests in his throat.

@analyticalprincess

— [ ♟ ] — There is a simple inkling about the identity of the individual who crosses his path by chance. Horn, wings, and an equine form all point to her being an alicorn. His memory of one particular princess is fresh in his mind, though his thoughts on her are wary to say the least. He wonders if this one is cause for alarm or is instead a friend just waiting to be made. Come to think of it, he still hasn’t gauged Celestia, either.

So what he does is offer a shy and hesitant little wave.

░░░▒▒▒╡ʕ·͡ᴥ·ʔ╞ Nyantsuku 400+ Followers!!! Thank you, I love you so much!!! ╡ʕ·͡ᴥ·ʔ╞ ▒▒▒░░░

{{ i came back to this blog a couple weeks ago after being discouraged with the community, but that was because I didn’t really come out of my shell too much or try to make things interesting

but now i’ve got a great bunch of partners and i got a whole group in the works and ive met a lot of really rad people and in general i’ve just been having a great time and gosh i just adore you guys 

everyone listed here is just an absolute joy to see on my dashboard or interact with or might be someone i just idolize from far away and want to start something with but whoever you are you make citta a wonderful place to come back to!

@bururururu @amxngstars @zehahaha @madamsharley @sinisternocturne @dioswelt @insidioustest @tyrannising @shslsyoko @heavenlysiin @passafrisk @tailoredtokill @ibukitten @bosozoking @shvahrtscyiallox @lagomorphish @raggedconflict @godlightning @arachno-phile @whyamisweaty @providemon @wheelchaired @flowexpy @wasuri @mugiwaxa @trident-kind @exilemayor

and into a special category goes @shukusho for introducing me to the group and for being an a+ person both online and offline 

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ♡ }}

OK!!! Time to address that event! First of all, non event threads will not be put on hold for this muse, since I can count em on one hand and all… Secondly and more fun are my plans! I have plans for both past!WV and future!WV, which will be detailed below;; The Warweary Villein is but a simple farmer, but one who possesses a sharp mind and a courageous soul. Physically appearing the same, save for his garb, it can at first be difficult telling the difference between the him of them and the him of now. He is much the same, still kind and warm, yet also being more confident and brave. He takes a more active role in protecting the Hive than his current self. The Mayor of the Future is slowly growing in confidence once again. Being more sociable and accustomed to the people around him, he is beginning to talk more. Like a politician, but without all the icky stuff people hate about politicians, he is a beacon of hope. More peaceful than his past self, this WV is charismatic and charitable.

@analyticalprincess

— [ ♟ ] — There is a simple inkling about the identity of the individual who crosses his path by chance. Horn, wings, and an equine form all point to her being an alicorn. His memory of one particular princess is fresh in his mind, though his thoughts on her are wary to say the least. He wonders if this one is cause for alarm or is instead a friend just waiting to be made. Come to think of it, he still hasn't gauged Celestia, either.

So what he does is offer a shy and hesitant little wave.

@nyantsuku

— [ ♟ ] — There is no shortage of energy in this city. The sights. The sounds. An overwhelming sensation. As it is, he is tiny, and dreadfully so. Even smaller than the smallest human -- barring children -- he clings about legs and evades stomping of feet. It is little wonder that he prefers the back alleys to any main roads.

That course of action is hardly a welcome one, as alleyways often attract unwanted attention. He is small enough to avoid the brunt of the gangsters who prowl the streets, but occasionally, pairs of unloving eyes track themselves upon him.

Which is precisely why he's made a dumpster his temporary home.

The small exile looks out and about, shyly observing those who walk by. Unpleasant individuals come and go, leaving him with a significantly trapped feeling. In a rather beetle-like fashion, his clicking blunt claws grasp at the edge of the trash bin, peering out apprehensively. It just so happens, however, that the moment he checks to see if the coast is clear, his little white eyes lock onto those of a teenage girl.

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                “ Neither should a ship rely on one small anchor,                                                                 nor should life rest on a single hope. “ - Epictetus Much like an upside down landscape, the Enoshima Foundation looks to turn the usual life of Hive City upside down as well. By helping businesses and common people alike, the Foundation looks to touch upon all lives and improve on them, making the stay in this social experiment one of mutual trust and success.

The Enoshima Foundation looks to spread hope wherever it goes, unifying us all, by making us unique and tapping into who we are deep down inside. With progresses into science, culture and security underway, the Enoshima Foundation seeks to promote the well-being of society everywhere by taking into account how different we all are. Only through community can we overcome and eradicate the problems of yesterday.

Be part of a more hopeful future, today. 

— [ ♟ ] — And there is nothing less than joy at being remembered. Despite how strange and smelly this city is, there is a always something good to be found. That is, that's what he wants to think, but truth be told, believing his own optimistic thoughts is a difficult task.

He unhooks himself from his friend, but remains a hovering constant who is content now with just being near her. A raspy sound of content bubbles from within as she ruffles his already admittedly ruffled rags.

In response to her query, he pats at his robes, and at a particularly lumpy spot, he removes the aforementioned pair of sunglasses. Smoothly, as if he is cooler than Dave Strider, he whips those glasses and affixes them to his face. So cool.

— [ ♟ ] — He has heard talk of a ball and doesn’t quite understand why. There is nothing particularly exciting to him about sports, and he cannot understand why other people would feel the same. The words ‘night under the stars’ enter his hearing range, further confusing him. He likes stars; they remind him of little fireflies stuck up in the sky. But what do stars have to do with sports?

And speaking of stars…

While he’s too busy spacing out, a familiar set of legs ( attached to a familiar body, of course ) crosses his path. Jolting upright, the little mayor chases after who could only be considered a friend. He doesn’t blame her for not noticing – for he is rather small – and completely believes her to still consider him friend. And before he even thinks of whatever consequences may arise, he clings to one of her legs.

— [ ♟ ] — He squeaks once. A raspy little sound with much strain and no substance, he heaves his chest. The tense encounter lasts but a few seconds, as two individuals caught unawares face each other. Uncertainty and worry ( that the other is not as defenceless as he first seemed ) hovers over the exile's being before it simply melts away.

Technically, he is not a very courageous individual anymore, but as it is, he is also overflowing with kindness. The offered object does not lower in his claw, though perhaps it does waver from being held aloft for so long. And the other's introduction is hardly uttered before the can is gently plopped into his hands.

Oh yes, yes, conversation, conversation! It is only polite to make friends with dinner mates. It seems like his companion has more manners than he, however restrained they may be. The exile steps back and offers an enthusiastic nod. Ling? That is a nice name. Short and to the point. In lieu of introducing himself, WV points to his sash. Hopefully, that should suffice.

@empxrxr

— [ ♟ ] — Hunger is an especially common feel. Without even trying, the exile finds food to be most desirous. Even when belly is stuffed, he clings to food products, though admittedly there is another reasoning for that besides mere hunger. Can Town, of course, is his other main concern, but honestly, he has nothing at all against eating the contents of his citizens.

A can opener is barely fastened into his current prize, when the sounds of an unfamiliar stomach growling catches his attention. Pale optics shift from one location to the next, before noticing a humanoid figure standing in a nearby alleyway. There is absolutely no hesitation as the vagabond holds up his unopened can in encouragement.

big big mega huge apology to @nyantsuku @kindergartenstar and @empxrxr for waiting on me for replies!! I put most of my muses on hiatus, thought I could handle this guy, and I guess I couldn’t even do that. Until now, anyway! You guys will hopefully get stuff out today provided my internet cooperates.

— [ ♟ ] — The past few weeks ( months? Or something ) has been cause for a bout of confusion. He remembers being here before, the events all lining up in a sort of haze. It hasn't been particularly joyful, of course, yet it still instilled a feeling of being alive. And hey, sure beats being stranded over a pit of lava, right?

He ignores the ‘welcome’ offered to him by that strange scientist, yet remembers what his housing arrangement is, at least. Displeasure is immense at the thought of living in one of the districts, but in hindsight, it isn't as if ruins are strange to him, anyway.

People look at him strangely when they walk by, but thankfully it is only the ones who bother to look down that ogle. As this isn't his first visit to the city, he is hardly surprised or disturbed. He kind of wishes that he's taller, if only because he's being jostled about more often than he'd like.

Wandering aimlessly is something that he's good at, and wandering aimlessly is what he does. His grasp on his surroundings is strong enough not to panic about the particulars, so for now, he merely settles with satiating his own curiosity. Whether he be lucky or not with his traveling is no consequence to the exile.

Yet, lucky he is. It takes an amount of effort to part the crowd around him, but when he does, he takes full view of an essential figure of his life. He doesn't quite remember her looking like this, but Dave was patient enough to fill him in on the details when he recovered. Her current form is terrifying and nervous making, but she's still her. She's still whole.

He fights his way through the crowd, fingers pushing futilely at other citizens as he moves. Scrambling pathetically forwards, the little exile has but one singular goal in mind. Nothing in the world can keep him from reuniting with her, though his feet seem to say otherwise, what with him nearly tripping over himself, and all. He only hopes that she turns around and notices him too.

What a very unfourtunate and strange occurence indeed. Your name is Peregrine Mendicant, and up until now, your life was a cocktail of chasing Jack Noir, attempting to kill Jack Noir and.. Well, many other things, surely, most of which, if not all, involving your attempts at killing Jack Noir for his heinous crimes.

But as you exit a.. Rather strange incident, your task at-hand now was to simply find out where you are, and get the Hell out, and get the Hell over to wherever Jack Noir WAS and you were NOT, evidently.

You forcibly pay no mind to anyone who happened to stare at you, what reason would they have to NOT, in any case, and wander out into Epsilon, “new home”, bah, you scoffed at that, you are no prisoner in wherever you are right now…

You reach for your sword as you walk, noticing the discomfort that occaisionally came with having, well, a SWORD in your chest. Wait. Wait what? You retract your grasping hand from the handle at the feel of wood. You look in disgust at what your weapon has been switcheroo’d with.A wooden sword, good for nothing, regardless of the handler.

Well you were planning on flying out, duh, why would you not? Wings, use ‘em or lose 'em, but you should stick around and get a new weapon, it wouldn’t hurt. You’ll not even try to see if you can fly out first. there’s no real rush, sometimes you swear Jack Noir would actually wait for you when you’d lag behind in your chase. What disgusting courteousy.

You politely try to approach a resident for directions to the nearest arms dealer, or something, anything of those sorts. You’re not picky.

(You hope whatever place you’re in right now accepts Prospitan currency.)