13 April 2012 @ 12:00 pm
7 ❧ now you're just somebody that I used to know  
[ A | 916 Bilko Boulevard; locked to housemates

It's not like before, all those months ago, when Mami woke up and could only scream out her anguish and despair. There's no crushing weight of broken hope here; no awful, hollow feeling. She simply cracks open eyes that are no longer set in a young, girlish face, eyes that aren't golden anymore, and murmurs sleepily in tones far too deep to be her own.


She comes awake by degrees, easing upright, feeling the strangeness even further - this isn't her body. She's not built like this, has this skin, ever ran her fingers through hair that was cropped exceedingly short. Mami looks at hands that are no longer her own, not really, curling the fingers into fists out of a dazed surprise. The outburst is slow to build.]


[And that voice? That body? Belong to someone else entirely. Normally, Mami's control over herself is remarkable for a girl her age. Bordering on unnatural, even, in many cases. But it slips now, sudden and jarring, and the result is a loud explosion that sets the bedroom dresser alight with green flame.]

[ B + C | Mayfield; The streets, various shops

Once calm again, Mami decides to cautiously test out this new body her conscious mind has taken roost in. The events of this morning have proven two things of vital importance: she's incredibly powerful now, and it's a power she must be careful to control. Now more than ever, Mami has to keep a tight grip over her emotions. At least she has a lot of experience when it comes to that.

The first thing she'll be doing is exploring a new, instinctive semi-omniscience; if your character exchanged names with her at one point and can be considered friends/someone she'd reasonably seek out, she will be tracking them down to explain things. After all, someone is running around in her real body doing god knows what, and misunderstandings simply wouldn't do. (B.) She can also be observed simply standing in place, looking deep in concentration, before blipping out of sight and reappearing several yards away. Or in a tree. Or on top of passerby. This body is capable of rapid teleportation - something worth figuring out how to control. (C.)

All of Doc Scratch's CR is free to intercept at any time!]

[ D | Phone call; unfiltered

The voice coming out of Doc Scratch's throat is full of a strained courtesy, a faint annoyance grating at the edges, when the call goes out.]

Hello, Mayfield. I must say, this is one of the most.....unamusing incidents yet. If anyone finds this funny, I can't help but assume that they have extremely poor taste.

[ooc: responses will come from [personal profile] scratchedhope]
06 March 2012 @ 12:47 pm
6 ❧ the storm will suck the pretty girls into the skies  
[A | Malt Shop; Early Afternoon

There seems to be something of a commotion at the Malt Shop today! What could it be? Hm, looks like there's quite a crowd of drone kids taking up space, fresh out of school and clustered around the counter. Rather, around a specific person....

.....Well now, here's a face that hasn't been seen much lately. Or at all, really, outside of school and briefly around the neighborhood. Yet here Mami is now, seated primly at the counter and eating pie as if this was just a normal day. And for a Popular Kid, it sort of is - those types tended to attract admirers among the drones. This bunch seems bent on buying Mami milkshakes, even though there's still a certain nip in the air despite the snow having vanished.]

Oh my, another one? Really, you're all far too generous....

[Mami deflects several more offers in this way, although it doesn't seem to discourage the drones. She seems....happier, somehow, despite the obnoxious and vapid attention being heaped on her. Oh, there's still that calm little smile, the polite gaze, the body language that speaks only of composed restraint. But the quiet, heavy melancholy of the last few months seems to have vanished, all the same.]

[B | John Doe Park; Late Afternoon and Evening

You know, it's hard being a magical girl.

Contracts and choices, hope and despair, wishes intertwined with suffering. Standing up to monsters like a hero....yet existing alone. Living in a world where idealism is ill-fitting and compassion proves a fatal flaw, a world that cares little whether you live or die - and if, when you die, well, that should be the end of it. There should at least be the mercy of oblivion. No more loneliness, an end to misery, the struggle against fear and disappointment now blissfully meaningless. But this is Mayfield, and Mayfield will have none of that.

Coming to terms with one's death.....well, Mami still hasn't quite managed it yet. But what she is, is tired. Tired of feeling no reason to live or hope again - aimless, helpless. So this morning was faced with the grim decision to use the Post Office to regain some power, any power. Yet what Mami ending up paying was not body parts or blood, but memories: she no longer remembers her death, or the Witch Charlotte, or why the last few months have been such an unhappy blur.

She can be found either taping carefully hand-drawn targets to trees (the town would never sell her any real ones, being both a girl and a child) or plugging away at the aforementioned targets with her muskets. Yes, she's transformed for the latter - and no, she no longer really cares about being seen. Mami has to keep her battle instincts sharp somehow, so for today, secrecy takes a backseat.

It's quite possible to notice how she's racking up bull's eyes.]