capeandcowl | Entries tagged with † midii une

[The first thing to note about Midii is her hair. Namely, the fact that it's purple. But even stranger than that--for her, at least--is the bewildered expression on her face. A child who was normally paranoid, but alert...was completely at a loss.]

The buses. Yesterday.

It is strange. I remember...a light. And then nothing. Nothing before, nothing after until I woke up again.

[Her nose scrunches up]

But that is impossible. How could I not remember? I always remember!

[She jumps suddenly, looking down at her right hand. A bow has suddenly appeared. Specifically, Clint Barton's bow, for those who may recognize it.]

...and why does this keep appearing, no matter how many places I leave it?

What is going on?

unetrustworthy

They say they can track ImPorts through these "Corporal Scans." But if they are scanning for something, they must have information on us, right? Records.

But...I was wondering...how accurate could these records be? Many of us are not from this world. Or even this time. If my so-called records are correct, for example, I should not even exist yet.

And if it is impossible for them to be accurate, who is to say they cannot be altered?

halfwitch

[Hello City, your screen is being graced with the inside of a giant bubble. A giant bubble that's hovering several feet off the ground. A giant bubble that just so happens to be housing two young girls. Neither Gretel or Midii look amused. After a moment of looking annoyed at the comm, Gretel states the obvious.]

We're trapped. In a bubble. A magic bubble. Somebody better do something.

[ooc: The spell will eventually wear off and the girls will come out of this with no harm but to Gretel's pride}

unetrustworthy

[The sound of sporadic fireworks can be heard in the background as Midii's face appears, hands tightly covering her ears. The poor girl's eyes are red, voice quivering when she speaks. She appears to be huddled beneath an outdoor table, knees pulled up to her chest.]

I thought your American Independence Day was not until tomorrow, yet people have been setting these fireworks off since--

[Another explosion in the sky, loud enough to cause her to visibly jump, letting out a small yelp. She looks close to tears.]

Is there some place I can go where I will not hear them?

unetrustworthy

What exactly is Prom, anyway?

[But then, she pauses. Frowns at herself. Realizes the question probably made her sound ignorant, oblivious, or both. So she elaborates further:]

I guess I should say I know what it is: a formal Gala of some kind, judging by what I have seen and heard around the City.

But my question is why? What are we celebrating?

unetrustworthy

[Midii isn't looking at the screen, her attention fully devoted to the several pieces of paper scattered around her desktop. She checks two for every single letter written on a third. A few books sit to her left, their spines just barely visible. Codes and Cyphers, and a French-English Dictionary.]

[This, in and of itself isn't too strange. Not for a girl like Midii. But what is strange is the fact that, as she writes, she starts singing:]

There is a castle on a cloud,
I like to go there in my sleep,
Aren't any floors for me to sweep,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

[She pauses here, looking around. Realizing that something is off, but unable to figure out exactly what.]

[After a moment, she continues writing.]

There is a room that's full of toys,
There are a hundred boys and girls,
Nobody shouts or talks too loud,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

[Again, a pause, but this time only because she'd finished her task. Grabbing her communicator, she begins typing her message carefully. The screen fades, but the last of her song cane still be heard just before the message appears:]

There is a lady all in white,
Holds me and sings a lullaby,
She's nice to see and she's soft to touch,
She says "Midii, I love you very much."

I know a place where no one's lost,
I know a place where no one cries,
Crying at all is not allowed,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

+++TEXT+++

U glcw vwwb oelxruxubf xiswa. Vwxlyaw qeurrwb Wbfkuag, ri nw, ua kujw l xisw. Rgua ua nt duear nwaalfw. Qglr si tiy rgubj? Can you read my message? Hint: if you are reading this on a computer, the answer will be right in front of you.

((OOC: Midii was hit by the singing plot while working on her new project. The puzzle is something I wrote myself basic on a Layton-style puzzle. See if you can solve it on your own, but if you can't and want your character to, you're welcome to message me for the answer))

unetrustworthy

People have been talking of powers again. Especially with the recent attacks against imPorts.

It made me wonder, which is why I ask now: why do you think the Porter decided to give them to us? Do you think people would not hate us so much if we did not have them?

[There is a brief pause, and her last question comes out softer, as if it were much more personal to her:]

And...are there other powers that cause pain to those that do?

unetrustworthy

[Midii is staring at the communicator screen with a very wide-eyed, but otherwise deadpan expression. There are earmuffs over her ears. Large ones. Industrial sized. In fact, they practically consume her whole tiny head.]

FIrst, I would like to say that I have nothing against cats. They are soft, warm, smart, and independent. I like them.

[The camera shifts as she turns it towards her apartment door--which has tape covering the room number, mind you. Talk about paranoid.]

[A few steps, and she opens the door to reveal this going on in the center of the room. There is in inexplicable counter hovering to one side, reading 3:09:23/10:00:00. The first set of numbers slowly rises with every passing second]

[After all of three seconds, Midii shuts the door behind her and turns back to the screen]

I have seen many things. War. Death. Betrayal. But this?

This scares me

{{PRIVATE - To Max}}

...can I stay with you tonight? I have an English test tomorrow morning, and I am afraid I might fail it now.

((ooc: Thanks to Calender Man, Midii is now being haunted for the ghost of 10-hour-long Nyan Cat. Joy.))

unetrustworthy

[The camera briefly flickers on to a close-up of Midii's face. Just long enough to catch a glimpse of an eerily calm, almost blank expression. One that contrasts greatly with her slightly reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.]

[But the video feed cuts out almost immediately, replaced with audio-only. When Midii does speak, her voice is as neutral as if she were delivering news about the weather:]

Trowa is gone. Ported out. Most likely a few days ago.

I thought anyone who once knew him also should know this.

unetrustworthy

[It would seem the Feelings Jam incident is even affecting some of the youth. In more ways that one; this little 10-year-old empath stares at the screen in an almost trance-like state. Affected not only by the sudden surge or emotions around her, but of those she had tried so hard to bury:]

Back home...there was a boy. A soldier. We became friends, or at least, the closest thing either of us were capable. There were times when all we had was each other. And...I did not want to...but I fell in love.

He is not here now. The soldier boy.

In fact...I almost hope I never see him again.

unetrustworthy

[Midii appears to be sitting up on a clean, soft bed looking healthier than she ever had before. Washed, well-rested, properly nourished, and the only signs of injury were a medium-sized bandage over one side of her forehead. A young, female nurse tends to her in the background as she speaks]

They will not let me leave.

[She holds up both her wrists, which are loosely restrained, tying her in place. Her expression is less than pleased.]

[Here, the female nurse heaves a sigh and interjects]

You snuck out without permission. Twice.

But I am not sick!

Young Lady, you had stitches and a mild concussion. Both of which you could've easily made much worse through your actions. Now, ImPort or not, the Doctor says you are to remain here until your legal guardian comes to get you. We need to make sure you'll be safe and taken care of.

[Finding herself unable to argue, Midii leans back against her pillow and quietly sulks]

Would somebody please explain that I cannot be checked out by a legal guardian because I do not have one?

unetrustworthy

This is your fault. All of you.

[Midii's young voice comes through the speakers, sounding hurt and angry]

You are worse than the Skrulls. All the pain. All the people getting hurt.

Trowa is gone. Nill is... [yeah, she can't even finish that sentence]...and do you know why?

Because you cannot trust one another. You should have been working together to find these Skrulls. But you would rather suspect and let that suspicion make you do bad things to good people.

[A sniffle, as if she'd been crying]

If they win, it will be because you let them.

unetrustworthy

[Two small children can be seen walking down the City streets early in the morning. The short distance between them indicates familiarity, and the awkward angle of the camera tells that they don’t realize one of their communicators’ had self-activated]

[For nearly a full minute, there is nothing but silence. They pass several couples along the way. People getting a head start to the day. Various shops and display windows were garishly decorated in every shade of red and pink imaginable. There were doves and blonde babies in diapers and every other typical Valentine’s mascot one could imagine.]

How come there's so much candy? It's not Halloween again. [He peers into one of the windows with boyish disdain, frowning.] And everything's... pink.

[The girl doesn’t even look at him as she answers his question.]

It’s Valentine’s Day, Trowa.

Who’s Valentine?

I do not know, actually.

[It is at the point that the girl visibly frowns, a hand rising to her chest. She absently rubs at it as they continue down the sidewalk. The boy notices this, frowning slightly, but says nothing for the moment.]

Maybe... it's the baby. The one with wings.

No, his name is Cupid. He is supposed to be the Angel of Love.

But it's not Cupid Day.

[She stops in her tracks. Her chest continue to aggravates her as she talks, causing her to visibly wince.]

I know this. But the name is not important. Only what the Day represents.

[He stops, forgetting the conversation completely, and stares at her.]

What's wrong?

My chest. It hurts, like last time. I think...

[But she cuts herself off mid-sentence as the pain quickly becomes too much. She cries out, doubling over in pain.]

[Last time--! The cry is familiar. Too familiar. Trowa doesn't even stop to think about what he's doing; he yanks one glove free with his teeth and grabs her hand. He has to stop this!]

[Gradually, the girl’s cries subside, leaving only deep, heavy breathing. It’s working. It’s...actually working! She lifts her head, giving him a weary smile.]

Thank you. I...

[Her body gives a sudden jerk, and she gasps softly before her eyes roll to the back of her head. She collapses right there on the sidewalk, hand still clasped in his.]

((ooc: And the Emotional Nullification plot has begun! Feel free to tag into the open log, create a network post with your affected character, or both! Everybody's welcome!))

((Additionally, Midii herself will be unconscious for the next 24 hours; anybody attempting to contact her will have to get through Trowa.))

unetrustworthy.livejournal.com

[Midii is sitting cross-legged on the bed of her room, a large book open in her lap. It appears to be relatively new, though many of the pages have been folded at the corners, and the covers shows signs of daily usage.]

"Tout le monde était heureux d'apprendre que la princesse avait été guérie. Mais quand le roi avait regardé le garçon, il a décidé qu'il ne pourrait pas donner sa belle fille à un paysan si modeste avec un aspect si faible. Au lieu de cela, il aurait la princesse mariez une des seigneurs de ses cours dans la semaine."

[She pauses, then looks up with a frown.]

This has always been my favorite story...but I do not like this part. The boy has done what was asked of him, but the King does not like him because of his social status. He healed the princess. He gave her the peaches. Yet the King will not let him marry the Princess, though he promised.

Why does something like that have to matter? And do not tell me it is just a story; I know very well that this happens in life as well. It's not right.

[Her question asked, she goes back to reading...pausing only when a thought occurs to her:]

Oh, yes: Miss Bellatrix? It has a been a month. So...thank you.

I told you I would not forget.

unetrustworthy.livejournal.com

[Trowa and Midii are seen sitting directly opposite one another in the park. In a secluded area, judging by the quiet that surrounds them. Obviously, a private moment...or, at least, it would have been, had her comm not accidentally been activated.]

[The former of the pair holds a short, metal pipe of some kind against his lips. Several vain attempts at blowing into the side hole later, and the frustration on his face is just barely visible. It becomes clear that the sounds he’s attempting to make aren’t coming out the way he wants them to, and he looks to Midii in question.]

How come you can do it? I just make ugly sounds.

[He holds the object at arm’s length, giving it a suspicious little glower. There’s something wrong with it; he knows there is. He can’t see what it might be, but there aren’t any other acceptable explanations. So, setting it down on his lap, he comes to the only conclusion he can:]

It’s broken.

[Midii resists the urge to smile at his assessment, and instead extends a hand for the pipe.]

I’ll show you. Watch my lips carefully.

[She holds the pipe to her lips in a similar manner to how Trowa had, only with the hole turned more outward. The fact that they were essentially sharing a mouthpiece didn’t seem to register in the 10-year-old’s mind. Or, if it did, she showed no signs of caring.]

[An off-key, but sustained note comes out. Lasting a solid five seconds.]

[When she hands it back to the younger boy, she makes a point of helping him adjust the position so that it precisely mimics what she had done.]

Try it again. Like you’re whistling, only you’re trying to blow the air over the hole.

[With Midii holding the pipe along with him, Trowa manages to get out a shaky, but somewhat decent note. For about two seconds. Considerably lower and softer than hers, due to the lack of breath support.]

[He lowers the pipe to his lap once again, rubbing his eyes to try and make them focus.]

I don’t feel so good. My head hurts.

[She nods, trying to look sympathetic but not patronizingly so.]

That happens a lot when you first start learning. We can take a break, if you like.

...Fine. You play it. That’s better.

unetrustworthy.livejournal.com

Santa didn't come.

[Most children might seem saddened or even distraught at this, but Midii seems almost...relieved. Despite the circles under her eyes betraying a lack of sleep, she is awake and alert. There are hints of a smile on her face, and she even appears to be sitting right in the middle of the park, on a wooden bench.]

In fact, everything about yesterday was...nice. Maybe the best Christmas I've ever had.

[There is a couple walking along a path just behind her. They are smiling and laughing.]

[Midii's own expression seems to brighten.]

There were presents at my door. I know people left them there. I don't know who, but thank you.

[A young man passes by in the opposite direction. He is scratching his head and appears flustered.]

[Midii's face twists into a sudden look of confusion.]

Bakura and Ginny, I...hope you like your gifts. I wasn't sure what to get, but I remembered...

[She trails off as a young girl runs past, loudly sobbing and wiping at her cheeks hurriedly.]

[Midii's own eyes fill with tears, even though she doesn't seem sad.]

And...Trowa...I still...

[She winces before she could finish the thought, however, arms going for her upper abdomen, right around where her diaphragm would be, as she leans forward.]

My...my stomach...it hurts....

[Her words have steadily been growing more labored. Like she's having a difficult time breathing.]

Qu'arrive à moi!?

((ooc: Poor Child's empathy powers are going into overload the day after Christmas. Problem is...she still hasn't figured out she has them yet.))

unetrustworthy.livejournal.com

[Midii once again appears on-screen, this time looking more well-rested and alert than in her previous post. Though the 10-year-old is still noticeably lacking any signs of expression, she is at least more confident in her words as she addresses the camera directly:]

I was wondering...if anybody knew of any Churches around here. If there even are any.

[She hesitates, as if trying to think of what else to say. For some reason, the inquiry itself didn't quite seem like enough.]

You see, when I was a little girl, Papa used to take me to Midnight Mass every Christmas. I...kind of miss it. It would be nice if I could go again this year.

unetrustworthy.livejournal.com

[A tiny, dirt-smudged face appears on screen, though the girl is not yet looking at the camera. Her hair and clothes are in equal disarray, and she seems to be clutching at something around her neck as her eyes continue to take in her dark surroundings. Even in the dim light from a nearby streetlamp, one could see the apprehension in them.]

[But not fear.]

[When she eventually speaks, her voice is high and soft with the faintest hint of a French accent.]

I...I think I'm lost.

[She turns back, and suddenly there is a flash of nervousness in her expression that wasn't there before.]

Is there somebody out there who could help me? Please?

[Whether or not she's sincere, there's no denying how exhausted she looked. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, indicating that she hadn't had a good night's sleep in days. Possibly longer.]

If so, please come find me.

My name is Midii. Midii Une.

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January 2014

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WELCOME TO DREAMWIDTH, HERO...

Entries tagged with † midii une | n/a

✞ || SEVENTEEN || [video]

✞ || SIXTEEN || [audio] - slightly encypted

duo | video

✞ || FIFTEEN || [video] - Backdated to an hour post-sunset

✞ || FOURTEEN || [video]

✞ || THIRTEEN || [video + text]

✞ || TWELVE || [audio]

✞ || ELEVEN|| [video]

✞ || TEN || [accidental video + voice]

✞ || NINE || [video]

✞ || EIGHT || [video]

✞ || SEVEN || [audio]

✞ || SIX || [accidental video] - Forward Dated to the Morning of the 14th

✞ || FIVE || [video]

✞ || FOUR || [video]

✞ || THREE || [video]

✞ || TWO || [video]

✞ || ONE || [video]

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January 2014

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