Vous voyez? Je t'avais dit qu'elle nous connaîtrait. Non, tu ne l'as pas fait, j'ai dû nous traîner ici pour lui parler. La tête en mouvement tourna et tenta un regard apologétique sur les deux humains (bien que l'expression fût impossible à voir). "Je suis désolé pour lui, il devient complètement délirant parfois. Pourquoi on était là? Le destin, peut-être? C'est aussi un mot que n'importe quel autre. C'est dur pour nous de garder une trace de ce qu'on a été, de ce qu'on a fait et de tout... C'est toujours comme ça qu'on s'enfuit... Parle pour toi. On a essayé de sortir de la ville, les yeux qui ne le sont pas. C'est pour ça qu'on est là. Vraiment? Tu dois me dire ces choses, Karen. Bob, j'essaierai d'être meilleur à ce sujet."
Quand Morph demanda ce qu'ils étaient, et les appela gentilles, mais confuses, la créature riait. C'était un son très triste, qui résonnait plus que la voix, doux et sans un soupçon de joie réelle. « Je suppose que nous sommes à peu près à la hauteur », a-t-il dit en essayant de sourire au garçon humain. « Nous pensons que nous sommes gentils aussi, mais aucun d'entre nous n'a aucune idée de ce que nous sommes. Juste qu'il y a un tas d'entre nous ici, et que seuls Karen et moi pouvons parler..." En démonstration, quelques petites Wisps se sont échappées du bras de la créature, la laissant indistincte et transparente. Ils clignaient, riant de petites voix, mais le bras les balayait, et en un moment ils avaient été re-absorbés, et le bras retournait à son état semi-solide. "Um... Il y a d'autres choses. Des choses comme nous, mais pas. Certains d'entre eux peuvent parler, aussi, et ils nous ont trouvé une fois. Ils voulaient qu'on les rejoigne. Ils ont une... reine. C'est le cœur du monde, disent-ils. On pensait que c'était un tas de couchettes, et on s'est enfuis... maintenant ils essaient de nous tuer. Espérons que cela vous rend moins confus?"
Name: Robert (Bob). Wait… no, no, the name is Karen. Definitely Karen. But it could be Bob. Or both?
Alias/Title: The Supreme Ruler of this Nameless World! Hahaha! ...damn it Bob, shut up. You’re the Supreme Ruler of jack. -sigh- I was only joking, Karen.
Race: Fractured (a congregation of 24ish large Wisps, with two intelligent identities)
Age: 30s… ish. Maybe. It’s hard to know. We look like adults, at least.
Appearance:(Drawn image preferred)
Weapon Appearance: Most of the time we just fight with our fists. They look like… fists. Sometimes they glow a little, I guess, but that’s it.
Weapon Name: Wispy Fists? Hehehe... Bob, this is serious. Stop kidding around. And I’m not letting you call our hands “Wispy Fists.”
Combat Abilities: Light… stuff. Sometimes. We’re pretty good at fighting those yellow-eye things that come out of the darkness, you know? I guess you could call it magic, but it only sometimes kind of works when me and Bob are trying to do it at the same time… Harder than it seems, as you can imagine. I think… Hmm. Karen, do remember that time we found those mages up in Luce, and then they tried to kill us, but we threw up that... barrier thing? Nope, don’t remember that at all. Well, anyway, I think with some practice we might be able to do that again. Block spells and such. That might be a memory from before the Fracturing, though… Damn it, I don’t know.
I don’t even know how we’ve lasted this long. We must be the luckiest two-dozen goddamn shards of hearts in the World.
Non-Combat Abilities: Ah, a chance to show off my true talent! I was a painter once, an artiste, and my works were always being bought by the rich and famous of Luce. I, um, haven’t painted in a while though, because of these damn hands… I keep telling you, Bob, we have to survive out here, and painting is not the way to do it. You seem to forget that I’m the one that always stops you from wasting our time on it. Besides, I bet you wouldn’t be able to paint anymore anyway, even if I let you... -small sobs, at a whisper- ...I was an artist… The best… I know I was…
Personality: Karen is an asshole. Oh, you’re one to talk, always getting distracted, trying to take over the legs so that you can go look at a sunset or something. I’m keeping us alive, Bob, and you know we’d all just fall apart without me. One time I stop to look at the cityscape, and we just happened to be running away from those guys when I did it. I can’t help it if I get distracted! Hmph. The point is, I don’t need you, Karen, and I never have. I just keep you around because… Well, none of the other ones can talk anymore. I wish you wouldn’t talk anymore… Idiot. -sobs, for a long time- Don’t… don’t cry, Bob, I didn’t mean it. I just… I got mad ‘cause you said you didn’t need me. Let’s, um, let’s just move on.
History: Yeah, there’s no way we’ll be able to remember anything from, um, before. Our minds are all split up, you know? They don’t call us Fractured for kicks. Bob thinks he’s a painter, but it’s possible one of the other ones was a painter, and its just coming out through Bob. -small voice- I am a painter, Karen. Sure you are, honey. Sure you are. I’ll tell the rest. I remember that we all congregated in one of those big refineries off on the outskirts of the city… And we’ve been running ever since, when we can remember to. There’s always been something trying to kill us. Things coming out of the darkness, humans that still have their hearts, even things that we think are kind of like us. Lost, broken, confused. Not all of them have managed to regain their humanity…
He gets like that sometimes. It’ll be a bit, but he’ll snap out of it. I think he’s trying to remember what it’s really like to be human. I, well, I gave up on that months ago, but Bob’s more of a romantic than I am. He thinks that if we survive long enough, we’ll all get put back together, just like that, and he can go back to being a painter… I can’t blame him. It’s a hard life, and sometimes that little bit of hope he has is the only thing holding us all together.
Reputation: Some people know us… I guess. Generally they think we’re just like the ones that attack on sight, though. Hopefully being in a group will change that. I’m tired of dodging fireballs. What are you talking about? I’m the one that does the dodging. You just do the punching. Really? Hmm. It’s hard to remember sometimes. I know, honey.
Song: On the Run -- Pink Floyd