OCS Excerpts

01 - Training Safely
   *Canon* 

Kassiden sat cross-legged in the large, grassy clearing. He had an elbow propped up on his knee, his face leaned against his hand with his back looking awfully hunched and slouched. His fingers drumming softly on his cheek, his red gaze flickered around.

   They aren't here yet. His thoughts grumbled. Why call early when you'll be late yourself, hypocritical bastards?

He briefly broke from his slouching sitting position to look around, impatience prickling at his nerves. Sitting back down, he took out his knife, and began running his thumb along the sharp edge of the blade. He had sharpened it just before he had come out, so he knew he had to be careful--

"Hi, Kassiden!" A high voice squeaked right above him.

Kassiden, so focused with his tentative handling, had jolted and his delicate grip on the weapon fumbled. "SHIT!"

A sharp bolt of startling pain shot off of his hand, and Kassiden immediately held himself still to examine the injury. A small cut had taken residence on the pad of his thumb, red blood glistening prominently against his pale skin. The cut itself wasn't long, but it looked deep and a little wide due to the knife's sharp tapering, wedge-shaped blade having stabbed his thumb.

It took him a little bit to hear the high cries and apologies fumbling out of the small Pseudo next to him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I'm sorry!"

Kassiden snarled, and turned a venomous glare at his Pseudan apprentice.

"Leave me alone." He hisses, his voice laced with venom.

The small Pseudo immediately retreats away. Towards another familiar Pseudo.

"Kassiden!" A low-toned, familiar voice calls out. Kyrus. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, yeah ... " The Hell-Type grumbled, standing up and gripping his weapon, his cut thumb pressed against the handle. "Let's just get this over with."

"I'm still sorry ... " His apprentice, Radii, squeaked meekly, standing in his place a little ways behind Kyrus.

"Oh, shut it." Kassiden rebuked harshly. "Get into position already, you yellow brat."

Radii yelped, before hurriedly scooting away from Kyrus and standing in between the taller Pseudos. He tried his best to solidify his posture and making it stronger. He shakily accepts the weapon that Kyrus offers him--a scythe. He holds it in position.

"So, before we begi--" Kyrus began.

The Virus-Type didn't get to finish his sentence. Kassiden had immediately lunged forward, knife at the ready, and slashed diagonally. The small Pseudo barely managed to lift up his scythe and stop the blade from tearing his chest open. In response, Kassiden had flicked his wrist, maneuvering the knife so that the juncture between the blade and handle caught onto the scythe's shaft.

Before Radii could do anything, Kassiden had hooked his knife forward, off-setting his apprentice's firm grip on his weapon and tossing him unceremoniously into the ground next to him.

"Eughh," Kyrus groaned inwardly. "Sorry, Radii."

He lunged forward. Geometric branches of cyan computer circuitry manifested from the back of his shoulders, and he lashed them towards his apprentice. Kassiden, spotting Radii's distraction from Kyrus's apology, immediately tornado kicked the small Pseudo in the side, sending him skidding away into the dirt. The circuits chased after the yellow Pseudo.

Radii squeaked indignantly, pain shooting from where Kassiden had kicked his side, and he fumbled for his weapon. He had managed to lift it just in time to stop an arrow-tipped circuit from skewering his head, a thick clank sounding out as the circuit was offset like a failed grappling hook shot. Trying his best to maintain his composure, he clashed his weapon against three other branches that had headed his way, more metallic clanking ringing out and the intense vibrations reverberating through the shaft of the scythe and through Radii's arms.

As he continued to fight off the wild circuits, both of his teachers lunged for him simultaneously.

Improvising quickly, Radii lashed the butt of his scythe straight into the Virus-Type's abdomen, noting the sharp hiss and the sound of breath being knocked out of one's body. Trying not to allow habitual twinges of remorse and guilt swallow his concentration, he swung his scythe towards his Hell-Type teacher, who had jumped back and avoided having his torso torn open. Radii, holding his breath, tried his best to swing his weapon downwards like a hammer, despite his arms becoming rapidly sore and shaky. He misses his target again, and Kassiden stares at him with what looks to be disdain.

For some reason, this angered the usually mellow Pseudo child.

I'm trying here! His thoughts raged. ''What else do I need to do?! Tell me, please! ''

Letting out an infuriated sound from his throat, his heart twisting with adrenaline, anger, and desperation, he launched himself forward and swung his scythe down once more, his eyes shutting as he braced himself to potentially stumble into the ground.

Instead, he felt the abrupt stop of his weapon hit something, and he peeked open his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was how close he was to Kassiden. Too close. He lifted his head, confused. He assessed the current situation some more.

Kassiden, staring him down like he was an animal that made the mistake of treading on his turf, eyes wide and his eyebrows completely neutralized from the default sharpness of his frowning. It looked as if he was a beady-eyed predator looking at prey. He had his right arm half-bent, subtly shaking as he held onto the blade of Radii's scythe. Blood was streaming down from his palm and fingers, trickling down his lower arm and getting soaked up by his loose sleeve. Radii was almost shocked, pride trying to swell in his chest, but at the same time he was absolutely horrified.

Letting out a terrified shriek, Radii tore his weapon away from Kassiden, not failing to notice the slight crinkling of Kassiden's brow as the blade was ripped across his newfound injuries. Immediately, Radii frantically grabbed Kassiden's left hand and started dragging him away.

"Oh no!" The child panicked. "Oh no oh no!"

Kyrus was quick to run over and grab the Hell-Type's right arm, holding their palm open to examine the cuts. Alongside the idle cut on his thumb from a little while back, there was a thick slash across his palm, alongside multiple cuts along his fingers. Kyrus relinquished his 'partner's hand, before running ahead of the frantic Radii.

" ... I'm sorry, Kassiden." Radii whimpered, looking up at his teacher with glittering eyes, as he twiddled his fingers anxiously.

Kassiden stared down at his apprehensive apprentice, before shaking his head and starting to walk away.

Radii quickly ran to catch up with him, his gaze flickering between the Hell-Type's injury and his unusually neutral face. "Are you okay? Am I in trouble?"

Kassiden didn't respond, but instead he looked down at him with a half-lidded, almost tired looking gaze.

02 - Unsettling Sleep Patterns
   *Canon* 

Mryminous crept through the dim, distantly lit halls. He extended his arms skywards, stretching his sore muscles, his wings spreading out and emphasizing his tired apathy. He mentally calculated the time--if he recalled correctly, it was about 8:30 PM. Although most of his fellow Pseudos usually didn't go to bed until at least 11--as he noted, since the kitchen and living room lights were still on, and low chatter radiated from those rooms--he knew a select few that went to bed abnormally early. He rung off a few that he could come up with at the top of his head--Esyure, Cester, sometimes Kassiden ... That's all he could come up with for now. He was ready to go and take a power nap.

Absentmindedly scratching his head--and tousling his uncut locks of black hair in the process--he walked up the stairs. He made sure to fold his wings in properly to prevent from bumping into the stair rails. Habitually, he went to check on the sleeping upstairs occupants. He checked on Kassiden first.

The 'Hell-Type' Pseudo was nestled in the crook of his elbow, his natural frown and tight mouth still etched into his face despite his closed-off, seemingly relaxed expression. Mry reminisced--Kassiden was never the best sleeper. Out of everyone, he was one of the lightest sleepers that the winged Pseudo has ever come across. Which could probably mean that he was the unhealthiest sleeper--always tired and seemed dead and hollow on the inside despite of his thick exterior shell of red-hot aggravation.

"What the Hell are you staring at me for."

''   Oh, right. ''

"Sorry, Kassiden." Mryminous said quietly. "Just checking in."

The Pseudo only grumbled in response before trying to shut his eyes again.

He quietly crept out of his fellow Pseudo's room, before tiptoeing towards his next target's room. Cester.

As he approached, he couldn't help but notice the quietness.

"What are you doing here?"

A low, raspy voice rattled from the darkness. Mryminous whipped around to see the gray, aged Pseudo sitting up in bed, staring at his general direction, his gaping black eyesockets a void that the winged Pseudo couldn't look into.

"I was just checking on you--"

"You know that I don't sleep."

"Eh?--"

"There's no point to closing my eyes to nothing only to come back to nothing, Mryminous." Cester's voice was tentative and solemn. "You can understand that, can you?"

03 - A History of Death
   *Non-Canon Experiment* 

First Name: Kassiden

Last Name: Unknown

Age: (Human) 20 (Pseudo) Unknown

Height: 6'10

Weight: 350 lbs. on time of death

Cause of death: Organ failure from starvation

Report:

Close acquaintances note Kassiden's strict refusal to consume indigenous food during his time occupying earth. This refusal is assumed to have been derived from an incident involving a contaminated meal.

Each attempt at persuading him to put the traumatic experience aside were left in vain. Kassiden refused to eat, claiming that he only sought food from his native home. On multiple instances, Pseudan food had been imported as a means of balancing out the needs of the Pseudo household, and Kassiden was seen eating from the batch.

However, those living in the household claim that Kassiden had gotten severely sick as a result of taking in food after an estimated period of 7 or more earth months. Notable symptoms included abdominal pain and cases of vomiting. Over time, Kassiden was reported to have stopped trying to eat entirely, and excluding liquids from his diet. Friends reported paleness, shakiness, loss of strength, anemia, and an intensified temper. His temper had resulted in one incident where a close acquaintance of his was nearly killed as a result of trying to persuade Kassiden to stop his hunger strike.

A few days prior to the discovery of his death, acquaintances reported that Kassiden remained in his room for two days. They expected him to come out eventually, but he remained isolated for 9 days before his body was discovered under the covers of his bed.

▪▪▪▪▪▪

First Name: Kyrus

Last name: Unknown

Age: (Human) 18 (Pseudo) Unknown

Height: 5'10

Weight: 274 lbs on time of death

Cause of death: Drowning; blunt force trauma and blood loss. Ruled accidental suicide.

   Report: 

During a commute with acquaintances, Kyrus was last noted to act as his usual demeanor. Their location, a large beach area flanked with rocky cliffs and ledges, points towards the blunt force trauma on the cadaver clearly being from a rocky collision. The circumstances leading up to the subject's death are not quite known by witnesses, but it is believed that he had fallen from a ledge and into the water after saying that he would patrol the area for threats. Usual rivals to Kyrus claim no affiliation in his death.

Autopsy reveals that the subject had not died from colliding with the rocks, but had drowned, possibly unable to swim due to shock, as evidenced by the water found in his lungs. Kyrus had died as soon as acquaintances had managed to get him to shore.

04 - An Unhealthy Repose
   *Non-Canon Writing Exercise*  

  Esyure quietly scrolled through his phone, reading news articles. He mused at the dramaticity of the stories and the feeble attempts of the writers trying too hard to invoke feelings into the readers. Cynical comments whirred about in his head--how limp these words are, these words trail for too long, this needs more description--as he closed his Internet app, banishing the articles away from his sight. He was bored, now.

He was just about to get up and retreat to his room to take a nap when he heard footsteps treading down the stairs.

Trigara, Esyure thought instantly. A lingering feeling wisped through his chest before disappearing entirely. Awkwardness. As strange as he knew it was, the single-winged Pseudo had taken up the hobby of analyzing the sound of people's footsteps when they went up and down the stairs--for instance, Kassiden typically dragged his feet as he went up and stepped down rather loudly, Kyrus had a habit of going two or three steps at a time going up, and Kyrusiden, as heavy as he was, made almost no noise.

So, as he heard Trigara's tentative, delicate footsteps as she made her way down the stairs, he habitually began hurrying to open another app to occupy himself. He knew how crude this was, but he had no intentions of talking to anyone. Especially Trigara.

Though, despite his seeming occupation with another task, Trigara had decided to speak anyway, much to Esyure's chagrin.

"Esyure," The Enviro-Type Pseudo's voice breaking the thick silence with a quiet tone.

Esyure's chest tightened instinctively as he looked up. He was about to spit out a venomous remark when he reconsidered, judging by the lack of the--in his opinion--overly sweet accentuation of her words. He swallowed thickly, before coughing and saying something.

" ... Yeah?"

Trigara looked almost distressed--nervous, even, as she fidgeted a bit, not saying a word. Esyure felt the tingly feeling swirling around his tight chest, and he was about to ask what she needed when she spoke up again.

"I'm just here to let you know that you have to sleep in Kassiden's room for the night." Trigara rushed through the news quickly, before biting her lip.

" ... You're ... " Esyure began, his voice slightly hushed. "You're, kidding, right? I-I mean, I know that you usually don't joke around often, but ... Ah, what? You've got to be kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not joking."

Esyure couldn't believe his ears. Of all things! He refused to believe that he actually had to spend the night bedded in his mortal enemy's room. But he decided to ask why anyway.

"Why?"

"Origanna and I found signs of mold in your room. I don't know how it didn't get cleaned earlier, but it's there. You can't spend the night there--you could get sick."

"I'd rather deal with mold than my mortal enemy." Esyure replied sharply, his tone taking on that of hostility. "With mold I DON'T have a chance of dying."

"Now don't be like that," another voice piped up from the stairs. Origanna.

"Why Kassiden's room?" Esyure continued. "Put me with Essence and Mryminous--or let me stay with you, Ori! Heck, put me with the night crawlers! I'd rather sleep with Flueed constantly trying to shove his gooey hands into my eye sockets than Kassiden's abuse!"

Trigara and Origanna had shut up the instant that Esyure spit out the last word.

   ''Good! Leave me alone!'

Esyure snarled as he grabbed his phone from the table, and stormed upstairs.

Esyure went up the stairs, intending on meeting his new 'roommate' and seeing how long it'll take for him to die from a jump out a window. He couldn't believe his luck. Dragging his feet, he entered Kassiden's room.

The Hell-Type Pseudo was nowhere in sight--at least, that's what he would have said if he didn't notice the thick tail sticking out from under the bed.

"I heard you have to spend the week here." A tired-sounding voice rung out.

"Yeah. I do. It's stupid."

"You could have chosen another roommate."

"I didn't get to choose. They chose for me."

"How inconsiderate of them."

Esyure tentatively stepped forward, taking in the dusty furnishings that looked like they were never used. Except for the bed, judging by the rumpled sheets, looking like someone had lay on top of them.

"You take the bed." Kassiden's voice sounded out again, sounding limp and tired and not a bit angry.

"But it's your bed."

"I hate sleeping in beds."

"Why?"

"I just do."

05 - A Lovely Decision, Don't You Think So, Too?
'''   *Non-Canon Experiment. Character Study. Vague vent?* '''

The two blue Pseudos sat quietly on the grassy hill, both seeming to reminisce in their own seperate thoughts. In spite of the light breeze, clear blue sky, and quiet atmosphere, the air felt increasingly heavy for the two.

They both had the same name, but liked to refer to each other as quaint, respective nicknames.

Navy. The Pseudo with straight, dark blue-gray hair that formed a fringe over his face. Pale, with cerulean eyes and black pupils. A distinct blue handkerchief with a black moon. A constant look of darkness on his face.

Indigo. An intricate set of thick, curling locks of hair curling from the top of their head and covering their forehead. Bright blue teardrop shapes form eyebrows above identical cerulean eyes with distinct white pupils, and bold blue spots punctuate his light cheeks. A similar blue handkerchief.

"You must miss them." Indigo said quietly, not facing his friend but pointing his speech towards them.

"No, I don't." Navy said bluntly. "They don't miss us. It's good that we left. Asmodium has this all down pat, after all. He's met Ashen, too. He's already building a new team."

"I can tell that you miss him."

"No, I don't. I don't do that tsundere shit and you know it."

"But you know that such a bond can't be broken so easily. I've seen how anxious you get--you must be thinking 'wow, how am I gonna adjust to this??' or 'I've got to stay away'. You miss him, Navy!" Indigo snapped.

"Shut up, Indigo. They're better off without us. We've annoyed him twice about leaving and damn it all if we went ahead and made a stupid scene a third time! I'm not risking that stupid bullshit for an awkward reunion the next day! They're better with Ashen!"

"Then why do you keep writing letters? Because you want to go back."

"They'd disregard it even if I did send him letters--I'd have to deliver them by slipping them under a trash can. The letters are just that--the slime under a trash can. They don't need us. They don't need me and they don't need you."

"You used to vent to them. But now you're more anxious because you can't.

"It's too late to go back anyway. I'm not doing more of that drama for awkwardness the next day. After the last two times, I know that he already hates our guts. And that damn argument I had with him. That's an automatic turn-off. Even if I did want to go, it's too late to. Now shut up or I'll kick you down this hill."

"Fine. We won't go back. But I'm going to wait for you to crack. I've seen you intentionally barge into where he just so happens to be in just to test the waters. I'm going to wait. Because I'm already ready to go back to him."