During a Storm (Open!)

Slyph Gongjiang balanced on the edge of the roof of the main building. Lightning flashed far off as a light rain begun to fall

Light as a leaf, he swayed, enjoying the weather and letting himself get thoroughly soaked. He didn't feel like he was in any particular danger, It never seemed so when the sky and let joyous noise clap from the clouds. Despite the noise there wasn't a soul on the roof. Not yet, anyway.

He watched the few people in the courtyard. Either huddled under some shade or too stubborn to seek shelter. A voice called from below him as he teetered on the edge.

"Do a flip!" One of his peers thought she was being clever. Slyph responded by tossing a pebble down at the girl, hitting her square between the eyes. He watched proudly as the stunned student was led away by her friends, all of which were shooting daggers at Slyph and yelling after him.

But Slyph didn't mind. They we're all so far. He only listened to the sound of rain and distant thunder.

She didn't like the rain that much. The soaked clothes that resulted from standing in it was too much of a hassle to clean after, and she had to clean all the clothes of the household. The only thing worse was mud. Or bloodstains.

Still, rain wasn't going to stop her from going to the roof. The feeling of isolation from others was something she relished, and the roof was rarely populated.

Pushing the access door open, her ears were filled with the sound of rainfall. She frowns, then pulls up her hood, pulling it tight. Taking a deep breath, she treads lightly on the damp concrete ground, looking around.

Alas, the roof was not deserted, despite the rain. There was somebody who was standing on the edge. She ponders briefly what would happen if she pushed him off, but dismisses the idea soon after.

She brushes a hand through her grey-silver hair, then puts it in her right pocket, mirroring her left hand. Having nothing else to do, the girl named Nameless started walking toward the mysterious figure.

There was hardly anyone below now, and most ceased to pay attention to him. the catcallers having ran away.

As Slyph danced along the edge, a remarkable feeling of omnipotence swept through him. Here, he was the master. His maroon cardigan stuck to his wet buttondow, his black hair was thoroughly wetted, it took on a obsidian shine if not for the purple highlights. He didn't notice the girl behind him, even as the boy spun around and let out a innocent laugh at the dark and terrifying and beautiful clouds.

He could be a courageous thief, a daring pirate. He could be a swarthy gentleman or the emperor of a nation, or all four at the same time. He could fly away to someplace far away. He could be a god.

The wind rose slightly, but the rain remained light. The odd young man jumped up and down, letting out a impressively loud bird call akin to a crow. He was youth, and joy. A little bird who had just broken out of the egg. Everything was perfect.

Her eyes slightly narrow at the sight of a boy laughing and cawing, dancing on the edge of a drop, living fully in the moment. The temptation to push him rose again, and she has to suppress it with some force.

Truth be told, she was hardly familiar with the feeling of life herself. Her day to day was just going through the motions and she held little passion for anything. And if she did, she would never show it openly.

"Bird impressions?" she says softly.

As well as her low volume, her voice held little to no emotion, and outwardly all she did was tilt her head slightly.

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn't, of course. Slyph turned around to see a hooded ghost with silver hair. The boy promptly let out a sound that could only be a mix between a mouse's squeak and possibly the bleat of a goat, and begun to lose his balance. Arms waving wildly he begun to sway in a manner much less serene.

To stop a fall that would mean death, Slyph tucked inward, falling face first onto the roof. He stayed there for a moment, white knuckles clenching the ground quite hard, until he looked up at the ghost.

"S-sorry." He mumbled. It was no ghost, but a girl. His purple, almond eyes immediately tried to find anything to look at but her face. "I d-d-didn't see y-you... I d-didn't think a-a-a-anyone..." His voice became impossibly small, turning into a series of stuttering, inaudible mumbles.

Nameless walks up to the fallen boy, and kneels down beside him, examining him like some sort of wounded animal. Unblinking, she raises a hand and pokes him in the cheek.

"Do you see me now?"

After briefly waiting for a response, she puts her hand back into her pocket and stands up. The wind strengthens further, whipping the rain at more of a slant. She rocks her stance between her heels and toes, shifting backwards and forwards, humming a tune that meant nothing of substance.

Slyph watched entranced as the ghost of a girl knelt next to him, but winced and cowered as her finger came to his face. In many ways, he did resemble an animal in his fear. He appeared to be trying to remain as still as possible. the only movement being his eyes, rapidly trying to look at anything but the unearthly being before him. He incoherently muttered and whispered something about his lack of grace.

"Do you see me now?"

The young boy with purple eyes looked up at the standing girl, meeting her gaze as she rose to her feet. He too rose so that he was seated on his knees.

"Yes." He murmured, his eyes never wavering. His voice was clear yet quiet.

" What are you?" He asked reverently. "Why are you here?" It was an honest question. Studying her, Slyph was awed by her cool demeanor.

She stills, eyes closed. For the longest time, there was silence as she breathed in a way that can be taken as silent laughter.

"What am I?" she said, "I'm me."

She open her eyes and looked up to the drizzling skies. "As for why? It's just easier being me when people don't try to stifle it."

"Oh." The response was odd in the sense that he expected something much more literal (he genuinely was curious). As the boy stood up, ge took out a pair of glasses and perching them on his nose. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the world around him.  The distinct jab of mockery permeated the air, and Slyph suddenly became quite invested in his surroundings, a subtle redness appeared on his ears.

"As for why? It's just easier being me when people don't try to stifle it."

Unsatisfied with the clarity of his spectacles, Slyph whipped them off and started to meticulously clean them of dust and water, trying to keep them out of the rain, turning away from the girl.

"Well... I should hope that you are you. You can't really be anyone else." Giving up on his glasses, he set them on his face, tucking his hands under his armpits to keep them warm. He looked quite thin, like he could be blown away any moment.

But the boy stayed on the ground, and mearly sighed. "That doesn't explain why you are here, on the roof. No one comes up here when it rains." He glanced over his shoulder at the girl, suspicious.

A shadow of a smirk appears on her face as she walks in front of him, steps large, slow and deliberate.

"And yourself? Are you no one?" she says almost playfully. As she did so, her stance changed from one of listlessness to one more confident and certain. A predatory gleam comes over her eyes and she leans over the prone figure. She wasn't particularly large, yet she made herself seem bigger than she actually was.

With every movement forward, Slyph took a step back, mirroring her footsteps. He suddenly felt very small, even though he was at least a few inches taller.

If he was The Hero, he would have something witty to say. He would be someone. He would be important and confident and be able to stand up to this… ghost of a girl.

“I… I don’t… what? No I’m…” He faltered. No one spoke like this. No one spoke like this to him. No one really spoke to him at all.

The red spread from his ears to his cheeks as he unfolded his hands. He knew what she meant. Why was she even here? What did she want?

"I don't want to be no one. Does anyone?" He stopped his slow retreat and challenged the ghost of a girl, stopping his retreat. "Why are you even talking to me? Who are you-" He checked his wording.

"What is your name?" Slyph articulated. This girl was like some strange spirit, always talking in questions and riddles.

"I'm Nameless."

She stops, then raises a finger to her lips in thought. "That is to say, Nameless is my name."

With the strange statement stated, she takes her finger, reaches out and pokes the boy on the nose. "Boop."

"I'm Nameless."

"There's no need to be dramati-" Slyph tapped his foot impatiently and rolled his eyes.

"That is to say, Nameless is my name."

The foot tapping stopped. Slyph blinked a few times out of embarrassment.

"I... oh... I didn't mean to-"

"Boop."

The boy recoiled in terror, and flailed his arms in front of his face in self defense. He let out an indignant squeak. "NYAH! Stop it!"

He quickly pushed some of his sopping hair out of his eyes and straightened his sweater, causing a small deluge as water was rung out of it. He looked down at the puddle at his feet and sighed another signature heavy, tired sigh before glaring pitifully down at the newly christened Nameless.

"Why are you even talking to me..." He repeated

Wow, that sounded... absolutely pathetic

She shows her amusement at the boy's overreaction by raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms.

Her amusement gives away to bemusement when he asks his question. Her uncross and spread as she spins around, droplets flying off her.

"Look around," she says, "What else would I do? Stand and stare? I could do that, but that doesn't seem any less strange. And it's more boring."

She stopped spinning in front of him. "Why, are you not worth talking to?"

"Alright. Touché." Slyph conceded. he squinted as droplets from the girl's pirouette showered him and his glasses. He sighed for the umptillionth time and wiped some of the water off.

"Why, are you not worth talking to?"

He thought for a moment, scratching his chin. He didn't do that often, because he had a nasty tendency to think out loud. This usually led to stuttering, awkward pauses, and a humiliatingly long time for him to finish his thought.

But he thought, and after he thought, he spoke, "That's a trap; I can't say that I am not worth talking to because then I'll just sound like some pathetic sad sack. I can't say that I am worthy to talk to because that would sound conceited." He neglected to add that the former was probably true.

"and besides, You started talking to me." He grinned triumphantly. "You could have just ignored me. But you didn't."

Her arms which were outstretched now fall to her sides. Her head tilts upwards.

"And that made you sound like you worry far too much," she says, half to herself, half to the air. She holds up a finger "And I recall that you began by apologising for being a bird."

She frowns.

"What was that about?"

"You don't even know me..." The boy muttered, assuming Nameless was talking to him.

"And I recall that you began by apologising for being a bird."

Slyph's eyes widened slightly and his newly gained confidence crumbled. How could he forget?

"What was that about?"

"I... euuuuh..." He floundered for a while, unsure of what to say before smiling, weak and nervous.

"'I crow when I'm happy?'" He haphazardly questioned his quote as he said it. This was not The Neverland.

Not one for literature, she misses the quote and just stares at Slyph for a long while, rain dripping off her hood. Her face remained a emotionless mask as she did, with not even a smirk gracing her features.

Slyph waited for a rebuke on his childish taste in literature, but the sass never came. He looked up at Nameless, confused about her confusion.

"Peter Pan?" He held his breath for a look of recognition on the girl's face. " J.M. Barrie's masterpiece play from the early 20th century that turned into a children's book for all ages about the boy who never grew up?" Again he paused, seeing if his summation had any effect.

"Y-you know?"

She tilts her head, ever so slightly. Her eyes narrow. Lips straighten, reminiscent of a frown.

"That explains nothing."

Her tone had changed. Before, her voice was as light and free as the wind; now, they were as heavy as raindrops, each syllable an impact on a hard surface. Her head then lowers, hiding her eyes with her hood. Her arms, once waving and flapping about haphazardly had stuck to her sides, and her hands were closed into fists.

The cold of her voice pierced his mind, and Slyph's shoulders curled inwards. He wrung his hands.

"Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to..." He trailed off for a while until he took a deep breath. "It's... my favorite story. When I was a kid. Peter... the main character... always crowed when he was pleased with himself. Sometimes I do too. Just... you know..." He spoke of the character more like a friend than some fey from a fairy tale.

"Don't you know the story?" Slyph tried very hard not to sound as he was mocking anyone, but a slight hint of surprise crept into his voice. "I thought everyone knew Peter Pan." There was no ridicule, only confusion in his tone as he sniffled and snuffled in the rain.

She blinks, and her narrowed eyes return to their normal default, blank with a shade of bored observation. Her posture relaxes as she flicks her wrist out in a lazy arc.

"I know of it," she says, her tone starting to adopt its usual lightness again.

Truth be perfectly told, she never resonated with the whole 'childhood' and 'grown-up' distinction, in that she didn't see any at all. So when he first encountered the concept that the story presented, she never felt compelled to pursue it further.

Plus, Loyal never was one for reading bedtime stories, though the image was amusing enough to entertain it in her mind for a brief while. Her adoptive mother's cynical tongue, cutting through the hapless, innocent words like a knife to flesh.

It was this image that brought a hint of a smirk to her face as she spins around and starts walking to the edge of the roof, strides sweeping her whole body back and forth.

"So what possibly made you happy enough to mimic a child that refuses to mature?" she calls, not bothering to face the one she was addressing.

"O-oh." Slyph sighed and looked off, glad if only that the predatory posture she assumed had left.

The boy had an odd relationship with children's stories. He was never read them when he was little, but as of a few years ago he gained a scholarly and particularly voracious interest in all manners of fairy tales, fables, and other folk stories. He never considered them to be 'childish', or in any way associated with children, so Nameless' question took him aback.

"A Child?" he blinked a few times. "Oh... right... Well..." He watched the girl as she walked past him and towards the edge of the roof. "b-be careful." He whispered frightfully, not having the courage to be so commanding.

The boy looked to the sky for answers, blinking every so often to ward drops from his eyes. "I just... like rainy weather, you know? Thunder and lighting and rain and... I guess... it makes me feel powerful? Like Peter. He flies, wins sword fights with pirates, and is really conceited about it all the time." He laughed a light and wispy laugh. He never really questioned why he found storms so thrilling, and articulating how he felt was never really a strong suit of his.

Realizing he was talking too much, he decided to turn the focus of the conversation to the mystery of a girl. "What about you, then? what makes you feel powerful?"

She walks over to the edge of the roof, only half listening to his explanation about storms, looking over at the drop, judging how far the fall is.

At his question, she stops. Her head jerks upwards, eyes widen. And she turns around. And she changes.

The most notable thing was her expression. Where it was once a bored listless, it was sharp, focused, almost predatory. Her posture had become a coiled spring, wound up and ready to pounce. When she spoke, it was different person using the same voice.

"I could, at this very moment take a single step backwards into oblivion. I can end my existence with a small single action. Knowing how fragile a life is, and how easily you can take it away? Knowing this, accepting this, embracing this; it can either drive you to despair or enlightenment."

She extended her arms out to the sides and took a big deep breath.

"In a sense, I'm dead already. So I can live how I like. Not fearing death. That's what power is."

((Sorry for the lack of colored dialogue! I'll fix it when I get on my computer!))
At first, her sudden change startled the boy. He took a step towards her cautiously, but he fell into a expression of serene observance. Her speech seemed to take away his outward anxiety.

"Not fearing death?" Slyph sat down, cross legged, considering the ground blankly. "To die would be an awfully big adventure."

"I don't think I'd want to live with a permanent Momento Mori over my head. I mean I could but I don't want to."

Scrunching his nose and wringing out his sweater, Slyph slowly retorted from his sitting position. "And I mean. I don't think anyone really expects to die until it's too late. Even thought it could (hypothetically) happen anytime, anywhere, for any number of reasons. Except..." His gaze returned to the girl on the edge. He stared at her feet.

"Do you think you'd ever do it?" He mused, looking up at her face curiously. "Take that little step into?"

A little pool began to fill in his lap.