Scars of Summer

A group of men walk confidently through a paved area, wearing matching varsity jackets, with brick retaining walls to dirt and grass, with a pavilion at the end of one of its paved paths. As they walk by people, they're immediately aggressive in swatting books out of hands, kicking metal trash cans hard enough to crumble them against the retaining walls.

Or, ending up into the base of the LED cobra-style street lights for some stray shot cans. You'd think these receptacles had personally insulted every family member the main man had, after slapping them as well, with how hard he'd kicked them. Some people are taking the opportunity of distance to get up and walk, some break into a mild sprint when they're nearly struck by the occasional trash cans turned projectiles strike near them.

But one person, in a hooded cloak doesn't react, as they idly read a leatherbound book. The group pays no particular mind to this person's lack of movement, they continue past slapping other people's belongings or drinks out of their hands.

But when it comes to the cloaked person, something odd happens: The group leader, tries slapping their book with an overhead motion... To no effect, as the person, their clothing or the book are not there before the raised hand can even make contact. Instead, the person and belongings are 10 inches to the right.

"What the fuck- Tricky ass bitch" The man says with a wide backhand attempt aimed for the book. Now the person isn't in sight anywhere nearby. "Yeah you better run f-" [SIiiiIP] A loud, entirely intentional sipping is heard nearby. It's them again, now on top of one of those overhead lights, drinking something. It takes them a few seconds of looking, but with another long drawn out [SIiiIP] they all lock onto them.

"Mm, this is some bomb-ass hot chocolate." They mutter to themselves, as if entirely alone and completely ignoring the gentlemen nearby. Or so it would seem. "You- DAMN TRICKY BITCH!" The main guy yells, with a now enhanced body, tackling the light fixture down. "WHERE ARE YOU NOW?!" He follows up with a yell, when he doesn't see the person's outline. Another loud [SIiiiiIP] from the next light fixture, with the leader's head nearly snapping to the source, as his body reflexively moved toward it, then stops at the sight of the cloaked woman.

She's upside down, like she's got magnets in her past attaching her to the underside of the street light, next to the LED bulb in fact. She takes another audible sip, though now almost silently, seemingly also unaffected by gravity, as the liquid flows and behaves as if under regular conditions. The same for the hooded cloak. You'd think hanging upside down would bring it down to reveal what's hiding underneath, but instead it also acts as if under regular gravity.

It's only now that this is happening, where the leader and his group second-guess trashing the place. With the woman side-eyeing the main varsity jacket man, who has someone speak in his ear

"Jeremy we gotta leave, this mug clearly more in-deep than we are. They're giving off a sinister vibe." "Nah," Jeremy answers this time enhancing himself once more leaping forward once more. Only for them to stop mid-stride, where the cloaked person appears on top of their head. The cloaked person think to themselves (My my, the strongest one of this group and I'd rate them 9 points, how disappointing, not even remotely exciting ♠ ♠) While drinking from their cup once more. Where Jeremy tries moving to swat them or attack them in any manner only for this person, to once again, disappear and reappear.

This time right in front of Jeremy, giving off a malicious aura with the cloaked person inches from their face. He flinches backing up, raising his hands up to start boxing, with an orthodox stance. "Nah c'mon run it." (Meh, gutsy I guess, 9 points and a dust of sugar ♠ ♠), the cloaked person mulls over drinking from their cup once more, irking Jeremy enough to try swinging with another enhanced punch. It's caught.

"So, have you noticed this doesn't work? ♠" The cloaked person asks, with a wicked grin as they emit palpable harmful intentions. "I might of figure, let go-" "Nah-ah, you were causing a ruckus~ ♠" They say in a playfully toying way, moving their fingers around slyly, in a creeping manner until it's just the index and middle finger hold the man's fist and arm in place. "You didn't step up to nothin' to defend anyone." "You tried smacking my book down, that wasn't very nice~ ♠" Is said by the person, pressing their fingers on either side of the fist slowly, intentionally drawing things out.

"Ay, I'm sorry man, I was just trying to do something!" Jeremy grunts trying to pull his arm away, with his whole body. Someone else of the 7 men tries to attack while both primary parties are pinned in place, only for the attack to... completely pass through the cloaked person. "Y'like my Riff, there? S'Big Chill. ♠"

"Aw hell nah, this motherfucker got Ben10 shit, we out." Says another of the group, as they walk around the situation unfolding. "Damn, those your mans? ♠" "Fuck, I thought, but that Big Chill riff you got there changes everything- just lemme go I'm sorry alright?" Jeremy bargains with a sincere apology. "Ah, I see. ♦ Apologizing only once someone can press you? How lacklustre like my brother, not even worth the 9 points I rated you. ♦" "Points? Rated me? What the hell, you're that kinda different just let me go, I'm going peacefully"

The cloaked figure relinquishes their grip, with the man clutching her hand as he's jogging away. His group at least waited for him a distance away, near a café. Though when he catches up with them, the group as a whole spot the cloaked woman sitting at one of the tables drinking a cup of something as well as reading once again. They all collectively get a shiver go up their spine, realising this distance of more than 100ft away was not a safe one, they speed walk away lacking the destruction of property they had before.

(Hmm, how annoying such people exist in that mindset of might-is-right and only understand rules, when enforced by someone stronger. 'Really is like my shitass brother eh ♠). The cloaked person thinks over as a server comes over to them.

"Ready for another hot chocolate ma'am?" "No that's alright, thank you ♠" "Really? It's free, someone payed for it, a gift directed to you. The nice little gentlemen said its from an old friend." They cheerily speaks.

The cloaked woman eyes the cup carefully: A hot chocolate, large, a piece of red velvet and whipped cream from the top down one side. It sends an image to the woman's mind. She knows who sent this.

The server appears to register what she just said, as she sees the brief shift in the cloaked woman's eyes. They way she's looking across the surroundings, looking for something. Or someone.

"Is... this an issue you're dealing with?" "A fu-god damn, stalker. ♦" "A-ah. I will let the staff know, is this a situation where the custodians should be called?" "Yes. For my safety and yours. ♦" "M-mine?" The server narrow her eyes, now aware of eyes on her, despite how quietly she and the cloaked woman are speaking. "W-why?"

The cloaked woman's expression, that can be seen, becomes more grim. "Just walk back calmly, if the person comes and asks about the drink say I refused it because I've had my fill. If they ask about what our conversation is about, I advise saying it was about the bill. ♦" "You advise? Just how often is this a problem? I'll call a custodian right away." "Every 2 years or so. Usually it is in December. ♦" "Very well, I'll be off." The server hurriedly walks back, meanwhile when back inside the building, she tries to look less afraid than she is.

Putting on her best customer service voice, when returning behind the counter she's called by the person who paid for the drink.

"Hey! What's wrong, why didn't they take the driink?" The figure asks, stood with a tilted head and eyes that feel vacant. "Ah, they turned it down, said they'd had their fill." The short gent huffs that "Bah, always such a fighter." Scratching a deep gash into the cashier desk itself, before a crack appears from the force they applied. "Ah, well. Here's a tip for your trouble~" They say with a dreary, sickly sweetness, before placing a gold coin in front of them.

Quietly, calmly the server speaks "Wh- Sir, that's a Crown Coin. What are you paying for exactly? You already paid for the drink in paper bills." "Ahh, that's to stop trouble. Don't call the custodians. I'll be out of your hairs." The gentlemen says with a sinister, wry smile, before turning around and leaving. The little bell of the door ringing.

Said gentlemen looks about the café's seating at the front and side of it, but no longer seeing the cloaked woman. "Aww, she slipped away for now. Was the hot chocolate with a red velvet slice in the middle and whipped cream on the tip direct enough for that dog?" They ponder before this, spotting someone in armour in general view of the establishment. "Oop, custodians, nope~" They quietly murmur before leaping onto the roof and hiding on the other side of the roof's peak.

"Ah, the tigerlily I'd like to plant in my garden.. The sun that no longer rises in my life, to my lonely moon." The 'gentlemen' says to themselves almost at a whisper, while laying low on the roof. With the shadow they cast, stretching, contorting and something beginning to rise from, be physically formed out of said shadow. It gains colour, then lightens until they're a copy of the original. "Go my clone. Follow them, meet them at the train. Rile them up with my knowledge, make a scene of how she reacts." The 'gentlemen' imparts upon his clone.

On the ground level, the custodian is casting an eye across the area, one eye shining in the winter sunlight. Their face portrays their lack of interest in this call. In fact, upon being directed to the person being stalked, they visibly become agitated.

"You again." The custodian says with a tight jaw. "Oh one of the Dragoon Knights. Classic. ♦" The cloaked woman says with venom in her voice. The server, stood by them, asks "You two know each other...?" "This woman is a waste of my time." The custodian responds sharply, already turning away. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Walk away from justice in favour of personal items. ♦ ♦" The woman snarls back, with a deep gutteral voice. "You shut your disgusting mouth, Marrow." "The name is Sol. ♦ ♦" "Ironic since you don't seem to have one." The custodian practically growls back, getting right in Sol's face, as both party's energy swells.

"Um will everything be ok? The stalking guy-" "Enough." The custodian barks at the service worker, before turning back to Sol. "Get fucking lost, less-than-scum. Get away from these decent people and I HOPE, they come back and kill you, dog." The custodian snarls before stomping away over towards the direction train station, their armour clanging together as they walk. Their metal boots planting firmly in the ground, leaving obvious prints in the grass.

"So what was uh that about?" The server asks. "An old friend being in the custodians and favouring the old friend, who ordered the hot chocolate for me. Only the dragoon squad, so rotten, of all the people. Tch. ♦" Sol grumbles as an answer, her energy still swirling but significantly lowered, steadily declining. The custodian's however, still visible from the distance already between them. "Well, I'm going to go back to my work, um, I'm going to mention this dislike by the dragoon custodians to Dakota, since they dislike her too." "Oh, ok, yeah sure. I'll just be at the train station, waiting for the ride into Central, then. ♥︎⁠" Sol speaks calmer, bows her head slightly before disappearing from the server's sight as well.

She gets back into the café, shaken, maybe even stirred as she's asked by members of staff what's gone down. She informs them, she's allowed to go on break earlier.