Wipe That Dirty Smile Off: [ENIGMA.]

[~Calista R.~]

My inspiration for this thread comes from me not sleeping. >___> Wells, sorry for the crappy post. I wrote it at five. xD It's almost seven now. Yippee! -sarcasm-

---

A human-shape shifted from under their covers, then settled again. Another moment later - another movement. After that…another. Calista finally gave up her attempts at sleeping and glowered at her ceiling. She could take down men twice her size - although, that was just about anyone - and give Ranger brats a beat down any day. The one thing she couldn’t manage to get down was sleeping, which had provided an immense struggle for the young woman. Just that knowledge in itself made Calista angry, as well as anxious, and she growled.

The thought came to her on more than one occasion that she could be an insomniatic. Her dreams weren’t really anything to be feared, so that wasn’t the underlying problem. In fact, she rarely had nightmares at all; nothing really scared her to a point of sleeplessness. Her problem was the fact that, while she would lay down at twelve or so to rest up for the next day’s work, she couldn’t fully sleep until three. Then, at around five or so, she was awake and showed no signs of going back to sleep.

Calista gazed over at her clock, groaning softly as it flashed a neon 5:11. She then shifted her gaze towards her larger Pokemon laying on the floor and the smaller ones on her bed. They slept soundlessly and without movement, something that she envied greatly. And every few minutes or so one released a deep exhalation, signaling a deep slumber - one that Calista could do with at a time like now. But instead, she simply climbed to her feet, pulled a black sweatshirt over her silhouette and slipped out of her room without a sound.

Wandering around at night had become all too familiar with Calista. After all, she wouldn’t just sit around and wait for the hustle and bustle of everyone else to begin for the day while she had already been awake for a few hours or so. Plus, getting an early start on her day wasn’t that bad - well, it was, but she was always too tired to admit it. Waking up early did have a greater downside to it, though, aside from it being a nuisance. While she would wake up at five, she grew tired earlier than everyone else, and tried to sleep earlier. Thus every daily routine was the same, none differentiating from another. To most it was banal and annoying, to Calista - it was a task she had yet to tackle. Or at least she would like to think so.

Calista listened as her own footsteps tapped against the floor and watched as her plaid pajama pants billowed around her small thighs. The marble-floored hallways she walked down branched off in a set of arrays, and one she turned down revealed that she was headed for the cafeteria, a place where she spent a lot of her time thinking when tired. At this point she didn’t even need to read the plates on the floor telling her which hallway led where - her feet knew the way, as did her mind. When she approached the hydraulic door leading to the interior of the cafeteria, a smirk - which was the most emotion she would probably show that morning - played across her lips.

She weaved her way around the many chairs surrounding tables and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent light bulbs that gleamed all around the room. Breakfast wasn’t going to be made just yet, even though a few of the women on duty were shuffling around at the serving area. Calista paid no attention to them. She actually preferred to ignore them for the most part. They were just too friendly - Calista didn’t like that. Anyone who could smile while handing over thousands of calories to someone irked her; someone who smiled in general irked her. For as long as she could remember, that slight gesture - the soft curve of the lips…it was just not something she enjoyed. What brought it on? She hadn’t even the slightest inkling, but her past probably played a part in it. For most of her life she lived with people who were constantly happy.

“Here again, Miss. Ronaldson?” One of the few women asked. Calista simply shoved her off as a response, her eyes fixated on the clock on the wall. Walking down to the cafeteria hadn’t wasted as much time as she would have liked it to - it was only a half hour later than when she woke up - and slumped further into her uncomfortable chair. She tugged at the hood of her sweatshirt and pulled it over her face, creating a makeshift veil away from the rest of the world, while the serving ladies worked hastily to prepare food. The soft pitter-patter of feet against the floor and clink of each piece of silverware echoed throughout the room in a rhythm unknown. But after a few moments, Calista found it to remind her of the beating of a heart.

And in her thoughtless stupor, she listened with her eyes closed.

[E.nigma]

[Aww. Sorry ya couldn't sleep--and it's fine. Now let's see what Niggy is up to at 5 AM.]


The room was painted with shadows, white walls blended with marble floors--fading into an obscure grey. A single elegant couch--built of wicker wood, with simple straight lines--lay hunched in the center of the room like some sort of hibernating beast. The light green banding its hide stood out in mock relief, light cast on it from a large desk lamp. This small halogen creation , sat upon an unornamented desk. In the dark room it was hard to tell if the workspace was built from white steel, or homely mahogany [stained white]. The severity it gave off spoke of the first. Moonlight filtered in through gauze like curtains, through which one could see a sheer drop of grey, and feel the needle-sharp points of rocky spires that stood deep in the dark oceans depths. A small ring of light hovered around the desk, upon which a computer screen glowed, and a pair of snow white hands flew across the keyboard, gloves pulled with each keystroke. Occasionally the blurring fingers would pause, pick up a pen and quickly sign a dotted line, or slash through some bold text. Above the heavy steel doors that lead into the suite's foyer hung a large wall clock--the dark hands visible even in the darkness.

A pair of large yellow eyes blinked, and quickly glanced up from the computer screen. with the final echoes of typing now vanished, the room was completely silent--except for the ticking of the clock. The figure behind the desk slowly shook his head, green hair flying from his face in all directions. The gloved hands slowly slid from the elevated keys, and now lay flat on the desk.
" ...."
The chair slid away from the tidy workspace, clattering on well oiled wheels across glowing marble. Pausing in front of the window, the chair was emptied, the figure inside it stood.
"It appears those fools in records left out a few details."
The voice was severe, and cold--the very embodiment of business, and the very soul of boredom. Only the slightest turn of the lips suggested annoyance. The deep voice was lyrical--and at the same time intimidating in its lack of emotion. one would not expect it to come from the man who now stood by the chair.

White silk lay over more white silk, small glass buttons ran up the pajama shirt's front, the silver lined cuffs somehow managed to look formal . The pants were made of the same loose fabric, but once again spoke of business, and high-class. This fellow was the kind who could make most anything look intimidating except for the little bunny like ears that lay by his forehead, and his height. It was anything but imposing. The administrator could not even reach the top of the leather chair.

Without another word, the small figure walked his way around the desk--not at all bothered by the time. In fact, he could not even bother to remember the last time he slept, in that aspect he was much like a machine.

Besides--it was much easier to work in the twilight hours. No screaming, no hurried footsteps, no unneeded commotion. It was just the rhythmic waves, the ticking of a clock, and the sound of his own breathing.

Three fingers wrapped around the doorknob, and the door was flung open. A hat now lay upon the administrator’s head--a white top hat reminiscent of a magicians black one. However no bunnies would ever be pulled from this headgear--only thing under it was a very keen brain, and a very bored fellow.

--

The hallway outside Enigma's room was dark, the halogen lights only flickered dimly. The pokemorph easily traversed the length of the hallway, only the glow in his eyes hinting at the reason he found it so simple. A simple white wall lay in front of him, a pedestal of white marble lay beside it. A single claw like hand pressed into the wall, where one could see a very slight discoloration. With a rush of air, the door revealed itself, swiftly closing when the Pravus administrator exited. No pokeballs adorned his sides, and he had no form of identification--but he walked with a silent authority--childlike or not.

Weaving through a web of corridors, the administrator eventually arrived in the main lunch room. A few souls poked their way around--shattering his much valued silence, and gave him good cause for a migraine. The smells that now began to waft from the kitchen made his rounded nose wrinkle in disgust. Was that slop what the grunts had earned as of late? It appeared things were much worse than he had previously thought. Maybe the lack of nutrition was what made them such un-ambitious fools.

--

For the entire trip, he had walked without pause, turning corners without pausing to glance at the scenery--after twenty years, it was still the same. Different animals--same zoo. No need to look at the new paint, or the anciet book in the case off of the third hallway. It was all the same. White loafers clicked against the floor, and then with a startling motion, the administrator stopped in front of a stiff backed chair.

The black hooded figure reminded him of someone. The same huddles posture--and the girl had once been someone he did not mind being related to. No longer--that little rat would not be found in these halls--but then again maybe so? One peek at the stray hairs framing the girl's face, and the nostalgia vanished. A grunt. A lazy one by the looks of it.
" There is a reason you have assigned dorms Miss Ronaldson."
In the time it took him to speak he had already sorted through over two thousand personnel files, and determined who this odd figure was.
"I suggest you go back to your own room."
The voice now teetered somewhere between childish, and annoyed.

The man's face was shadowed by the brim of his hat--hopefully he heard no mention of upstart children. Those really began to grate on his nerves after a while.

He liked it when they thought him a ghost. Or forgot about him. But really if any guests were to walk in now, this silly girl would give them a very lazy appearance.

[~Calista R.~]

Calista allowed her eyes to wander around the cafeteria when she realized that she wasn’t going to be rewarded with much needed sleep. From where she sat she could see the many hanging lights dotting the ceiling, giving off an unnaturally white hue. She almost had to close her eyes against them to keep herself from seeing sunspots flash sporadically from within her field of view. Aside from the white being emanated from the fixtures hanging from the ceiling, she noted the white and black marble countertops and floor that, when staring at from a great distance, made her sight waver from time to time. Adjusting to the room’s movement, Calista gazed back down at the sleeve of her black sweatshirt. A hole had been cutout at the very end, making room for her thumb to slip right through. Normally she would have slipped her finger through, but the hole had been stretched too far after normal wear-and-tear and made it so she could practically fit her whole hand through.

A sigh escaped the youth’s lips as she leaned back even further in her chair. Her posture, which was usually erect, was slouched so her shoulders curled forward and her elbows met the table. Voices in the back of her head told her that it was unladylike for a woman to put her elbows on the table, but she pushed them aside. When she joined up in the Pravus ranks, all voices of greater power had been eradicated. Well, aside from the president, Enigma and a few other of the more influential members. She liked that. She likes the lack of rules and responsibilities that came with Pravus aside from the normal ones she had to follow when on missions or simply training. Before she would allow herself to slip into an unwanted wave of nostalgia, Calista pulled herself back to reality and noticed that the 3’11 Enigma was making his way across the room and up to her.

She pulled the hood covering her face further down up against her forehead and ran her fingers through the dark hair peeking out through the sides in attempts to hide the evidence that she was lazing off in the cafeteria of all places. For the longest time - or as long as he sleep patterns had began changing - she crept into the cafeteria. Never before had anyone ever entered when she was inside. Seeing Enigma out of all the people who could have came in and made misguided assumptions towards her made her usually emotionless visage turn grim. Her lips that almost always never upturned or curved down dropped into a frown. It was a firm one, but a frown nonetheless. In all of her years of living, being embarrassed never troubled her so much. And being embarrassed…that was rare.

“I know. I know,” Calista replied, her gaze falling onto the table below. “But I can’t sleep there.” The second comment was muttered, and hopefully not loud enough to be heeded to the ear.

Calista’s eyes finally returned to Enigma, giving him a quick once-over. The man was…well, he didn’t really look like a man. He looked like a young boy with his childish features: golden eyes that still held their innocent glimmer; his height, which was that of a little boy; and his clothing choice. Calista herself wasn’t one to make quick assumptions about people and their clothing choice, seeing as she wore dresses on a daily basis - checkered ones mainly - but she could make an exception for Pravus’ president who seemed to enjoy dressing up like a magician who tried to differentiate from the others by wearing white instead of the typical black.

And if the man was trying to appear to be a little boy, he definitely didn’t have to try. He had that in the bag. However, unlike most little boys, Enigma wasn’t cute. Calista didn’t like cute. It bothered her immensely.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Calista began, her lips drawing into a smirk, “Why are you here?” Two could play at his game. If he came down to the cafeteria, he must have had an ulterior motive as well as her. Maybe he couldn’t sleep either, which would have made him very hypocritical. Calista didn’t like those people either: hypocrites.

Calista leaned forward in her chair, correcting her posture in the process. She extended a hand to the man, gesturing for him to sit down. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m awake now.” Awake she was. Thoughtful she was, too. She hadn’t really been given the chance to speak with Enigma. He always kept to himself, acting the role of a ghost.

A ghost. Calista thought for a moment. Drifting into the surroundings. Hm. I’d like that...

[E.nigma]

[Future reference: I doubt she'd know who he was [only people Alex and higher usually do.] But seeing as it has no real bearing on my reply~ we're good. Of course she might have made fun of his appearance if she ...didn't know who he was. No biggy though~]

Enigma more resembled an ancient statue than a man as he stood in front of Calista. The man's shoulders remained slightly crooked, one arm hung at his side--the other was bent at the elbow. The angled arm sloped downward into a silk lined pocket, little claws strained against their fabric cages, needle sharp points rested on the surface of his palm, gnarled fingers forming a small tunnel above the taut surface. Both of his legs were spaced evenly, loafers pointed forward, coming to rest underneath the table at which Calista now sat. Unlike the low-ranking Pravus, his posture was free of shifts, and twitches. Instead it was still, and calm. Once one looked at his face however, the idea that he was a life-like statue was shattered. While both of his eyes seemed to stare straight ahead--not even bothering to capture Calista-- the golden irises occasionally shifted, quickly swooping downward before returning to their former position. In a somewhat morbid sense, they resembled vultures, in that they observed their potential prey for signs of weakness, with what seemed sheer disinterest. Enigma was no bird of prey, it would be good to remember that. Why? Vultures were relatively harmless. The administrator acknowledged Calista’s words with a nod of his eyes, and a slow blink.

After a few heartbeats, Enigma replied. The tone spoke of boredom. The volume spoke of secrets--a hushed whisper that carried with it a certain quality that begged to be listened to. Halfway through however, his voice assumed its normal volume:
“ It appears you know more then some of your peers Miss Ronaldson.”
The lips slowly changed position, the edges curled downward. The frown was one of annoyance, and of disappointment--the reason was not even the least bit interesting, much less a good one. In some distant way this psychic was much like him, and yet she sat in a chair muttering like a petulant child. Not exactly a good way to be promoted--whining to a superior about not being able to control your own body. The ears resting amid a nest of hair twitched, vibrations quickly translated into words. The administrator’s eyes narrowed slightly:
“If I may--Why? Any issues with your rooms are to be reported to your hall supervisor. Not to the empty air, at a volume inaudible to most….humans.”
The ears seemed to giggle as they gave another twitch, taunting the other psychic for her ignorance.

The man's eyes gradually moved from the private's face, coming to rest on the hole in the jacket. Hopefully Miss Ronaldson took better care of her missions than of this piece of fabric.
" .. Is there a reason you're staring at me? It is considered rude you know?"
Enigma was not one for staring--at least not at people. Clothing, walls, lying dirty mouths--but very rarely the person behind or near them.

"Me? Well. I have a work order to deliver--as well as a complaint to our faulty records department. Only reason I stopped was because you briefly reminded me of something. Besides sloppy workmanship."
The frown had disappeared, and was now replaced with a straight lipped expression. Whether it was a curiosity tickling at the back of his mind, or a random impulse, the administrator pulled out the chair opposite Calista, and sat down. Both of his palms rested on the table--interlaced in a dome shape.
" Calista Ronaldson--Grunt 00567 --adopted by the Ronaldson family. Eldest son of which is now a member of the vigilante band. Possesses untested psychic powers."
The words echoed those found in the girl's personnel file. it was a simple test, maybe the girl would react in some manner.


A fellow could hope?

--

In the room, a winged shape sat up on the edge of bed. A piece of loose fabric snapped in the breeze from the ajar window. A beak clacked together in a yawn, as a pair of large feet slipped into a pair of slippers.

Extremely fuzzy.

Extremely Bright.

Extremely adorable.

Pink bunny slippers.

"Niggy~ you still up? I'm going out to get hookers..."

Nothing. Not that it would garner a response normally.


--

Slippers sliding across the marble, the winged figure slid out the front door. A slight glow emanated from beneath the band wrapped tightly around its blistered eye sockets.

[ Sorry ....disgusting...eew. xD]