The Wayward Warden [Isabella]

With evening on the horizon, the streets of Vista Square would quickly grow to become crowded as usual, flooded with a sea of chattering faces on their way to and from their jobs. The winds of change were upon the district however and the typical talk of meaningless squabbles and transient urban legends was snuffed out under the weight of the recent events that'd been happening; while few were daring enough to talk about it openly, the whispers of the mass of students and salarymen clearly had a certain theme to them... one that any terrorists would more than know the tune to. The Playhouse was making waves and its announcement had shook the district to its core. Even with the invisible eyes of the government locked on it there was no way to suppress the thought on everyone's mind; the seeds of rebellion had been planted, for good or for ill, and with that came a shifting climate in the otherwise filtered atmosphere of the media's bubble. While the overwhelming majority still clung to the queen, there were certainly people who had begun to have doubts... and with those doubts, unfortunately, came certain side effects. Nothing particularly chaotic had occurred, but with the highest force of the law challenged on national television, it was no surprise that petty crime had started to see a rise in the lips of Endymion. Though dealt with efficiently, there'd certainly been an isolated spike in the past few days, and it was one that only served to further incentivize some kinds of people.


Covered by the distant chatter of the masses, several sharp pops and clanks rang out from a corner of the city, an alley where a childish attendant sat atop a trash can with her back to the entrance doing... something. It could easily be considered a miracle that the ruckus she was making had gone unnoticed so far, but the silver-haired girl seemed to appreciate that very little as she loudly hammered away at whatever it was her back was blocking from sight, brows furrowing in frustration as her head hung low staring down at it. There didn't seem to be much in the way of equipment, but somehow still she was filling the air with an ear-grating sound almost akin to the whirring of a drill. Eventually after tearing into the mysterious object for a couple more minutes she threw her hands up in the air, impudently sighing as she held her weapon to the sky, the screwdriver glimmering cruelly in the heat of the sun while she cried out into the alleyway.

The murmured words that floated amidst the citizens of Endymion really had taken on a whole new meaning to her after that fateful night at the construction yard. Her outlooks renewed, the words Gabriel had spoken during the broadcast now held... much more weight. Still, she couldn't share those feelings.

It was funny, at night she wore one mask, the mask of Veritas. But at day, she wore another, less literal mask. To everyone else, save a select few, she could be nothing more than the average Jill. Still, taking a shortcut into one of the alleys to get away from the crowd not only meant getting away from the noise, one less thing to worsen her slowly growing headache, but also meant she could actually take sips of her coffee without having to worry about being bumped into and spilling the drink over herself or someone else. As the noise of the street grew a fraction more distant, Isabella would take a sip, only for a... sound to fall upon her ears.

Was someone doing some kind o construction work? At first the blonde intended on simply ignoring it, up until the point she could have sworn she'd heard some other sound amidst the unusual noise. The voice of a young female. Something familiar to it. She decided to investigate, renewing her grip on the paper bag she clutched with one hand to her chest.

As she approached, there was another sound, akin to a drill, followed a few minutes after by the voice again. Isabella couldn't quite make out all of it, but as she turned a corner, she could see a familiar shape. Even when seeing the other from behind, it was hard to mistake that voice, that stature, the white hair, and perhaps most of all, the blue velvet. Isabella tilted her head slightly upon the sight of the attendant, brandishing a screwdriver. "Felanie?" Was all the blonde would say for the time.