Quoted By:
It is eight in the <span class="mu-s">morning</span> of the twelfth day of December, of the year two thousand twenty two-
and welcome to Meguca Royale.
<span class="mu-s">--Status Report--</span>
▲ <span class="mu-i">Emma Imeredala</span> ▲
HP: 100
DP: 100
Condition: Normal
<span class="mu-g">Random Event Rolls:
71 = Intelligence
48 = Negative
13 = Magnitude 1</span>
<span class="mu-s">I</span>t's just for one brief second, but Emma does wonder how that rooster would taste like and how many people she could feed with it. Still in her pajamas, still in bed, still drowzy; yet the instant pang of guilt is almost enough to jolt her awake. Poor rooster, after all; it does its very best to keep her habits in check, yet she wants to it eat. Pushing deep inside the hard fact that she still /wants/ to eat it, Emma finally leaves the bed.
She's unphased when she comes down the stairs and finds both the kitchen and living room completely empty, in fact, a little piece of her enjoys it. The rest of her, of course, is entirely aware that ten minutes from now this house will put a rock concert to shame. Taking the eggs and carrots from the fridge, Emma thinks she would not have it any other way.
But barely five minutes after the first invader shows up after rolling down the stairs like a rock, non other than his new little sister Clara. Well, one of seven. She's barely five years old, and Emma doesn't even get to say 'good morning' when the kids pushes the tiny notebook to her chest.
Clara tells Emma that she 'can't solve the numbers'. Amused at first, Emma realizes, after taking a quick look, that it's actually a fairly advanced equation for someone as tender as the new lil sis. And yet, regardless, that should be totally obvious at this point for someone her age.
Hmm... what to do...
<span class="mu-i">Jimena Gimenez</span>
HP: 100
DP: 100
Condition: Normal
<span class="mu-g">Random Event Rolls:
60 = Wisdom
95 = TradeOff
39 = Magnitude 2</span>
<span class="mu-s">A</span>ctually, this is not even the fifth time that Jimena falls asleep on the floor; she simply will never try to remember the rest. Dad is simply sipping mate, watching the sports channel from the table right next to her, a man that was forced to ascend to a higher level of tolerance and acceptance. Still drooling like a faucet, you glace sideways towards that saint of a man and then the same sound that woke her up startles Jimena again- the cellphone very conveniently placed right next to her ear.
(cont!)
