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[Prince Masaomi isn't the only one out in search of a particular girl today. After a dance that even he doesn't quite understand, Prince Arumat here is left with nothing but a glass slipper as a clue to the identity of that mysterious girl.

And for some reason he feels compelled to actually go out and see if he can find who it belongs to. Yeah, he's not sure either.

Just try this shoe on so he can get this over with, okay? Yes, that means you, if you happen to be a girl (or girly-looking enough).]

[It's been quite a while since Arumat has last been to the barracks-- after the creation of the Battle Dome, he's been spending his time in the battle simulators there instead of at the barracks. But today is a special occasion. Today he's got his two students in tow with the intent of testing the skills they've learned in a two-on-one battle, no holds barred... on their ends, at least. He might be holding back just the slightest bit to keep from hurting them, though he'll never admit to it.

So that's why he's currently standing in the barracks, laser scythe out and turned on as he goes through a few practice maneuvers while waiting for them to arrive.

Later on that evening after the sparring, he'll be heading back on home, looking perhaps a little more pleased than he did when he left in the morning.]

[The snow is only serving to increase Arumat's already bad mood, and without his symbology, he's forced to shovel it by hand instead of just using a fire symbol to melt it away from the walkway in front of House 25. So that's what he's currently doing, a very decided scowl on his face as he works... but at least the exercise helps relieve a little frustration, right?

Right. Maybe. Or maybe it's just making him even MORE frustrated than he was before. Anyone brave enough to find out?]

(OOC: THANKS FOR DYING FOR AN HOUR, INTERNET. 8|)

[Today is just an ordinary day for Arumat: get up, do whatever was needed around the house, and then head over to the battle dome to train, where he'll spend the majority of the afternoon. In the evening, he'll head back to House 25... only to pause the moment he opens the door. Something's not right, he can sense that much, and his pace picks up as he strides down the hall to open his housemates' doors to check on them. He's not surprised that Draco isn't around - that much is normal - but when he opens Myuria's door...

... empty. Completely empty, as if she'd never even been there. He stands staring for a long moment before turning on his heel and stalking out of the house, grip tight on his laser scythe.

Shortly thereafter he can be found in the forest near the barracks, practicing his scythe techniques on a bunch of hapless trees-- although really, "practicing" is more like "beating the hell out of." There won't be much more than splinters left when he's done with them. Anyone is free to stumble across him there and ask him what the heck he's up to/try to get him to stop/whatever.

He'll keep this up until the darkness and falling temperatures force him to return home; once he gets there, he'll retreat into his room and shut the door. Sorry Draco, he's not exactly feeling sociable right now.]

[There are multiple scratched-out lines in the journal, as if whoever is writing this had a hard time trying to figure out just what the heck to say.]

What do you

If you were going to

For

What is

What do women like?

[A little later in the afternoon, Arumat can be found in the kitchen of House 25, which now smells... like burning chocolate. There's chocolate cake batter all over the table, the counter, and even some on the ceiling (this is why you don't let genetically-enhanced supersoldiers mix cake batter by hand), and there just might be some starting to ooze out of the oven as well.

... there's a reason he doesn't normally do the cooking around the house.]

[Wind. The first thing he's aware of is the breeze on his face, blowing his bangs so that they tickle his cheeks. The sun is almost blindingly bright even through his closed eyelids, and it's several long minutes before he even dares open them, lifting one hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight he hasn't seen in almost exactly a month. Was the sky always that blue? He's not sure. All he knows is that his head is spinning and his body aches.

Once he feels like he can stand without fear of his legs giving out underneath him, he'll be doing so. The walk back through town seems longer than usual, not because he's going more slowly, but because he's noticing things he never did before, just little details he'd always overlooked because he'd been so focused on whatever he was doing at the time.

He's not sure he likes this feeling.

He won't even announce his return when he finally reaches the house-- he'll just enter and shut the door quietly behind him. No need to give a head start to the yelling that will inevitably follow, after all... at least this way he might be able to get a few moments of peace first.]

(OOC: Feel free to run into him on his way through town if you'd like!)

[Filtered to draftees]

[Arumat had been looking forward to the draft, to a chance to fight, ever since he'd seen his name on that list. Not so much so now that he's learned he's on a team full of people who absolutely refuse to kill, however. It's frustrating him a great deal, and that frustration is evident in his voice as he speaks.]

What do you plan to do with those prisoners you've captured if their comrades attempt to come to their aid? Will you just sit back and allow them to lure more fighters here and hope that you can subdue them too? You're putting us all at risk with this idiocy, and I have no intention of losing any men in this battle.

[Filtered to Myuria // 95% unhackable]

We need to talk.

[There's a certain Eldarian soldier stalking angrily through the plaza. That in itself is nothing out of the ordinary; Arumat walks around with a scowl on his face a good 95% of the time. No, what's unusual is the fact that he's positively dripping with chocolate syrup. Yep, guess who got caught in a chocolate rain? The situation probably wouldn't be nearly as amusing if it weren't for his choice of regular attire, which somehow makes the entire thing look even worse.

Later on, he's going to be returning home to House #25 and making a beeline for the shower, but not before dripping chocolate all over the floor and down the hall. Housemates, feel free to laugh/and or yell at him for making a mess. AGAIN.]

[As night falls, anyone near the northern edge of the village might spot a figure slowly limping his way towards the southern reaches of town, headed towards House 25. Closer observation will reveal that it's Arumat, battered and bleeding and dragging his right leg as he doggedly trudges on in silence. There's a makeshift splint on his injured leg; the pants leg beneath it is flattened and soaked with blood from an unknown injury. It's obvious that he's in pretty bad shape. However, any offers of help will likely be met with an angry glare... he's focused on one thing and one thing alone, and that's getting back home.

Of course, Arumat being Arumat, he won't announce his return once he reaches the house. Instead, he'll drag himself to the couch in the living room, where he'll collapse, too exhausted and in too much pain to manage the trek from it to his own room.

... and yes, he left a nice blood trail from the door to the couch. Have fun cleaning that up, Myuria and Draco.]

[Arumat isn't in the habit of making voice posts to his journal... that alone should be a warning sign that something isn't right. What he says next should make the situation very clear.]

So you think you can challenge Death himself, do you?

[There's the high-pitched whine of his laser scythe clicking on, followed by a sound as it shifts to its four-bladed form.]

Diabolic Edge!

[After that, the only noises the journal picks up are the chaos of battle, yells and the hiss of the scythe's blade as it cuts through the air, sharp metallic clangs as it finds its mark on the marauding droids.

But eventually those sounds grow fainter and fainter until all that is left is silence. Those who stumble upon the scene outside of House 25 will find his scythe lying in the grass, his journal half-open against a rock several yards away. Droid parts litter the lawn and the path up to the house-- it's clear Arumat did not go quietly at all. The blood spattered on the dirt is further proof of this.]

[Afternoon finds Arumat on his way to the store to pick up a few necessary ingredients for dinner. Little does he know, however, that he is currently broadcasting his thoughts for the world to see via a thought bubble hovering over his head as he walks through town. Every so often the words will change to an image: often Crowe or Myuria or Edge, sometimes Faize or Lymle. Sometimes they take a darker turn, showing a strange spacecraft that appears to consist of a strange, pulsing red-black mass, or a battalion of soldiers made up of the same material. But more frequently, his thoughts are quite simple:]

(Never thought I'd be spending my birthday here. At least it's better than spending it with the lad aboard the Calnus-- that fool would never let me hear the end of it.)

[Of course, the irony here is that the fact that it's his birthday is the very LAST thing he wants anyone to know. Pointing it out will likely result in some interesting responses.]

[Getting drunk hadn't been Arumat's intention. He'd just been planning on having a couple of drinks as a way to unwind and get away from the house for a little while, that was all. But that Romulan Ale stuff Goroh had given him had been... very strong, to say the least, and he'd ended up a lot tipsier a lot faster than he'd planned.

That's why he's currently trying to sneak back into the SO4 Fort late at night-- the key word here being "trying," as he's having a bit of trouble getting the door open. So much for not alerting his housemates (permanent and may-as-well-be-permanent) to his entrance.]

[After the events at the fountain, Arumat has decided that the fountain plaza is probably not the best place for displays of affection and has quite literally taken matters into his own hands-- namely, by carrying Myuria all the way back to the SO4 Fort to get away from the public eye. Arumat, a gentleman? That's somewhat unexpected.

Of course, his complete inexperience in this field once again rears its ugly head when he stops once he gets inside the house, not sure whose room they should aim for. What's the proper etiquette for this sort of thing?

... this is more complicated than he'd thought.]

(OOC: Need I say that this thread is most likely not going to be for the kiddies?)

[Even Arumat is not immune to this experiment, it would seem. Should the residents of House 25 wander out into the living room, they will find the Eldarian attempting to... just what the heck is he trying to do, anyway? Those are no battle maneuvers, that much is for certain; they're far too flaily for someone so normally composed on the battlefield.

Perhaps some of the answer lies in the fact that he's humming some sort of tune as he moves. His journal, which is lying open on the couch, will undoubtedly pick up his voice.]

[Now that the snow has finally stopped, Arumat is out clearing the snow from the side road that leads from House 25 out to the main road. That wouldn't be a notable activity at all if it weren't for the fact that he happens to be using a fire symbol to do so, casting Fire Bolt on the snow-covered path in an attempt to melt the snow. Hey, it's a lot easier and faster than shoveling it-- but also more dangerous to any oblivious bystanders.

Residents of Community Housing Building 3 can feel free to get almost nailed by an errant fireball as Arumat works.]

[The other residents of House #25 will have a hard time missing the blood trail leading from the front door all the way down the hall to the bathroom. And, given who currently lives there, there's really only one likely source for it. Meaning that a certain Eldarian soldier got himself into another battle.

... that's a pretty good amount of blood there, too.]

[Snow. That's something Arumat has only seen a few times in his life before; the global warming caused by the enlarging sun back on Eldar had long since caused snow to cease falling there. The cold silence is at once peaceful and unsettling, or perhaps it's unsettling because it's peaceful. Arumat isn't sure.

But he'll be standing outside House 25 just watching it fall in silence, arms crossed over his chest. (And no, he's still not wearing a shirt.)]

[Out in the barracks, Arumat is going through a series of exercises, squaring off against an imaginary opponent with his laser scythe. It's no battle simulator, but it will have to do for the moment considering he's trying to avoid his usual sparring partner after that bodyswap experiment.

Of course, he wouldn't be averse to someone offering to spar with him; it would be good practice and a way to work out some of his frustration at his situation.]

Looks like even hell didn't want me around.

[Anyone who is out in the forest near the village might spot this fellow wandering around in the rain-- he's kind of hard to miss given his sheer size. Although he looks human at first glance, a closer look will reveal his rather unusual looking ears, indicating that he is in fact something other than human. The lack of a shirt also serves to make the numerous scars that crisscross his torso and arms even more obvious. Perhaps most importantly, he does not look pleased at all.

Dare you approach this rather intimidating man?]