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Description

+37 AP to Chance, +5 FVR (250-450 word short, lvl 1 CP bonus X9, headshot, same character bonus, lvl 1 CP complete)
characters: Chance & Mojo w/ small guest appearances from Buchanan , Silas , & Kalyan !
Chance, All Level 1 Checkpoints

1.1 "What's your biggest goal in life?"
"The biggest goal in my life? Hmm... Well, t-that's actually a hard one. I suppose I just try to take it day by day. But I'm sure it'll come to me soon!"

Compressed, stale air rolled into their lungs as Chance continued to take in heaving breaths. Their head lowered in addition to their settling wings. Orange feathers sailed gently to the ground only after Chance had returned to the dull path themself. His legs still rocked in a combination of adrenaline and exhaustion, and the only sound that seemed to ignite the dark space was his own panting. Underneath their uncle's gaze, Chance could feel the start of shame and guilt twisting in the pit of his stomach. They didn't attempt to meet his eyes, perhaps out of respect, or avoidance of the disappointed blue irises he was sure he would be meeting in return.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, I-I didn't see him-- h-he cornered me-- I couldn't--" Chance's voice croaked out broken and ashamed as his brightly-colored wings struggled to ease the rocking of their breath. The boy's fiery eyes squeezed shut only a moment until they could peer back up pitifully at the horse that stood over him.

"You know how to get out of a situation like that." His uncle's voice finally broke the pressure the teen had been imagining, "you should know how to handle that by now, Chance." The older Breimian said firmly, blue eyes contorting into a look that Chance couldn't read.

"I know." Chance pushed pathetically before her eyes dropped back to the minimal space between her hooves, "I just..." yet their voice faded before they could force themself to finish.

There was a moment of silence. Until Chance heard their uncle take in a breath and sigh. "Oh, Addie." His voice came with a breath. "Between your parents' work and now... so much of this... What are we going to do with you? We're running out of paths and we're running out of goals that could even attempt to fit you."

Chance swallowed hard, eyes cast humbly in devastation as they felt a familiar prickling on their side, as a patch of hair on their shoulder began to change colors, just before the changeling could try to prevent it.
(345 words, 1 AP)

1.2 "You look like you're in shape, what's your secret?"
"My secret? Uhh... Well, this kinda work always seems to keep you on your toes, ya know! Haha!"

A swelling of golden light reached up so Chance could adjust her goggles slightly, teke pulling them down further to relieve her lower eyelid. The crisp air stung slightly as, even on the mere initial contact, it broke their hair and froze their skin. Yet it was refreshing in a way that only those in flight could really know, and it woke Chance up during a morning that they'd struggled to get out of bed.

Buck had slept across from the pegasus that night, on the other side of their flickering campfire that Chance had managed with an adept eye. Yet by the time Chance had awoken the next morning, the bulky stallion was gone. Chance struggled to pull himself awake by dawn the same way their partner did and was often left stumbling after Buck by the time their bright eyes snapped open to meet the morning light.

They hadn't packed up their things just yet but set out and up into the air to stretch their wings and deepen their breath. Besides stuffing a few of their valuables into a small pack, the majority of Chance's belongings remained hidden at their campsite-- just extra weight they would return to after they located Buck's towering figure.

From atop the trees, they were alone and the air was silent. Enjoyable for a moment until the atmosphere dwindled into idle bordem, and Chance's own distraction was snatched to even the simplest of things-- their search for Buchanan fading in and out of their radar with each flap of their wings.

Chance's attention fluttered similar to the way she hung in the air, until she was forced to center on a strike that nailed the back of their head with an impending force. "Hey!" Her voice broke in a shout as Chance's figure darted down and sideways, struggling to maintain her balance in the crisp morning sky. Recentering to blink her vision back to the stabilized red tint she received from her goggles, Chance's golden irises flicked to land on a bird that settled to glide ahead of them. A mallard with a green head and musty wings bounced back into Chance's recollection... in combination with the duck's poor attitude.

"Mojo!" The boy gasped in realization, "you dumb bird, there's no need to dive at my head! You silly thing!"
(388 words, 1 AP)

1.3 "What is your talent?"
"Oh! I wouldn't want to brag about my specialties... but I get by alright!"
(weapon's master and improvisonist!)

His short sword hung idly at his hip just beneath his bright orange wings. Chance disarmed his small pistol with a gentle click and tucked it safely into the satchel that cradled his valuable weaponry. Gunpowder residue lingered on his coat, as well as the scent of a familiar smokey tinge. Not the lingering smell of cigarette smoke or the puff of a cigar, but of burning wood and pine needles, or the backlash of a pulled trigger. The pegasus' coat was charred and blackened in places that Chance had lingered too close to the fire he could only pray would allow itself to be molded.

"Hey, boy!" Chance heard Buck's raspy voice before he could connect it to the situation at hand, yet the pony spun on instinct, catching a ripe red fruit as if he knew it had been thrown prior to even laying eyes on it. Chance rolled the apple over in his soot-stained grip, dark chalky streaks staining the fruit's slick skin before Chance could rub it on his hip to remove the dirt.

"Thank you." The Breimian said with a polite dip of their head before Chance allowed himself to bite into their apple with an ample crunch. A crisp, cool dinner that didn't match the chilly breeze with particular comfort, yet filled their stomach enough until the two mercenaries could single onto a meal more fitting to their work level. Still, it was beginning to get dark as the sun continued to fade, and the desire for sleep was overshadowing the desire to appease a slight ache of hunger. And so, Chance slung off his leather straps to nitch his assortment of knives and eager threats into a place of more safety, as the boy settled into crafting that night's fire with a flick of his matchbox.
(303 words, 1 AP)

1.4 "Someone just stole something precious to you. What do you do about it?"
"Theft is a crime that borders on a variety of punishment, depending on the severity of the situation or the worth of the item stolen. So, really, it depends on the situation at hand. Discipline can range from a small fine to years behind bars!"

Chance's golden eyes bore into the gray stallion in a way that they'd only learned since leaving home. A way of demanding respect in Breimian society that Chance most often lacked the confidence for, yet Silas seemed to bring on another scene entirely-- at least for the pegasus. Silas was a thief Chance had learned the first time they'd come across the stallion. A criminal that held enough undignified entitlement to pry on the earnings of others... yet there was something about the thief that made Chance's insides twist and flutter.

"What you're doing is criminal, Silas!" Chance's shaky voice sputtered in an attempt to confront their offender, "criminal! How can you line your own pockets with what only others have worked for? It's injust! Your own image is being warped by injustice alone!" Yet the opposing figure merely kissed at Chance's attempted exertion, something that made their jaw only tense further and their chest contort with something Chance couldn't identify. The horse's cunning, bi-colored eyes matched Chance's flustered expression with his own form of smugness. Eyelids relaxed halfway and a smirk that pulled at the corner of his lips.

"Of course, sweetie! But you know, the heart wants what it wants!" And Silas pushed a wink of his single blue eye as Chance reached for the pistol that hung from his hip. Yet, similar to many times before, Silas would slip through Chance's fingers with the help of a look that could somehow just barely coax the pegasus to favor pleasure over law-enforcement.
(254 words, 1 AP)

1.5 "What's your profession? If you don't have one, what would you like to be?"
"I... ha! Well, I've gone through quite a few professions. By now, I suppose I'm mostly back to managing criminals and enforcing whatever small bit of a justice system the outsiders have managed to build. Though, unfortunately, there seem to be quite a few holes..."
(Chance is a mercenary who specializes in bounty hunting. It's in his blood, as he grew up hunting criminals with his uncle in Sterling through his teens.)

The pegasus' figure morphed and stretched, and pulled. Chance's skin prickled with the new coarse, rich brown hair that shifted to overcome his own. In only a second, his wings snapped into non-existence and Chance's voice boomed deeper than he could ever try to force naturally. The shape-shifter peered through Buck's mimicked, squinty blue eyes as their newly-scarred body lunged forward on tall legs, much more powerful than Chance's own.

"HEY!" Chance's voice snapped sharply in Buck's deep, echoing tone. His weight aimed precisely and forcefully at the aggressor who had managed to slip from between the two mercenarys' line of fire many times throughout the week. A weaseling merchant who committed to more fraud than any proper sales, yet held enough bodyguards to put up quite a tiring fight.

However, while the assortment of criminals spared Chance hardly a glance, and aimed their force at the seventeen hand Buchanan, the small pegasus could morph into the more threatening figure to allow Buck to take up work beyond fending off leaches-- and that's what they did.

Chance, lunging forward and masked with a build strong and powerful, distracted their opponents long enough for Buck to nail them with a hit harder than Chance's morals would allow... and the offenders fell to the surprising pair of captures until they were chained and idle, and Chance could allow their orange feathers to roll back out of hiding.

"Right then." Chance coughed as she settled back into her own appearance, subtly enjoying the look of astonishment that the changeling could dig up from their opponents, yet humble enough to refrain from any form of gloating. "I'd love to find a meal after this."
(284 words, 1 AP)

1.6 "What are your parents like? Tell us about them!"
"Oh! Well, all of my family is quite wonderful. I do miss my parents a fair amount but I'm sure they're doing fine, all the same."
(Hideshi is a bit more mellow in comparison to his more stern husband, Eisen. Yet they are both very loving and adore their son more than anything.)

"Dad!" A young voice shattered the work area's muffled tinkering sounds as Chance's young frame collided into his father's chest. Hideshi was decorated with an assortment of dapples and a particularly admirable third-eye. He was shaped with a small frame that didn't bring too much attention to him, from anyone besides his spouse, yet resembled his son to an extent that only seemed to be missing his child's striking feathers. The welder held his head with a certain level of kindness and gentle spirit that welcomed Chance's eight-year-old energy with open arms.

"Goodmorning, my dear boy." Hideshi's voice cooed quietly in response to his child's abundant greeting. The dark, speckled stallion shifted his weight forward to wrap Chance in both his neck and his light-blue teke. Something the boy ravished enough to bury in his face into his father's light mane until his attention spun and Chance pulled away to focus on a cluster of iron cooling behind his parent.

"Where is your father, Addie?" The stallion asked lightly as his eyes flicked to the doorway, and then back to his son. "He is coming!" The child responded before pulling a stool out from the workbench to assist in his own endeavors, "I beat him here!"

"Did you now?" Chance's father cooed back before stepping to inch the stool further away from the furnace, yet close enough to the stone slab to peer at Hideshi's current work, "I hope you were polite." The stallion insisted as the foal lifted his white stockings onto the wooden bench and pulled himself upward with his father's assistance. "I was." The boy confirmed with a limited amount of attention. Chance leaned forward to peer at his parent's craft with a certain level of childish curiosity, even as his own mess of curly blonde hair threatened to roll over his eyes.

"It's hot, dear!" Hideshi's voice broke in a short quip before pushing his son backward, much to Chance's disappointment and mild pout. "Come, Addie, let's go wait by the door for your father." The welder beckoned before assisting Chance's climb off the stool.

"He should be here, soon!" Chance's voice raised in excitement and unintended volume before trotting back to the cracked door of the workshop. And within only another moment, the two family members fell into sight of Eisen's bright wings rounding the street corner.
(392 words, 1 AP)

1.7 "What were you like when you were a child?"
"Haha! Good question! I'd love to say I was the perfect child. I tried hard but still struggled in a few places, as most do."

"Chance Atoli!" Came a stern voice that snapped the boy's attention back from his mediocre distraction, "yes, ma'am!" Chance's voice broke lightly as their blonde hair skewed their vision to peer back up at the mare who had addressed them, golden eyes failing to match her own out of common respect. "Are you listening?" Hissed the mare with a squinting gaze that made the foal quiver.

"Y-yes! ... Ma'am! I am!" Chance beckoned back to his tutor with an air of hopeful convincing and desperate politeness. A unicorn of similar young age managed a small scoff at Chance's inevitable, "immature" fiddling and lack of common focus before the student was asked to reiterate the mare's teachings in regards to Argus' influence, and for Chance to 'listen closely' and 'this time, pay attention'.

Chance's posture fell slightly in a childish pout as her fiery eyes narrowed back at their peer with a look of distaste that she struggled to diminish. When the eager young unicorn sucked in a breath to repeat the sum of the previous lecture with a high-held, proud head, their own enthusiasm seemed to drain. Chance let out a quiet, irritated breath as they listened to their opposing student's voice obstruct the room's atmosphere. They began with their ears relaxed sideways, yet intentive as the lecture continued, until Chance's head began to lean into their light-colored teke with a pressing amount of boredom, and his eyes began to slowly shift to meander around the room once more.

Chance began to chew on the inside of his lip as the young unicorn's recollection turned to mere ramblings, and Chance's eyes fell half-lidded as his attention continued to fall further and further from the conversation at hand. A meek tapping sounded at the extension of Chance's fidgeting hoof against the wooden table and his wings rustled slightly as the boy leaned further into the support of his teke and further from the classroom's teachings. Until Chance's weight pushed too far on the edge of his wooden stool and with a clap of sound to overcome the room, Chance's small figure and his desk chair connected with the wooden floor in time with his teacher's own holler of realization.

"Chance!" Came her gasping voice in a combination of surprise and by now, anger. "SORRY!" Chance's own small voice rang in a rush of nerves as he stumbled back to his feet with a shuffle of his posture and a splay of orange feathers.
(420 words, 1 AP)

1.8 "What is your most treasured possession?"
"I think I put a lot of value into most of my things! My family... I didn't grow up with much... but we had enough to get by, and I think it taught me to treasure life's simplicities even more!"
(A brass pocket lighter his family gifted him before he moved to The Point. An expensive gift with his initials carved into the side!)

Chance's primarily translucent teke held the small brass lighter close enough for his eyes to become captivated by the flames it continued to ignite with a quiet 'click' that sounded through the boy's room whenever he rolled the flint wheel just right. The pegasus' wings curled around his body as he lay cradled on his bed in an abundance of sheets and pillows. Chance's bright orange eyes reflected the warm flames that clicked open as if they fit together. With his vision only occasionally flicking up to the window next to his bedframe, a view leading to The Point's outside nighttime stillness, Chance's spark of fire continued to light up the small portion of his pitch black room only long enough to provide him a spell of meditative entertainment.

Rolling his telekinetic feel over the brass lightbox and allowing Chance's flame to diminish only a moment, the Breimian could feel the carved initials pressed into the lighter, even while it was too dark to see. The engraved 'C.A.' of Chance's initials sent his head back to remember his family home in Sterling. The pegasus was learning to love his new home on the surface, as well as his wayward roommate, Kalyan, yet there were times that his heart drifted too far into homesickness.

Chance allowed his bedroom to remain engulfed in the night's darkness for a moment, only lightened a tad by the silver reflection of the moon that lingered in through the cracked curtains. The young Breimian could remember being gifted the lighter by his family. A going away present before Chance set out behind his escort to The Point. The lighter was so nice... and surely cost more than his parents should have spent on such a thing. Yet it was special and reminded him of home in a way that mixed him with both hurt and longing.

The pegasus allowed his eyelids to fall closed only a moment, flicking the brass box again in a way to initiate a spark even without complete focus. He allowed himself to sink into his own self-pity a moment too, embracing his thoughts of home openly before his teke snapped off the flint wheel and Chance rolled off his bed to pester Kalyan regarding his own sleep regiment. Surely the stallion was still hunched over his work desk, if Chance knew him at all, despite the fact the night had crept forward hours ago.
(407 words, 1 AP)

1.9 "Who or what was your first love?"
"OH! Well, that's a bit of an odd question, isn't it? Hmm... Well, I think it's easy to fall in love with a lot of different things, in a lot of different ways. In that case, I'm not quite sure what my first was!"

With cream-colored hooves standing lightly on grass that poked his frogs in a way that Chance had never experienced amidst Sterling's tunnels, the bright-colored pegasus shifted slightly on the lawn as the breeze wafted across his face and through his blonde mane. The air only ever felt stale or still underground, and though Chance would learn that the wind could howl and scream in a way that could make him run in fear, he was also learning to appreciate the cool, refreshing sensation it left on his skin.

Their house stood to the boy's back as Chance's figure rocked in time with his panting breath, his small frame was beginning to coat with streaks of sweat, as their posture rocked further forward in anticipation. "Come on then, Kal!" The pony's voice broke against the breeze. Beating the tall stallion home wasn't too difficult when Chance was patched together with a pair of autumn-colored wings.

The path back to their shared little house was lined with Umare citizens and their eloquently groomed homes. Mostly simple farmers or trade workers like Chance themself, yet the little Kawaru pegasus, who was still a fresh resident to The Point, was often left buried by the noses their neighbors held in the air. It didn't make them any warmer to the Umare stereotypes the boy had grown up hearing from their family in Sterling, yet somehow, Chance liked it here-- or more than. He loved the open air, he was learning... he really did. He loved the sun's rays and the warmth they radiated, and the trees, and the grass! Chance was sure there wasn't a feeling in the world quite as nice as a nap in the grass.

His ears snapped forward again as a dark figure charged into sight, feathered hooves kicking up dirt in a way that Chance's own dainty figure could scarcely manage. "Alright then, finally!" Chance's voice came with a lighthearted laugh and a rear that met Kalyan in par with his own movement. Chance quite liked his new friend as well.
(349 words, 1 AP)Been working on these sporadically throughout the week as a fun break. Trying to get to know Chance a little better!

Description

+37 AP to Chance, +5 FVR (250-450 word short, lvl 1 CP bonus X9, headshot, same character bonus, lvl 1 CP complete)
characters: Chance & Mojo w/ small guest appearances from Buchanan , Silas , & Kalyan !
Chance, All Level 1 Checkpoints

1.1 "What's your biggest goal in life?"
"The biggest goal in my life? Hmm... Well, t-that's actually a hard one. I suppose I just try to take it day by day. But I'm sure it'll come to me soon!"

Compressed, stale air rolled into their lungs as Chance continued to take in heaving breaths. Their head lowered in addition to their settling wings. Orange feathers sailed gently to the ground only after Chance had returned to the dull path themself. His legs still rocked in a combination of adrenaline and exhaustion, and the only sound that seemed to ignite the dark space was his own panting. Underneath their uncle's gaze, Chance could feel the start of shame and guilt twisting in the pit of his stomach. They didn't attempt to meet his eyes, perhaps out of respect, or avoidance of the disappointed blue irises he was sure he would be meeting in return.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, I-I didn't see him-- h-he cornered me-- I couldn't--" Chance's voice croaked out broken and ashamed as his brightly-colored wings struggled to ease the rocking of their breath. The boy's fiery eyes squeezed shut only a moment until they could peer back up pitifully at the horse that stood over him.

"You know how to get out of a situation like that." His uncle's voice finally broke the pressure the teen had been imagining, "you should know how to handle that by now, Chance." The older Breimian said firmly, blue eyes contorting into a look that Chance couldn't read.

"I know." Chance pushed pathetically before her eyes dropped back to the minimal space between her hooves, "I just..." yet their voice faded before they could force themself to finish.

There was a moment of silence. Until Chance heard their uncle take in a breath and sigh. "Oh, Addie." His voice came with a breath. "Between your parents' work and now... so much of this... What are we going to do with you? We're running out of paths and we're running out of goals that could even attempt to fit you."

Chance swallowed hard, eyes cast humbly in devastation as they felt a familiar prickling on their side, as a patch of hair on their shoulder began to change colors, just before the changeling could try to prevent it.
(345 words, 1 AP)

1.2 "You look like you're in shape, what's your secret?"
"My secret? Uhh... Well, this kinda work always seems to keep you on your toes, ya know! Haha!"

A swelling of golden light reached up so Chance could adjust her goggles slightly, teke pulling them down further to relieve her lower eyelid. The crisp air stung slightly as, even on the mere initial contact, it broke their hair and froze their skin. Yet it was refreshing in a way that only those in flight could really know, and it woke Chance up during a morning that they'd struggled to get out of bed.

Buck had slept across from the pegasus that night, on the other side of their flickering campfire that Chance had managed with an adept eye. Yet by the time Chance had awoken the next morning, the bulky stallion was gone. Chance struggled to pull himself awake by dawn the same way their partner did and was often left stumbling after Buck by the time their bright eyes snapped open to meet the morning light.

They hadn't packed up their things just yet but set out and up into the air to stretch their wings and deepen their breath. Besides stuffing a few of their valuables into a small pack, the majority of Chance's belongings remained hidden at their campsite-- just extra weight they would return to after they located Buck's towering figure.

From atop the trees, they were alone and the air was silent. Enjoyable for a moment until the atmosphere dwindled into idle bordem, and Chance's own distraction was snatched to even the simplest of things-- their search for Buchanan fading in and out of their radar with each flap of their wings.

Chance's attention fluttered similar to the way she hung in the air, until she was forced to center on a strike that nailed the back of their head with an impending force. "Hey!" Her voice broke in a shout as Chance's figure darted down and sideways, struggling to maintain her balance in the crisp morning sky. Recentering to blink her vision back to the stabilized red tint she received from her goggles, Chance's golden irises flicked to land on a bird that settled to glide ahead of them. A mallard with a green head and musty wings bounced back into Chance's recollection... in combination with the duck's poor attitude.

"Mojo!" The boy gasped in realization, "you dumb bird, there's no need to dive at my head! You silly thing!"
(388 words, 1 AP)

1.3 "What is your talent?"
"Oh! I wouldn't want to brag about my specialties... but I get by alright!"
(weapon's master and improvisonist!)

His short sword hung idly at his hip just beneath his bright orange wings. Chance disarmed his small pistol with a gentle click and tucked it safely into the satchel that cradled his valuable weaponry. Gunpowder residue lingered on his coat, as well as the scent of a familiar smokey tinge. Not the lingering smell of cigarette smoke or the puff of a cigar, but of burning wood and pine needles, or the backlash of a pulled trigger. The pegasus' coat was charred and blackened in places that Chance had lingered too close to the fire he could only pray would allow itself to be molded.

"Hey, boy!" Chance heard Buck's raspy voice before he could connect it to the situation at hand, yet the pony spun on instinct, catching a ripe red fruit as if he knew it had been thrown prior to even laying eyes on it. Chance rolled the apple over in his soot-stained grip, dark chalky streaks staining the fruit's slick skin before Chance could rub it on his hip to remove the dirt.

"Thank you." The Breimian said with a polite dip of their head before Chance allowed himself to bite into their apple with an ample crunch. A crisp, cool dinner that didn't match the chilly breeze with particular comfort, yet filled their stomach enough until the two mercenaries could single onto a meal more fitting to their work level. Still, it was beginning to get dark as the sun continued to fade, and the desire for sleep was overshadowing the desire to appease a slight ache of hunger. And so, Chance slung off his leather straps to nitch his assortment of knives and eager threats into a place of more safety, as the boy settled into crafting that night's fire with a flick of his matchbox.
(303 words, 1 AP)

1.4 "Someone just stole something precious to you. What do you do about it?"
"Theft is a crime that borders on a variety of punishment, depending on the severity of the situation or the worth of the item stolen. So, really, it depends on the situation at hand. Discipline can range from a small fine to years behind bars!"

Chance's golden eyes bore into the gray stallion in a way that they'd only learned since leaving home. A way of demanding respect in Breimian society that Chance most often lacked the confidence for, yet Silas seemed to bring on another scene entirely-- at least for the pegasus. Silas was a thief Chance had learned the first time they'd come across the stallion. A criminal that held enough undignified entitlement to pry on the earnings of others... yet there was something about the thief that made Chance's insides twist and flutter.

"What you're doing is criminal, Silas!" Chance's shaky voice sputtered in an attempt to confront their offender, "criminal! How can you line your own pockets with what only others have worked for? It's injust! Your own image is being warped by injustice alone!" Yet the opposing figure merely kissed at Chance's attempted exertion, something that made their jaw only tense further and their chest contort with something Chance couldn't identify. The horse's cunning, bi-colored eyes matched Chance's flustered expression with his own form of smugness. Eyelids relaxed halfway and a smirk that pulled at the corner of his lips.

"Of course, sweetie! But you know, the heart wants what it wants!" And Silas pushed a wink of his single blue eye as Chance reached for the pistol that hung from his hip. Yet, similar to many times before, Silas would slip through Chance's fingers with the help of a look that could somehow just barely coax the pegasus to favor pleasure over law-enforcement.
(254 words, 1 AP)

1.5 "What's your profession? If you don't have one, what would you like to be?"
"I... ha! Well, I've gone through quite a few professions. By now, I suppose I'm mostly back to managing criminals and enforcing whatever small bit of a justice system the outsiders have managed to build. Though, unfortunately, there seem to be quite a few holes..."
(Chance is a mercenary who specializes in bounty hunting. It's in his blood, as he grew up hunting criminals with his uncle in Sterling through his teens.)

The pegasus' figure morphed and stretched, and pulled. Chance's skin prickled with the new coarse, rich brown hair that shifted to overcome his own. In only a second, his wings snapped into non-existence and Chance's voice boomed deeper than he could ever try to force naturally. The shape-shifter peered through Buck's mimicked, squinty blue eyes as their newly-scarred body lunged forward on tall legs, much more powerful than Chance's own.

"HEY!" Chance's voice snapped sharply in Buck's deep, echoing tone. His weight aimed precisely and forcefully at the aggressor who had managed to slip from between the two mercenarys' line of fire many times throughout the week. A weaseling merchant who committed to more fraud than any proper sales, yet held enough bodyguards to put up quite a tiring fight.

However, while the assortment of criminals spared Chance hardly a glance, and aimed their force at the seventeen hand Buchanan, the small pegasus could morph into the more threatening figure to allow Buck to take up work beyond fending off leaches-- and that's what they did.

Chance, lunging forward and masked with a build strong and powerful, distracted their opponents long enough for Buck to nail them with a hit harder than Chance's morals would allow... and the offenders fell to the surprising pair of captures until they were chained and idle, and Chance could allow their orange feathers to roll back out of hiding.

"Right then." Chance coughed as she settled back into her own appearance, subtly enjoying the look of astonishment that the changeling could dig up from their opponents, yet humble enough to refrain from any form of gloating. "I'd love to find a meal after this."
(284 words, 1 AP)

1.6 "What are your parents like? Tell us about them!"
"Oh! Well, all of my family is quite wonderful. I do miss my parents a fair amount but I'm sure they're doing fine, all the same."
(Hideshi is a bit more mellow in comparison to his more stern husband, Eisen. Yet they are both very loving and adore their son more than anything.)

"Dad!" A young voice shattered the work area's muffled tinkering sounds as Chance's young frame collided into his father's chest. Hideshi was decorated with an assortment of dapples and a particularly admirable third-eye. He was shaped with a small frame that didn't bring too much attention to him, from anyone besides his spouse, yet resembled his son to an extent that only seemed to be missing his child's striking feathers. The welder held his head with a certain level of kindness and gentle spirit that welcomed Chance's eight-year-old energy with open arms.

"Goodmorning, my dear boy." Hideshi's voice cooed quietly in response to his child's abundant greeting. The dark, speckled stallion shifted his weight forward to wrap Chance in both his neck and his light-blue teke. Something the boy ravished enough to bury in his face into his father's light mane until his attention spun and Chance pulled away to focus on a cluster of iron cooling behind his parent.

"Where is your father, Addie?" The stallion asked lightly as his eyes flicked to the doorway, and then back to his son. "He is coming!" The child responded before pulling a stool out from the workbench to assist in his own endeavors, "I beat him here!"

"Did you now?" Chance's father cooed back before stepping to inch the stool further away from the furnace, yet close enough to the stone slab to peer at Hideshi's current work, "I hope you were polite." The stallion insisted as the foal lifted his white stockings onto the wooden bench and pulled himself upward with his father's assistance. "I was." The boy confirmed with a limited amount of attention. Chance leaned forward to peer at his parent's craft with a certain level of childish curiosity, even as his own mess of curly blonde hair threatened to roll over his eyes.

"It's hot, dear!" Hideshi's voice broke in a short quip before pushing his son backward, much to Chance's disappointment and mild pout. "Come, Addie, let's go wait by the door for your father." The welder beckoned before assisting Chance's climb off the stool.

"He should be here, soon!" Chance's voice raised in excitement and unintended volume before trotting back to the cracked door of the workshop. And within only another moment, the two family members fell into sight of Eisen's bright wings rounding the street corner.
(392 words, 1 AP)

1.7 "What were you like when you were a child?"
"Haha! Good question! I'd love to say I was the perfect child. I tried hard but still struggled in a few places, as most do."

"Chance Atoli!" Came a stern voice that snapped the boy's attention back from his mediocre distraction, "yes, ma'am!" Chance's voice broke lightly as their blonde hair skewed their vision to peer back up at the mare who had addressed them, golden eyes failing to match her own out of common respect. "Are you listening?" Hissed the mare with a squinting gaze that made the foal quiver.

"Y-yes! ... Ma'am! I am!" Chance beckoned back to his tutor with an air of hopeful convincing and desperate politeness. A unicorn of similar young age managed a small scoff at Chance's inevitable, "immature" fiddling and lack of common focus before the student was asked to reiterate the mare's teachings in regards to Argus' influence, and for Chance to 'listen closely' and 'this time, pay attention'.

Chance's posture fell slightly in a childish pout as her fiery eyes narrowed back at their peer with a look of distaste that she struggled to diminish. When the eager young unicorn sucked in a breath to repeat the sum of the previous lecture with a high-held, proud head, their own enthusiasm seemed to drain. Chance let out a quiet, irritated breath as they listened to their opposing student's voice obstruct the room's atmosphere. They began with their ears relaxed sideways, yet intentive as the lecture continued, until Chance's head began to lean into their light-colored teke with a pressing amount of boredom, and his eyes began to slowly shift to meander around the room once more.

Chance began to chew on the inside of his lip as the young unicorn's recollection turned to mere ramblings, and Chance's eyes fell half-lidded as his attention continued to fall further and further from the conversation at hand. A meek tapping sounded at the extension of Chance's fidgeting hoof against the wooden table and his wings rustled slightly as the boy leaned further into the support of his teke and further from the classroom's teachings. Until Chance's weight pushed too far on the edge of his wooden stool and with a clap of sound to overcome the room, Chance's small figure and his desk chair connected with the wooden floor in time with his teacher's own holler of realization.

"Chance!" Came her gasping voice in a combination of surprise and by now, anger. "SORRY!" Chance's own small voice rang in a rush of nerves as he stumbled back to his feet with a shuffle of his posture and a splay of orange feathers.
(420 words, 1 AP)

1.8 "What is your most treasured possession?"
"I think I put a lot of value into most of my things! My family... I didn't grow up with much... but we had enough to get by, and I think it taught me to treasure life's simplicities even more!"
(A brass pocket lighter his family gifted him before he moved to The Point. An expensive gift with his initials carved into the side!)

Chance's primarily translucent teke held the small brass lighter close enough for his eyes to become captivated by the flames it continued to ignite with a quiet 'click' that sounded through the boy's room whenever he rolled the flint wheel just right. The pegasus' wings curled around his body as he lay cradled on his bed in an abundance of sheets and pillows. Chance's bright orange eyes reflected the warm flames that clicked open as if they fit together. With his vision only occasionally flicking up to the window next to his bedframe, a view leading to The Point's outside nighttime stillness, Chance's spark of fire continued to light up the small portion of his pitch black room only long enough to provide him a spell of meditative entertainment.

Rolling his telekinetic feel over the brass lightbox and allowing Chance's flame to diminish only a moment, the Breimian could feel the carved initials pressed into the lighter, even while it was too dark to see. The engraved 'C.A.' of Chance's initials sent his head back to remember his family home in Sterling. The pegasus was learning to love his new home on the surface, as well as his wayward roommate, Kalyan, yet there were times that his heart drifted too far into homesickness.

Chance allowed his bedroom to remain engulfed in the night's darkness for a moment, only lightened a tad by the silver reflection of the moon that lingered in through the cracked curtains. The young Breimian could remember being gifted the lighter by his family. A going away present before Chance set out behind his escort to The Point. The lighter was so nice... and surely cost more than his parents should have spent on such a thing. Yet it was special and reminded him of home in a way that mixed him with both hurt and longing.

The pegasus allowed his eyelids to fall closed only a moment, flicking the brass box again in a way to initiate a spark even without complete focus. He allowed himself to sink into his own self-pity a moment too, embracing his thoughts of home openly before his teke snapped off the flint wheel and Chance rolled off his bed to pester Kalyan regarding his own sleep regiment. Surely the stallion was still hunched over his work desk, if Chance knew him at all, despite the fact the night had crept forward hours ago.
(407 words, 1 AP)

1.9 "Who or what was your first love?"
"OH! Well, that's a bit of an odd question, isn't it? Hmm... Well, I think it's easy to fall in love with a lot of different things, in a lot of different ways. In that case, I'm not quite sure what my first was!"

With cream-colored hooves standing lightly on grass that poked his frogs in a way that Chance had never experienced amidst Sterling's tunnels, the bright-colored pegasus shifted slightly on the lawn as the breeze wafted across his face and through his blonde mane. The air only ever felt stale or still underground, and though Chance would learn that the wind could howl and scream in a way that could make him run in fear, he was also learning to appreciate the cool, refreshing sensation it left on his skin.

Their house stood to the boy's back as Chance's figure rocked in time with his panting breath, his small frame was beginning to coat with streaks of sweat, as their posture rocked further forward in anticipation. "Come on then, Kal!" The pony's voice broke against the breeze. Beating the tall stallion home wasn't too difficult when Chance was patched together with a pair of autumn-colored wings.

The path back to their shared little house was lined with Umare citizens and their eloquently groomed homes. Mostly simple farmers or trade workers like Chance themself, yet the little Kawaru pegasus, who was still a fresh resident to The Point, was often left buried by the noses their neighbors held in the air. It didn't make them any warmer to the Umare stereotypes the boy had grown up hearing from their family in Sterling, yet somehow, Chance liked it here-- or more than. He loved the open air, he was learning... he really did. He loved the sun's rays and the warmth they radiated, and the trees, and the grass! Chance was sure there wasn't a feeling in the world quite as nice as a nap in the grass.

His ears snapped forward again as a dark figure charged into sight, feathered hooves kicking up dirt in a way that Chance's own dainty figure could scarcely manage. "Alright then, finally!" Chance's voice came with a lighthearted laugh and a rear that met Kalyan in par with his own movement. Chance quite liked his new friend as well.
(349 words, 1 AP)Been working on these sporadically throughout the week as a fun break. Trying to get to know Chance a little better!