It is the 1960s in Mexico. It was a good time, once. He loved this place; the food, the people. This is a long time before Ciudad Juarez lets it's women die and gives drug cartels an opening to create the murder capitol of the world. It is, as they say, a more innocent time. Whether this is really true remains to be seen.

This little down looks like something out of a movies; buildings in the old style. Pueblo has not gone away. Sombreros and ponchos help beat the heat. Somewhere, a stray dog chases chickens through the streets that are not paved. There is a single truck to the entire village. To call it 'remote' is something of an understatement.

Hellboy likes remote. He has a some really good tequila, a table and an empty chair. He was more innocent, then. He didn't know half of what he did. It's hard to tell that he's a teenager - he looks the same as he always has. It's a sunny afternoon, giving way slowly to the warm evening breeze off the badlands.

He waits for company.



[Yeah, my first clumsy OPN post. Things are always deceptive in Hellboy's world, so you never know if a pleasant night in Mexico will turn into a night of fighting Mexican vampires, so... who knows what can happen.]

[Just like last time it’s still a colony and still Mars. However this time all the lights are dimmed, even the suns light doesn’t appear as bright as it should be. The atmosphere is far from the gentle idealistic world it had been last time. The entire area seems a little darker, colder. Those whose wander it’s halls will discover many of the colonists, while they don’t speak, only give suspicious looks. And for the dreamer?

She’s much smaller but dressed in the same uniform as every other colonist. She’s curled up in a hallway, face buried in her knees. Her overly large sleeves are pushed up, a few small but bruises line her arms. Being a living experiment wasn’t always something she could live with and when she couldn’t? Those bruises are an example on how it was dealt with. On a better day. They wouldn’t last long but it was a reminder. Don’t act out. Don’t compromise the mission or colony. It’s a lesson that a child doesn’t always completely understand or know how to properly deal with. And so anyone who does notice the tiny bundle that is the dreamer might hear an occasional sniffle. She’s not upset. At least that’s what she can tell herself.]

[ The luxury cruise liner, the San Ariel, is truly a breathtaking sight, as it parts the sea about its bow, the only source of waves on the still surface. From the railing lining its massive deck, the world is water in every direction, pure, glittering blue to each horizon. Warm Spring air and the scent of saltwater fill the atmosphere, the sky above caught in the perpetual twilight of sunset.

And all throughout the ship, a sort of celebration seems to be going on -- every person is in high spirits, though they hardly resemble the type one might think to find populating such an extravagant ship as this. Almost all of the partygoers are... Well. Pirates, by all appearances. Their sense of style is tragically cliché, striped shirts and hook hands and peg legs and all. If approached, however, they're also quite friendly, willing to point even their "hostages" in the right direction.

Or toward the captain, more likely, because he does so love to meet new people.

Though, at the moment... He seems to be a bit seasick, hanging halfway over the rail at the bow, while one particularly surly young man stands at attention nearby, holding his hat for him. Some kind of miserable, incoherent groan drifts up from the other side of the railing, and then--

Was that a hiccup? ] Haahh... Have I ever told you about the time I fell in love with a mermaid?

[ He sounds positively dreamy as he asks, though the ridiculous question doesn't seem to be intended for the unflappably stoic man next to him, who doesn't reply. Maybe it's more like alcohol sickness, that he has, liable even to mistake members of his own crew for new faces, from this angle. ] It's a really beautiful story!

[ snow falls peacefully down in spirals in a large area, seemingly abandoned and destroyed. the walls are high and white, topped with beige borders that close off the entire space before and behind the house. from the gate, it's a long walk in the snow to the dilapidated building. the snow only shows one set of footprints walking past three defeated golems laying in the cold, all the way up the stairs, and into the rubble and what's left of what seemed to originally be a dojo.

hope you brought your jacket. she didn't. the snow catches in her bangs and ponytails as she lights the candles she could find behind her, jutting her sword into the ground. she kneels behind it, only then noting that she's not alone.

and she doesn't even seem to be worried. she looks fairly young, late teens, with an altered blue sailor fuku and a black headband pushing back some of her stark blond hair. she shifts her legs so she's sitting, pulling her silver gun from the holster that hangs from her shoulder. she has no intention of using it on you until you pose a threat, but she does like to keep it for security.

despite the wind, the candles don't go out. ]

What are you looking for?

At a glance, this just seems to be a normal and peaceful dream. The sky is a bright blue color that seems to expand on forever. The green grass sways with a gently and comforting wind that passes through and the sound of water flowing through the creeks adds to the music that nature has created. There are trees off in the distance. The huge canopy of green is held up by the strong brown trunks and it casts a shadow to cool yourself from.

But something is amiss. ... There's something not right with this dream.

Upon further inspection, you notice that the grass is in fact not grass. It's long tubes of green pixie stix that you can pluck from the ground and devour. The water is actually blue kool-aid and the rocks around it are upside down cups you can scoop the liquid and drink. The tree trunks are actually made of chocolate that never melts holding up text book leaves that sway back and forth, flipping pages of college material that may or may not have to do with science and math.

...what the heck kind of dream is this? And where is the dreamer?

Where you appear in her dream doesn't seem to harbor any clues but if you search you'll sure find her. Perhaps she's laying in the field of wheat and mint staring at the sky or maybe she's under a tree munching on some chocolate and reading a book she may have plucked from a tree. But somewhere in this dream scape, she is alone. In this dream of childish whims and light, she keeps to herself. No one to talk to or to keep her company.

Will you be the one to relieve her loneliness?

[The first thing you see in this dream is a slightly older-looking version of a certain Overlord, asleep against a tree. Certainly, he's managed to grow taller, and the shirt is an improvement over his formerly-perpetual shirtlessness. His hair antenna, however, is hidden under a hat, and in his right hand, he grips a white flower tightly.

He's hidden his sword in that ever-billowing red scarf of his, the only way to really identify him. It's his third day on this Netherworld, and still he hasn't found a cure for Flonne, like he hasn't been able to for the last five hundred years, ever since...

Ever since he killed the Seraph. Sometimes he wonders what would have happened had he spared him. Certainly, Flonne would still be alive, and he would still be the Overlord instead of Etna.

His senses, though, are sharper than ever. That's what happens when you've been wandering around various Netherworlds for five hundred years: you have enough time to think, to best others in battle, to look for a cure.

And right now he can tell somebody's there.]

Whaddaya want?

((OOC: Meet bad end!Laharl. Instead of showing mercy to Seraph Lamington after the guy turned Flonne into a flower like he did in canon, he instead killed him, essentially killing Flonne as well, since the Seraph was the only one who could cure her. He's left his kingdom to Etna to take care of and is currently searching for a cure for Flonne, even though he knows that the cure was gone the moment he killed the Seraph.))

[It starts not on Earth, not even on a space station. The dusty and red surface can only hint at one thing. Mars. Thankfully no one has to walks it’s surface. Instead it’s within the safety of the colony. One of the colonies actually. Anyone is free to explore the colony. It’s rather simple. Hallways lined with windows, most of the buildings constructed like domes. A few areas for civil needs, multiple labs that are locked, viewing rooms among a few other areas. Within the largest lab Seth’s going through a stack of papers. Potential colonists as a matter of fact. And the stack of applicants is rather large. Life on Mars is more popular then a person might think. Enough to keep her from proper rest as the dark circles under her eyes might hint at. No need to worry about interrupting her work however as she pushes aside most of the papers and rests her head on the counter. Seth folds her hands behind her head and groans with frustration. Paperwork might as well be her eternal rival. But she’s not completely unaware. The fact was as Director of the Red Mars Project she was doomed to interruptions. Instead of sleeping within a dream she lifts her head and sighs.]

If there’s anything that doesn’t require my immediate attention please just…leave me a note or something. [To which case she gestures towards some free counter-space not to far away from her.]


[[ooc; So instead of ruling an Empire this consists of the Red Mars Project having been continued/restarted. Under her of course. Which also means she lacks her Empire/children. Ah well. Feel free to bother her as a member of the colony/friend/whatever you'd like.]]

[ Beneath the strange light of this world's two moons - one round and white, the other small, misshapen, and red - the steel lines of twin train tracks glisten, running parallel over the horizon. The land in all directions around is all high, rolling hills, grassy and dotted with thick, clustered shrubs but sparse of trees. The peace here is absolute - but for barely a handful of seconds.

On those tracks, a train is rumbling along at breakneck speed, bright light spilling from the windows and thick, black smoke issuing from the stack. Inside, the soft, classical decor is awash in a warm, yellow glow that seems not to emit just from the sconces on the walls, the lamps on tables, but from the very substance of the train, itself.

In spite of the rather cheery effect this luminescence lends to the bigger picture, however, if one were to poke around behind the doors of the luxurious private cars, here, they might find the place a shambles. Lamps broken, furniture scattered about, glass from the windows littering the floor, and perhaps even a few droplets of something that looks suspiciously like blood dried into the carpets - it's total chaos everywhere. Or, everywhere except the dining car, which remains mysteriously intact.

In fact, the train's sole other occupant is currently holed up, there, in the midst of an exorbitant meal. He's a young-looking man with long, silver hair and thick, round spectacles, dressed in what appears to be some odd cut of cassock. He seems unfazed by the speed of the train (though in reality he is almost perpetually stricken with motion sickness), let alone the tacky, white tiger-print wallpaper plastered to the interior of this particular car. On the contrary, he's just terribly engrossed in his present bit of business-- ]

Oh yes, I think I'd like to try this one, next! [ He says, holding up his menu with a free hand, making some vague indication toward an item from the desserts section.

He's mistaken the sound of strange footsteps for those of his waitress (or waiter), it seems. Oops. ]

Ignore this!!