z

Young Writers Society


The Lost/Guardian Sides



User avatar



Gender: None specified
Points: 317
Reviews: 1
Mon Apr 19, 2021 1:56 am
MustachesAndSwords says...



//Remember the Sander Sides? Well, in a world where they are real, they aren't the only ones. There are personality aspects out there that have no host, no main purpose. They have the capacity to blend in with normal people, and you wouldn't be able to tell they were imaginary, unless you were one of them too. (OCs only)


Rain smattered her medium-brown hair and darkish clothes, and as the woman sauntered along, she let her mind wonder. As far as she knew, she was the only kind of her trait, so even if she found a fellow side, she would still be alone. Well, not completely, since she still had her darkside. …what a comfort.

As engrossed as she was into her thoughts, she was still observant of her surroundings, and noticed a pizza place with its lights still on. Squinting her plain brown eyes to better see, she observes a lone worker holding a hand out to feel the rain. They hold it out a few seconds, then pull it back to safety, shaking it out and looking mildly miserable. Walking up to be alongside them, her lips lightly curve upwards.

"Hey," she greets, making the worker look at her. "Still working?" They shoot her a rueful look.

"Can you believe it started to rain? The forecast didn't say rain," they complain, and she shakes her head. "Don't they normally get it wrong?" They laugh, and the young woman looks at their other hand. "Delivery?" They nod.

"I don't think I can go out. Even if I had an umbrella, I can't really ride a bike one-handed." She tilts her head, lightly furrowing her brows before relaxing her face and nods in understanding. "Understandable," she sticks her thumbs into her pant pockets and rocks on her feet twice before snapping her fingers. "Say, I could do the delivery for you!" They blink at her, eyes wide, before they start to protest. She holds her hands up, promising him that the job would get done, and that she adored the rain. "-I mean, I'm already a little wet. More rain isn't going to kill me."

They reluctantly hand the box over to her, and head inside to whatever other job they had. She takes her jacket off to cover the bow, and walks at a quicker pace, having a light bounce within her step as she hums a jaunty tune.

At a random crosswalk, the rain starts to pour, and she starts running in place, biting her lip. 'I hope this person doesn't live that far. I don't think this pizza's going to make it.' Shaking her head, she starts running, reading the address and almost crashing into a lamppost in the process. Catching herself, she manages to arrive at her destination without any harm to the pizza or herself.

"Made it," she says with a small smirk, allowing herself to feel pride as she raised her practically skeletal pale hand to ring the doorbell, pressing the button and catching her breath.








They laugh at me because I'm different; I laugh at them because they're all the same.
— Kurt Cobain