Demurity
Level 35
OOC NOTE!
The following is a small little story I wrote out about my newest OC that is a depiction of her IC arrival as a Ukrainian immigrant to Karakura! While I can confirm this as an IC event for Zara, none of this is meant to be taken ICly (Mainly because it's a little awkward to have someone publish a story about themselves...) however, I was bored and wanted to write something so I wrote this! If something like this isn't meant to be in Roleplay Documents, I'm completely fine with having it moved or totally taking it off forums. Without further, thanks for clicking on this thread and I hope you enjoy!
-sophia
★ The Arrival of Zara Zabroda ★
The following is a small little story I wrote out about my newest OC that is a depiction of her IC arrival as a Ukrainian immigrant to Karakura! While I can confirm this as an IC event for Zara, none of this is meant to be taken ICly (Mainly because it's a little awkward to have someone publish a story about themselves...) however, I was bored and wanted to write something so I wrote this! If something like this isn't meant to be in Roleplay Documents, I'm completely fine with having it moved or totally taking it off forums. Without further, thanks for clicking on this thread and I hope you enjoy!
-sophia
★ The Arrival of Zara Zabroda ★
The wheels of the train rattled repetitively, the metal making a painful screeching noise every time the friction became too much for its overexerted parts. The ride was in no way comfortable, however, as the youthful brunette sitting isolated on the train at a dark time in the day’s early morning, she finally felt at peace, her wispy hair in a ponytail, a pink bomber jacket she had been gifted a year back surrounding her shoulders. A pair of battered white earbuds sat snugly in her ears, as the song switched from a classical piano piece to an American pop tune she had begun to enjoy, blaring out the noise of the outside world.
She had not yet seen the city, and yet she felt hopeful. Sure, the train ride was anything but classy, but it set her expectations low enough that she would be easily impressed with what was to come. Or at least, she hoped. Her body was exhausted, every cell screaming at her to rest. But whether it was adrenaline, the crappy instant coffee she had nicked from an overturned vending machine, or the aching feeling in her heart that made her near to tears many times on the ride, she could not bring herself to close her eyes for more than a blink.
Just as she feared that she would have begun to give in to the drowsiness that enveloped her, the train came to a hard, nuisance of a stop that jerked her back to life, as ‘You Belong With Me’ looped itself once more. She liked Taylor Swift, she decided. Unfortunately, the lyrics of short skirts and bleachers would have to wait. She paused the music, right on time as the automated voice blared on to the vacant passenger train. “Shinboshi Station, Karakura.” The voice blared, in eloquent Japanese that the immigrant had yet to master.
Getting up with a ‘spring in her step’, as the Americans said, she made her way to the doors which opened with a dramatic hiss. Not even bothering to watch her tracks, she began to run, bursting through gate after gate until she stopped outdoors, her hair being tangled up by the wind as the full moon glared down at her. A large district of colourful stores and decorations was before her, with a large tree in the center. Making a girlish noise of delight, she began to explore, pulling her second-hand cell phone out and beginning to take photos...many, many photos. She explored through the district, oftentimes running into a few quiet souls still out on the streets at the late hours. She explored bush after bush, shop after shop until she was huffing, and her body cried out in pain at the lack of energy she had. And yet, as she panted in exhaustion, a beaming smile of pure happiness remained plastered on her face.
The stars shone down on Zara Zabroda in a way that illuminated every feature, flawed or not from the bags under her eyes to the acne that had begun to appear from her dismissal of hygiene for the past few days of apprehensive thought and process. She was quite embarrassed of the way her appearance looked for the moment, but it wasn't anything a few masks and toners couldn't fix.
“So this is Karakura…” She mumbled, in Ukrainian that put her Japanese to shame.
For a second, she was overtaken by fear. Her acclimation would be, in no way, an easy feat. She had only one person to truly be able to rely on, a pen pal who had told her snippets about the city, but to be clinging onto someone was a low that Zara never wanted to achieve. But as her hair was finally blown completely loose from the tie in the breezy win, Zara refused to let her giddy grin falter. “Hi Karakura, this is Zara Zabroda.”
