Interactive: Look into the Stars

***THIS IS GOING TO HAVE SOME TRIGGERS IN IT, SO PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS WHEN READING.***

There's a young demiboy sat in his room. He turns to examine a broken mirror that shattered a while back in time. There was some blood smeared in some of the shards and a stick that was self-explanatory to how the mirror broke. Someone threw it. Not just any 'someone'—it was him. Why, you ask? This particular demiboy has been stuck in a cell for over a week now, and during his first night there, he saw a nightguard walking pass the bars. He attempted to get a prison-appeal, but the guard turned his back on him, telling him to "get lost, mutant". If you ask him, he didn't know exactly why he was referred to as 'mutant', but he got ticked by it for some reason. He took the nearest thing he had, a stick from the cell-window with a tree dangling some of its leaves through, and threw it. Not to mention, he got a perfect shot on his forehead in the mirror. It took quite a long time for it to break completely, but he could see the stick still in there. It frightened him... it made him think he was a monster.

So, to **who** would do such a thing to this poor part-male. Well, these people are most of the time called "shadowed-men" by his old villagers. They are dark as shadows; with no details but white masks to cover their faces. You can't know whenever you'll find one—they know how to fade and "unfade", he likes to say. It truly is a horrific site to see them. But, knowing this guy, he's seen worse.

So what will be this young demiboy's name?

Your name is *Xalero Nebulae*. You are called 'Xale' by your friends and 'Skat' via internet. Although, it's been ages since you've been on the internet... You can't really remember when the last time you've been on it was. You are quite silly, which suites the stereotype for your age. You are prone to losing your balance from tripping over mostly anything, even the air. Thirteen-year-old Xale is off to be silly somewhere else now. Ciao!

OK, OK, don't have a rack attack! I was just kidding, damn. Can't a guy have some humour in a tragic place like this?!

Fine.

So what do YOU want to do then, **boss**?

==> Quack like a duck and jump out the window.

==> Get out of here.

==> Examine the room.

## **001001**

I have no idea why you think that is a good idea.
==> Get out of here.
==> Examine the room.

## **001002**

Do you really think you'll be able to make it out alive if you do all your "foolproof" plans? Seriously, since when do they have tomatoes here?! Why did you think THAT would work?!?! OUT OF ALL OF THE THINGS?!?!?!
==> Quack like a duck and jump out the window.
==> Examine the room.

## **001003**

You begin to examine around the room, stumbling up to your feet. You limp around from wall to wall, how you can't naturally walk because you injured your knee from accidentally scraping it up badly with some of the broken mirror. It might have been intentional, but you really don't remember. You don't really see much in the room—just an empty yet dusty shelf, a rusty-metal bed with a hard and stiff mattress, and that mirror that you shattered into pieces. Sigh, you put your back against the wall opposing to the cell bars and slide down to the stone, cold floor.