Chang, Lin Fei

[attr="class","prodigi_ans"] 17

[attr="class","prodigi_ans"] Hong Kong

[attr="class","prodigi_ans"] TAMER

[attr="class","prodigi_ans"] F

[attr="class","prodigi_ans"] WINGED HERALDS

[attr="class","prodigi_ans"] DEMIDEVIMON

[attr="class","prodigi_text"]

Ten years ago, the bay churned as if it was boiled and the clouds above Hong Kong were thick with raging beings. Hail as fast as comets and columns of light that reduced ports to rubble drowned out the sounds below. The sounds of desperate battle, desperate survival, and the shattering of what was once reality. In the middle of it all, a young girl had been thrown clear of a sliding truck. They were gone. Her eyes were blurry, choking and clogging with soot and tears. She had to go. She was determined to find them again. Lin had to survive the day first. Young, delicate hands grasped at store doors, alley gates, man hole covers. The last opened. [break][break]

A boy, much older than her. They shared something though, a fear that only children experienced. A fear that knew no hardship. Fear easily amplified. The stench below was different from above. She had not known that smell above; she'd never smelled burning hair before. Down here, it was waste. Waste and darkness.[break][break]

There were more like her, clutching stuffed animals. Some were older, some were younger. For what she saw and what she smelled, what she heard sent her blood to roiling cold. Footsteps, plodding and heavy, from further down the tunnel. Yet, no one ran. Someone lit a flashlight and the thing in the end of the tunnel threw a webbed hand over it's eyes. It held a harpoon and it's slovenly maw growled in wincing pain. In the deeper darkness in the midst of her group, Lin glanced something. Toys come to life. Not in an unnatural puppeteered manner, mind, but like actual things. Things with courage and fire. [break][break]

The next several minutes were tears again. Crouched in a culvert, head between her knees, trying desperately to wake up. Nothing came. Nothing but more fighting. [break][break]

[break][break]

Seven years ago, the bay lay in ruin. From the window of the pint-sized barracks of which she resided, she tried her best to mix her paints to catch the mulled nature of the water. A wide canvas lay on an simple easel and behind her a green rabbit was eagerly bounding on the bunk to gather glimpses of her painting. The girl who rested on the top bunk tried to chide the beast, but it was simple too excitable.[break][break]

"Can you paint me next? Can you paint me and Mei next," it squeaked. Lin moved her head to the side as if to glance at it, and the quiet came almost immediately. She had those eyes now. The empty, hungry, and oftentimes unmoving eyes; almost as if she was sleeping with her eyes open. She rarely talked since coming to the orphanage and she kept away from most of the side-chatter of the group dorm. She learned things without that distraction, art being her main interest. She liked color. Darkness brought back the smell and the sound, faintly though they may be.[break][break]

She'd given up on privacy the year before, but not speaking let her keep to herself. Almost. Her bunkmate was just someone she'd learned to live with. Mei understood her, had met her in that dark. Mei let her be as she was and was her surrogate. Every day, Mei would try to get her to speak, to make Lin talk about herself. She knew all about Lin, of course, but it wasn't Mei that would need to know about the painter sooner or later.[break][break]

The next week, a couple came. They spoke bad Cantonese and wore odd gold charms around their necks. They smiled warmly.[break][break]

The next month, Mei and the green rabbit were both gone. No one could fill that second space in Lin, and no one tried to. She lingered behind the crowds like a ghost. Last to eat, last to leave. She kept her art supplies on the top bunk now.[break][break]

[break][break]

Four years ago, her friend came. She was one of the few left at the orphanage and it was Christmas. She'd gotten a VaySom tablet, used but functional. It took her only hours to get it under control and she kept on it through the night. Midnight rang out and the drawing began to move. The red eyes in the sea formed claws and the black-blue maddening sky became wings and cowl. It rolled through the monitor and left Lin without the air to scream, her heart beating with a cadence it hadn't in years. The rounded thing bowed. [break][break]

"How you do," it lulled. It sounded sleepy. In her astonishment, she hadn't noticed her tablet had been shifted like the pixels on her screen. A small device, no bigger than the tennis ball Wong would bounce against the wall. [break][break]

"Hel...Hello," she muttered.[break][break]

She would name them Keui. [break][break]

A week later, a couple came. An older couple, but barely. The Cantonese was better and the charms were more worn. The smiles still as warm. She didn't even have to speak. [break][break]

A month later, she was on a plane. She sat not between the couple, but between the window and Mei. They held hands and Lin's face hurt. It had been a long time since she smiled. [break][break]

[break][break]

Now, she sit in the pews. She strolls outside, baskets of bread and drawings to hand to the children. She teaches the good lessons through picture books. Fear still gripped her steps, but she knew not what she feared. She only wished to see children smile like she could not. Even in her new home, she found herself in waking catatosis most times. Mei understood though. Keui understood. That was all she needed.[break][break]

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PALLADIUM OF FAITH [break]

Believing themselves to be the harbingers of mankind's rebirth, the Winged Heralds' virulent benefactor has unlocked the bizarre ability to convert digital energy into a suitable instrument of their will. Once per turn, the trait holder may render a card from their Online Deck offline to conjure an ephemeral weapon of their choosing, using the raw data gained from the card as material. These weapons are always Neutral affinity, inflicts moderate damage as if it were a Digimon of the Rookie level, and have a duration equal to the number of online cards remaining in their Online Deck. Creating a new weapon replaces the old one.