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345.411765 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The black night sky was empty, devoid of any stars, aircraft, and even the Moon itself. Not even it's glorious rays could be seen. Unseen to all on the ground, the sky was completely covered in cloud as far as the human eye could see. The sky had been the same dull gray all day in Isakstad. Nobody really paid any mind, it was just some normal weather things. Some days were sunny, some days were not. It's how life is, really.\n\nA tall girl, donning short, jet-black hair, a light gray coat with black buttons at her chest allowing the coat to secure itself to the girl's body with a skirt that went down to her knees, blue jean pants, and the black school shoes she'd mistakenly taken along instead of the shoes she'd normally use for everyday life when she lived in Japan. The shoes were uncomfortably tight on her feet, but it was much better than going barefoot in a place like this.\n\nYellowed street lights illuminated the streets as the girl walked along the sidewalk. She was enjoying a calming walk to allow herself to de-stress a little bit while she was still adjusting to Sweden. However, the wind suddenly picked up, and the girl suddenly felt a cold drop of liquid fall on her face. As she flinched upon the drop of liquid hitting her face, she looked up to see what caused it, only to begin to feel more drops of cold liquid fall onto her face. Then it began to pour rain. The girl hurried to the nearest bit of shelter, which happened to be a bus stop with a roof. She ran under the cover of the stop before sitting down on the chair as she tried to catch her breath."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Goddamnit.\" A voice grumbled from an unassuming doorstep in one of Isakstad's sleepy suburbs. **\"Elias, har du ett paraply som jag kan låna?\"**\n\n[Elias, got an umbrella I can borrow?]\n\n□ When she'd initially stepped off a bus two hours earlier, the weather had been gloomy but dry. A touch of petrichor, a whiff in the air, a suggestion that it had been raining earlier that day. But now, it wasn't a suggestion, and instead it was a frigid autumn downpour that bounced off the umbrella Margo had been forced to borrow from her friend and mentor in town, and it was a downpour she hadn't been expecting. Even with the overhead protection keeping her hair dry the whipping winds flipped the rain on a diagonal, slamming into the legs of her cargo pants with reckless abandon.\n\n▪︎ Thankfully, the bus stop wasn't too far from the shop; she made the trip in just under four minutes, timed by a Mars Volta song blaring from the chest pocket of her coat.\n\n□ As to be expected, though, someone else was there, taking shelter from the biblical downpour hammering poor old Isakstad. Someone who, just from a single glance, Margo managed to peg as Japanese. Was it the clothing, or was it the hair? Her face? The shoes? Whatever the case, her innate intuition told her that whoever this was, they'd come a long way, and it only went to reason that if they'd come all the way to Sweden they had to have known either the local language or the business language. So, as she fished out a pouch of tobacco and the supplies she'd need to roll she contemplated on what to say.\n\n▪︎ She was off the market, so to speak, but the combination of a skirt and short hair awakened a shameful temptation within her. Just three months prior, she'd have put all the moves on this gal; now she had a beautiful partner of her own, and she couldn't even entertain the idea of fooling with someone else without tasting bile in the back of her throat.\n\n◆ \"Hey. Nasty business out there, huh? Like someone stabbed God in the eye with a syringe full of salt and lemon juice.\""
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "As she sat upright on the metal bus stop bench, the girl could feel drops of frigid water hitting her legs as the rain was blown onto a diagonal path. The wind blowing into the bus stop made the air around her feel even colder than it already was, and the buildings were doing little to block it, unfortunately for her. As she began to hug herself to preserve body heat, she heard someone stepping towards the bus stop and looked up to see a figure stepping under the cover of the stop.\n\nShe quickly figured that they were also taking shelter from the rain, but she wondered why they weren't sitting on the bench like she was; they were still getting drenched. The girl hoped that there would soon be a break in the rain, for she wasn't too keen on missing her dinner. As she looked back down to her knees, the person in front of them spoke up, prompting her to look up and pay attention to them in order to be polite. There was but one problem, though.\n\nShe couldn't understand anything they were saying.\n\nWhen they finished vocalizing, the girl looked up at them confusedly, as she tried to figure out what they were saying. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn't understand a smidge of what they were saying to her. It was yet another language barrier. Something she'd encountered twice just in the past week when others tried to communicate with her as she traveled around the Cradle.\n\nThe girl didn't know what to do, but then she remembered. Her conversations with one Uriel Melancon, her first real friend. She used a translator app to give them something they could actually read, and in return they did the same. She realized she could do the same thing with the person in front of them, despite her worries that they would find translator communication weird, she figured it was much better than not being able to communicate whatsoever.\n\nThe girl attempted to reach for her phone in her coat pocket, but when she reached into it, there was nothing except for stray bits of gray cloth and particles of dust. Her expression changed to that of worry as she looked down to her pocket and opened it, only to realize her phone wasn't there. The black Samsung Galaxy A20 that she'd been using as her only viable mode of communication since she arrived at the Cradle was gone. The girl began to panic, realizing she and the other person wouldn't be able to communicate with each other at all. She looked back up at them as she put her balled up hands together with an obvious look of worry in their expression."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Somewhat unexpectedly, the other girl couldn't even croak out an utterance.\n\n□ A single eyebrow shot up in light surprise as the cogs of Margo's head began to turn. So, the other gal didn't understand English, and judging from her frantic patdown of all her pockets she'd really been banking on having some sort of translator nearby; a dictionary, a phone, et cetera. Instead, it was now on Margo to figure out how to bridge this gap, and it was on her to figure out how to approach it without coming off as indirectly racist. \n\n▪︎ A heavy burden for a wealthy heiress, clearly. Clearly.\n\n◆ パニックになっているのがわかる。**[Noticed the panic on your face.]** Margo calmly replied, popping a filter from the pouch into the corner of her tight-strung lips. Though her phrasing might have been a touch awkward – thanks in no small part to being a bit out of practice with the spoken side of Japanese – it was hopefully enough for the other girl to understand. If not, she had a backup planned. \"今、私の言うことがわかりますか?\" **[Can you understand me now?]**"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The girl saw the eyebrow shoot up on the other person's face and feared they were getting impatient with her. She'd been taught by her parents early on to be polite to people she meets. She feared that with her not saying anything she would be seen as ignoring the other in some form, and she knew it was rude to ignore someone. Suddenly, though, she heard something. Something she could understand. **\"Noticed the panic on your face. Can you understand me now?\"** Her eyes widened as they unexpectedly began to speak in Japanese, the girl's mother tongue. The only tongue she could understand.\n\nWith that, the girl now knew she would be able to communicate with them without being forced to rely on technology. She was still worried about her phone, but all she needed to do now was to reply to them. She processed their question again and croaked out a response. \n\n「は、はい。」 **\"Y-Yes.\"** \n\nHer voice was soft and whispery, indicative of the girl's shyness and timidity. Her voice hadn't once been raised above that tone since she was forced into Sweden. She couldn't even remember a recent time where she had used a louder, more... \"Natural\" Tone. However, she was no longer worried about any language barriers. All she was worried about now was communicating to them. Her balled-up hands, covered in thick, insulating brown leather gloves, slowly loosened. However, they were kept in that position long enough for ice to form. She was forced to open her hands for a moment to let the ice crack and fall out of her gloves, which came out as small chunks that fell onto her lap."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"よし、いいぞ。それは...正直言って安心しました。\" **[Okay, good. That's... A relief, honestly.]** Margo replied in turn, fishing a paper out and beginning the still mildly awkward task of rolling a cigarette with the rain hitting sideways and the awareness that any astute (see also: lucky) officer could have seen her subverting Sweden's tobacco laws. \"半年たった今でも、私の日本語はスウェーデン語より少し上手なだけです。\" **[Even now, six months down the road, my Japanese is just a little better than my Swedish.]**\n\n□ Casually humming the words out as she focused on the task at hand, her scarred bony hands went about their task with only the light protrusion of her tongue indicating how focused she was. Of course, though, she had a brief moment of clarity and sank into the seat, protecting the bags she'd dropped a few moments prior with her legs. If the other gal prodded her nose in she'd have seen it was a mix of reptile supplies: decorations for enclosures, a new heat lamp bulb, food, et cetera. And if she prodded, she'd have been faced with no answers.\n\n▪︎ At least, not for the two minutes it took her to roll, seal, and light her cigarette.\n\n◆ \"煙が気になるなら、外に出るよ。\" **[If the smoke's a problem I'll step outside.]** She commented, an offer of good faith born from the awareness that many people couldn't stand the stink of tobacco. \"スウェーデン語は話せないのに どうやってここに来た？揺りかごに埋葬された？\" **[So how'd a Japanese gal like you end up here without a lick of Swedish? Also interred at the Cradle?]**"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The girl nodded as they remarked of the relief they felt that she could understand them. She looked down to the ground for a moment for no particular reason, until she heard the faint sound of crinkling paper over the noisy sound of the rain filling the space within the bus stop. She turned to the other person to see what they were doing. She watched them roll up the paper into a cigarette and light it before putting it in their mouth and smoking. She couldn't really smell the tobacco smoke over the petrichor.\n\nShe noticed the bags below them being protected by their legs and became slightly curious as to what was inside, but decided not to be nosy, for it was seen as rude to her. She then decided it would be best to mind her own business and sat straight, facing forward at the rain which was still hitting the blue jeans she wore. She hugged herself again as she felt the coldness of the air bring blown into and around the bus stop.\n\nWhen she heard them ask how she ended up here without any knowledge of Swedish to speak of, she turned to them and already knew the answer. She spoke up using the same soft, whispery voice she used earlier, which was barely audible over the rain.\n\n「わ、私は... ここに来ることを余儀なくされた。」 **\"I-I was... I was forced to come here.\"**"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"同じだ。\" **[Fuckin' same.]** Margo replied in a gruff manner, wisps of smoke filtering through her teeth and the craggles of her chapped lips as she spoke. \"しかし、クレイドルは、あなたが送られた可能性のある最悪の場所とは程遠いです。君のような変人に囲まれていて、我々の種のために作られた施設で...実際の刑務所よりましだろう？\" **[But the Cradle's far from the worst place you could have been sent. You're surrounded by weirdos like you, in a facility that's tailored for our kind... Beats actual prison, no?]**\n\n□ As she spoke the metaphorical rust began to flake off of her spoken Japanese, the fluidity and cadence of her voice improving rapidly with each word that left her mouth. Of course, she had to mind certain oddities about the Japanese language, many centered around Japanese culture itself, but it still beat having to feed her English through a machine translator just to be able to communicate. Looking out at the rain, she hummed in slight content, tapping the toe of her combat boot against the concrete floor of the bus stop and blowing smoke rings out into the storm.\n\n▪︎ A real moment of peace enveloped her, so to speak.\n\n◆ \"それで、ここに送られるために何をしたんだ？\" **[So, what'd you do to get sent here?]** She asked after a couple of moments. \"私は父を殺そうとしました。もう少しで殺すところだった でもあのクソジョガーは... 現れるべくして現れたんだ。\" **[I tried to kill my father. Nearly did too, but then those fucking joggers just... Had to show up.]**"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "It was oddly slightly comforting to her that they were in the same boat that she was. As she continued to listen to them speak to her, telling her how \"The Cradle's far from the worst place you could have been sent.\", she thought for a moment about it, and considered the other places she could've been to. A moment later, she gave them a nod in agreement, thinking that the Cradle was probably the best place they could've been sent to, considering her current situation.\n\nThe rain continued to pour and hadn't slowed down since the wind began to pick up. The droplets were only illuminated by the street lights hanging over the road, casting yellowish light upon the colorless asphalt. She turned back to the rain in the few moments of silence between them, wondering just how long they would be here. It almost felt like mother Gaia was punishing them for walking outside after sunset, like a mother would.\n\nShe turned her head back to them, her gray, angular eyes locking onto their eyes as they asked what she did to get sent here. She didn't have time to think as they kept speaking, telling her about how they nearly killed their own father. This shocked the girl, who let out an audible gasp as their eyes widened. She had never lived in a reality where she had any less than a loving relationship with her parents, so it was shocking to her to learn this fact. It also made her a somewhat afraid of them as she realized they could kill her too if they desired. She scoots away from them a few cm, hoping they wouldn't notice."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"あ、そうか。\" **[Oh, right.]** Margo awkwardly spoke. \"それは...ちょっと手前味噌ですね。ふむ 衝動的なものではないと言っておくよ 彼はそれに値する、本当に。\" **[That's... Kind of upfront. Hm. I'll just say that it wasn't on impulse; he deserved it, truly.]**\n\n□ And that was all she could really say without overstepping common social boundaries. Who in their right mind *Wanted* To hear about another person's attempt to murder their father at the bus stop? Who would have consented to that? Taking a drag, she leaned back into the seat a little, the toe of her boot poking out into the rain as she did so. Of course, though, as she sat in relative silence only punctuated by the rolling patter of rain and the occasional whooshing noise of cars driving by she thought back to that night, dropping out of her second-story window directly into Hiram's accosting glare.\n\n▪︎ And she remembered just how horrified he looked once she'd straddled him and began to lay into him; a wicked smile spread across her face.\n\n◆ それで、話を共有したいのか、小僧？**[So, you wanna share stories, kid?]** She broke the silence after a few good moments. \"それともまだ私を怖がっているのか？もしそうなら... あなたを責めないわ でも傷つけはしないよ、心配しないで.\" **[Or are you still scared of me? Because if so... I don't blame you. I'm not gonna hurt you though, no worries.]**"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "They just said it so... Casually. If she ever killed her father, she wouldn't even tell a blade of grass about it. The metaphorical thousand tonne guilt would likely get to her before then, anyway. They had no problem admitting to her, a 14 year old girl, of attempted murder. What was she supposed to do with that information?! They didn't look much older than her, too! Not to mention they were subverting Sweden's smoking laws, too.\n\nAs she looked down a little, trying to process this new information about the person in front of her, she saw a wicked smile spread across her face in her peripheral vision. Her eyes focused onto that dastardly smile. A smile that showed joy in their attempt of taking their own father's life. They seemed to have not a smidge of remorse or guilt for doing such a terrible thing. She became even more afraid, hugging herself a little tighter.\n\nThe answer to Margo's question of whether she wanted to share more stories or if they were still scared of them was obvious. It was showing in her eyes, her fear towards them. She did not want any more of their stories, fearing she'd be told something out of a nightmare. Yet, she feared they'd become angry towards her if she declined their stories.\n\n「お、お進みください。。。」 **P-Please, go ahead...\"**"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"あ、いや。あなたのことです\" **[Oh, no. I meant you.]** Margo clarified without a moment's hesitation. \"何か話したいことがあればという意味です。何でもいい クレイドルではよくあることなんだ 我々がどうしてここに送られたのか という話をね 君の手袋の氷から判断すると それに関係することだと思うんだ 話は後だ バスが来るから.\" **[I meant if you want to talk about something. Anything. It's common at the Cradle to exchange stories about how we got sent here, and... Judging from the ice in your gloves, I'm guessing it's something to do with that. Don't gotta talk, though; bus should be here soon.]**\n\n□ Ever observant, she could tell that the mixture of a wiry, wicked grin and the talk about nearly putting her father in a casket had deeply unsettled the other girl. So, rather than say anything more on the matter she let the soft hiss of the rain and wind come over the bus stop again, puffing away and taking a few moments to check her phone. Looking at the top, she noted the time; *Twenty minutes 'til the bus is here,* She silently noted without so much as a twitch of a muscle in her face.\n\n▪︎ And, unless provoked into talking, she'd keep her mouth shut and only occasionally glance over at the other girl, trying her best to read the mood off of her body language."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Oh. She felt a little dumb for that, but she knows now that she'd need to share some stories of her own. She quickly gave them a nod and looked down a little, trying to think of her story as to how she got here. She tried to remember the events that led up to this. How did she get to the Cradle? Think, c'mon... It took her a few minutes to recollect what had happened before she got sent to the cradle. Note that I will not translate this part because it will end up being too long.\n\n\"S-So... Um... First, some officials k-knocked on my door, then they talked with m-my mom and dad... T-then, umm... I-I was told, that I'd be sent here... W-with my belongings, s-so I said bye to my... P-parents, then I... I-I...\" *Sniffle*\n\nThe girl quickly became emotional as she told them a kind of short version of her story of how she got here. She deeply misses her parents, her teachers, her home. Koriyama was the only city she'd ever known, and she wants to be flown back to Japan more than anything, even if it meant being in a place where nobody wanted to be with her, that she'd be a social outcast because of her gloves. In Sweden, she could read nothing. She could understand nothing a local was saying. She had no form of communication other than to get lucky and meet someone who understands Japanese, or use a translator app or website. She felt just as lonely here as she did in Japan."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ **\"I see.\"** Margo replied in turn, picking up on the sniffles that interlaced the girl's words. **\"So you're one of the rare residents who [didn't] commit a crime to get sent here... Not that it matters much, but you're one of the unfortunate few.\"**\n\n□ Picking her words carefully, Margo leaned forwards a little, into the space betwixt her knees. Compared to most of the people she'd spoken to, this gal was timid, uncertain, still not entirely convinced that it was reality instead of some vile, malevolent dream; maybe that was why she'd taken on a slightly different tone. Or, maybe it was just a side effect of switching languages. She wasn't sure. Taking one last puff she dropped her cigarette butt into a disposal bucket attached to the tin siding of the bus stop before letting out a hum.\n\n▪︎ A thoughtful hum, like the rumbling of a V10 engine. Powerful; intense.\n\n◆ **\"If you need Swedish lessons, I can help. I'm a natural polyglot; always had a knack for languages, and linguistics has always fascinated me beyond words.\"** She offered, looking over at the taller girl. **\"Or English, too; most people here talk English, so you'd be remiss to not learn the basics at least. It'd reduce your reliance on a translator, and... It'd probably do you some good. Help you blend in a bit better, not be so isolated and miserable.\"**"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "\"One of the unfortunate few\"? What did they mean by that? Why was she, considered by them, to be \"One of the unfortunate few\"? She didn't understand. If you think about this, everyone's current situation, everyone here is \"One of the unfortunate few\" In some way. Taken from their homes, if they weren't already here, with little warning, and placed into a potentially foreign institute with no knowledge of the country you just landed in, or its language.\n\nHowever, when they offered Swedish classes, or if she wanted, English classes, she was slightly taken aback. They went from a random stranger making small talk, to spilling the beans about attempted murder on their own father, to wanting to offer language classes to the girl. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to think of them by this point.\n\nThe offer seemed too good to pass up. She'd be able to understand so much more at the Cradle, and she'd be able to have conversations with some locals who also knew the language, yet there was still the fact that the person sitting next to them had committed attempted murder on their own father. Would she be willing to take language classes with a potential murderer? After giving it a moment of thought, she decided to decline, but would probably take the classes later on.\n\n\"Um, n-no thanks, not right now... B-but, I think I-I could take them later on...\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ **\"Suit yourself.\"**\n\n□ With that, Margo fell quiet once more, digging her phone out of the breast pocket of her jacket and beginning to type away at it. Somehow she'd missed quite a bit in the past fifteen minutes – a video of Anton being chaotic, texts from her mom, et cetera – and figured it was about time she shut up and just let the other girl wait in peace. She was cognizant of how abrupt and jagged her train of conversation had been, jumping from small talk to baring deep, dark secrets, and figured the other girl had had enough in the way of whiplash for one day.\n\n▪︎ That being said, she had one more question.\n\n◆ **\"Didn't catch your name.\"** She hummed. **\"Margo. What's yours?\"**"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The girl looks back down to the ground as the two fall silent, with only the pouring rain and cold gusts of wind filling the metaphorical emptiness of silence. She replayed the conversation over and over in her head as she tried to figure out what to make of the person sitting beside them. It was a lot of deep information to take in at once for the poor girl.\n\nA gust of cold wind blew right into the bus stop, sending a shiver down the girl's body despite the fact she was dressed warmly. She'd never really been \"Resistant\" To the cold, despite living in an area where it snowed during the winter. She enjoyed the change in temperature, she thought it was a nice break from the warm, humid summers in Koriyama, but hated when it got so cold that she shivered. Then, the person next to them dropped the question of her name. Margo. Quite an unusual name for her, but she liked it.\n\n\"N-Nakanishi... T-that's my name.\"\n\nShe responded, turning her head so her eyes could meet their face once more."
}
] | 336 | 5,872 |
316.444444 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "The door of the hospital caved under her touch after a moment of pushing it. Amelie almost tripped an fell if not she had a secure hold to the door. Her hands opening scratches on how hard she holds on. The hole which she ripped her IV out beading up on her arm. She looked horrible, but there was a snarl upon her lips that would not leave. \n\nShe moves forward, grabbing a pillar and holding onto it. Devoid of the feeling in her hands, her arms, her legs. Speaking in such a way with her was a waste of time, a wait of everything. After this, after everything, after she felt the hands of her mother around her throat again.\n\nMaybe she was just like her, there was no denying it. She was just like them.\n\nThe air was stinging her ripped stitches, she didn't care. She made it to where the figure of Anja sits. Her jacket forgotten for a moment. She trembles as she slowly sits down. Somewhat close somewhat far, not close enough for what she needs. \n\nShe stares at Anja with what feels like something that can burn even stars to cinders in silence."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja sits at the curb just outside of the hospital. Her steeled demeanor had dropped as soon as the people who knew her were out of sight. They didn't need to see her right now, to feel forced to comfort her. Most likely, she wounded Amelie even more by walking out like that. Her face sunken directly into her hands, she is a ball of misery. Curling in on herself more, she sobs silently just out of the way to other people coming and going.\n\nNo matter how often she tried to smother the tears from her face, it was a war of attrition she was losing.\n\nShe didn't know what her idea was. How was telling her that the right time? The right idea? She felt like she was being cornered. Like the possibility of telling her would change her mind, to stop her from cutting the actual infection away. \nAnja just didn't want to be let go.\nBut maybe she deserves it.\n\nA ragged, familiar breath.\nThe tears well again.\nSlowly she looks up. She isn't sure what she hopes to see now.\nHer eyes are tinged red from the losing battle, but Anja's stare watches with the same intensity that could bore holes into the thickest material.\n\n\"...This is not getting well soon, Miss.\" She sounds nasally, like she hasn't used her voice in days, like the chords themselves are quivering.\nA long pause.\n\n\"...I missed you.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie looked at Anja a glare to her empty stare. There's red slathered generously on her hands, on the bandages of her face. \n\nShe looks like a carmine demon ready to feast on what hope hath entered in this building. Arriving to take, never give. Yet all Amelie knew was to give. She wanted to rip herself apart again, to break her ribs and pull them outwards in welcoming once more. She ate herself to bone repeatedly, without looking. Now she's looking at Anja as though she was something starving. \n\n\"Reusing my own words? Again?\"\nShe says hoarsely, the voice treading on gravel in her throat. \nShe makes a gruff laugh before speaking again. \n\"Yet you try over and over, that is what is different. I could never give you up so easily. Yet you're quivering so...\"\n\nAmelie's nose wrinkles in a snarl again. The best she can do at the moment. \n\"I missed you too.\"\n\nHer eyes didn't waver, her voice not trembling as she spoke. She wasn't fearful. She couldn't be. Not of Anja herself, just of her choices."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja's face is a mix of emotions: confusion, distress, and even a small glimmer of hope, to taste.\nShe takes the bottom part of her palm and wipes the beading tear from the corner of her eye.\nShe feels like she looks like a tired old dog, curled on herself with the notion that there is little, if anything, that could get her up right now. She looks off to the parking lot in front of them.\n\n\"I feel like I made the biggest mistake in my life. And now the one I feel like I just scorned came to face me again. Apologies if I quiver and shake so. I didn't think I would be able to see you again.\"\nShe scoffs. It's supposed to be akin to a laugh.\n\"I am glad I was wrong.\"\n\nShe pauses. She can feel the burning stare at her. Perhaps she's not scared of Amelie exactly. Just the words that she will say.\n\n\"How about now?\" The question is cut from her lips. Her eyes caught the stare again. She stares back at the enraged look at her.\nMonotone, tired, closing up the shop that was her heart, is all that returns.\n\"Now that you know, am I still so foolish?\"\nShe feels like she already knows the answer."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie purses her lips. She leans in to Anja's space, close but not enough to feel the heat of her. Still cold, evermore. \n\n\"Do you mean it? Truly.\" \nShe bores into Anja's eyes, wide and searching for but a moment. She moves backward. \n\"I'm not ready or in the place, but.\"\nShe coughs before she answers again. \n\"Do you mean it.\"\n\nAmelies fingers intertwine and twist in by sight: impossible ways. There's a snap of bone in her fingers but it's quickly rightened immediately. \n\nAmelie herself dosent know how to feel, how to act. She has never truly been in a position of love or admiration since... Let alone now. She's a fool a hypocrite, an omen. She dosent want to believe. She dosent want to need it. \nAll she has felt and given is death upon anguish upon plauge. The shattered sky against her broken body. She has nothing to truly defend herself from harm, and she lives to be only in agony from the start. In fear, in hunger, in life. \n\nShe only knows how to bleed, and bleed she does. \n\"I don't know what to think, I only act on reflex at this point.\" \nShe frowns. Just an animal, meant for entertainment. To die in the face of laughter, to continue it. She dosent like to think how she saw the faces of those she's afraid of repeat themselves in this facility. \nSometimes she lay awake and think of herself as one of those fresh animals upon Alin's desk, taxidermied. Alive until he deems them ready to go into the afterlife. She's afraid, afraid. Maybe she's still there, a child watching it happen from a window, still outside with Carley. Frightened out of her mind yet keeping it together as best she could. She wanted to vomit. \n\nShe felt her face scrunch up and she looked away from Anja looking to the road before them. It was surprisingly peaceful, despite being at a hospital."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja shakily breathes out as she leans in. She doesn't shift away. Sharply inhales, she stares.\n\n*\"I mean it.\"* There is not enough sincerity in the vocal range of humanity to truly express it.\nShe exhales again as Amelie gives the space.\n\"I understand if you are not.\" She turns away to the lot again. Her gaze turned, but not looking at anything, truly. \"It has not been some spur of the moment crush.\" She catches herself at the snap of bone. \"I have been such a way for a while. Unfortunately, things would my courage to tell you. I never meant to hold this for so long. I knew I could trust you with such a thing it was just...\" She sighs.\n\"I was worried you would be uncomfortable with me wanting your presence.\" She shakes her head. \"It feels foolish with how much you tell me the opposite. I just... I couldn't muster myself to tell you.\"\n\nShe looks back, just for a moment. She couldn't stop herself. Seeing her was all she wanted, after all.\nIt didn't have to be a need.\nIt didn't have to even *Be.* She just didn't want to let it be such a strong weight hanging over her head anymore. She just wanted to know she wouldn't leave over it.\n\n\"At least you do act.\" She scoffs. \"I have only thought and thought and left myself out of the action before I've even determined what to do.\" She pulls her legs in, continuing. \"Actions have just left me scolded for what I thought was right. It makes it hard to really... Act anymore.\"\nTucked into her knees, she takes one more glance at Amelie.\n\"I am glad you are one of action. If it makes any difference.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie's eye is focused on the road. Though her body speaks that she is unfocused, moving every second and looking more like a fitful child than anything. \n\n\"I... Would never be uncomfortable with you around me.\"\nShe purses her lips, opening her mouth and closing it for a moment before opening it again. There's a noise in the back of her throat before she speaks. \n\"You're one of the people I trust most, *I want you to want me*.\" \n\nAmelie wanted to be wanted without need to backup for somebody else. She just, wishes to be something akin to air... Is that too much to ask? She was right she was juvenile. She wished to be brought along because people wanted her. Now she feels greedy, now she feels disgusting. She wants to curl inside the ribcage of this girl and she feels mutilated to the core for thinking so. \n\n\"What...\" \nAmelies hands stop, they sit together like plates of the earth waiting to shift. \n\"I act because it is all I can do. I've been in front of a stage to people I will never begin to know... All my life.\"\nShe grimaces, that snarl placing back onto her face. \n\"You... I cannot act properly around you.\"\nFinally a frown is laid gently across her features. There is not one car that passes by."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja shifts again, one of her hands rubbing idly at the itching coming from the stitches. She feels like she needs to run. Not away from this conversation, but in general. A lump sum of potential energy sits at the edge of the curb, her hand fidgets idly on the sidewalk.\n\n\"I... I just didn't know.\" She shakes her head, bewildered at her own mind in hindsight. \"I was so worried over never talking to you again that I have bored trenches into my dorms floor.\" She sighs. \"I truly don't know why I could trust you with everything but my feelings. You deserve the truth, always.\"\nShe glances again.\n\"And to start... I have, I have always wanted you. This is not just flattery.\" Her hand curls slightly at her own words. \"I've wanted you around whenever possible. The excitement when you ask for me to come visit is... Embarrassing.\" She chuckles lightly. \"My door was never closed to you. I wanted you to suddenly show up. I want to clear off my bed for you to sit down. I want you to invite me to cook something together. I want to make sure that if I watch a new movie, you are the first I ask.\"\n\nHer snarl does not shift Anja's own look. A reapproach, she determines on.\n\"Then perhaps we can cover our weaknesses. We do not need to have our failures splayed out so.\" She pauses for a breath. \"It should not be the idea of the onlookers that decide who we are as people.\"\nHer head turns to look at Amelie fully.\n\"And neither can I. So, why don't we just act like fools?\"\nShe turns her own palm up, offering it to her.\n\"Our secret.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie stares at the hand facing her, the paleness of those white hospital lights slide against Anja's palm in a way that makes it look like a choice... Too heavy of one to not take. Her lips purse and her left hand reaches to Anja's own, her mummified fingers twitching to be in Anja's warmth that's oh so inviting. Though it's warmth she could never trust herself to have, in that small coma she was thinking about the blood that paved roads onto the bones of Amelie's body from Anja's collar and arms. \nShe wishes she could take it all back that her very presence didn't pose a threat to Anja's life but. She was such a pathetically depraved fool when it came to the other girl. A friend, a life that stood by her, how she never felt so utterly empty and full at the same time. \n\nThis girl doesn't know she'd force the world to shed itself of its own life just for her to have the joy she deserves. \nHer eye burns and her hand stills inches from Anja's own. \nShe feels cold as she moves instead to not take Anja's palm but a loose piece of clothing desperately clinging to Anja's waist. It's fabric clenched in her hand tightly as though it's the only thing she'll ever have.\n\nAmelie whispers in a faint throat that they were both not used to as she spoke. \n\"*Our* Secret.\"\n\n**Their** Secret. Only their own, just for them. \nThey deserve it. Right?"
}
] | 302 | 2,848 |
225.705882 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan walks out of an arts and craft store in the middle of downtown Isakstad carrying a large bundle of art supplies, from wood, to paint, to all sorts of chisels, he walks with an unsteady gait as the weight of all the thing that he carries weighs down on him, he's obviously struggling with all the items that he's carrying as sweat forms on top of his brow and falls down to his chin, onlookers look at the young boy with looks of pity as he walks through the crowded street of downtown Isakstad.*"
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "Tuna had just walked out of the butcher's shop with a concerning amount of shopping bags filled with meat products when he sees a short, tan skinned boy juggling way too much craft supplies. \n\nThe onlooker's focus went from the poor boy to Tuna the moment he stepped out of the store just moments earlier. After all, a tall, crazy looking man with bright blue hair and a muzzle was much more interesting of a sight than a boy struggling to carry groceries. \n\nUnfazed by the glares and the mumbles of the pedestrians, Tuna headed over to the struggling guy. He wasn't quite sure why; he wasn't the type to go out of his way to help someone by all means, but the boy looked a bit familiar. Perhaps someone from NC considering the direction they were going. \n\nWalking up to him nonchalantly, he picked up one of the box of supplies that the boy was struggling with from his arm. \n\n\"Need a hand?\" He hummed, carrying the heavy box of supplies in one hand, Standing in front of the short boy, looking unintentionally menacing. \n\nGetting a better look at his face now with the supplies not in the way, Tuna squints and tilts his head a bit, looking at the boy in front of him. \n\n\"You seem familiar. Are you the new kid in NC?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan looks up at the tall man that was carrying his luggage for him, he was by all means grateful for a helping hand but at the same time he was confused about why a stranger would help him carry his stuff that is until he mentioned NC*\n\n\"NC, Newton's Cradle? You're a student there too?\"\n\n*Indrawan's voiced cracked in excitement to meet a potential new friend randomly in the middle of the street, as the tall man carries some of his baggage his gait becomes more steady*\n\n\"I am, I'm Indrawan pronounced In-duh-rrrra-wan what's yours, oh and thank you for the help!\""
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"NC, Newton's Cradle? You're a student there too?\"\n\n\"Mhm,\" He hummed, \"I kinda figured you were a student from the direction you were going.\" \n\nHe was a bit taken aback by the excitement coming from the boy. He wasn't used to excitement being the first thing people experience when meeting him. It was always fear, distrust or indifference considering his looks. \n\n\"I am, I'm Indrawan pronounced In-duh-rrrra-wan what's yours, oh and thank you for the help!\"\n\n\"No sweat. It's Tuna, by the way.\" He said, smiling through his barred mask. \"Your name's cool, are you maybe somewhere from south east Asia?\" Tuna is an idiot in a lot of things, but the one thing the guy is surprisingly really good at is geography. \n\n\"But anyway, I'm surprised you didn't hit me and run. I look kinda scary, no?\" He snickered, tapping his metal mask. \"I'm not used to people being all excited when we first met, but its a welcome change.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indeed to many folks the sight of a tall man with a metal muzzle and striking blue hair would cause an alarm to set off, perhaps even causing a fight or flight instinct to react, but whether to sheer naivety or a sense of goodwill, Tuna's presence does not perturbed Indra at the slightest in fact the opposite the strange looking man has caught Indra's intrigue and he can't help but stare in awe at Tuna*\n\n\"What no!, you don't look scary at all!, you look really cool!, i like that thing in your face?, whatever it is it's very stylish!\"\n\n*Indrawan talks with the excitement on his voice not leaving*\n\n \"Also yeah i'm from Indonesia!\""
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"What no!, you don't look scary at all!, you look really cool!, i like that thing in your face?, whatever it is it's very stylish!\"\n\nTuna raises a brow at Indrawan's remarks. His naivety was both amusing and concerning. He chuckled a bit at the remark, reaching his hand over to ruffle Indrawan's short, curly hair. \n\n\"You think I look cool?\" He said through a chuckle, \"This muzzle ain't here as a fashion choice. You know what that implies right?\" \n\n\"You ought to be more careful, lest some other shady guy pick you up from the streets.\" He said, using a bit more fancy words than he had in his vocabulary before joining NC. Perhaps Haoran was rubbing off on him. \n\n\"Lucky you, I don't bite,\" Yes he does, \"But be more careful about who you hang with.\" \n\n\"Also yeah i'm from Indonesia!\"\n\n\"Sick.\" He hummed, \"I kinda figured.\" \n\n\"Anyway, if you're heading back to the campus, I can help ya carry your stuff back.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan nods and fixes his shuffled hair, he never thought for a second that his trusting nature would put him in trouble, his grandfather always assured him to look past someone's looks and judge people by their actions and at this moment Tuna was helping him*\n\n\"Well if you were a bad guy you wouldn't help me carry my stuff!, and yeah thank you for the help!\"\n\n*Indrawan walks alongside Tuna as he walks side by side towards the campus*"
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"Well if you were a bad guy you wouldn't help me carry my stuff!, and yeah thank you for the help!\"\n\n\"Mmmyeah,\" He hummed, walking with Indrawan towards NC, \"I'm just saying there are a lot of bad people out there that look like me, if you catch my drift.\" \n\n\"And it's no sweat, again.\" He looked down at the box he was carrying out of curiosity. A lot of wood, paint and all sorts of different crafting tools. \n\n\"This is a lot of stuff.\" He commented, \"You into wood working? What's all of these tools for?\" He asked out of genuine curiosity, but the way his voice deflected it sounded a bit dry. \n\n\"What kinda stuff d'you make?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"OH, OH, OH, i make puppets!,and designs sets for them too!\"\n\n*The boys voice perks up as the kind stranger showed an interest to his hobbies, he's clearly excited that someone has taken an interest at what he do and at a moment's notice it seems like he's ready to tell him all about it*\n\n\"I'm still adjusting to my dorm rooms so i still have a few equipments missing, i still planned on going to a mechanics shop for the special effects too, oh, oh, oh, and i need some more fabrics for the clothes so i need to go to a tailor shop...\"\n\n*The boy rambles to himself, his excitement clearly got up to him and he begins to tell the Tuna about all the plans he have for his puppet show as they walk*\n\n\"...So that's how i plan on making Cinderella's dress and shoes!, i also need some lights to make sure the puppets stay the center of stage, dude it gonna be so awesome...\""
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"OH, OH, OH, i make puppets!,and designs sets for them too!\"\n\n\"Yeah?\" He hummed, looking straight ahead. \"That's cool.\"\n\nTuna walks quietly alongside Indrawan, listening to him ramble on with the occasional 'yeah?' 'go on,' 'that's cool' comments. He's paying attention- but not quite at the same time. He enjoys the noise though, its almost calming. \n\nHe's never quite had anyone pour out their passions to him like this in account that his only other friend is not one to open up about his interests, at least verbally. \n\nHe couldn't give much input in the conversation but it doesn't bother him. He could tell its something Indrawan's really passionate about and he's less than bothered to be hearing him out, albeit quietly. \n\n\"...So that's how i plan on making Cinderella's dress and shoes!, i also need some lights to make sure the puppets stay the center of stage, dude it gonna be so awesome...\" \n\n\"Sick dude,\" He commented, after Indrawan's extensive rant. \"You must really like this kinda stuff. I know as much about puppets as the other guy but it sounds cool.\" \n\n\"I don't got much going on myself.\" He said after he's sure Indrawan's done talking. \"All I've been doing in NC's really just been doing experiments on my powers with a buddy of mine and playing the guitar every once in a while.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Woah you play the guitars that's awesome!, maybe you can even play for my puppet shows, or, or, or i could spice up one of your performances??? I know lots about stage design and stuff i could make all your performances\n**Pop**\"\n\n*Indrawan begins another rant this time about all the different stage tricks that he could do*\n\n\"...And so once we have you rise from the stage we could have fog machine blow through the stage, making the audience goes woah...\"\n\n*He'll continue on this rant for quite some time until he almost run out of breath, his enthusiasm for what he does not dwindling even as the walk tires him out*\n\n\"...So like you could have a projector behind the screen have a video play, makes the concert more exciting you know?, also wait you said you experiments with your power, what *Are* Your powers dude, is it awesome?\"\n\n*Indrawan asks excitedly as they walk together to NC campus*"
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "Tuna goes back to nodding along to Indrawan's little rants, repeating the same affirming words like a broken radio to let Indra know he's listening. He smiles a bit at some of Indrawan's ideas, finding his enthusiasm amusing. \n\n\"Cool,\" He said, a slight smile on his face after his rant, \"Well if you need anyone for a guitar gig, I'm your guy.\" He leaned into Indrawan's spectacular plans, if not only to amuse him further. \n\n\"Also wait you said you experiments with your power, what are your powers dude, is it awesome?\"\n\n\"Hm, ah yeah my powers,\" He hummed, before looking back at Indra. \"My teeth.\" He opened his mouth wide and pointed at his sharp, canine like teeth through the bars of his mask. \"I serve an electric bite. Its why I wear this muzzle.\" He turned his head back at the road after the demonstration.\n\n\"Its pretty cool unless you count for the fact that its unbearably itchy all the time. I'd go insane if I don't bite stuff. Like I'm a teething, hazardous dog.\" He chuckled, even though he knew how dangerous the combo of electric teeth with the carnal urges to bite could be. \n\n\"Pal of mine's a huge nerd, wants to learn the mechanics of my powers. He's also trying to make a cure for the itching in the process so its a win win situation.\" \n\nHe looked back at Indrawan, not fully turning to see him, \"How 'bout you? What are your powers?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Woah that's so cool dude, you could do a lot of cool shit with electricity you can like power your phone with your teeth and stuff, i wonder why you have itches from your teeth though, maybe it's because your teeth has faint static that sends shock to your gums, maybe you could use braces to alleviate shock across the teeth? Or or, or, or maybe...\"\n\n*Before Indrawan even begins to answer back Tuna's question he begins another rant on the reasoning and limits of his power, why they act like that, and all the medical and scientific research he knows about electricity in the human body*\n\n\"...And that's the basics of naturally produced bio-electricity perhaps your powers are related to that, oh wait i almost forgot you asked me a question too, what was it?..., Oh yeah my powers!, here let me show you!*\n\n*Indrawan sets down his boxes for a minute and grabs a sheath of paper from inside one of them, from that one sheath of paper he begins folding it until a paper frog was made in the palm of his hand*\n\n\"Alright watch this...\"\n\n*Indrawan closes his eyes for a minute, and as he does so the paper frog in his palm begins to twitch, before it slowly but surely sprung up from Indra's palm and into the ground the paper frog proceeds to circle the two, jumping merrily along the way*\n\n\"Pretty cool right?\""
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "Indrawan's rant on his powers put a slight smile to his face. He didn't understand a lick of what he was saying, by all means. But it made him wonder that if Indrawan is this chatty about the logistics of his powers, what could possibly be swimming around in Haoran's mind whenever they do one of their experiments. \n\n\"...And that's the basics of naturally produced bio-electricity\" \n\nAfter Indra's long winded rant, he cant help but laugh a bit. It wasn't a mean spirited laughter by all means, just one of amusement. \"Sorry for laughing,\" He said through a chuckle. \n\n\"I'm not making fun of you, it's just that if you can talk about this much on the possible mechanics of my power, I wonder what my quiet genius of a lab partner has floating around in his brain.\" \n\nAfter gaining his composure, he looked up to see the paper frog Indrawan was folding come to life in front of him. \n\n\"Oh shit!\" He exclaims, a smile on his face. \"Damn that's cool.\" He looks down at the paper frog that was now circling the two of them as they walked. \n\n\"I'd show you my powers but I figure it'll land me in juvie.\" He said, jokingly. \n\n\"But anyway,\" He stops and bends down to pick up the paper frog. \"I don't think it's a good idea to be flaunting your powers outside of campus.\" He hands the frog back to Indra, standing back up. \n\nIt was very out of character for Tuna to be enforcing any rules, considering his general personality. Perhaps it was because Indrawan had an air of naivety to him. Or maybe it's because haoran has been rubbing off on him too Much. Who knows."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Hmm?, oh yeah, i guess i was told that it'd be bad for me to show my powers, i don't know why though, i want to show everyone what i can do with my puppets...\"\n\n*Indrawan closes his eyes and the paper frog hops into the palm of his hands once more, the paper frog slowly stops moving before losing all life all together, he stores it inside a pocket in his baggy pants before taking back his packages and walking back to NC*\n\n\"I guess i should just use regular puppetry for my regular shows then, which reminds me i'm planning on telling the story of Cinderella for my next puppet show, so basically...\"\n\n*Oh boy are you ready for another long ass rant about an obscure topic that Indra seems to be a fountain of knowledge about?, because Indra sure does, he begins telling Tuna on how he planned on telling the story, how he plans the staging and how he wrote an original script for it*\n\n\"...And so that's how the original story by the brothers Grimm differs from the Disney interpretation popular culture knows about, i'm planning on having my story be a mix of the two...\"\n\n*In the middle of his rant Indrawan notices that they have arrived in front of NC Campus*\n\n\"Oh hey we're here!, you can set down the boxes now if you like\" *Indrawan sets his boxes down and closes his eyes, an army of marching puppets come to where they are, they begin carrying the boxes that Indra has put down*"
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"Hmm?, oh yeah, i guess i was told that it'd be bad for me to show my powers, i don't know why though, i want to show everyone what i can do with my puppets...\"\n\nIndrawan seemed like the naive type, but he couldn't quite blame him. Tuna knew better than to flaunt his powers to some random stranger, but even then he knew his powers were much more destructive than Indra's. \n\n\"Yeah well, unfortunate as it is, 'tis the way of the outside world.\" \n\n\"I guess i should just use regular puppetry for my regular shows then, which reminds me i'm planning on telling the story of Cinderella for my next puppet show, so basically...\"\n\nTuna readies himself for another round of 'Yeah?' 'cool' and 'mhm's as Indra continues to go off on another tangent on puppets. \n\nHe doesn't contribute much to the conversation, again, but he listens, kind of, somewhat. \n\n\"Oh hey we're here!, you can set down the boxes now if you like\"\n\n\"Seem's so.\" He hummed looking up at the building. \"You sure you don't need any he-\"\n\nHe stops talking as an army of puppets crawl out of the box to aid in carrying it. \"Well I'll be damned.\" He chuckled before putting the box down. \n\n\"Well, I gotta go meet my buddy at the lab soon, so I'll leave the carrying to your puppets.\" He hummed, patting Indrawan on his back. \n\n\"Invite me to one of your pupper shows next time.\" He smiled down at him before going to head in the building. \"See ya.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Oh i will Tuna!, and thanks for helping me get this far!\"\n\n*Indrawan waves enthusiastically as Tuna leaves, the puppets began carrying the boxes that Tuna had put down carried them inside, he waves for a good few minutes as he walks away, before he heads inside himself with the puppets along with him glad to have made a new friend along the way here*\n\n**FIN**"
}
] | 226 | 3,837 |
192.666667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "After the incident of her almost dying by her own power after accidentally encountering ***A r m a n d o***, and after learning the entity had actually MOVED, Nakanishi no longer felt safe inside the Cradle. Her roommate, Koyama-San, had earlier gone out to the entity to help out those who were affected by the entity, and she had been waiting for him inside the dorm all morning. She was exhausted, she hadn't gotten any sleep at all this night worrying about Koyama-San, but she didn't want to delay getting out of the Cradle.\n\nSo there she sat, holding her blanket close. Her eyelids felt like they had lead weights attached to them. She had been desperately trying to keep herself distracted long enough to keep herself awake for Koyama-San's arrival, but they had only done so much as to delay her inevitable sleep. She tried pacing around the room, running in place, watching videos on her phone, washing dishes, and still her eyelids wanted to shut on her. The room was dark, and it was nearly silent, only the soft ambience of the air conditioning keeping the room warm. The perfect conditions for falling asleep. If she could stay awake for only a tiny... Bit... Longer..."
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "He feels bad about making Nishi worry. Everything was fine for *Him*, but it could have *Easily* Gone wrong. He just doesn't want to admit that and lose his nerve.\n\nTo be honest, surviving that unscathed has given Mamoru confidence in himself. At least- social confidence. He survived a plate throwing spot that used their abilities, he can start working towards asking someone on a date. Of course.. If the answer to that is a no, things may change, but that hasn't happened yet.\n\n\"Hey.\" He enters the room. Nishi probably knows that that's a greeting. Man he wishes he spoke Japanese. He doesn't turn the light on because that may be rude. \n\nTyping time: \"[Sorry it took me so long. You look tired. Are you sure you're still up for going to the town?]\""
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Her eyelids had become too heavy for her to keep them open alone, and she was about to close them and fall right asleep. Suddenly, she heard the front door open, which made her eyelids shoot open before she looked up at who had opened the door. She blinked a couple times before recognizing the familiar green hair in the darkness, then she realized it was her roommate, Koyama-San, who had finally returned from the ***A r m a n d o*** Incident. After he gave her what she thought was a greeting, she stood up and met his eye.\n\nShe watched him type into his translator app, then read the Japanese message presented to her. She looked around the room, and spotted her phone on the counter. Then, she walked over to it, then she gently picked it up and turned on the phone, the screen lighting up her face. She squinted her eyes at the sudden brightness. She unlocked her phone and opened her translator app, using her wrist to touch her phone without freezing it. It had been a while since they had communicated using translators like this, she thought.\n\nShe then used the dictation feature on her phone to speak a message into her phone and turn it into text without risking freezing her phone or typing slowly and awkwardly. Once she was satisfied with her message, she inched closer to Koyama-San and turned her phone around, holding it up so it covered her mouth.\n\nTranslated message time: [I'm sure, Koyama-San. I don't want the entity affecting me again, it was terrifying to experience.]"
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "YOU'RE FINE EEEEEEE"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "He smiles slightly. God, he wishes he could speak to her normally, but he will take this much over nothing at all. \n\nEven though she's been Moru's roommate for a little while, it's still wild that she's *Tall*. Mamoru really should be used to being short in comparison to people here by now but sometimes... \n\n\"Hmmm...\" Translator, translator- \"[Yeah, it was very unpleasant. I'm glad only two people have been hurt.]\" He doesn't know about what will happen to Anja in the near future. \n\n\"[So, shall we head out?]\""
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The slight smile shown on his face calmed her down a little. She didn't know why, but it always made her feel calmer and happier to see when someone she cares about smiles, even a little bit. Perhaps it's because she knows that they're happy too.\n\nShe was used to her familiars being shorter than her. Most times, she was the tallest person in school, at home, at a restaurant when she ate, and more. There were only a few times where she had seen someone taller than her in Japan, nearly all of which were foreigners from countries where their citizens were usually taller. Yet, in the Cradle, she had already made a friend, Uriel, who stood above her. It felt strange even *Having* Friends, but she didn't mind having a taller friend, not at all.\n\nAfter she read the message on his translator, she gave him a slow nod and walked back into the room to retrieve a lunchbox containing a few juice pouches and a container of fresh, juicy strawberries. Then she put her phone in her pocket, then retrieved her blanket, and wrapped it around her body, using her hand to hold it all together. She walked back up to Koyama-San and nodded again, telling him that she was ready."
}
] | 219 | 1,156 |
260.48 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Dressed to go out exploring, Mal wore a knee-length dark leather brown jacket with a fur trimmed hood, a gray T-shirt, plain blue jeans and leather boots. His dark hair was tied back into a small ponytail and wore a baseball cap. He climbed out from his window before shutting it as he sneaked off from the school premise. \n\nAs time skips, the boy timidly passes by the strangers on the sidewalk looking ever so frail and thin. He really wanted to go out to explore, to get a grasp of the area for him to feel some sort of comfort. Right now, he is just curious to where he could find a cemetery in hopes of finding a place to feel somewhat at home. \n\nHis stomach growled as it chewed itself from the inside, making him wince, but ignored it. It felt all too surreal for him to go out on his own way to leave without asking for permission. It felt frightening. Near the pizza restaurant, he could smell the delicious aroma that is making his mouth water so much. When did he ever eat anything so good? Months? Years? As old habits go, he strays out in the back alley to start picking through garbage to find food.\n\nMalus stopped himself as he remembered that his life is much different now. He shouldn't be having to scavenge like back at home. He did find a scrunkle up box with a few slices of cold pizza sitting in it."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir had done little exploration himself. He had been out into the town before, but had never really spent any time looking around the area. And so it was with a want to explore he threw on a pair of cargo pants and a black t-shirt and made his way there. He window shopped for a while, listening in on strangers conversations and checking out the surrounding areas. He shortly found himself overwhelmed; however, and wanting a smoke. \n\nHe pulled one out of his pack, which was running dangerously low, and sparked his lighter. It took a few moments before the cigarette lit. He never felt comfortable smoking in plain view and so he ducked down a random alley way. \n\nHe smelled something that caused his stomach to growl aggressively, causing his face to light up red. He took a pull from cigarette, slowly looking around the shaded area. It was here he spotted another boy, rummaging through the dumpsters, and he decided to watch. He wasn't trying to hid himself, too engrained in watching the other boy."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Just as his bony, pale hand was about to pick up the slice of pizza from the box, a dark furry creature crawled over the slice. It was nibbling on the crust with its grubby paws while ignoring the starving boy. Mal's pale gray eyes turn to slits as he stared at it like a predator. ||Without thinking, his hand snatched the poor animal that let out a shriek as it squirmed in his hand. Its body began to shrink and shrivel before letting out its last breath when its life got drained. It made him feel slightly better but it didn't get rid of the gnawing pain in his stomach. He tosses the rat aside in disgust, wiping his hand on the side of his pants before he begins rummaging in another trash can to find... Other food.||"
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir watched closely as the boy looked at the rat. He had never seen this boy before, and so it was to his surprise that he watched him consume? Absorbe? Kill? The rat. He wasn't totally sure what had happened, but at that point he felt he should speak up. \n\nPushing himself off the wall he was leaning on he took a few steps forward, making damn well and sure he left a good 2 of his steps between the two of them. Clearing his throat, he spoke in a soft voice, \"You know, you really shouldn't do,\" He gestured to the dead rat on the ground, \"That in public.\" \n\nHe took a pull on his cigarette, feeling his wings bristle under his back flesh, ready to burst out and carry him away if things got hairy."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Digging further into the trash he discovered some food that the restaurant tossed out. Slices of pineapple, outdated packs of sausages, some hardened garlic bread and moldy cheese still in saran wrap.He wasn't paying attention to the surrounding, certain no one was watching, he was just too hungry to notice Viz was watching him.\n\nAs soon as he heard a deep voice, Malus turned on his heel to stare up at the towering male figure with wide eyes. It took him seconds to size this target to realize he may not have a chance to take him on. Maybe he did but he doesn't want to soak this person's life force. Staring at him now, this guy looks healthy and full of life that was making him hungrier. Other than feeling famished, there was fear to remind him that he could probably get his assed kicked or perhaps murdered. He never saw this grown ass man. And no, he has no idea that this stranger is from Newton Cradle.\n\nWithout thinking, his legs just bring him to run away in a burst of adrenaline that was taking him away from the stranger. Not meaning to knock over the trash and cause him to stumble as he tries to make his escape."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Viz felt bad for spooking the poor boy, but only for a moment. That moment was shortly overshadowed by his wings springing out of his back. The two large, onyx, bat-shaped appendages shot out of his back and flapped wildly. \n\n\"Черт возьми, иди нахуй, черт возьми, крылья.\" He whisper-yelled. He attempted to maintain a level of quietness so that they didn't get discovered. His wings flexed, trying their best to fully extend; however, they kept hitting the walls with dull thuds. For a brief period of time Malus would've been cast in a shadow as Vizhkir's wings blocked the sun."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "From behind him, he could hear weird sounds like appendages stretching out, but he wasn't sure what it was because he didn't look back. His legs are working on their own trying to take him away from the potential threat. Hammering inside his chest was his heart pumping hard, his skin felt clammy from a cold sweat from him running in panic. Silent screams from a boy who can't really vocalize how he really felt, he did not dare make much sound. Inside his throat it burned worse than his lungs. When he dared a glance over his shoulder, he grimaced at the sight behind him. All he could see was a large shadow casting over him that looked like a bat-human looking thing. Quickly fishing out his cellphone, he is sending Pernlla a hasty text as he spun around the corner to try to lose the thing. It is a quick, messy text of panic stating,\"PRN, HELP! MONSTE-CHASEKLAJSDHELP!\" It was difficult to text an emergency text with shaky hands while running. \n\n-\n\nMalus coughed. Then let out a rattling wheeze that sounds similar to a person dying. And he let out another cough. His asthma and his throat condition was making it difficult for him to breathe. As he pockets his phone to nimbly fish out his inhaler, Malus felt both his legs come to a halt. Then the momentum was shifted for him to fall forward to only realize he is sinking into the shadow. The inhaler fell from his hand to topple a few feet. Now desperately trying to keep afloat, he flailed, emerging upward gasping. Still trying to gain grounding as he tried moving forward, trying to keep out of the shadow. It all felt like moving in watery syrup before he finally sank into the dark abyss.\n\nNow floating in the darkness to see faint light ahead, Malus could see his own hands trying to reach out for it. His entire body felt different in a way that he couldn't recognize it. Instead of having normal hands, they are little nubs that look like small paws? Now panicking more, he swam up to emerge from the darkness to finally see the world that looked so much bigger. \n\nUsing all his strength to try to escape, he manages to get out of Viz's shadow to stumble out flailing and helpless, toppling over squirming. Coughing and wheezing, still trying to breathe."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Viz fought with his wings, trying so very hard to get them to fold back into his back, but at the moment he could only get them to lay flat on his back. \n\nSighing he brushed himself off, having yet to see the little squishy dude. He chuckled and shook his head, \"Sorry they have a mind of thei- WHAT THE FUCK\"\n\nViz has a girly scream, and this fear of dwarves. And so when he saw something dwarf sized and really, really close to him he screamed. And his armor started to sprout. Viz fell plum to his ass, staring in absolute fear. \n\nThe creature's coughing and wheezing made him stop for a second. Despite this being an alleyway, it was fairly clean. And so when the sun glinted off of a small metal canister with a plastic piece. Now Viz had little medical training, but he vaugly remember that that canister was something to help you breath. He kept himself low and left his hands in plain view. \n\nIt didn't take him long to cross the gap and grab it, before holding it out. He didnt know how to use it, and he wasn't the keenest to learn right now."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The high pitch, girlish scream caused Mal to automatically cover his fiery, catlike ears above his head. It disorientates him a bit as he cringes from the sudden shriek. The coughing was making his throat burn inside, making it difficult to breathe as he stumbled on his stubby legs. The long, flame-like ghost tail swishes on its own, causing him to lose balance as he falls forward. Reaching a little nub out towards the inhaler, he flinches when he sees the giant figure move. He curls up into a quivering ball, closing his eyes, then opens one to see the weird man hold his inhaler close. \n\nIt was a little more bigger than him, but Malus managed to pop the cap off before applying it to his mouth before pushing the tab. Inhaling the medicine, he practiced the breathing technique to help sooth the agitation. He was so tired after the mad dash, the lack of energy and having a near-asthma attack left him feeling groggy."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "The creature was just... Laying there? He didn't look so threading now. Viz was still riding the adrenaline high from the panic just a few moments ago. He and never felt anything like it before, his teeth buzzed in his mouth, this throat and tounge felt dry. He felt a million miles away from where his eyes were. But slowly it started to drain away, his vision and teeth returning to normal operations. His armor, not truly out, started to flake off, falling to the ground in soft thuds. His wings decided they wanted to stay and play; and at this point the lack of adrenaline made him feel tired for the moment. He sat down opposite the creature, keeping his eyes above it. It was still tiny, and still scared him. Maybe that's why his wings wouldn't go away, at least they had decided to fold up agasint his back. \n\n\"Can.\" He huffed, \"Can you change back?\" He asked. He didn't want to sound like a dick, but he still felt on edge with the tiny guy still so close. He was working on catching his own breath, it always took so much out of him to form that armor; and it was always an uncomfortable experience. At least he hadn't hulk smashed a wall, that was something he lacked the best reigns on as well."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Upon hearing the deep voice above him, it sounded a little dick-ish but Mal struggled to understand the tone behind it. His glowing pal eyes turn to stare up at the larger figure, clutching the inhaler close against his chest with his nubby hands. \n\n*\"Change back...?\"* Mal thought to himself, glancing down at himself to now realize he's this tiny thing. The first time he sunk into the shadows his grandfather pulled him out when he was unconscious. Ever since then, he was doing his best to try not sink into the shadows. Out of panic, he drops his inhaler to stare at his stubby limbs before him, flexing his small paws like hands. His little shoulders rise and fall as he is starting to hyperventilate in realization what happened to him.\n\nTears speck from the corner of his eyes. \"...........!?\" Without a word, he picked up his inhaler and fumbled with it in his arms. The humiliation and fear intertwined to make him feel sick to his stomach. Shamefully, he turns his face away shaking his head. Then begins to try run away wiping away the tears with the back of his arm, wobbling away with his ghostlike tail swishing behind him. With his shorter legs, he's not making much of a distance since he is not use to his new form yet."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir stole a glance down at the small being, feeling more tension rise in his chest. He didn't hate small beings, no it was more of a primal fear. Rats, Mice and apparently Malus. But it was the clatter of the inhaler that truly drew the larger beings attention. He looked down, widening his eyes as he watched the small being fumble with it. His heart weighed heavier watching tears form in his eyes, and he knew that he had come off as brash. \n\n But watching him try to run he knew he had to stop it. And so leaned forward and and reached out. He felt the skin of the other boy agasint his own, and felt himself being drained. He acted quickly however, pulling the small one back to him and fumbling with his cargo pocket until it was open. He placed Malus in there as gently as he physically could. He had developed tremors in his hands, the appendages shaking violently as he pulled his hand away. He felt more fatigued now than he had been in years. \n\n\"Listen, Comrade I'm no happier than you about this but you've gotta stay there until you look normal again. сука блять\" He said with an unsteady voice. He was panting and holding onto the wall for support. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm himself from the sudden fatigue."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus rattled in the older man's hand like he was being handled like a tiny rodent. He was hyperventilating more in panic, trying to climb desperately out of his hands. Squishing through the grip to only be captured and shoved inside the cargo pocket. Now placed there, Malus never felt so embarrassed to a point where he felt like he was a joey inside a kangaroo pouch. He squirm around to try get out but his freaking ghost tail is what kept him stuck. \n\nNow huddled inside the cargo pouch, Malus looks like a well-made plush doll shoved in the pocket like a new fad. A little pocket monster. Looking up with nubs gripping the rim of the fabric, now noticing the boi looking exhausted.\n\nIn a way, this was kind of his fault and felt bad for eating him. Speaking of eating, he felt a little better after consuming some of the stranger's life. Thinking a little clearer, he let out a small squeak that almost sounds similar to a cat. Still shaking, he felt helpless stuck inside the man's pocket."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Viz was on the very of freaking out again. The tall Russian's stomach twisted and turned as he felt the small creature squirm around in his pocket. He hated this. He didnt want to stick him there, but he also didn't want the poor guy to get hurt by running out into the road. \n\nHe felt like shit. He felt awful for doing it, but it was the lesser of two bad options. He figured if he let the boy out þhat he would try and run again. And if he ran who knows who would've seen him. Viz didn't have the best knowledge of the inhabitants of the area, and he didn't know if they would try and hurt the other male. \n\nHe sat down on the ground, crossing the leg that Malus was in over the other, the least he could do was to not crush him or trap him even further. At this point Viz was starting to recover, feeling his body slow down. His tremors lessened, but were still present. However now he felt hungry. And the smell from the pizza shop was making it worse. Viz had never eaten pizza before, he really had only ate what was offered in the canteen on the bases, which was basically enough calories packed into a questionablely edible slop. He had only ever really begun to try new foods since he arrived at the Cradle, and Pizza was one he had yet to try."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Mal couldn't help himself from pouting. He could feel the man shaking while he was trapped inside the pocket, holding the inhaler in his nubbly arms. \n\nAll he could do is sit in the pouch bundled up looking annoyed. Then his eyes widen when the person decides to sit down cross legged. He flailed his arms in panic when he felt the fabric shift, causing him to feel nauseous as a blue streak made a line across his face. Mal suddenly went limp like he died. Limp as a ferret who had gone into a deep sleep. Except, he wasn't asleep. He just felt so gross after being moved around in the pocket when the man moved. His entire body reacted by turning itself into puddy. Legit a puddy of black slime with dizzy, glowing pale eyes. The man's tremors kept him queasy the entire time. Even when it was lessened, Mal just felt too pocketsick to move right now.\n\nAfter a few minutes passed, he opened his mouth wide to reveal dark, shark-like teeth that began to tug on the fabric of the pocket in agitation.His fiery catlike ears pinned back as he shook his head, pulling a piece of the fabric off."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Viz was leaned agasint the wall, his wing had finally decided to retract back into him, something which would make a gross wet crunching sound. He yawned, stretching a bit as he sat there. \n\nHe felt the solid mass in his pocket change into a less solid mass. Then he felt tugging, then there was a hole in his pocket. Swearing in Russian he opened the flap and peered in, strangely the pile of slime didn't scare him, even with eyes, ears and a mouth. He reached in and scooped Malus out, bringing him a up to his face. \n\n\"Listen man, we need to have an understanding. You can't run off, not like this. You need to wait it out, and I'm gonna sit here and wait with you. I won't put you back into the pocket, but if you try and run again you'll back in. Nod if you agree.\" He said firmly."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "As soon as the boy was pulled out from the fabric prison, his slime form didn't spill through the man's fingers. He was just a gelatin blob slightly wiggling in the palm of another person. His pale, glowing eyes were narrowing up at him. He was beginning to get a bit more grumpy than scared now. Malus was still starving but he could feel himself sapping a little bit of nutrients from the stranger.\n\nA slit formed across Mal's face before it pulled apart to reveal rows of dark, needle-like teeth shining with translucent saliva. A distorted hiss could be heard from the boy in protest."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "\"Don't get pissy with me, I'll stick you back in the pocket\" Vizhkir half threatened. He sat him down on the ground, looking down at him. Vizhkir had felt himself getting a bit more hungry as he held the creature, but accounted that to the fact he had skipped a snack between breakfast and lunch. \n\nVizhkir watched the little blob that sat between his now crossed legs. He figured now was as good as anytime to light up a cigarette. Taking a long pull, he felt himself relax a bit more. He turned his head and blew the smoke the opposite way before turning back at watching the little creature."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "*'I'll be pissy at you all I want!'* Mal thought, his mindful voice snapping at the older male. With much determination and a small boost of his agitation, his form begins to take on a more solid shape again. His feline ears pinned back while his long tail swished behind him. There was a lot going on that the boy didn't understand. It was an emotional rollercoaster. He stood there, staring up at the stranger trying to debate on what to do.\n\nA bead of sweat slid down his temple when he realized that the best option is to try to wait it out. Now seeing that this weird person isn't really trying to hurt him. It was still a fright coming across another paranormal who looks like he could easily hurt him. \n\nHis stomach painfully rumbled that made him double over, clutching his aching belly before he sat down. Of course, he does require solids since he is born with a stomach that requires food. There was a good amount of energy he drained that made him feel less groggy at least. As of now, he's just going to have to try and wait out his transformation until he is finally back to normal. It would take a good 20 minutes before he started to sink back into the abyss before rising up appearing as a boy. A tired, skinny malnourished boy with a nasty slash scar across his neck."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir's mind wandered as he leaned back, puffing on his cigarette. He though of home. Here, at NC he was free to be his own man. Make his own mistakes and suffer the consequences of them. He wasn't a newcomer, he had been here a while actually, he just sealed himself away from the rest of the school. Up until this point he had refrained from getting to know anyone and had been just fine being left alone in his dorm room or sitting in the back of the class room and not interacting. He didn't talk to anyone in the gym, and he sure as he didn't speak to anyone on his runs. But now that he had carved out his spot and settled down he wanted to learn more about his surroundings and the people who lived there. \n\nHe didn't want much, but one thing he wished more than ever since he had arrived was to have his father here to guide him. Valentine Dragovich, one of the meanest people Vizhkir has ever known, but his father was never mean to Viz. A tear escaped his half opened eyes as he thought of his dad. He missed him, and Viz was sure that Valentine was attempting to move the world to find him. \n\nAs they sat there in silence Vizhkir stole a glance at the other boy, his eyes widening at the sight of the sickly look man in front of him. He opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but quickly shut it. He thought for a moment before finally speaking, \"I apologize for... That. I didn't want you to get hit by a car.\" \n\nThe boy's appearance shocked him, he hadn't really gotten a good look at him before and now he felt even worse than he did about stuffing him in his pocket. He came up with a million different reasons as to why he looked the way he did, but he didn't dare voice them. The scar madr Viz's heart seize, he knew people with large ones like that didn't like to talk about them. He remembered back to when he was 8, playing with his Father in the snow when he asked how Val had lost his eye and where his big scar came from. Val had gotten silent, and more somber than Viz had ever seen him. It was an event that had stuck with him, and was the reason why he didn't ask about Malus' scar. \n\n\"I feel like things got off on a wrong leg, no? I'm Vizhkir. You are?\" He extended his hand out, offering it to shake."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Now sitting cross-legged a few feet from the older man, Malus had his arms folded in anticipation. He was slightly haunched with his shoulders stooping with his head in an almost bowing position. His thick, dark wavy hair was unruly and poured out from his fur trimmed hood like black ribbons. It didn't hide his furrowed brow and glassy pale gray eyes that stared irritably. He still retained a porcelain face with hollow cheeks that barely claimed his well-formed features. Across his neck the scar was at least an inch wide that spread in a rust-colored smile. When looking closely at it, there are old stitch scarring that could be seen where his neck was operated on.\n\nTo reply back to the man - no, Viz's response, Malus curled his spidery fingers as he stuck out his thumb to run it along the line of his scarred throat. He stared coldly at the man's hand, a feeling of wanting more of his life essence but his morals kept him on a leash. Shaking his head dismissively at the other's greeting, Malus pockets his inhaler before pulling out a notepad and pen.\n\nHastily writing in neat lettering it said,*\"Just call me Mal, I'm Death's son. Please do not make contact with me, it's dangerous. What were you doing chasing me with those demon wings? I really thought that you were going to murder me in the alley.\"*\n\nAnd he turns the notepad around for the other older male to read his neat writing.There was an itch in his throat that made him turn his head away to cough into the crook of his arm, still holding the notepad up with his other hand. There was a ragged wheeze that escaped Mal."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir read the message a few times over, making sure he gathered all the important parts before talking again. He swept his own hair back onto his head, it had gotten long in the past few months. He managed to get all of it to sit, minus a few strands in the front which decided to dangle over his eye. His eyes traveled up for a second, looking at the sky before dropping back down to Malus. \n\n\"I am not a demon. Нет, I am a dragon. And the reason my wings are out is because you scared the fuck out of me when you turned into that little thingy. They popped out cause I was unsteady. And I chased you because I didn't want you to get hit by a car, or seen. I am still unsure about the area, I don't know what they would do to you\" \n\nBy the end he was looking down at his hands, which he was aggressively rubbing together. His head craned back up, \"You said touching you is dangerous. Is that why I started feeling weak?\" He asked, his tone nutural. He wasn't angry, nor upset. He was curious as to how that works. He looked at Malus, eyebrow cocked slightly up in a questioning look."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Mal's pale gray eyes stared at Viz with a dull expression, watching patiently with an unsure look. It looks like the older man is contemplating which gave him some time to think. By judging by his sheer size, this guy looks like he is carved out of primitive concrete with a chiseled, hard face that spells \"Army\" Across it. There's no way a normal guy would look like this. He has to be from the army. Just as Mal was about to judge this man, his attention was disturbed by the word \"Dragon\" Which got him pushed a foot away from Viz.\n\nAnd when the other question sprang up, it made his nose scrunch up like he just tasted something sour. To reason for that being asked, Malus knew better that he was the first to bring it up. Holding back his sarcasm, he did his best to try not to let any of it spill. So, he squeezes the pen as he writes on the notepad to respond.\n\n*\"Just don't touch me.\"* And there is an unhappy smiley emoji drawn beside the sentence. Mal held the notepad up for Viz to read while he used his free hand to point at the message. He let out a muffled grunt as he lifted himself up onto his feet, now standing over the other. Pulling his sleeves over his pale hands, Malus turns to cough into his elbow away from Viz. He wobbled a little where he stood,feeling light headed after the coughing dwindled. Now writing another message, he turns the notepad around to show it to Viz.\n\n*\"Thanks for... Whatever that was. You should catch up to your friends they must be worried about you.\"*"
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir watched the other boy scoot away with intrest. He cocked his head as he watched the boy's facial expression change. That puckered, grossed out looking face confused him, until he read the message. He simply nodded.\n\nHe watched as the boy wobbled when he stood, before reading the new message written down. He stood up himself, dusting off his pants. \"I came here alone. I do not have freinds\" He said, once again towering over Malus."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "In a way, Mal sort of regretted being a slight brat when his eyes followed Viz rising to his feet. The man did look huge when he was in his peepsqueak form. Now that he is looking at him in his more normal shape, Mal can see that no matter what this man is still going to be massive. It was always going to be a losing situation for him since he wasn't in his top shape. Luckily, so far what he can tell is that Viz isn't out to get him.\n\n*\"No friends, huh? Well, ain't that just too bad...?\"* Mal thought, now wondering how this pitbull doesn't have friends. Well, to be fair, he doesn't have any except very few that he had left behind. From knowing this fact that this man has nobody, it wouldn't make him jump at the opportunity to make friends. This was something that he would prefer to let things happen naturally.\n\nWith a sigh, Mal writes on the notebook,*\"Are you from Newton Cradle? How old are you?\"* At this point, he didn't care if he came off forward. Then he pauses in his writing as if trying to remember something. *\"If so, I think you should go visit the infirmary after making contact with me. You might have lost a bit of essence and nutrients. Eating and getting plenty of rest should help replenish yourself.\"* This was coming from a kid who looked closer to death compared to Viz."
}
] | 258 | 6,512 |
179.666667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Raizel had followed Graham stealthily to his complex down town and had known about where he lived for some time now. She was only curious then but now she needs to talk to him away from the school. Dressed in her more moderate clothes, she bare no mask but only a scarf covering half her lower face. She knocks on the door."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Graham hears knocking at the door at rather an unusual hour, and he can't fathom why.\n\nHe isn't making noise, he isn't expecting visitors, he hasn't ordered takeout, and it's far too late for the post. He's been hoping for a quiet night in, in the comfort of his home. So, when he gets up to answer the door, he's more than a little disgruntled.\n\nGraham opens the door. The first sight that meets Raizel is the sight of half the man Graham usually is, tired and disheveled, standing in the entryway, looking like someone just pissed in his lemonade. The second sight that meets her is the immediate recognition on his face, followed by something that can hardly be described as joy.\n\n\"Raizel, what the fuck are you doing here?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Can we talk?\" Raizel said, looking up at him with a troubled look. Even if he looked like shit and his change of tone didn't bother her one bit, already getting the feeling that is all business outlook for working at a school. \"Please?\" Her mouth twist to a nervous squiggle. \"I-I'm sorry for arriving at this time... I don't know who else to turn to... I understand you want to push me away to Pernilla... Like you usually do... But I really need to talk to you in person... Away from the school. Its sensitive information..\"\n\nShe was trying her very best to not stutter when she speaks and her tone sound much softer and feminine without her mask on."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Graham pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked like this was the worst thing that had happened to him all day, because it kind of was.\n\n\"You're not supposed to be here, Raizel. You're not even supposed to know where 'here' is. How the fuck did you even- You know what, never mind, I think I know how you found my apartment. Just. Don't ever do that again, okay? To anyone. Following someone home, or tracking their smell to find where they live, or whatever the fuck you did, isn't okay, Raizel. You can't just do stuff like that.\"\n\nHe took a look at Raizel again, and grumbled to himself. It was like raising a child. A giant, extremely capable child who could turn into an even giant-er wooden death lizard.\n\nWho was apparently dead serious about having to talk to him in person.\n\n\"...Fine. I can tell it's important. You can come in, but please, just. Call me next time. Or text me. I'm pretty sure you have my number, and if not, you can get it from the night watch. He won't ask.\"\n\nThen, he walks back into his apartment, expecting Raizel to follow. \"Oh, and leave your shoes by the door.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"What? You can't? I've seen other kids do it and same with other spooks,\" She said, sounding confused at his lecture. This was rather new to her hearing this. It wasn't important right now. She did as she was told by removing her shoes to leave by the doorway before stepping inside. Unsure where to go into than down the hallway, Raizel glimpse at Graham as she waits for him to shut the door. Once it felt safe to speak, she turns her eyes to the floor to get some comfort to talk. \"I-It's about those girls with the halos... I tried texting for help when they first came to the school. No one answered. They were looking for someone that they think that the school took from them.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"It's wrong, Raizel, and those people are wrong too.\"\n\nGraham wandered into the living room and turned off the TV. It had already gone into an ad break anyway, he noted, and it was difficult to really care that much about the movie. Then, finally, he came back and shut the door behind Raizel.\n\n\"Girls with the-\" Graham quiets himself and nods. \"Okay.\" Raizel has more to say, he can tell. He takes Raizel by the hand and gently guides her to the kitchen table, giving her a few moments to sit herself down. He has a feeling the entryway isn't the best place to talk.\n\n\"Did something happen?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She was taken back by the shift of his mood when her took her cold hand into his. Raizel followed behind glancing at her surroundings before taking a seat by the table. \"I know th-they left dead animals in the woods to intimidate the school. They left that dead deer in the garden... At first I was upset that they harmed animals for their dumb plan. But now I know a little more that they're v-vigilantes... What did the school done to them to be so scared? And what made them go as far as killing animals so they can get their sister back?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Graham looks calm, but he's not. The subtle things, if Raizel cares to notice them, give him away - the twitch in the corner of his eye, the pearly bits of sweat developing on his brow, the slight crackle of his voice as he begins to speak.\n\n\"We haven't done anything to them, Raizel. It's okay.\" He sighs. \"They're killing animals to get their sister back because... It's their sister, Raizel. Family is like that, most care about their families very much. They cared so much that they thought it was okay if they killed some animals if it meant getting their sister back. Most people don't care all that much about animals, Raizel. Most people care more about people than animals. Most people would kill 10 animals, or more, if it meant saving one person's life. That's what they're thinking too, probably.\"\n\nHe trailed off somewhat.\n\n\"But... They're wrong. We don't... Their sister isn't with us. I don't know why they're trying to threaten us.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Raizel watches his in silence while he babbled on staring at him like how a wolf would. Gazing right into his eyes while not moving. It was a struggle to understand how he is feeling other than smelling his sweat and strange change of body language. \"Annika was discovered by students who placed her somewhere safe. She doesn't want to go back to them... As f-far as I know, she doesn't have her halo or wings anymore.\" Her fingers laced together as she placed her hands on top of the table. \"You smell different... What else do you know of them? Are you scared?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Graham takes a deep breath. \"Raizel...\"\n\nHe has no idea if this is even going to work. Raizel's responses to stimuli are a mystery to him, even now. Raizel has a human mind, yet not, and it's nearly impossible to figure out where that suddenly comes into play.\n\n\"As far as I'm aware, all of these things you mentioned happened quite some time ago, Raizel. It's not new. You told me it was sensitive, that you don't know who else to turn to.\"\n\nHe swallowed the awkward lump of self-doubt in his throat. \"Raizel, let me ask you again. Did something happen recently that you want to talk to me about?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Time flows d-different for me, Graham..\" Her ember eyes narrowed into an expression of disappointment. \"I met them again and no, I didn't get stabbed just yelled at. They're still looking for their sister\" The second language was lowkey making her frustrated trying to speak English to this man. \"I-I really don't know what to do because I am already involved in this... And I want out. I don't know who to trust because I was taken from my homeland. And placed here to learn that there's a group of girls saying you're all bad... And I'm here struggling with that c-concept... I'm not human and not raised to be like you. I was never raised by a human parent and its so hard trying to understand all of this.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Graham glanced away from Raizel. He felt conflicted - on one hand, he had a responsibility to his work and to the residents of Newton's Cradle safe, and on the other, he had his responsibility to Raizel, being told these things in full confidence and expected not to tell anyone else.\n\nHe looked back at Raizel, and made his decision... At least until he doubled back on Raizel's words, and realized he might not have to make a decision at all.\n\n\"Involved in what? Are they coming after you?\" He looked concerned. \"You need to be honest with me for me to help you, Raizel. I need you to tell me everything. What's going on?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I am not sure if they'd bother... But I r-really need you to be honest with me in return...\" Raizel says firmly, raising her eyebrow at him. \"I'm told they had mind powers and they've been stabbing people leaving glowing wounds behind. They seem to know that you have weapons on you and read you? The halos on their necks look strong as steel.\" She is trying hard to word it properly but its failing because this language sucks so much. \"Uriel is worried about people getting hurt. They sent us to go investigate to see what we can learn from them... It's hard because I'm not sure if its okay to tell someone or not. The thought of my friends going made me scared... So I went... To make sure they come back... I was... Really angry... So mad... Because my friends found it interesting to go see. Teens either too curious... Want to do justice... Or just bored...\" Raizel bit the corner of her lower lip when she recalled nearly losing her composure back then. \"I don't understand the purpose of all this or what Uriel really wants... Or what we should do about the girls. I'm not sure which side is worse? You along with the school or those so-sorority sisters? I don't even know what to do if they did come back...\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Hey.\" Graham leans in. He's calm again. He seems to have figured out what's going on - and he has an idea of how he's going to address it. No one's going to get hurt. \"It's not your responsibility, okay? It's not your job to deal with everything.\"\n\nThey were like him. Like he had been. Poking their noses in where they didn't belong, with no idea how bad things could get. He had to intervene, to stop it before things could manage to get that bad. That was all he *Could* Do in response to this kind of information.\n\n\"We're gonna keep you safe, okay? You don't have to worry. If you have anything you wanna ask, you can ask it now, otherwise I'll drive you back to Newton's Cradle so you can sleep, okay? It's gonna be okay. I'll take care of it.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Can you not take this to the h-higher ups at the school...?\" Raizel said, her head lowers a bit with a strand of her coffee colored hair blocking her ember eye. \"Not yet anyways... J-just go talk to Uriel about this first, they said that they're going to take full responsibility.\" There was a gloomy look from Rai who turn her gaze back at him. \"Talk to them first... I d-don't know a lot c-compare to them.\" Raizel sighed. \"I don't think this school is safe enough to keep everyone safe, Graham... It'll never be because if an angel is able to get this close to students and not get help from a phone call... Gives it a bad impression.\" Raizel nervously rubs her forearm leaving a scratch behind when she thinks too much on this. \"I really want to go back home where it makes more sense...\" Her mouth wavered and her eyes begin to well up with chubby tears. \"I r-really miss my mum... So much...\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Graham stood up, approached Raizel, and wrapped his arms around her in a strange, but comforting hug. For a few moments, the apartment went silent, and the occasional car outside, the ticking of the wall clock, and stifled breaths were the only sounds the room could muster. It was a tense moment of fear and trouble and comfort.\n\n\"I... I promise I won't tell anyone about Uriel. Or you, or your friends.\" He nodded, still holding Raizel tight. \"But I'm gonna tell them about how the Angels broke in, okay? About what the Angels have been doing.\"\n\nHe knew that might still be a breach of trust. But Raizel deserved to know what he was going to do - and she deserved the comfort of knowing he wouldn't rat anyone out.\n\n\"You're right. It's not safe enough right now. And that's why I have to tell the Deans about the Angels, okay? So we can make the school safe for everyone.\" It was the best he could do. \"Thanks for telling me all this. I know things are hard, but let's do what we can, okay? You're gonna be okay.\"\n\nHe let go of Raizel. \"Let's go back to the school and get you tucked in bed, okay? I'm gonna make sure the Angels won't hurt anyone.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The stone walls shattered as soon as Graham pulled her in a tight hug that made her eyes shine before large pearly tears rolled down her cheeks. With crossed arms, shoulders pulled together before clenching her jaw tightly. She quivered in his arms with stifled sobs with her hand clasped over her mouth. Swallowing back the phantom lump in her throat, Raizel struggled to cry from her slow breathing that weight down on her chest.\n\n*'Stop crying! You're embarrassing yourself!'*Rai's thoughts scolded her.\n\nShe couldn't help it.\n\nIt was Graham who broke her into pieces from a simple hug that shattered the wall like a wrecking ball.\n\nRaizel pressed her eyes tightly when she shakily clung onto Graham's shirt when she buried her face into his chest. His shirt now becoming drench in cold tears that spread out like a stained puddle.\n\nRight now she never thought that she would feel so alone and still grieving over the loss of her mother. Everything she once had was now gone.\n\nWhen he pulled away, Raizel was now blinking away her tears before wiping it with the back of her sleeved arm. Then shakes her head to respond to Graham. \"N-No... I can make it back myself... You need rest... I..\" She felt a lump form in her throat again and her lips feeling tight when she felt pain in her heart. \"I ......\"\n\nHer ember eyes glance back onto the floor with a look of uncertainty when she removed herself from the table."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Graham shook his head. \"No, I'm not going to bed just yet.\" He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and stuffed them in his pocket. \"C'mon, let's go. I'm not taking no for an answer.\""
}
] | 158.5 | 3,234 |
358.15 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fuck.\"\n\n□ A hand stood stiff atop the left breast pocket of her camo jacket, a patch-festooned affair that always stunk of strong tea and tobacco. Tapping against the half-open zipper, she grumbled furiously yet silently. How had she forgotten her phone back at her dorm room? Had it slipped out of her pocket on the way out? Possible. A hole existed in the left seat pocket, but she wasn't entirely certain if it was quite large enough for her phone to slip through. Whatever the case, she was effectively off the grid and detached from the distant world, and this meant she could – for once, at least – simply window shop without the steady soft buzzing of her phone keeping her attention from ever solidifying on one solid thing.\n\n▪︎ And just as luck would have it, she spotted a familiar face – or, rather, head of hair.\n\n□ Pushing off from a light pole, a flick could be heard before a wispy cloud of smoke surrounded her head. Forever a willing participant in her own self-destruction she sauntered down the sidewalk, only shooting a cursory glance each way before strolling across the street like a locomotive, with one hand awkwardly in her back pocket and the other holding her cigarette lightly. Across the street she took note of the store's name – *Huh. Haven't seen this place before.* – and lingered outside a couple of minutes, reading out of a pocket Bible produced from her right inner pocket and blowing out tufts of smoke. Once finished she slipped the Bible back into her coat, popped a Chupa Chups into her mouth, and strolled in.\n\n▪︎ A few moments later, she found her. A girl she'd spoken to through the Intranet chatrooms yet rarely seen in the flesh.\n\n◆ \"Esmeee.\" Margo coolly announced her presence, slinking up and leaning herself against a jewelry case or something of the sort. \"What's up? Hope you don't mind me kinda tailin' you in here. Forgot my goddamn phone at the Cradle so it's just me and my thoughts, and man...\" A restrained chuckle followed, filling in the awkward space. \"I'd rather take my chances with you thinking I'm fuckin' weird. Kidding, mostly; silence is bliss. Anyways. What's up? Little bit of late shopping?\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "A quick upward glance turned Esmeralda's confusion into a grin. Underneath trying to place a name to the face, she was, at least, reassured by the mention of the Cradle. Margo? Margarita? The two girls had such similar names, and Esme only ever saw either in passing — though, she did think she had a class with Margarita over the summer, maybe a Spanish class. (Her mother would be severely disappointed if she lost her mother tongue while at the Cradle).\n\n\"Ah! Hello! Have you, ah — lost your phone, then? Do you need any help looking for it?\" \n\nEsme took half a moment to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, the white, long fleece of her coats wrists somewhat brushing up against her nose. Her long overcoat hung about to her knees, cream coloured over a comfortable set of dark, thick tights and a white turtleneck, black ankle boots putting her two inches taller than usual. She, thankfully, kept her phone in a little clutch, a small silvery one of her mothers, that she currently carried in one hand. \n\n\"Yes, though! My brother's birthday is in, oh, about a month, and I assumed packaging fare is *Dreadful* This time of the year, particularly if one is going from Scandinavia to New York — so I'm perusing a new watch for him. What about you? You've mentioned your phone. If you need any help with it, I am here to help!\" \n\nShe may not know Margos name (sort of), but, Esme knew that Cradle students needed to, well, stick together, at times (though many of them did not). To her, it made perfect sense. If she hadn't had Valio, she supposed she'd still be a rock."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Nah, not lost. Just slipped outta my back pocket, I fear.\" Margo casually spoke, pressing and creasing her hands into the stiff corners of the display case behind her. \"These cargo pants ain't exactly in the best of shape, but they're comfortable, so... I take my chances. Sometimes my phone falls out; ain't been too lost yet.\"\n\n□ Bouncing her left leg slightly as she spoke, she clacked her lollipop around the inside of her mouth and watched as Esme simply *Moved.* The rise and fall of her coat's wrists along her arms, the curl behind her ear, the simple yet elegant way she seemed to hold herself. Spoken for as she might have been, she couldn't help herself from a spot of people watching, and Esme turned out to be a good person to watch. Once Esme piped up about her brother's upcoming birthday – and the ensuing worries about shipping – she let out a throaty utterance.\n\n◆ \"Apparently it's not quite so bad from New York to Sweden. Least, that's what my mom was saying when she shipped over my guitar.\" She calmly spoke, the pearl stick of her lollipop bouncing up and down like a conductor's wand. \"But, like ya said... Holidays. Probably busy as hell right now, even though Christmas is in the rear view mirror. Anyways... Fuck it, I'll help. Been told I have a decent eye for detail; I'd hope so, given my wack ass eye.\" She chuckled. \"What's he usually like in his jewelry design-wise? Any particular functions he likes? Or is he... Y'know, simple when it comes to that shit?\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"He's particularly fond of Rolex, though, my father often tells him it looks tacky,\" Hummed Esme, her index finger tapping her cheek somewhat absent-mindedly. \"Ah! Holzkern, he mentioned once. Alejandro has always preferred the sort of, ah — shall we call it, walnut wood *Chic*.\" \n\nShe smiled around a myrrhic expression, gesturing to the glass case in front of them. \"I've informed Miss Maja — see, her, behind the counter? — that I will be looking today. But, really, its no trouble at all of you need a moment to look for your things. If not, I'll happily accept any help!\" \n\nEsmeralda's voice carried off into a light hum of something filtering through a speaker from above as her gaze flitted to the watches. She suddenly straightened up, a sense of purpose in her spine.\n\n\"I apologize — I've been talking so much. How are you? How are your holidays?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Your father's blind, sounds like.\" Margo scoffed lightly, also lightly tugging her left sleeve down to unveil that, yes, she was wearing her own fancy watch oht. \"I've had this Rolex a few years, and...? Shit's amazing. Keeps time tighter than anything I've known. Now, Patek...? *Those* Are tacky watches.\"\n\n□ It might've been weird for the attendant, this one Miss Maja, to hear a girl who five seconds ago likely looked like a spry street urchin simply trying to spit some sort of game dismiss Patek watches while displaying her own Rolex. It was just part of her charm, an awareness that she looked broke yet was richer than most people she passed on the street. \"Gotcha.\" She nodded, mulling the name over; \"Holzkern...? Never heard of it. Then again I'm not super plugged into the world of watches, I just know the basic brands and that I'm probably going to die with my Rolex on my wrist.\" She continued, making light work of conversing with Esme. \"But if he likes walnut chic, then... Hm. I'll keep that in mind.\"\n\n▪︎ She took a glance around, checking out the various watches, taking note of what the other gal was saying.\n\n◆ \"I've been busy. Working towards my GED so I can finally get out of the Cradle, balancing that with an actual job in town... Taking care of my reptiles. Also been university shopping; MIT's catching my eye, but fuck man, I kinda don't want to go back to America if I can help it.\" Her voice wavered towards the end, from casual and collected to slightly apprehensive. \"Holidays were fine though. Spent them with Vi in myself and Uri's room... She got me a promise ring, actually. Really touching. How've you been since the whole, y'know... Being crystallized thing? You been okay, man?\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"A promise ring!\" Esme squealed. She jumped up, clapping her hands together in glee. Her boots danced from foot to foot, nearly giddy at the idea of her friend (loosely phrased, but a friend nonetheless) getting a promise ring from her girlfriend. \"I'm so happy for you! That's wonderful, Marg!\"\n\nShe might not have known if her name was Margo or Margarita, but, at least, Marg started both of those names. \n\nEsme settled at the mention, though, of going home. Her goal since she'd arrived at NC had been just that - and she and Marg were both from New York, if she remembered correctly. She nodded in something like understanding. \n\n\"If you'd rather not,\" She said, \"Why not go somewhere else? All the world's a stage, my friend! And you will surely fit well into whatever part you choose.\"\nThe smile she offered Margo was genuine - she nodded to affirm it. \n\"Besides. There are many good and well schools outside America - I'd love to go to university over in Spain. My mother is from Mexico, but, Spanish is not much different there, you know.\"\n\nShe peered into the particular case, growing quieter, still, at the mention of the *Whole being crystallized thing*. Her face dropped, her indicative smile faltering into a slightly agape stare. She pulled in a deep breath through her nose, her shoulders tensing up around her neck.\n\nEsme was *Fine.* \n\nThe itching creeping up her skin, the nights she woke up and couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything. The way she couldn't breathe when her closet door shut behind her a few days ago. How she always kept the door cracked to her room - just in case. Just in case it couldn't open again. Just in case she was trapped in there. She often gave up on sleeping in her own room, and crept down to Val's, curling up against her gentle giant of a girlfriend, just so the thoughts would settle down inside her skull. She scrubbed at her skin constantly - just in case the gems were coming back\n\nEsmeralda Baltimore was, most assuredly, fine.\n\nAnd, that was all that mattered, wasn't it? She steeled herself in front of Margo, nodding.\n\n\"I'm doing well,\" She reassured her. \"It's been-... I'm well. Valio's help allowed me to work through most of it.\"\n\n*You're faltering,* Her mother's voice whispered to her. *Straighten up. Do not let them see you sweat. Or cry.*\n\nHer face still hurt to stretch, her limbs still ached if she put them in the same position that they had been frozen in. Sometimes, if she didn't stand up correctly, everything went numb, and she had to lay down until it passed. \n\n*Esme was fine.*"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah.\" Margo sighed happily. \"Lucky me, man. I'm... Fuck, I still dunno how I managed to get her to fall for me.\" She continued. \"But I did, and... I'm pretty goddamn content. She's a little weird, I'm a lotta weird... Shit balances out.\"\n\n□ Aware that she was talking to another spoken-for lass, Margo felt it fine to gab a touch about Vi. How had she lived without knowing the awkward yet genuine love of her girlfriend? She knew the answer: miserably. But, she didn't dwell on it for long. Not because she forced her mind off of the topic, but instead because Esme kept on chattering. She reached into a nearby case and absent-mindedly pulled out an Omega watch with a suitably *Walnut chic* Brown strap. \"Yeah, I'm aware. Spanish is Spanish, kinda like how the Portuguese spoken in Brazil is intelligible by european Portuguese speakers. Hasn't been separated from the main language long enough to be its own thing, y'know?\"\n\n▪︎ She couldn't help herself from gabbing a touch about languages. The tough part, it turned out, was exercising restraint and not completely gabbing Esme's ear off for two hours about how the different native languages of Mexico survived colonization or whatnot. She had a habit of rambling.\n\n◆ \"No need to hide it.\" Margo idly spoke, running her thumb along the strap of the watch she'd picked up in a circular motion. \"I get the idea from how you're talkin' that you're not exactly well. But, we don't gotta talk about it i it's still tender. Sorry, man.\" She continued, her voice a touch softer and a touch hesitant. Apologies were always a little tough. \"Anyways... Look at this bad boy. It's an Omega, and I think the strap might be up your brother's alley. Looks very, well... Walnut chic.\"\n\n▪︎ A chuckle followed as she held the watch towards Esme. On towards slightly brighter topics, hopefully."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"Oh! How lovely. May I?\"\n\nShe took the watch gently from Margos hands, holding it up to the light, turning it over, and over, the uneasy sensation just under her skin settling into her bones as she took deep breaths — not too deep, don't sigh, Esmeralda — and she gave Margo a little smile.\n\n\"It is lovely. It is my best option so far, I believe.\"\n\nThe second part of her words seemed to register, and, minutely, her grip on the watch tightened, just only able to be noticed if Margo was paying close attention. (The concern, really, was very valid, but Esmeralda was nothing if not put together, particularly in public) .\n\n\"You're very kind, Margo. I do think we share a lot in common – Valio, she's quite wonderful. I'm incredibly lucky to have her. She's done so much for me in just a few months-... I don't believe I could have done it without her.\"\n\nWhen in doubt, she thought, show gratitude. It made someone appear more humble, her brother had mentioned once. Humility. Little gestures of it went a long way – as far as she could tell."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah.\"\n\n□ Plainly spoke, Margo turned her attention back to the glass case she'd unceremoniously leaned her backside against a few minutes prior. Christmas in the rear view mirror, she now turned her sight to the future, and particularly towards Vi's birthday. It was in two short months; *Barely any time,* Her mom had quipped over the phone a few nights prior when the subject came up. Intently looking into the display case she began to wrack her brain for ideas on what to get Vi. As she looked in she also nodded at what Esme was saying, showing that she hadn't fully tuned out her acquaintance while trying to decide what sort of beautiful jewelry or what sort of watch to get Vi.\n\n▪︎ She had two months, sure, but her mom's words echoed in the back of her head. She felt she needed to sort it out soon.\n\n◆ \"A real gentle giant of a person, huh? How'd you two even meet?\" Aware that it might not have been the *Best* Option to dump two questions in Esme's lap at the same time, she held to hope that she wouldn't find it rude. Old instincts honed on talking to fabulously rich kids at fabulously rich parties were starting to come back just a little. \"But I know the feeling. I've been embroiled in a court case against my father, and... It's not been easy. Think I'd be a full-blown alcoholic if it wasn't for Vi. It's way too easy to just get lost in a bottle of gin these days...\" Her voice trailed off, lips curling down into a frown. \"But I doubt you need to hear that. I think we're both better off because of our partners; maybe you're right about us having a lot in common.\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"To be honest, I flirted with her over the boards,\" Esme confessed, a little smile pulling on her cheeks. \"She was–.... She was just so kind. And I've always loved someone who helps me feel safe, you know. It's something she's quite ample at — one night, I believe it was the angels causing a ruckus, she came and stayed with me in my room until I calmed down. I'll never forget her kindness, just as much as I'll never forget how she makes me feel.\" \n\nEsmes voice had grown soft, sweet, fluffy at the edges like cotton candy. Her eyes didn't quite meet Margos, but drifted off to the side, as if she were picturing her darling girlfriend in her mind. She smiled, clasping her hands back together in front of her with a little clap.\n\n\"She's wonderful. I scarcely have known someone with such an ease about them. She's so careful, with everything. Once, when we were on a stroll, a birds nest fell from a tree. She picked it up, and cooed over the little ones, even putting the nest right back where it'd fallen from, with more grace than I'd have believed. I'm lucky, you know. Terribly, terribly lucky. I only hope that she will wait for me — I'm not sure how much longer I will be at the Cradle, but I'd love to take her to America. I'll show her the world, if she asks. But Times Square is something dear to me – I'd love for her to see it, you know?\"\n\nShe paused, coming to an understanding that she had been prattling on for some time. She straightened her back, and dropped her hands to her sides. \n\n\"Forgive me, then. I do not mean to neglect your thoughts — Vi seems wonderful! I've only spoken to her a handful of times, though. Is it true she really does like Taylor Swift that much?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Over the boards? Slanderous.\" Margo quipped with a jokey lilt. \"But I'm no better. Keep on.\"\n\n□ Interjecting Esme's speech in a distinctly autistic manner, she let her piece be known then fell quiet, nodding along occasionally and clacking her lollipop against the inside of her teeth. Everything she heard was rather heartwarming, a real love story, and soon enough she found herself thinking back onto her time knowing Vi. That, and she looked up at Esme from where she had knelt down to get a better look into a jewelry case across the aisle from the watches, her eyes utterly mismatched yet intriguing.\n\n▪︎ Then she had her moment to speak.\n\n◆ \"I getcha. I grew up in Brooklyn, actually... Saw Times Square a good few times. It totally overwhelms the senses... Humans aren't meant for places like that.\" She calmly spoke, almost like a scarred elder warning the youth against tussling with forces outside of their comprehension. \"But I'm sure you'll bring her there eventually. The will's there, at least, and willpower is *Important.*\" She continued, speaking with the odd clacking of a lollipop interspersed within. \n\n◆ \"Also yes, Vi is *Obsessed* With Taylor Swift. I bought her all of her albums on limited edition vinyls for Christmas, actually, and half of them were signed copies. Pretty penny, but it was worth watching her squeal in joy when she opened it up.\" Margo fondly spoke, looking back on that recent morning with fondness and warmth. \"Gotta admit though, sometimes I feel like she loves her more than she loves me, man. Can't blame her... Tall blonde women do it to me too. I'd let Taylor Swift call me a slur.\" She chuckled. \"But Vi is honestly wonderful. She's a little awkward, but in the cutest way I've seen, and she's just so... Calming. Peaceful. I've fallen asleep in her arms more than I'd like to admit... Also the way she dresses. It's all kinda... This is gonna sound weird, but usually she dresses pretty modestly, and I adore that about her. Like, yeah, she looks like a grandma, but she's *My* Goofy li'l grandma, y'know?\"\n\n▪︎ What the fuck, Margo."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "—YAHOO I AM REPLYING 2 THIS TODAY\n\nEsme smiled, smoothing down a stray curl as she listened to Margo speak, nodding her head deftly at all the right moments, making sure to keep an appropriate amount of eye contact, not fidgeting with anything too obviously as to divert Margo's attention - all the little mannerisms she had been taught were Good Manners by her mother, the invisible hand that settled on her back to straighten her spine and settle her shoulders below her ears.\n\n\"Willpower, yes - my brothers, you know, they're often working with my father at home. Learning how to settle balances, sell properties, make deals, all of the like. They often speak of willpower as if it's a great treasure to behold and garner, to add to one's experiences of life,\" Said Esme, her voice gentle, but almost melancholy, reminiscing on her family. \"I miss them, as troublesome as we all were as children. Once, Joseph - he is my second brother, after Alejandro - he once carted me down the hill of the summer estate on one of our chef, Jacques, pastry cart. I fell out, and tumbled all the way through the grass. I became absolutely filthy, and my mother was furious - but goodness, I had such a wonderful time.\"\n\nThe talk of willpower had rambled off into talks about family, and Esme caught herself, her face dusting a slight pink. She was particularly prone to it, today, it seemed - long rambles about the people she loved. She settled back down into her shoes, pressing her lips together.\n\n\"I apologize, again - all the talk about my brother's birthday has made me a bit prone to rambling, I believe. And, well, with Valio leaving soon - I suppose you may say I am a bit unwell.\"\n\nShe tucked her hair behind her ears again.\n\n\"Vi sounds lovely,\" She began, again. \"Taylor Swift is not particularly my cup of tea, though, I do not dislike her work. I met Lana del Rey, once, and she's lovely. I can't wait for her new music - I have all her albums on vinyl!\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Christ, they sound boring.\" Was all Margo initially uttered once Esme finished her story about her brothers. Then, realizing how mean the comment was due to come across, she looked up at Esme with an expression cut between regret and focus. \"Sorry. Just... Spoke without thinking. Yeah. My bad.\" She continued, her eyes fixed on a pretty ring in the cabinet in front of her. \"Anyways... That sounds like it was fun. Those serving carts are surprisingly robust; God knows I pulled a couple wrestling moves on my siblings from the top rack of one of those carts, much to Jean-Pierre's displeasure...\"\n\n□ Rising to her feet, she could be heard sucking on the lollipop stuffed into her cheek, the stick dancing in mid-air as she did so. All this talk of home had her thoughts occupied, what with all the stories she made and all the traumas she endured at the family home, and though the latter caused her chest to ache in a familiar yet unpleasant the former was nothing short of a treat. \n\n★ \"Actually, I have a fun story about riding pastry carts.\" She continued after a couple moments of thought. \"Myself and Ben once rode one of them all the way to the local bodega for shits and giggles. We... Took turns pushing, and when we finally got there some crackhead offered to wire up a motor to that shit so we could ride back. I don't doubt the guy could've done that – crackheads are superhuman, I say – but fuck, man, I was eight. Ben was six. Shit was kinda weird. We just ended up ignoring him, which was fine until we walked out and the fuckin' guy was running away with the cart under his arm. We...\"\n\n▪︎ **\"We got quite the beating.\"** Her thoughts intruded. She gulped and tried her best to seem stable.\n\n◆ \"Anyways, no worries, man. It's nice to talk about home... Keeps us from becoming totally uprooted and uncertain. Family's all we got usually and all that shit.\" Margo hummed, turning around to look into a case full of rings. \"But yeah, you were saying that in the chat a while ago. How'd you even meet her again?\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Esme blinked, once, twice, listening to Margo's initial review. She didn't take it to heart - *You can't take criticism to heart, Esmeralda* - but it did surprise her, just a bit. The more people she'd met, though, the more who were outside her worldview, it did startle up her view of things. She liked to consider it a good thing. Valio, though, the biggest joy, was also the biggest enigma. Esme realized at once she hardly knew much of her darling's backstory.\n\n*Perhaps it is better that way.*\n\n\"I miss pastries,\" She hummed, somewhat absent-mindedly, listening to Margo's whimsical childhood tale. \"I never went to many bodegas, except once, with Alejandro.\"\n\n\"Oh! Lana, yes. Well - my mother asked her to sing at a charity gala, once,\" Said Esme, \"And she ate dinner with my mother and I afterwards. She's very kind in person as well - though, I do recall she doesn't like, ah, what is it? Strawberry desserts, I believe it was.\"\n\n*You do not know many things, about many people. Do you live in ignorance, or bliss?*\n\nEsme swallowed the thought as she glanced down at the cases of rings Margo perused. \"My brother's fiance has one akin to that one - the opal and rose gold one, on the back row.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Honestly kinda missing out.\" Margo casually spoke, beckoning one of the workers over with the experienced wave of her hand before pointing at a gold ring with a pretty sapphire in the middle. \"I dunno if just got lucky with it because he was absent a lot of the time or what, but I kinda grew up in bodegas despite Hiram calling them gutter sludge joints and all sorts of racist shit. It's the reason why I've got a functional understanding of Spanish even though I've never studied it.\" She continued, rising to her feet and gently pinching the ring between her fingers. \"But, yeah, food's really good from bodegas. It's those places and food trucks that are king back in New York, I'd argue. Shit's so good. The people watching is to die for too. Never know who or what you'll see in one of those.\"\n\n□ A ring in her fingers, she gently inspected it for any signs of shoddy work – poorly buffed metal, messy etchings, the signs of a fake sapphire. The works. As she did this she leaned her hip against the counter and occasionally looked up at Esme, who was recounting how exactly she'd met Lana Del Rey. It wasn't lost on her how extraordinary the pair must have looked, lingering around jewelry cases talking about the charms of NYC and famous people they'd met, while looking like they came from very different socio-economic classes.\n\n▪︎ Really, Margo thrived when her outwardly militant outfit was juxtaposed against the staggering wealth she'd come from. It was just another of her odd mental quirks.\n\n◆ \"Huh. That's one way to meet a famous singer, I guess.\" She spoke, turning the ring over in her fingers before handing it back and pointing to the one that Esme had commented on. \"Neat. I wish I had a story to swap, but... All the notable musicians I've met are just New York jazz people. Session musicians. Cats who only really come in when dinner's served. I did get to meet two of the guys who played on Bowie's last record when I was younger though, so... I guess that counts. Anyways, it's a nice ring you pointed out. Real nice. I'm just... Trying to match it with Vi color-wise, though, and I dunno if the opal would fit in with her whole vibe. Keeping it in mind though.\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"Opal is very lovely, but simple, when paired well,\" Remarked Esme, somewhat unaffected. \"Although, perhaps a softer blue would do better? A sapphire, or some sort of aquamarine type?\" \n\nShe rocked back on her heels, listening to Margo talk about jazz and bodegas. Many people made her feel like an alien, visiting earth for the first time. She swallowed something in her throat. \n\n\"I do think that would count, though. Bowie was a musical legend, if you ask me. I always liked his style.\"\n\nAnd there! A smile. She tilted her head just a bit at the thought, her mood lifting a little more. \n\n\"When I leave Sweden, I want to go to a concert. I'm not quite sure who, but, I do miss live music.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, I was looking for a sapphire ring. Felt it'd fit decently with her left eye. Kinda funny how our eyes are fucked on different sides, actually.\" Margo commented with the hesitancy and tone of someone who'd just realized something very obvious and felt like the stupidest motherfucker on the planet. \"Like. Her piece of shit ex-boy – God as my witness, I *Will* Fuck him up if I ever see him for what he did to her – burnt her ass pretty bad. Her right eye's basically dead. My left eye's super weird too. We're... Matching, I guess.\"\n\n□ Handing the ring back to the worker behind the counter, she continued to peruse the rings with an attentive, thoughtful gaze. Vi's left eye was dark blue, so a sapphire could have worked. But what if she matched with her right eye? The pair had mismatched mangled eyes. It was a perfect opportunity, she figured, to really blow Vi away and solidify how alike they were in the ways that mattered.\n\n□ She kept on looking as Esme spoke. Bowie *Was* A legend. From what she could remember of the interaction she'd only been familiar with the bassist – Tim Lefebvre had frequented the jazz club she learned all she knew about drumming and living, after all. How wouldn't she have been familiar? Suddenly, a switch flicked in her head. The cravings came back, and with them came a grumbled utterance. \n\n◆ \"Hm. I feel that, actually.\" Margo casually spoke. \"I have an entire itinerary of shit I want to do once myself and Vi are out of here. Take her to New York, let her meet my mom... Take her to see Holly in prison. She's behind bars for being a fucking dumbass, but I still keep in touch with her. Nobody else does.\" She continued, a hint of annoyance in her voice. \"And yeah, Bowie was a legend, but really I think his greatest strength was somehow *Always* Putting together an insane backing band.\"\n\n○ \"Anyways, I'm going out for a smoke. Don't feel like you gotta wait around for me; surely you got other shit on the agenda for today, right?\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"Oh,\" Whispered Esme, at the little (randomly) dropped detail of Vi's terrible, terrible ex. Many people here seemed to have terrible exes. She'd, at least, only ever had Valio.\n\n\"You are matching,\" She continued, trying for a more upbeat tone. \"At least that is sweet.\"\n\nEsme, also, had no idea who Holly was, or why nobody visited her in prison. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. Margo seemed to be something of an enigma - not necessarily, though, one that Esmeralda was interested in cracking in her entirety. At the very least, though, they had solidarity in their pursuits and common ground. \n\nAh, a smoke. Various students at the Cradle smoke - Esme noticed them, occasionally, up on the rooftops she once explored with Valio. Esme was too reserved to touch the notion, for now - but, it was tempting.\n\n\"I'll let you to it, then. You make kind company, Margo. Thank you for talking with me.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"No worries, man. See ya. Hopefully you find your brother a nice watch.\"\n\n○ And with that, Margo slinked out the door, fishing a pack of smokes from her back pocket as she went. Esme was now free to live her day."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "——————(yay bonding time!—————-"
}
] | 397.5 | 7,163 |
367.962963 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "For how nervous and uncomfortable she tended to feel while outside of the woods surrounding the Cradle she couldn't have been more comfortable in the low ceilings and patchwork lighting of her favourite pawnshop out on Isakstad's west end.\n\nGustafson's Goods oft found itself overshadowed by the juggernaut that was the Sefina Pantbank chain, a fact bemoaned to Akvilė by its owner Karl more than once, but its eclectic selection kept her coming back time and time again. Uranium glass ashtrays sat next to matroyshka dolls and 1:64 models of Group B rally cars on one shelf, and across from it was a grandfather clock converted into the mother of all espresso machines by some madman with all the time and money and absolutely no scruples about ruining a beautiful timepiece in the process. How was she supposed to go elsewhere when the Sefina in town wouldn't even *Look* At half the shit this little hole in the wall kept?\n\nLeaning back on the heels of her hiking boots Akvilė stood near one such shelf, out of sight of the entranceway yet not out of sight of the watchful eye of the shopkeep. She picked up a small porcelain figurine and focused on it, eyes looking it up and down and shaky fingertips trying their best to rotate it like shawarma without sending it directly to the floor. She had no idea what the figurine was supposed to be, but it was clearly old. It felt worn, and it left a distinct mustiness on her fingertips as she rotated it and looked for any defects that might let her haggle just a little. She found none and set it back with a sigh.\n\nShe could do this all day, and she *Would* If the gods didn't give her a reason to do otherwise."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric couldn't begin to wrap his head around the bus or it's schedule. The big vehicle he was expected to use anytime he wanted to go anywhere was probably the most terrifying thing about Newton's. He hadn't seen one outside of the abundance of pictures of them online before arriving here. Just another interesting experience. But beginning to even understand how those things worked seemed to throw him for a loop. Barric wasn't a fan. Somehow he had managed to figure it out enough to get to Isakstad on this faithful day. It was a funny sounding name. Barric liked the way it sounded. He had spent hours trying to mimic the way everyone said it. But it always came out mangled with his accent. Wandering the streets of this weird place quickly brought Barric a plethora of weird shops to explore. Today's being Gustafson's Good. Some kind of a pawn shop. It caught his attention pretty quickly. Everything else seemed so put together compared to the shit hole he had just arrived in. If you could even call it that.\n\nBarric opened the door, stepping inside the place. He stood at the door scrapping his muddy boots across the mat provided. It seemed to only slightly solve the problem. After a minute, he had given up on politeness and stumbled further into the shop. He stopped at a large grandfather clock, his head tilted. What the fuck had someone turned it into? He scanned it, trying to guess what machine someone had shoved into this poor clock. It was so ugly now. After a minute of just standing there staring at it, he had grown pretty bored. Time to find something else. Barric turned away from it, continuing to wander around. The store was small, but there were parts not visible from the entrance. Around a corner, he found another person. Barric instantly wanted to slink back around the corner. The unexpected person kind of ruined the shop's appeal to him. He didn't fully want to leave yet.\n\nPeering over his shoulder, the shopkeeper was still behind the counter, fiddling around on a phone. He turned back, staring at the person who stood in front of him, a porcelain doll in their hand. They seemed strange. Something that Barric couldn't place his finger on. But everyone in this town seemed sort of strange. Probably because of its proximity to Newton's. He tilted his head, scanning them. They seemed unkept. That was rude to think, he had quickly decided. His eyebrows furrowed. Barric was already staring at them. Might as well strike up a conversation. \"Hello.\" Barric paused, unsure what to say next. He sat there quietly for an uncomfortable amount of time, just kind of staring at the person. What was he supposed to ask in this situation? He reverted to his nervous habits, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind. \"I like your boots.\" He debated bashing his head into the wall right then."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "The door swung open and in with it came a gust of cold air and the sound of textured soles rubbing against the thick curls of the welcome mat. That and the jingle of the bells Karl had hung from the closer fastened to the shop door so long ago half of them were inoperable– so clogged was their interiors with dust.\n\nAkvilė knew she wasn't the only regular at this shop. No less than twenty-seven people seemed to frequent the shop by her latest observations, and she was expecting to see one of their faces from where she stood by the knick-knack shelf once the door swung shut and the rubbing of bootsoles stopped. It wasn't one of the regulars.\n\nAkvilė gulped.\n\nStaring back from behind thick and slightly crooked rimmed glasses, she fell silent and tensed up significantly. She never liked this feeling, being face to face with a stranger when she expected an acquaintance (in loose terms), yet the boy she saw down the aisle seemed just as eager to stare back. So she stared and leaned into her heels just a touch more, first finding herself thoughts drifting towards admiring his tan skin before turning to a cancerous pit gnawing at her stomach as she noticed after images of her first impression in his pupils. \n\n*He thought she was unkempt. She could see it in his gaze.* Nobody stared like that without a reason, and she could not deny that the untameable texture of her hair meant she always looked wild.\n-\n\nAkvilė doesn't say hi back at first. Instead she waves, lips cut into what clearly was meant to be a smile before her timidness corrupted it into a wavy frown. Her hazel eyes look not unlike a doe caught in the headlights of a Dodge Ram, but there's less fear in them– and in her wave. It's a gentle wave, really nothing more than her right hand quickly darting upright and waving side to side with only two fingers fully outstretched, and after about two seconds she drops her hand down to her hip. The compliment to her boots seems to give her the courage to open her mouth however; \"O-oh, um... Thank you. They are much comfortable, yes.\" She replies. Her voice is quiet and accented, but not difficult to understand. Some syllables and words come out skewed yet register as close enough to King's English, and it seems to simply be a symptom of multilinguality. She falls quiet for a moment too, for multiple reasons.\n\n\"But, uhm... I saw you face the grandfather when in you came. It— it is espresso machine I think. I have never seen it used but it says so on... Uhm... The note stuck on side.\"\n-"
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "The wave was small and a bit disappointing. He was expecting a hello. But talking isn't everyone's type of thing. He definitely wasn't. Barric glanced back at the clock when the girl mentioned it. It was blurred, but he could still see the large outline. An espresso machine? He knew what one was, but what the hell was the point of putting it in a clock? He turned back to her and blinked. \"Why is it inside a clock?\" His drawl seemed to spike, his face going pink at the slight hint of the accent. There was a note on the clock, apparently. Barric couldn't see it. He bit the inside of his cheek. Confusion overpowered the feelings of slight embarrassment from his accent. Why would someone need to make coffee inside a clock? Why would someone ruin a perfectly good clock like that? It was confusing. People here were just plain confusing. \n\nHe looked back at the girl, debating on what to say next. Barric was still so new to this whole conversation thing that he didn't really understand how to talk to people, let alone people his own age. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable. His mind couldn't focus. Barric's hand reached down in his pocket, fidgeting with the pocket watch nestled inside. He ran his finger along the indents and scratches. \"Uhm, do you go to the school?\" It was asked quietly, and he was trying to not let his drawl slip again. \"Newton's or the cradle. I don't know.\" He was rambling and he should shut up. She seemed like the type to go up there. Everyone seemed like it in this town, he noticed. They all seemed weird, confusing, or both. His teeth were back to biting on his cheek, his heart slamming in his ear like a war drum. Finding something else to focus on was hard in this store. Everything was so overstimulating all of a sudden. Barric found himself just staring the girl down, trying to focus on anything other than talking.\n\nShe was strange. Stranger than most. Not much smaller than Barric height wise, but she seemed so skinny compared to him. His brain raced to point this fact out, and he found the words falling out of his mouth before he could stop them. \"You're skinny. Really skinny.\" He murmured, still staring her down. Barric hadn't meant it in a rude way, but he could feel himself cringing inside. He bit back any other observations he had about her. It was already bad enough he had called her skinny like that. \"I didn't mean it in a bad way.\" It had been far too late after the original comment to probably save any remnants of positive feelings the girl had towards him. But he still attempted. Barric breathed quickly out of his nose. \"I'm sorry. That was rude.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė shrugged at the question, and noted the befuddled look on the lad's face.\n\n\"Uhm... Why would it not be?\" She quietly says in turn, almost sounds like she's trying to make a funny quip. Acutely aware of this new stranger's gaze being fixed directly on her she shifts about in her boots slightly, tucking an arm up against her stomach and pointing her own gaze back at the shelf of knick-knacks; mostly at least. Plucking a figurine of a bear with a sombrero off the shelf she mulls over whether to address the question of where she stays before – once again – an off-hand comment of his strikes her like slush cast up from a puddle. She stiffens a little, and laughs awkwardly. \n\n\"I? Um. Y-yeah. I have been slim always, and Crad–\" Akvilė's expression sinks. *Fuck.* \"Th-the Cradle needs new cooks I think. I eat little of what they make.\" She tightens her arm against her stomach in an attempt to squash out the hornets sending it top over bottom. She falls quiet for a moment, propping and pawing the jovial bear betwixt the tips of her fingers anxiously.\n\n\"But, uhm... It-it is OK. I say much things off cuff too. At least you‐ you say what you mean. Many people only say what they don't.\""
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric looks back over at the clock for one last time, instantly looking back at the girl. \"I guess if that's what they want to do with the thing. It's kind of ruined now.\" He scrunched his nose. \"It looks so ugly now.\" Barric murmurs. He shuffles slightly closer to the girl. A weight of guilt from the earlier comment still weighing heavily on him. \"I'm still sorry about that, ma'am. That was rude of me. Shouldn't go around commenting on people's appearance like that.\" He paused, trying to think if he should keep apologizing or just shut up and let the woman be. Unfortunately, he had already trapped himself in a conversation and leaving now just seems like he'd leave a bad impression. Barric was now regretting talking to the woman at all. He half wished he hadn't acknowledged her.\n\n\"Saying what's on your mind ain't always the best thing.\" It was often more rude than it was good. He crouches down, looking at the lower shelves. There wasn't anything that caught his eye, but he needed something to talk about. \"Is the food really that bad? I don't eat much, but everything I've had isn't the worst thing in this world.\" He certainly had worse in his lifetime from what he could remember.\n\nBarric reached over, swiping up a random figurine that he didn't recognize. He needed something to occupy his hands. Biting down on the inside of his cheek, he watched what to girl was doing out of the corner of his eye. He moved the character's arms around a bit, fidgeting with the different moving parts of the figurine. \"You never answered my question earlier. I'm assuming you were at least there at some point, though.\" That sounded creepy, didn't it? \"Because of you now. The cooks comment.\" He muttered. Barric didn't want to seem like a creep to one of the few likeable people he had met so far. He hadn't introduced himself. Barric looked away, avoiding looking at her even out of the corner of his eye now. \"I haven't introduced myself. I'm Barric.\" He seemed focused on fiddling with the figurine."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė glances at the espresso clock once more and shrugs. She doesn't exactly agree; it doesn't matter enough, however, to voice it. She looks back at the sombrero-toting bear pinched twixt her shaky fingers as the lad speaks, still rhythmically tightening the various muscles and strands in the arm tucked against her stomach in a bid to soothe her nerves.\n\n\"It– it may be somewhat unkind, but... Uhm. It is honesty and honesty is king I think.\" Akvilė says after a moment, silently deciding that the sombrero-wearing bear is coming with her. The som-*Bear*-o. She's unable to stifle a giggle as the wordplay crosses her thoughts, a failure that soon sets the tips of her ears ablaze in mute embarrassment. \"Uhm... Sorry. I was laughing at you not. I-I-I simply had funny thought. Is all.\" She says from behind a partial curtain of her hair, the reddened tips of her ears hidden beneath yet spreading their stain onto her freckled cheeks. \"But anyways. Th-the food simply tastes wrong to I, as if the uhm... Vegetables are spoiled when they enter the pot and the meat is from mistreated life. I may simply be wrong however.\"\n\nShe sets the figurine into a wicker basket she brought with her, next to a framed behind the scenes picture of some western stars of old with the camera crew and a horse. \n\n\"But, Barric? I-I see. Welcome to prison.\" Akvilė says, a wryness to her voice that betrays how she sees the Cradle. \"Others say it is not prison, but then, uhm– th-then what is it? Is prison not concrete walls and a leash tight around your throat?\" She continues. \"I'm Akvilė though. Hi. My- my manners are on vacation I guess.\""
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "\"There's probably some way that you can do both.\" Something that he would probably never achieve. It seems as if Barric could never do both at the same time. Maybe he just had to shut up about his observations of people. The giggling had caught him off guard. He stopped his fiddling with the toy in his hand, trying to figure out what she was laughing at. Had he said something meant to be funny? His cheeks and tips of his ears flushed in embarrassment. \"What was the thought?\" He blurted out, his embarrassment fueling a slight need for reassurance that she wasn't laughing at something he had said or done. He ran his tongue along his teeth, putting the figurine back onto the shelf. \n\n\"How do you taste if something is mistreated life?\" He understood, knowing the tasting of rotting vegetables. He could taste if something was rotting even if it you burnt it to a crisp. \"Do you mean like the meat not being a specific cut or something? Or it wasn't harvested right? I know some people can't eat that shit if it's not right.\" Maybe it was just a feeling thing? He was just plain confused at this point. He may have been overthinking her words too much. \n\nHe moved back, moving from the crouching position he had been in to a kneeling one. Barric snorted loudly at the prison comment, quickly covering his mouth and nose. After a moment of silence, he dropped his hand, embarrassment flooding his mind again. \"I didn't mean to do that.\" He coughs, trying to recover quickly. \"Prison is an interesting way to put it, I guess.\" He could see her point on it being a prison the more and more she explained it. \"A boarding school? I mean, don't those also keep a tight leash around your throat? I can see what you mean, though.\" He muttered the last part, placing the figurine back on the shelf and becoming bored with it. \"It's okay. Nice to meet you, Akvile.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"Uhm... It's nothing. Really. Just a– a funny thought. It is not at you.\"\n\nSomewhat hesitant in tone Akvilė tried her best to steer the conversation away from the sombearo remark. It didn't seem pertinent, or even all that important, and considering the pun had formed itself in her noggin in her native tongue she almost didn't want to bother attempting to translate. She looked the shelf up and down once more, and once satisfied that she'd missed nothing she strolled down the tight hall formed by the shelves and tables at each end, coming to a stop by a smattering of kitchen tools and whatnot. She picks up a porcelain pot of some make and turns back to Barric, a thoughtful look on her face.\n\n\"It's... Hard to explain I guess. In English at least. I-I. Do you, uhm... Speak Polish by chance? Otherwise I may have to feed my thought through digital translator.\" She admits, rotating the pot in her hand and inspecting it for chips and cracks amidst some dim hope of being able to properly explain herself to this lad. \"Trilinguality has its, uhm... Downsides. Not perks; opposite that. B-b-but I would know not, I was never schooled in traditional sense. If boarding school is like Cradle then both thrive on tight leashes I guess.\"\n\nShe falls quiet, spins the pot again, and tucks it against her chest. The sound of porcelain grinding against porcelain pierces the alley as she takes the lid off to snoop inside, both eyes focused inwards yet her body language displaying some sense of continued conversation."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric scampered after Akvile as she moved on the section, almost tripping over his own feet trying to follow her. He reached her after a little skip, the toy still in his hands. As Akvile stops at a shelf to look at pots and other kitchen utensils, Barric stands by, mostly ignoring the shelf. She looked at leaning against a spot she wasn't looking at the items. \"No, I don't. I'm way too dumb for anything like that. I'm sorry ma-\" He cuts himself off quickly, changing the almost ma'am to her name.\n\n \"You don't have to explain it if it's too much work. You can just explain it to me when you know the words in English or somethin'.\" He murmured, his hands wrapping around the toy's arms again. She didn't need to go through all the work of typing it out in a translator.\n\nHe hummed in agreement. Barric couldn't really say anything about boarding schools. He thought Newton was one, but guess not, according to Akvile. \"I wasn't either. Online schooling. I sat on a computer all day and didn't really talk to people. I know some kids got those community activities for homeschooled kids, but I never did. I just sat at home and worked when we needed help.\" He grumbled. He hadn't really noticed how bitter that rant had been. Even if he did, he wouldn't pull back. All of it was true. \"What was your schooling like? Was it online or something else?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė, for just a moment, feels decades beyond her age as Barric reflexively calls her ma'am– or at least forms the word in his mouth before squashing it and sucking the thought back like juice from a passionfruit.\n\n\"Ah. It is OK. Uhm... One– one moment. I will find.\" She presses her hand against the bulbous rim of the pot in her hand with hole-punched fingers outstretched and begins to dig into the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Keeping her attention split between the phone-seeking of her fingers and what Barric is saying doesn't prove an easy task but she keeps at it, nodding occasionally and trying her darndest to keep a finger on what he's saying and what it roughly translates to in her native tongue. \n\n\"You were, uhm... Schooled online however? Th-that seems easily undermined. How did teachers make sure you cheated not? Not to imply you are cheat or stupid.\" Despite her attempts the question still comes out sideways, somewhat, and she internally winces at how poorly it's worded. But she knows her weakness, and she knows her true intent. She continues to dig. \n\n\"B-b-but I was homeschooled as well. No online. I knew not of the internet until I was seventeen. I simply... Uhm... Learned. I was taught by an uncle, and by my mother. They are– they are muchly smart.\" She speaks with just a little hesitation. Not a suspicious amount, but it's clear the words forming in her mouth are all getting gummed up in the works. \"It sounds muchly lonely however, the way you were schooled. And it sounds hard to learn as such.\""
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric watched her dig through her back. Trying to figure out what she was digging for. Soon, the dots connected in his mind. \"No no. It's okay, you don't need to translate it. That seems like a lot of work for just a question.\" He murmured the last part under his breath. He was curious, yes, but he didn't want her to have to type the long explanation out. \n\nHe snorted. Cheating. \"They didn't. And it's okay. I will admit, I did cheat quite a bit.\" He paused, trying to make it sound better. \"Only on the dumb stuff. Or the shit I thought was dumb.\" He continued tilting his head, a joking smile on his face. It was probably bad to admit that he cheated on a good chunk of his assignments, but he didn't fail any classes and they couldn't necessarily prove he needed to retake those classes. \n\n\"I'm stupid, though I'm very aware of that. No need to apologize for pointing out the obvious. Like you said honesty is king or something.\" There wasn't much he could say. He was aware he wasn't an argument in favor of him being smarter than he seemed. \"But it was kinda a mix of both. My dad taught me for a bit at the beginning. Not much if we're being honest, but there were some things.\"\n\nBarric stares down at the toy again. \"I was online for most of my life.\" He laughed a bit, shaking his head. \"Don't have a phone, though funnily enough. Never was given one.\" He wasn't really sure why he never got a phone, but he just didn't. \"How was that? Your ma and uncle teaching you?\" He grunted in agreement. It was lonely. \"Yeah, I didn't really talk to anyone outside of my parents till I came here. You're actually the fourth, maybe fifth, person I've talked to since I came here.\" He hummed, leaning his head against the shelf, closing his eyes."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė shakes her head. Whether it's at Barric's attempts to dissuade her from translating or something else entirely, though, is a mystery. A mystery that's soon answered as she pulls – no, *Whips* – her phone out and onto the shelf in front of her, microphone pointed at her throat.\n\n\"Ah. I-I said it not, but you did. It is... Uhm. Muchly good to be aware of your flaws though, I think.\" She speaks, hesitant and gentle and slightly wry in delivery. Silence fills the aisle momentarily as she tip-taps at the screen of her phone, one finger outstretched like E.T. And equally as odd-looking with the holes along her knuckles and tips of her fingers. It almost looks as though God attempted to bore stigmata into her skin and got bored halfway through. If Barric snoops he can see an online translator being brought up, and with a hand held up to halt whatever thought he might be having Akvilė begins to speak into the microphone.\n\nOf course, the language she speaks is unfamiliar. But it comes out with a comfort and a smoothness absent from her English. She doesn't even stutter as she explains why a bear with a sombrero had made her laugh, and the translator spits her words back out in English, albeit with the cold interpretation of her words only an AI could produce. It says the gist though: she saw a figurine of a bear with a sombrero, and had a pun come to mind. She leaves the translator open but inactive, turning her head slightly to face Barric once more.\n\n\"So, uhm... Yes. Th-that was all.\" She states plainly. \"And it was OK being taught by family. I learned what I needed, and they listened to me much. It was... Nice.\"\n\nShe sets the pot back on the shelf, and flexes her fingers and wrist to loosen a little tension."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "He watches in destain as Akvile still whips out her phone to translate the message. But he bites his tongue. He wasn't going to tell her what she couldn't and could do. That wasn't his place. He waited silently for her to begin speaking into the microphone in the language she had asked about. \"I guess you could say that. It's mostly sitting on a computer screen all day trying to figure out all that crap was burning through my brain.\" He laughed. It was kind of funny admitting that to Akvile. That wasn't the type of thing you just went around admitting and in no way was he bragging. But he had no reason to hide it from Akvile. At least, not that he knew around. \n\nBarric eyed the small holes that littered the girl's skin. \"What are those?\" He asked, very obviously pointing at the holes in the hand closest to him. It had to be part of the reason she was here. He was pretty sure no matter where you're from, you didn't have holes all over your skin. Barric listened quietly as she began speaking in the language. He had honestly forgotten about the bear that she had been holding. He let out a small snort at the dumb pun the ai spit out of the phone. Barric pitched the bridge of his nose, still chuckling to himself as he began to speak. \"You didn't need to go through all the trouble of translating that. But.\" He paused, laughing quietly a bit more. \"But it is funny.\" \n\nHe nodded as the conversation continued. \"My dad taught me for a bit.\" Barric tilted his head, leaning it into his open palm. \"If you could call it that.\" He murmured, closing his eyes. Barric's grin fell as he stood there with his eyes closed for a moment, thinking. Barric stood there for a moment in silence, with Akvile just thinking. As the pot was placed down, Barric straightened himself moving down the aisle to see if there was anything he was interested in."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė noticeably tenses up once the questions turn to the holes in her skin. She stuffs both her hands into the various nooks of her outfit and takes a half step down the aisle.\n\n\"They are fly bites. Horsefly I think.\" Akvilė answers after a strained moment, still hiding her hands and all the skin that attaches them under the various folds and fabrics of her heavily layered outfit. It's a lie of an answer, and perhaps suspicious given the innocence of Barric's question, but every fiber in her muscles and along her spine and jaws screams to keep her mouth shut; so she does. \"Y-you must be aware of such buggers? Given you are farmboy and such. They um... They go for the meat I say. And they hold back none of their contempt.\"\n\nHer mind once again turns, and it's now towards the question of leaving. \n\n\"But yes. I-I-I see. Was his tutelage not muchly good?\""
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "\"Those don't look like..\" Barric glances at Akvile, noticing the slight tense in her posture. Even Barric could pick up on the feeling of uncomfortableness radiating off of Akvile. \"Yeah okay. Horseflies? Those fucking suck. Do they have them where you are?\" He rambled on, trying to move on from the conversation topic. \"You aren't from America, right?\" He asked, suddenly not remembering if he had asked her about that. \"We have them bad in Alabama, especially in my area. Probably because of all the animals. You know the cows and shit. Especially the horses.\" He murmured, just continuing rambling, trying to figure out where to take this conversation.\n\nHe finally seemed to process the other comment that came from her. \"Uh kinda? He's weird.\" He didn't full know what to say about the man. In no way was he stupid, but he definitely wasn't the person who should've taught Barric in his early days. Barric's fingers found a scab on his hand, picking away at it. He stared off over Akvile's shoulder, not really looking directly at her. \"Uh, he's just a weird guy, if you know what I mean.\" He let out an awkward chuckle, not commenting further on him."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė feels the tension constrict her throat like a python before– *Phew.* Barric takes the hint and rolls with her white lie rather than prod her hands out from her coat. Her posture loosens slightly.\n\n\"Yes, we have them home, in Baltics. We have much for insects, really.\" She speaks, looking less at the shelf in front of her and more towards the window in the wall, towards the passersby rendered shadows by the dirty window and the vehicles passing by. Her expression shifts in thought. \"And they–... They are muchly hungry. Th-they bite rough and tear until they are with their pound of flesh. Cruel, but earth-mother makes little mistakes, no?\" She waits just a moment for a nod, or a laugh, or silence that illustrates how he really feels.\n\n\"But I think I understand, yes. He uhm... Is not all present upstairs? Many such people on planet.\" She continues. \"Schooling in America would have done you much worse however. I think. I-I have heard little good and much horrors come from such places; homeschooling seems the best in the world next to it.\""
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric could've let out a sigh of relief at seeing her posture loosen. He'd never been good at reading people, so actually reading someone correctly was an achievement in itself for the boy. Usually he'd just piss people off on accident, then leave and never talk to them again. So maybe Akvile could turn out to be someone he talked to more than this once. Barric grinned slightly, listening to her words about her homeland.\n\n\"We have a lot of flies back home. It's common to see a lot of other bugs where I'm from, but flies are the biggest problem. It's because of all the cows, but still it doesn't help that we're surrounded by people with different animals.\" The memory of his neighbors suddenly popping into his head. They lived over a mile from his family, but flies seemed to just migrate between each farm, replacing the last batch that had just left. Barric hummed in agreement. He laughed at the mother earth comment. \"Yeah, do you all have to deal with a ton of mosquitoes there? At night in the summer, I used to get eaten up if I stepped out of my house for more than a few seconds. Mosquitoes are definitely one of mother Earth's worst mistakes.\"\n\nBarric grinned, faltered at the comment of his dad coming back. His joking attitude seemed to fall back. \"He's definitely all there. He knows what he's doing and saying.\" Barric didn't elaborate going back to the homeschool conversation. \"I kinda wish I went to public school. Probably would've benefited me more than online school did. Even with how bad it is, it'd probably be better than the education I got.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė nods as the boy talks, rocking slightly on her heels and taking in the tales of rural America he told. It sounded familiar, but uncanny. She couldn't put a finger on why.\n\n\"Mos-keeto? Ah– um.\" The tips of her ears turn paprika as she realizes her strange pronounciation. Too late. \"Yeah. I had to translate inside what you meant; sorry. B-but we have them yes, and they are *Bastards.*\" Her voice curls at the end, the itching of carpets' worth of bites accrued growing up brought back with a single glance in the rear view. \"The flies, though... They must have– they fed on cow tears, I assume? It is odd practice, but the butterfly drinks piss, so... Nature is just like that. I-I guess.\"\n\nShe leans the backs of her thighs against a sturdy table, halfway sitting on it yet never setting any real weight against it. \n\n\"But um... Y-you think risk of being peppered with more holes than I would have been of much worth? At least online is safe.\" It's not a cold question by any stretch. If anything Akvilė sounds slightly confused, latent European showing in her distaste for the pop culture understanding of American education she'd picked up in Poland and elsewhere."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "\"Mos-keeto?\" Barric mimicked, a bit confused by what she was doing. He blinked for a moment, trying to figure out what she was saying almost instantly, forgetting the conversation topic. After a few seconds of repeating the words under his breath, he turned back to her, realizing what she probably thought he was doing. \"Oh, shit sorry, yeah, mosquitos.\" He continued on with the conversation, silently hoping Akvile didn't think he was making fun of her English-speaking skills. Barric nodded in agreement at the bastard's comment. \"I don't mind bugs usually cause they exist just like we do, but it feels like mosquitoes were put here to just harm us.\" His nose scrunched in disgust as the mosquito conversation continued. He had an unrivaled hate for the little bastards. \"Face flies? Yeah they're weird. It's not just the tears they feed on, though. They feed on the cows snot and saliva as well.\"\n\nBarric was a bit surprised by the butterfly comparison, but he guessed they were both pretty similar in how weird they were. He mimics her, leaning back against the table, moving to stand next to her rather than across from her. He slowly turned to her, a slightly shocked look on his face at the question. \"Uhm.\" Barric was honestly at a loss for words. He paused for a moment, debating on how to respond to Akvile's comment. \"Uh, I guess that's an upside?\" He shrugged his shoulders a bit, staring at her face with a slightly concerned look in his eyes. His ears darkened, a slightly embarrassed feeling washing over him. \"I don't really know how to respond to that. I didn't know the first thing people thought of when talking about American schools was shootings.\" Barric scratched the back of his neck, shaking his head as he laughed a bit.\n\nHe moved his hand away from his neck, shrugging again. \"I guess it's kinda true, though. We don't have the best reputation with that type of thing.\" He looked back at Akvile, debating what to say next."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė snorts amusedly.\n\n\"I-I would agree. All life has a purpose... But mosquito pushes such reality.\" She speaks, briefly side-eyeing Barric as he mirrors her lean and feeling self-conscious because of it. She couldn't explain why. \"But the flies eat good with the cows, sounds like. It-it is odd, but nature wastes not wants not I guess. The flies home eat muchly on the pigs we keep too, and they–...\" She hums, face twisting in thought as she tries her best to translate the way the annoyed squeals and stampeding of the swine her kinfolk kept made her feel. It was a hard feeling to place a finger on. \"They became meals for flies. It was unpleasant seeing them in such a state, restless and squealing...\"\n\nBarric seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and given the sounds of home flitting about her head she felt the same. His laugh snaps her from her thoughts.\n\n\"It-it is not reputation as much as it is oil stain on country record, no?\" She speaks, a hint of uncertainty to her voice. \"I-I mean, would Europeans be aware as such without there being much purpose?\""
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "\"Good way to put it. I wish we could just kill all the fuckers off.\" He grumbled under his breath, moving towards a shelf to search through it. His fingers delicately wrapped around a fragile-looking teacup. He moved it off the shelf and looked back at Akvile as she began speaking again. \n\n\"Yeah, I suppose they do, don't they? Your family farmers too?\" He asked at the mention of pigs. It'd be interesting to meet someone else who could somewhat relate to his upbringing. He turned back, continuing to examine the cup. It was neat looking. Small blue and purple flowers running along the sides of it with a white background. The trim running along the top, bottom and handle of the cup was gold. Likely fake, but it still was a nice touch. Barric just might end up buying something on this trip. He didn't have a need for a cup, but he wanted it. \"I guess that's a way to put it. But isn't an oil stain just a bad reputation?\" He wasn't sure what she meant. Cause even something bad was still part of a reputation. Wasn't it? Or did he just sound like an idiot to Akvile? \n\n\"I suppose they wouldn't be. But also Europeans still seem to be talking about America or any other country in some capacity, no matter what it's about. Good or bad.\" That theory stemmed from his time spent reading various articles online. \"Maybe it's just the news article they were showing me but I saw a lot of chit chat about other countries in online news outlets.\" He laughed to himself. \"Or maybe they just think all I wanted to read about was other countries opinions on us.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė nods shallow, two or three times. She hums in agreement and turns her focus back to the topic of pigs and kids in coffins.\n\n\"Farmers of sort. It is more like... Uhm. Good farmland is scarce home so pigs fill us instead. We fill them and they fill us, just as earth births us and we return to her eventually.\" Akvilė talks, mentally dancing around the truth of her homeland as she does so. It's not harmful to talk about the pigs, after all, but talking about the ritual sacrifices of said pigs and the dodgy farmland of northwest Lithuania would've raised more questions than she was willing to answer. So she holds back. \"It is all cycle. I was not involved muchly with the rearing and slaughter however; I would at most make sausage.\"\n\n\"B-but... On topic of American reputation, I think it is just in European blood to look down on America. It isn't *Good,* But it– it is simply how most of us are. Doubly so as much of Europe was under Soviet rule less than lifetime ago. It is... Complex, I guess.\""
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric let out a grunt of agreement as he continued to examine the teacup. \"Yeah, sometimes farmland is just weird.\" His vision focused on the cup as Akvile told him about her life back home. It was an interesting way to view life. She was right in many ways with that explanation. \"If you provide for the earth, she'll provide for you too, right?\" He looked back at her, a grin on his face. \"I really like this teacup. I think I'm going to buy it.\" He exclaimed excitedly. Barric had no use for it. He hadn't ever drank tea before unless you count sweet tea. But it was nice looking, and he honestly didn't care. He had no use for it. He could use it as a decoration or something. Barric walked back towards her. \n\n\"Because you all think you're better than us or something?\" His tone was deadpan. A quick and sudden switch from the excited tone he had just moments earlier while talking about the teacup. After a moment of just staring Akvile down, a smile broke out on his face. \"I'm sorry, that was mean. But yeah, parts of your continent were Russia not even 70 years ago. So I understand all the judgments towards Americans.\" He wasn't sure if it was necessarily okay to call the soviets Russia but he had already gone through with it so there was no point in going back now. \"I'd be a bit judgemental of us, too. We do some weird things.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė nods.\n\n\"Yeah. The earth mother is not... Um. Unkind? She is generous, but it's when people take far too much she strikes a tornado upon them. B-but feed her well and she feeds you greater. It is how I see it at least.\" She talks, voice soft with affection but resolute with belief. It's clear she has a rural, almost wild worldview, seeing the ground beneath her feet and the sky above as parts of a greater cradle nurturing all the world's creatures and plants. It's a quaint – if antiquated – worldview. She says nothing at Barric's decision to buy the teacup; not like she was looking at it. She's instead looking towards the counter, lips moving wordlessly as she listens to him speak. \n\nAt least, it's a wordless sort of motion until Barric blurts out yet another banger from left field. She can't help but snort.\n\n\"Maybe that is part of it. I've heard such things on road. B-but I feel not that way, I simply have seen too many articles of atrocities from there. There are many though who likely still wish the Soviets had let nukes fly. It is complicated.\" She speaks, taking the first step towards the counter with her basket half-empty of trinkets and baubles. *Not a great haul.* \"What is weirdest thing you have seen in America? I-I have heard they fry pickled things in oil, and that seems muchly odd.\""
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "\"I've never viewed it as an unkind cycle. You have to do what you have to do to survive. And we're providing for its survival just like everything else does for us, right?\" It was a simple thought to him, really. Returning to the earth was something he wished for in death. At least, that was what he liked to think. \"I think returning to the earth is a nice end of the cycle, don't you?\" This was probably the deepest conversation he had since coming to Newton's, and it had been an interesting one so far. Listening to Akvile's view on life and death had made this whole shopping trip worth the time and effort it had become. \"I mean, if the nukes had flown, your home would've been destroyed too, right? Do they not realize it was a double-edged sword?\"\n\nHe knew something people didn't enjoy, Americans or their views on everything, but hoping they had bombed the entire country seems like a lot. \"America is not the best. But I don't think any country has no skeletons in their closest.\" Barric quickly followed behind the girl as she stepped towards the counter with her basket of trinkets and other items. \"Uh yeah, they do that. I never understood it. It's really gross, honestly. We fry Oreos and a few other sweets too, which just seems even weirder to me. It's mostly just eaten at fairs and stuff, so it isn't like the only thing we consume.\" He snorted a bit, remembering all the stupid stuff he had seen fried by his fellow Americans. \n\n\"What about your country, huh? What's the weirdest thing you've seen over there?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"It is where I... Intend to go when she calls. Th-the mother of us all, that is.\" Akvilė nods, voice tinged with fondness and just a bit of apprehension. Nobody likes thinking about their own demise, and she is no different. \"She cares for us, even if much of the planet tramples her and abuses her. But that will not be for many seasons I hope. I-I– um. I dwell on it little; it is inevitable that I will nourish the soil so why worry?\"\n\nShe continues walking.\n\n\"But you have point. I um... Agree. Nuclear exchange of any kind is the end of everything we know, and it is somewhat... Baffling? That we consider such weapons worthwhile at all. Nuclear power is muchly better use of such materials; a million Chernobyls is less harm than a single Minuteman, for instance.\" She continues, nearing the counter with each step. She exchanges a short glance with the pawnbroker, a man with thin hair light as birch wood and a characteristically sleazy expression. \"And home would have endured I think. I-I-I believe it was of concern in those days. Elders had plans and they blessedly never had to enact them as such. I understand it got muchly close.\"\n\n\"But an Oreo? In oil? What is Oreo? I assume some sort of... Uhm. Confection?\""
}
] | 350 | 9,935 |
379.368421 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Finley stood under the velvet navy blue stretching from horizon to horizon, breathing in the cool, night air. Crisp wind blew over their red sweatshirt and jeans, pushing their hair from their face and turning the tips of their ears and nose to ice. \n\n\nTheir school-bag sat on their shoulders, almost entirely empty. Back in their room, a haphazard tower of textbooks topped their desk, and an odd collection of papers sat abandoned and strewn about. In their place was a Tupperware container (or a couple really) of sandwiches. Ares was notoriously *Not* Picky, but Fin still tried to make a few different types. A couple glass bottles of soda clicked and clacked gently together as they walked. \n\n\nFin liked this particular park, looking at the trees as they came into view. They'd found it one day while exploring. They still weren't great at reading Swedish, but a playground sat off in one corner, muted primary colors of twisting tube slides and abandoned rubber balls, and a wooden pavilion standing guard. Just to the right of it was a large, large field, hidden just behind the playground, patches of late summer wildlife springing up in the cool grass.\n\n\nThey paused, reaching around to unzip their bag. They'd brought a few more things - a small yellow blanket, and a bag of seeds for some birds (or squirrels, as Owen had suggested.) They pulled them out, setting both on a low wooden bench.\n\n*Have fun on your not-date!* Had been Owen's teasing words before Fin had snuck out of campus. Not-date. As much as they'd never, ever admit it, not to anyone, and especially not Ares, they liked the title. It made them smile at their hands, dragging their Converse across the grass as they looked over their old text conversation from earlier.\n\n*I like doing dumb shit with you :)*\n\n*Ayyyyee me too :)*\n\nThey let themself look at it for another moment, before they close it out, and rest their chin on their knee. There was no reason to fawn. Not right now. That could be saved for a long chat with Owen, late at night, over cups of tea and water. Finley had taken careful measure the past few months, after all - and they were not willing to blow it any time soon.\n\nThey sat back, and waited."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The soft click of Ares' phone echoed through his empty dorm room. The silence of midnight seeped through the concrete walls that surrounded him. Inviting Finley out was a good idea, Ares was beginning to despise the cold grey that followed him at every turn.\n\nA grumble echoed in Ares' chest as he got out of bed and stretched his arms up. An empty bag slouched by his door, which he then promptly filled up with various snacks. Not completely knowing what Finley liked aside from sweet things, he just grabbed a large selection. Once it was full to his liking, he threw it back beside the door and continued to get ready. Ares pulled a black hoodie over his muscular torso, nearly fell over putting on his shoes, swung the bag over his shoulder and finally remembered to bring a jacket before clicking his door shut behind him. \n\nThe chill of the hallway made him shiver, and outside wasn't any better. Although, It didn't take long for him to get used to the cold. The night surrounded him in a welcoming presence, Ares loved when the sun left. The dark grey clouds reached their greedy hands over the stars, shielding them from his curious auburn eyes. This made Ares scowl slightly, disappointing. A meetup under the moon would've been nice. \n\nThe park Finley had described came into view rather quickly, everything was shielded by a thin veil of nighttime darkness. Eerily exciting. Ares was used to doing things at night, so it didn't take long for him to pinpoint a blonde figure sitting against a bench. Something about seeing their light hair against the dark greys and greens of the park, knowing they were waiting for him made him feel something he couldn't pinpoint. *Strange.*\n\nAres made sure to be quiet walking up behind Finley, before deciding on a course of action.\n_ _\n\n**\"Boo!\"** Ares shouted into the empty night. His loud voice and laughter echoed across the pond and into the horizon. After scaring the other, Ares leaned over the bench and looked Finley in the face. Upside down. A goofy smile was plastered on his tan features, the same features that were mere inches away from the other's. His torso pressed into their back as he bent over to meet their eyes. \n\n\"You look creepy sitting in the dark, you know.\" \n\nAres let out a snicker and straightened back upwards. Their close proximity only lasting a few seconds, before it was regained when Ares sat directly next to Finley. He shoved them lightly in a playful manner, and dropped his bag at his feet. Their shoulders were pressed against each other. Ares didn't seem to mind the contact, he wasn't even thinking about it.\n\n\"We successfully snuck out!\" The bastard, yet genuine, smile was still present. \"What now?\" \n_ _"
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"Ares!\"\n\nIf they had a dollar for every time they said his name in that tone, they could have afforded bail. Exasperation, mostly. \n\n They'd nearly thrown the blanket in their lap. A person appearing and shouting behind in an otherwise dead silent park was enough to frighten anyone.\nBut, they knew it was him. His laughter peeled through even in his attempt to frighten them. He stood out among every person Finley had ever met.\n\n\"You scared me,\" They began, their words stopping quick. Ares's features were sharper under the shadows, hardly an inch from their face. He looked handsome, quite, if a bit strange from his upside down position.\n\n\n\nThe open sky looked down at them, the pond looked up, something off in the bushes chattering away as Ares sat down. They shoved him back, but the warmth he brought against the chill was more than appreciated on the back of one arm.\n\n\"We did,\" They finally agreed. They took a moment to look up at the sky, to take it all in. They'd snuck out! Not for the first or last time - but, they still were proud of it. They were here. And what a life they lived.\n\n\"Here - I brought a blanket. In case you needed to keep the dew off your bag. It's not the best for warmth, though.\"\n\nA few thoughts pilfered through their mind. How was it still cool outside? It was *August*, for Christ's sake.\n\nAres had a nice smile. \n\n*Anyway.*\n\n\"I brought you some,\" They said, offering out a little Tupperware with a ham sandwich inside. \"Promise it hasn't been my bag too long. And, ah. There's soda in my bag, if you want it. I kinda just... Grabbed whatever.\"\n\n\n\n\"How's your night? Apart from scaring the shit out of me.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"*Duh,* Thats the *Point*.\" Ares snickered at Finley pointing out the very obvious fact that he scared them. Of course he did, that was his plan and he executed it flawlessly. \n\nAs Ares looked over at the other, he noticed something. Finley was blushing. \n\nOh? *Oh.* \n\nIt was hard to see under the dark of the night, but there was no denying it. Ares wanted nothing more than to point it out, tease the ever-loving hell out of them for it but something in his mind told him to shut it. Ares refrained from bringing it up, but he kept a note of that somewhere deep in his mind. It must've been embarrassment from being scared. *What a pussy,* He thought before moving on. \n\n\"Why thank you blondie.\" Ares jokingly sneered as he grabbed a sandwich out of the container and popped it in his mouth. Despite finishing it in only a couple bites, the lack of mess was remarkable. It was good. Ares would have to eat more later. \n\n\"Oh yeah! I brought stuff too.\"\n\nAfter dusting off his hands, Ares reached down and brought his bag up into his lap. With a single swift movement, the zippers ripped open to reveal an overflowing bag of any and every type of snack Sweden could offer.\n\n\"My stolen *Stash.*\" His tone was proud, far too proud. All of the items in his bag were indeed stolen but how he managed to steal so much was both unexplainable and extremely impressive. Clearly Ares had practice, *Lots* Of practice. \"Help me eat these later.\" He laughed, and returned his bag to his feet.\n\nThe tan boy paused for a second when Finley asked how his night was so far. *Hm.*\n\n\"Oh, it's been pretty boring up until now to be honest. I was just kind of doin' nothing in my dorm.\" This fact was true, Ares was indeed just laying around but he didn't seem too bothered by that fact. \n\n\"How about yours? Aside from getting scared by yours truly.\"\n\nHe leaned towards them when he said that. A teasing smile on his features."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "He, undoubtedly, had stopped to stare, Finley thought. Ares had studied their face, even if it was just a single, tiny moment.\n\n *Mortifying, to be known.*\n\nThey bit their cheek to keep from reacting, instead choosing to turn and laughing at the *Stash*.\n\n\"This is somewhat impressive.\" They nudged the bag with their foot. \"Somewhat.\" \n\nA tease sat in their voice - they had to get back at Ares somehow, for what they'd consider \"Gay panic\" Taking over their bones a moment there. \n\n\"I've been alright though, *C'est la vie,* As the English like to... Somewhat misquote.\" \n\nFinley gave Ares another light shove, snickering. (If they didnt, they'd start blushing again).\n\n\"You're horrible today. I'm wounded.\"\n\nFinley rubbed their hands together, taking a second to blow on them. Damn anemia. They didn't actually know if they had it, but it'd make sense. However, the symptoms (being cold, pale, etc) could often simply being associated with being European. Who knew."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Oh cmon, it's far more than *Somewhat* Impressive.\" He laughed.\n\n\"Im glad you're alright.\" \n\nHis tone was almost softer, *Almost*. Ares did take a subconscious comfort in the fact Finley was okay, which he wouldn't be questioning anytime soon. It was deep under his everyday thoughts, so it could stay there. \n\n\"Horrible? Me? *Never.* I'm the one who is wounded, my god.\" \n\nAres dramatically brought his hand to his forehead and leaned against Finley in an overdrawn display of fainting, before pulling himself upwards with a loud laugh. It was a natural laugh, not the same mocking cackle that he used to torment those around him. Something about this was comfortable, and easy. \n\nFor a moment, Ares titled his head up to gaze at the sky. The clouds were opening their hands, small stars poked around the deep grey. The wind floated across the water and pressed into his face. It wasn't cold anymore, he had adjusted well and was actually quite warm under his bulky jacket. Finley on the other hand was shivering through their jacket, and was making a rather pitiful attempt to warm up their hands. \n\n\"Jesus.\" Ares said through a laugh. \"Cmon, stand up.\"\n\nThe taller boy stood up, and positioned himself in front of them. He left enough room for them to stand up as well. Ares tapped his palm against the back of Finley's hand, giving them an extra sign to get up. Something was almost mischievous about the look on his face, but somewhere underneath that smirk was a hint of uncertainty."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "If you cracked Fin's brain open, and poked around in it, they might have a similar sentiment. It was part of what they liked about Ares - despite how angry he seemed, how brash he was, they were never ill at ease with him. They were safe. Nothing could hurt them, out here in the dark, no monsters, no specters. They had half a mind to curl up against him and go to sleep, knowing they could. \n\nNot many people despised Ares, but, it had, to Fin, become increasingly apparent that some *Did*, and their reasons for doing so, also apparent. He was arrogant, yes. Angry. Quick to react, and quicker to fight. But Fin heard the way he talked about his past. They saw the tiny moments in his eyes where *Something* Hurt, but he wouldn't acknowledge it. There was so much more to Ares than Finley thought anyone gave him credit for. They didn't know everything about him, and didn't suppose they ever would - after all, they were best friends, but nothing else - but they wanted to.\n\nThey did.\n\nFinley studied Ares from this angle. The full moon threw a translucent, silvery blanket over them both, capturing a thousand stills of closeness. You could make a film, Finley thought, out of this one evening, this one stint in time. Stardust rested on their shoulders and curled into the softness of Ares's hair. Despite how cold they were, Finley closed their eyes, for just a moment.\n\nBut, ah, the cold. Ares seemed to notice how much they were shaking, and stood up. Finley's eyes opened to see him standing there, a mixed expression flickering around his face. Damn being the shorter one. Jeez.\n\"I'm up,\" They said, standing. They rubbed their arms as another breeze flew through, tousling their hair around."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The closeness of them made something in Ares want to step back, but he didn't. Having Finley directly in front of him, looking down at them to meet their eyes made him pause. The moon peaked out from the clouds and found home in their light eyes, the stars danced against the blue in shimmering sparks with movements so soft that if you blinked you'd miss it. Something about Finley had that effect. Their eyes held the universe and more, each galaxy and star. It was something Ares had never taken the time to notice. It was fascinating.\n\nWithout a word, Ares slid his arms out of his sleeves and grabbed the collar of the coat. With a solid swinging motion, Ares moved his arms over Finley's head and placed the jacket on their shoulders. The way he had chosen to place the coat made his arms rest on the sides of their neck, like a halfway hug. Ares once again didn't seem to mind the proximity the two had found themselves in. With a few adjustments and a solid tug, Ares was satisfied with the positioning. \n\n\"There, now you wont be cold.\" He smiled.\n\nIt was a smile that not many had the pleasure of seeing. A soft smile that didn't tug on his features with a bastard grin, or expose the sharpness of his teeth. It wasn't frightening or a tactic of intimidation. It was simply a smile. It didn't last long before he was back to his normal state, but it was there. Even for a moment.\n\nAres stood in front of Finley for longer than the would like to admit. He took a step back, removed his lingering hands from the collar of the coat and quickly turned to look at the moon. Almost comically avoiding what he had just done.\n\n\"Ah the clouds went away! Should we find somewhere else to sit, blondie?\" Ares snapped his finger and turned back to look at the other. \"Maybe we could have a picnic on a roof of one of the industrial buildings. The view up there is insane.\"\n_ _\n\nWord vomit. Ares was talking far too much. Perhaps he felt the need to compensate for the past silence, or distract from his actions.\n_ _"
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "*Oh.*\n\nAres's arms on Finleys shoulders were so light they barely realized what he was doing. The jacket was huge - it practically swallowed Finleys boney frame. But it was warm, wrapping them up and blocking out the wind. And it smelled like him - something comforting, and grounded, like dark, rich earth, or strong, towering trees. Finley relaxed into it, a little sigh curling out of their nose. \n\nThey looked back up, and found Ares staring at them. Fin wondered how many other people saw him smile like this. They considered themself lucky, privately, just for a moment.\n\nBut the moment passed, and slipped into the hourglass of time, and Ares turned away, and moved his arms away. Despite the warmth, a strange pang sat in Finleys stomach. They pushed it aside.\n\n\"Right,\" They said. Their voice was softer than they wanted to admit. The entire moment was softer than they thought they could admit. Everything was, with Ares. \"If you want - I don't mind. Just... Let's avoid anything around where, uh, the Angels are.\" \n\nAnxiety prickled the back of their neck. They looked around the park, as if they were half expecting a sniper to appear from the trees."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "When Ares turned back to look at Finley, he noticed the shake in their voice. The slight anxious jitter that fell under their normally even tone. He pursed his lips at this. \n\n\"Trust me, there isn't any angels over there. I haven't seen any.\" The taller boy tapped his foot. \"Although we could figure out someplace else if you'd like?\"\n\nThe moon hung solitary and heavy in the sky. The clouds had almost completely disappeared with the wind, leaving a crisp cold night above the two. The breeze that came with the missing sun wrapped itself against Ares' now exposed arms. It was refreshing, not like anything he was used to but it reminded him of the breezes that would find their home in the shades of trees back in Puerto Rico. Although Ares always loved the sun, he couldn't deny the comfort of a cold night. \n\nAres took a few steps back towards Finley, his hands now resting in his pockets. \"Again though...\" There was an obvious persuasion in his tone. \"The views are *Reaaaaalllyyyy* Nice.\" He drew out that word for effect.\n\nHe looked at Finley, waiting to see if his *\"Charm\"* Had worked or not.\n\nSurprisingly, Ares was taken aback by how nice they looked in his jacket. The sense of both familiarity and confusion he felt at seeing his jacket on someone else confused him, let alone on Fin. It suited them nicely, the deep grey stood out against their usual brighter tones. It wasn't completely out of place, but it definitely looked like Ares' coat. His mind dismissed the thought. Of course Finley looked good in it, Ares looked good in it... It was simply a nice looking coat.\n\nYeah, that had to be it."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Finley comforted themself into the jacket, cozying into the warm fabric that just-so-happened to smell like Ares. They furrowed their hands into the pockets, poking around at the fluff inside. Ares had a natural knack for reassurance, they'd realized - they followed him willingly towards a potential pit of Angels, all because he'd squeezed their shoulder and told them it was okay to do so.\n\nIt said a lot, Finley supposed, about how far they (and most likely Owen, Valio, and their other friends) would follow him. \n\nThey looked up to see Ares close up again. A real smile, a soft one, spread across their face. They laughed. \n\n\"Okay, okay,\" They said, and their voice was softer than they meant it to be, for just a moment. \"You've charmed me. Let's go.\"\n\nTo the industrial areas, to where the Tower could be looming over their heads - and Finley was willingly going. They couldn't believe the things they would do for Ares. Had done.\n\n*You're smitten,* Owen's voice said in the back of their head.\n\n*Shut up.*"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Simple as that, Ares had gotten his way once again. It came with being a *\"Natural born leader,\"* As his mother had called it. The boy had an inclination for persuasion, but whether he was actually good at it or Finley was just easy to convince was up for discussion.\n\nThe grey concrete towers loomed over the two of them as they walked through the streets of the Industrial district. The place almost didn't look real, with its depressing grey hues and modern architecture. Life drained out of the windows and dripped down the walls with a poison that seeped under Ares' skin as he confidently carried himself up and over places he shouldn't be. \n\n\"Cmon then, hurry up blondie or I'll leave ya behind.\" Ares was joking, and let the other know by making his booming laughter fall down the concrete walls like loose sparks on a grindstone. The taller one was ahead, but not by much. It was clear he had much more experience in climbing up buildings and scaling walls. He used his muscular arms to hoist himself up and over barrier after barrier, giving himself a comfortable lead. \n\nThe cold continued to reach towards Ares, the t-shirt pulled over his torso was doing very little to keep out the cold, but he couldn't care less. It was refreshing, especially with the fair work out that was attempting to climb up the buildings.\n\n...\n_ _\n\nIt didn't take long for Ares and Finley to reach the top. Ares almost immediately ran directly to the edge, balancing precariously on the railing that separated the rooftop and streets far below. The night cloaked over the sleeping city with both a welcoming and haunting darkness. Warm orange lights from buildings in the distance lit up against the deep blue hues of the horizon, telltale signs of people awake at hours they shouldn't be. The adrenaline that pumped through the boy's chest and pulsed through his veins was worth it every time.\n\nHe jumped down with a snicker, and flew his arms out to the side in a dramatic, almost showman display. \n\n\"See? Isn't it great?\" Ares was smiling, it was a similar troublesome smile he normally wore but a hint of genuine fun was visible under his crooked grin."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"You wouldn't,\" Finley had replied to his taunts, a laugh of their own bubbling out of their throat. They blew blond strands of hair from their eyes, crossing their arms as they looked around the concrete. The jungle loomed high above their heads, a canopy of airplanes and street lamps shining down.\n\nDespite the gloom of the city, they were both alive.\n\nFinley wasn't quite strong enough to climb over with ease, not like Ares was - and, more than once, they quietly asked for help, reaching out a hand, a drawn in face with unease. Their legs shook every time they dared to look down at the ground below. Their heart hammered in their throat.\n\n*Don't look down,* They chided themself. \n\n*You could fall.*\n\n*You could fall, and break every bone in your body. What the fuck are you doing up here?*\n\nThe voice sounded suspiciously like someone they'd rather not see. But there was nowhere else to go but up. And Ares would help them if they fell, wouldn't he?\n\n*Of course. Do you think he'd let you fall?*\n\nSo Finley climbed.\n\n...\n\n\"Please be careful,\" Finley said. They waited back from the edge, peering just over the side. A heavy, numbing feeling climbed up in their throat, the blood pumping from the arduous climb and the fear of being up so high. Their legs were shaking. They held back the urge to sit down.\n\nFrom up here, the District almost looked alive. The orange spread over the grey, the stars twinkled against the deep dark. It almost looked beautiful. They ran a hand through their hair, and let out a long, long breath.\n\n\"It's... It's something,\" Finley said, looking up at him. Ares throwing his arms out garnered all of Fin's attention, again. They smiled. \"It really is.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares got down and moved past Finley, he couldn't help but notice the anxious energy that buzzed out of them like cracking static. Electric in more ways than one it seemed, they were charged up with a certain paranoia. Ares wondered if they were always like this. \n\n\"Cmon cmon, lets eat something! Not a picnic without food, aye?\" \n\nHe walked over to a clear part of the roof, and threw his bag onto the ground. The sound of various items inside shuffled against the quiet atmosphere of the night. Inside the silence were the soft sounds of the wind brushing against the building, and the faint chatter of people and cars in the streets below. However, being so high up, the stars created a nice void around the two. It was quiet up here, calm and still. \n\nAres disturbed the quiet, similarly to launching a giant cinderblock into a lake. The splash is huge, and the ripples echo through every bit of the water. Ares makes an impact on things without a single ounce remorse, in fact he *Enjoys* It. \n\n\"Blanket.\" Ares lifted his hand and made a grabbing motion towards Finley. \"Unless ya wanna sit on the *Cold* Ground.\" He snickered in a lighthearted manner. He didn't mean to be demanding, simply comfortable enough to not worry about formalities.\n\nThe wind ruffled up Ares' hair, and the deep night made everything up there dark. The taller boy looked over at the other, and couldn't help but stare. Ares had never really cared for the presence of others, but something about Finley being here made the whole endeavour seem less empty.\n\nMaybe that was better."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "If Ares had asked aloud, Finley may have replied: yes. They were like this most days. Most days, the anxiety prickled at the back of their mind like a dull hum of static, flicking out their fingertips to pick at their cuticles and bite at the skin on their lip. Despite their fear of heights, however, the static was beginning to recede - the hair on their head, floating around like some sort of garbled halo, began to lower.\n\nAres tended to have that affect on them.\n\nFinley snickered, and sat down on the blanket beside him. In favour of not staring at him incredulously, they turned their gaze down, and picked at the curls of the fabric in between their fingers. They realized they were being stared at. They bit back a smile. In some ways, it was nice to know Ares did the same thing they did - even on a one-off occasion. \n\n*You're smitten, and dreadfully so, frater,* Nadia had written back, once, only some few days ago. They'd started exchanging letters again. They'd told her quickly about Ares. They couldn't help it. It seemed that it bubbled out of their throat as soon as they could talk to their sister again. When Fin had gotten her letter back, they'd teared up.\n\nPerhaps she was right. Finley, slowly, had come to be okay with that.\n\n\"I like this,\" They said, their voice a bit soft. The smile broke through, gently spreading over their features. \"Being with you.\"\n\nPerhaps it was too soft. Perhaps they'd said too much. But it was all Finley wanted to say - it summarized almost everything, really. For what was a connection, a crush, even, if not a prolonged, and treasured enjoyment of another person's company?"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Finley sat beside Ares, their presence was one that filled the empty and vast void of the heavy stars above. The boy was so used to spending nights like these completely by himself, staring at the cosmos in a deafening silence. He never had company for his late night adventures, not since he was younger. \n\nSafya and Caleb had figured themselves out, even back home they had little time for him. It was always their books, papers, endless quizzes and tests that took priority. Ares would be lying if he said he wasn't happy for their success, but a part of him deep down ached and clawed at the thought of having someone beside him once more. It was always better. Adventures felt like *Adventures* Again with Finley. The days of Ares spending his time fleeing and desperately searching for some kind of escape were slowly reaching an end, but it wasn't over. \n\nThe way Finley spoke made the hairs on the back of Ares' neck stand on end. They were sharp, like daggers and made his stomach sink. His teeth clenched as he listened to their soft tone carry over the wind like the hum of a melody, graceful and calming. \n\nAres wanted to get up, right then and there. Run far far away and avoid the connection that was piecing itself together right in front of his eyes. *Connection meant weakness, did it not?* Was this all worth the trouble? Was the embarrassment and vulnerability of forming a friendship worth the fact Ares wouldn't have to spend his time in sickening solitude? \n\nMaybe it was. Ares didn't want to know. \n\nThe boy didn't move. He sat there, beside Finley. Not a single part of his waking mind nor his subconscious regretted this choice. \n\n\"I'm ..\" His voice caught in his throat. A part of him was unsure, yet this didn't show. He kept it buried far beneath the charming bastard smirk he usually wore. \n\n\"I'm glad.\"\n_ _\n\nThe words finally fell out of his mouth, in a quiet tone that crunched like gravel and rumbled with the deep echo of thunder. \n\nThe night held above them in a watchful gaze, peering down through super novas and constellations thousands of years old. It watched, with baited breath, curious and wise. Ares felt both the pressure of the universe above him and nothing at all. \n\nHe felt at ease, and the farthest from it. All at the same time. \n\nFinley was confusing. Everything about this situation itched against Ares' mind. All of it was frustrating and stressful, while also simultaneously being the *Best months of his life.* How contradictory. \n\n\"I like this too.\" \n\nThe deep auburn, that blazed like scorched matchsticks and ash met the calming pool of electrifying blue. It never failed to draw him in. A tantalizing offer to sink himself into the water, and never return."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "The silence stretched over them like a sheet of candy glass, so fragile and yet sturdy. Nightlife flickered and hummed below, two crows sitting just on the ledge of a nearby building, cawing in some half baked symphony. \n\nFinley finally looked up from the blanket. They studied the side of Ares's expression. He seemed uncomfortable under the mask. Finley shifted. Anxiety pressed against their ribcage.\n\n\"Do you want to leave?\" \n\nThe question was as gentle as all the rest. They spoke around the lump crowding their throat. \n\n\"We don't have to stay if you don't want to. I'll carry the bag. I don't mind.\" \n\nIt was microscopic, the changes in his expression. Ares had, Finley assumed, mastered the art of Being Okay. But there were cracks. The way his face flickered. A quirk of the eyebrow, a little sigh of the shoulders.\n\nFinley was grateful they could recognize him, just a bit. A year together had done that. Ares was something that the last year was not - constant. Consistent. No matter what had happened, Fin could count on Ares being there."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"No, no, its okay. We aren't done here are we? We've only been up here for a while.\" \n\nAres fell onto his back, and tucked his arms behind his head. Gazing up at the sky, feeling the blanket beneath him warm the cold concrete roof.\n\n\"Oi, cmon, lay down. The sky is nice.\" A very Ares thing to do, his words were an attempt to lighten the mood.\n\nAbove the two stretched an endless vastness. It was littered with midnight stars and a few planets, alongside the solitary moon which hung heavy in the sky. Ares had no clue what shapes lay in the cosmos, or which dot connected to a planet, but he knew there was a certain comfort in the night. He loved being out so late, the quiet hum that filled the world when others slept was something Ares revelled in. \n\nHaving Finley with him made it all the much better. \n\nThey, didn't look relaxed. An idea sparked in Ares' head. \n\nWith a snicker, the taller boy sat up, wrapped his arms around their shoulders and dragged them down onto the blanket with him. Letting go when the two were on their backs, and laughing when they made a quiet squeaking sound.\n\nAres raised his hands up and put his palms to the sky. \n\n\"Isn't it nice so high up? The sky is *So close.* Freaky aye?\" He was smiling."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"It's beautiful,\" Finley admitted (after, of course, being hauled backwards). \n\nThey laughed, blowing a few strands out of their eyes. A conversation with Amelie rose up in their mind. She'd pointed out, once, how Fin practically fawned over Ares. She said their crush was obvious to anyone with eyes.\n\nAs Fin looked over to Ares, they thanked whatever was up there that he was, metaphorically, blind.\n\nHis presence laid over Finleys anxiety like a weighted blanket, soothing it down like a comforting pet at the end of a particularly stressful day.\n\nAs a cool breeze skimmed over the rooftop, Fin buried themself into Ares's coat, clenching their jaw from keeping their teeth from shivering. If he wanted to stay up here, Fin would oblige. They watched him reach for the sky, the smile on his face. \n\nThey felt lucky, in a way. \n\n\"I... I'm actually afraid of heights,\" They admitted, finally. \"But ah... This is nice. It's- It's pretty. I like seeing so many stars. A lot different than home.\""
}
] | 380 | 7,208 |
453.411765 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The world was dark. The only light, dare enter the inky blackness, were the dim street lamps and moonlight filtered through thick cloud. Small raindrops tapped on the roof of the bus stop, much like the fingers of death against a coffin. \n\n*Curfew was a joke, she didn't need to be anywhere. They couldn't tell her what to do.*\n\nElya didn't mind the rain, in fact she welcomed it with open arms. The atmosphere, the petrichor, all of it intoxicating. The girl thrived in weather such as this, and it showed. In fact, when most people set their time according to sunlight, Elya set her's according to moonlight and rain. It was always better this way; it felt like the freezing cold embrace of an old friend, someone Elya longed to know more. The rain sat right outside, just out of her reach. \n\nFor now, dry she sat, waiting for the next bus into town. \n\nShe had no plans, not even for when she reached the city. Perhaps she'd dance around like both her feet were twisted left, or let the rain streak down her cheeks and smudge her makeup. Feel the night and let her long dress soak up the rain from under her black boots. Just the thought made her tensed brow relax ever so slightly. What a wonderful way to spend her evening. *Far better than rotting in that concrete cage.*\n\nTapping her foot lightly, music played through wired headphones tucked into her ears. Muffled sounds bled through, adding a soft melody to the otherwise silent night. Some romantic goth song, indecipherable from outside of her own hearing. Elya pulled out her phone and checked the time. \n\nThe bus would arrive soon."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Nowhere was home quite like water on Sigrún's face. She tilted her head up to the dark sky, and took some of the shimmering ink for herself, winding it around her features. It took practice, without a mirror, but the cool tips of similarly night-stained fingers wound inky hollows around her eyes, pointing down her nose and dripping with the raindrops over her cheekbones.\n\nPerfect for a night on the town. Sig had no idea where she planned to go, of course, but she looked right for slinking around to find out.\n\nThe little tones of its earbuds dying interrupted its calm—tinny recording of some obscure black metal band-cult tucked now into its pocket, the sound of the rain hitting the bus station's roof dripped more sharply into its silver-laden ears.\n\nRain, the chatter of rings clinking together in its pockets, and... *The Cure?*\n\nIt flipped the dark hood covering its damp blonde curls down behind the rows of spikes protruding from its shoulders; from the bench below the bus stop's cover, fingertips spread just within view as it crouched closer. The late summer storm beat down curiously on the leather stretched over her back.\n\nA dark shape sat below, tinged violet; lenses moved behind wavy ink-strike pupils. The figure breathed, and Sigrún watched for a long, liquid moment, peering between raindrops pooling on the thick glass. Three heartbeats leapt into its throat as it dawned who this might be. *Who else?* \n\n*They did indeed think very much alike...*\n\nA low, humour-tinged voice slunk through the rainy silence.\n\n\"My, this is embarrassing... We wore the same skirt to the rainstorm.\"\n\nLeaning down from the ledge above the bench, in the blink of an unfocused eye, was a grinning, corpse-painted wraith. It slipped waist-high from the cover, bleached waves reaching down from dark roots framing an upside down but sharply-featured face that grinned with black-stained lips. Hanging down like stalagmites were needle-like spikes affixed to its broad-shouldered jacket."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "A rustle, the smallest noise beckoned Elya with a whisper she wasn't entirely certain she had heard. She lightly grabbed one headphone, lowering it from her ear. Tilting her head around like a cat, perched waiting for the smallest snap of a twig. \n\nHer breath was steady. \n\nThen, without hesitation, a large figure slowly lowered itself down in front of her. Similarly to a bat, upside down from the rim of the cover, dark wings wrapped around a solid frame in the form of rain soaked leather. Spikes, intimidating and alluring. The girl was too used to such unusual tastes to be scared. She didn't move. \n\nElya continued to stare upwards, her bangs falling to her temples. Tired half closed eyes stared upwards; they were deep purple in colour and strikingly framed with a cloud of smudged black eyeshadow. The girl kept still, staring at the stranger. No ounce of recognition crossed her skeptical eyes. There were no words, only the silence of the world around them. \n\n\"You look like a bad idea.\" \n\nA feminine and thickly accented voice broke the silence. Elya tilted her head downwards slightly, all while keeping her eyes on the one above her. The purple teased hair that flowed across her back like that of a thunder cloud, returned softly over her upper face and shoulders. A smirk tugged on the corners of her lips; her black lipstick making the gesture even more subtle. \n\n\nElya felt her heart pound against her ears like an echoing drum. Her deep sharp eyes remaining locked on those of a beast, right in front of her. \n\n\n*Something was different. Even in the dark. She knew.*\n_ _\n\nA part of Elya could tell, by the way its voice flowed with the rain; spoke as if it knew how each drop felt as it hit the earth. Yet, she knew nothing at the same time. The person pulled over the edge of the bus stop was colossal. Noticeably larger than Elya, with broad shoulders like the mountains that stretched through forests. Its hair, flowing downwards like a waterfall of pure sunlight. The girl felt, if she reached out, just for a second, she would feel the entire universe at her finger tips. Each burning star, every supernova burning in the depths of the night. It hung with the certainty of rock in deep caves, and moved with the power of the crashing depths. Each would swallow you whole if you place your feet wrong. \n\nElya was awestruck. Yet her face, her eyes, remained still and unmoving. Unaffected. Cold. \n\nNever before had she seen someone so beyond this earth."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "SOON. When I get home :3\n\nA breathy little laugh came from the hanging face, just quiet enough for the rain to flood it bare of any sound save for the curt hisses of air against the back of its throat. A sharp tooth grazed a black lip before vanishing like sea foam into the side of a rolling wave.\n\n\"Nevermore,\" She rasped.\n\nIn the dark, silvery eyes reflected the tiny light on the side of the night-traveller's headphones, squinting with some secret, giddy humour. Within the little pocket of air the shelter gave both their faces, it found something to be *Immensely* Entertaining, something that the strange passenger could verify with not even an ant creeping over her boot—such was the secrecy of their little bubble of night, in which hardly anyone but the moon and her worshipers and the sound of water hitting glass were welcome.\n\nWhere the accosted goth sat still like a love letter locked in a drawer, the lurking presence seemed never to settle; raindrops turned black as they dripped down its chin, as though the night behind it was caressing its face, deciding best how to pull it back into the cold and dark and wet it must have slipped from.\n\nIt didn't slip back just yet; it stared.\n\nThe one its eyes were trained on wore that same night with a certain sharpness that it traced with a long, dark-rimmed look; staring felt like stepping from salt-worn planks to polished marble, cold and pristine further still than ice. Its every move was known in the echoes across this palace, it mused, as though she had personally fashioned the silence in the little pocket of dark to catch wily creatures in the act of upsetting her court.\n\nSigrún hung there still, folded patiently in her fascination, indeed ravenlike in her mystery, some yet stranger answer bitten back behind her mischievously-curled mouth.\n\nAbove them, imperceptibly in the downpour, one dark boot worried another."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Elya leaned her face forward, chin tilted up to look directly at the stranger. Her head tilted as she examined the rain streaked black lines that made their ways across its skin like the thick ink that wrote letters by moonlight. \n\nThey just seemed to stare. As Elya continued to meet her eyes, she noticed the way they reflected the light that bounced through the streets. Similarly to the puddles that lined the concrete, rippling with rain. Elya noted the shape of its iris' and the deep colours that were far deeper than any the girl had seen before. *Who was this.*\n\nShe looked past the one creating the shadow that enveloped her, staring out and down the street. *Her bus...* She hadn't been thinking about it. *What time was it.*\n\nSuddenly, as if on cue, the bus that would take her down into the city sped right past them. A small splash of rain, and a suddenly loud rumble that shook the silence like thunder, then nothing once again. The dark hid them, making their presence unknown to those who were not actively looking. Elya sighed. She'd catch the next one. \n\nFor now, she had something far more interesting in front of her. \n\nThe girl looked back, and Sigrún still had their eyes locked on her features. It would be unsettling if not for the blatant curiosity that painted their tilted brows, and the smile that pulled over black lips. \n\n\"May I know the name of the one that cannot pry their eyes off me?\" \n\nElya stood up, her heavy boots keeping her strong against the ground. Her skirt moved with the wind as her legs straightened. The girl, that felt like the cold of rain and the freeze of fog, took a step towards Sigrún. Their faces were levelled now. \n\nShe awaited a response."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The bus passed them, and all it elicited from the blonde was a little turn of its head toward the noise. For a moment, its eyes caught the headlights just so; they shimmered like silvery coins, lain on a dead man's eyelids, payment for the ferryman to bear him across the river. These coins, though, glinting like precious opals and abalone, cracked perfectly in those curlicues across the centre, paid for passage across something far wider, deeper, and thickly-bedded with bones than the Styx.\n\nIt paused—the light seemed to scorch away the freshest droplets of falling ink, painting the skin on its cheek a splash of white, fading into a red echo of the taillights on the other side. A crystal, its facets live flesh and blood and mirrors. Such a beast that it was was too proud to show momentary surprise on its face, but it was a little peeved about its secrets being shone through quite before its say-so.\n\nElya drew closer, and the surface rippled in a way that faces do not.\n\nSomewhere, under the cool mask of refracted light, Sigrún flushed violet.\n\n\"If the bell doesn't ring so clearly in the rain...\"\n\nWith a muffled creak of leather and nary so much as a deep breath, Sigrún rolled off of the roof of the shelter. It was as though she floated on rain like it was salt water, no thought to gravity or concrete's grudges against soft skin and bones and carefully-painted leather jackets. It landed heavily but gracefully, dark shapes folding themselves away behind its back and beneath its long skirt. Long, darkly-smudged fingers combed its damp blonde waves—curls around its face, where they were the driest—neatly over its broad shoulders, though she needed no such mantle to tower over the inquisitive whisperer-into-voids.\n_ _\n\n\"*Sigrún Mirjá Hætta Fiske*, yours alone in your midnight dreary,\" She announced, her voice matching Elya's; low, level, clear.\n\nReflections were a language it spoke fluently, but everything it gave back to her had the same effect as the bus' lights on its skin, the nagging feeling of a sculptor masquerading as a mirror, everything placed just so. It was the liquid shine of eyes that saw well in the dark; eyes that vanished behind dark eyelashes as her head bowed in an elegant, spike-framed something-of-a-curtsy, arms gracefully stretched out to the sides, raindrops sliding off of silvery rings.\n\nEyes still glinting with that strange, giddy humour."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "As Sigrún slid down and landed in front of Elya, the sudden and intense height difference crashed down onto her like the ocean splashing against sharp pointed rocks. The spray of salty sea water stung her face, and yet all it did was flush her cheeks warm. She took a step back as the other landed with a weight Elya had not known before, preparing for something to happen. The ocean, endless and horrifyingly large, reached their hands out towards her; the shadows were ready to drag her far below the surface. \n\nNo longer were they level, Elya's chin back tilted upwards, staring deep into the pool of colour that stained its cheeks. Her breath quickened, ever so slightly. \n\n*Sigrún.* The name immediately struck recognition within Elya. A sudden heart beat pounded in her ears. The poetry, romance, deep within the night. The way each word from the two would dance together like one, bone to bone, rib to rib, they were the same. Yet now, with a physical manifestation of the vague nature that disappeared through blue light, Elya was uncertain. Sigrún called like the moonlight, beckoning Elya forward hauntingly with silver soaked hands, and yet she couldn't help but be slightly afraid. Adrenaline, intrigue, horror and fear, all echoed within her mind. Elya did not move. She did not run— she let her curiosity win. \n\n\"Pleasure to finally meet you in person... Sigrún.\" The name flowed off her accented tongue like sweet honey, the blood red juice of a freshly picked fruit; a compassionate tone. Her words alluded to their previous conversations. \n_ _\n\nElya returned the bow, crossing her left leg behind her right, lifting her skirt with sharp pointed nails that looked like claws in the dim light. Her head lowered, hair spilling over her shoulders while her layered necklaces leaned away from her pale collar bones. Elya was a lot smaller in comparison. Even with her wide romantic bat wing sleeves and large boots, nothing she did to appear sharper even began to compare to how effortlessly Sigrún depicted the intimidating look. \n\nThe girl turned her head back upwards as she straightened herself. Her deep purple eyes, sharp makeup, and almost uncertain yet unmoving expression returned to meet Sigrúns teasing smirk and playful eyes. \n\nHer heart continued to pound against her chest, like solid thunder that threatened to break clean through her skin."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Soon :3\nMy writing juice is coming back <3\n\n\"*El*Ya,\" Spoke she, for the first time aloud; Sigrún's accent was not so strong, but she formed both syllables with great care, rolling it sweetly off of her tongue from behind her set of pointed teeth. \n\nIt was unclear if her cleft palate offset the tilt of her mouth or if she smiled so rakishly on a whim of her own, but faint swirls of violet blush continued to spread over her expression in a pattern like hoarfrost on a window looking out over a storm. It cocked its head at Elya's faintest sign of a startle, though she remained remarkably adamantine (could that be scaring it a little? Perhaps). In fact, much of her was sharp and pinned perfectly, eerily still in the quietness between breaths like an insect. She curtseyed in return, unfolding only just—the image changed, the blonde remembering a piece of her typed in the wee hours to add to this pale face.\n\n*Arachnid.*\n\nThose dark-shadowed eyes could not deny, in their long, liquid moment spent tracing her, that this strikingly-painted beauty was nothing short of devastating. Three hearts couldn't help but flutter.\n\nSigrún's shoulders sat lower, silvery hands slipping into her pockets to clink against a couple of loose coins and a small, smooth rock, her hips tilting as she shifted her weight. It still towered, in a way not quite physical, but she held herself almost like any old passenger waiting for a chariot. Almost.\n\n\"Oh, the pleasure's all mine, surely, *Vennen min*,\" She purred. It turned on the tip of its scuffed black boot to face the rain with its new captivation, its shadow cast from whatever light it could find seeming to crawl through the air like ink through water. Those silvery discs rolled back to her, sharpening her every detail in its mind.\n\n\"I'm not so horribly greedy like that, but it's difficult not to think so on a night like this... A dwelling always for something *Fascinating*.\"\n_ _\n\nHer pinky fingers hooked themselves around the outsides of her pockets; the one closest to Elya bore a silvery ring, little metallic flecks of light appearing to dot its skin around it.\n\n\"Out diving for pearls as well?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The rain continued to chill deep into Elya's core, like the empty winter streets back home in Czechia. This night felt all to familiar to the late evenings the girl would swirl fabric over snow and ice, dragging heavy shoes across dying grass and leaves, letting her hands go numb from the fog that kissed her veins into frostbite. Elya felt the chill creep up her palm. Instinctively, she wanted to dragged her sleeves down over her limp hands and return them to warmth, but something was so tantalizing about the cold. \n\nSomething in Elya bounced across her ribs, so lightly, like the flutter of moth wings battering against her bones. It was a feeling Elya did not understand. It was panic, unease, like a fainting spell coming over her in a wave of pins and needles, but it was strangely welcoming. Elya wanted to reach out and place her hand upon the leather that stood so proudly in front of her; simply to prove this was all real. The familiar name of endearment whispered against the darkness. Elya wondered how many other people Sigrún had said that to. \n\n\"... I was simply heading to town.\" Her voice hesitated. She was not so coherent without a backspace. \n\n\"I want to be anywhere but here.\" A shiver ran up the girls shoulders. The night swallowed everything like a massive beast larger than space, darkening the trees and buildings between its teeth. Everything felt so large. So much larger than Elya. \n\nSigrún certainly stood like a beast, and yet she also stood like something akin to Elya. They had an understanding, a connection, one the girl could not explain. Whatever the two were, it felt both utterly offset and completely equal. \n\n\"What brings you out, *Miláčku?*\" Elya took a step towards Sigrún, tucking her hands behind her back and tilting her head to the side while staring directly into its eyes. \n\nIf there was one thing Elya would not do, it was be afraid. She wouldn't give anyone that power. Not anymore."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "It hummed, letting a sympathetic note of bitterness slip through its flirtatiousness; the feeling was familiar, of a creature pacing its barred enclosure, finding new dust to tread on. In the daylight hours, Sigrún couldn't un-see where the trees ended, where the smell of earth gave way to asphalt and glass and harsh sunlight; in the rain, though, when the rain blocked even the stars, the ink seemed to stretch on forever, past reason and maps that could be folded and fit squarely into pockets. It was the best time to stretch those curled limbs of hers.\n\nUnabashedly, her strange little smile inched wider at the sweet thing she didn't understand, sharpening its dimples.\n\n\"Much the same,\" It answered, tilting its head a little back at Elya. \"Sleep eludes me yet... The devil doesn't answer to his name much, not when there's wandering to be done. Haven't had a good rain in months, *Heh.*\"\n\nThough Sigrún's tone remained level, she spoke just a sliver faster. Though it was too dark for most to tell for certain, the corners of the shadows around her eyes seemed to narrow slightly, the skin behind them paling half a shade for but a moment.\n\n\"You have good instincts.\"\n\nIts smile faded as it gnawed for a moment on the inside of its cheek; it stared still at her, but it wasn't quite looking at her piercing wine-dark eyes. It had slipped her mind that she was looking at all, entranced by tracing the slope of Elya's nose.\n\nShe shrugged her shoulders, her skirt rippling; around her waist, something shifted. Twined together behind her back like the violet-haired girl's hands, the colour of the shadows between folds of the dark fabric over her legs, Sig held her limbs close to her body, breathing the ever-so-slight taste of metal in through a sense estranged from her stained tongue.\n_ _\n\n\"This isn't anywhere to *Be*.\"\n\nThe smell of the rain was sweet; fresh and clear, it pooled warm around earthworms and sank into her damp hair, meager consolation for an ache for something all-surrounding. Sigrún's dreams smelled strong of salty brine, and bit at her once-red cheeks like wolves' teeth. In her mind, there wasn't anywhere else to be, really, not when longing overtook memory.\n\nDespite herself, though, Sigrún relished the electricity that dripped fast down her spine. To *Be*, that place she stood was a piece of fly paper, a trap, dread... But to pass through, to circle on a current, serendipity wrapped around the travellers in the night."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Elya's eyes studied Sigrún as it spoke. The way her black stained lips moved over pointed teeth, spilling out words that stood proud against the thundering rain. It wasn't lipstick. Elya knew the way the texture laid against the skin, and this was something different. Even in the low light, it looked like ink. The girl became all too aware that she was staring, and flicked her gaze back upwards. \n\n\"Sleep is nothing but a stranger.\" Her voice was raspy, and flowed like fog out of her lungs. \"We nocturnal beasts must find solitude elsewhere. For death is both far away and so... Close...\" The sounds trailed off into a rumbling emptiness, until only a whisper remained at the tip of her tongue. \n\nUnsettlingly dark were her words. Comparing sleep to that of death. A trial run, the closest thing she would get to an eternal rest within the earth. Its not that Elya wanted death, but the idea was simply too comforting. To let her bones fall into the arms of rocks and mud, return to the core of the world and give back her borrowed time. Her mind was too dark for most. \n\n\"You're right. This place is... Nowhere. It's gruesome and it's empty... And in no way that I enjoy.\" Elya looked to the direction of Newtons Cradle. It was far away at this point, yet the two remained tied to its cold grasp. \"It's empty in all the wrong ways.\" The girl spoke as if she spoke to no one. Her gaze wasn't on Sigrún, she spoke to the ground and to the night. Somehow she was disconnected, even with the other so close. \n\nElya leaned back and sat down against the small bench under the bus stop cover. Her long dress flowing around her ankles, and her dramatic sleeves falling to her elbows as she propped her head up on her hand. Her arms were still darkened, with a sheer fabric that was connected to her middle finger by a ring. Bracelets hung loosely around her wrist. Her expression was far away, buried deep within a mind that was unknown to everyone but her own self. \n\n\"You, at least, are not the same.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The beast that Sigrún was had warnings woven into the culture: *Beware the eerie calm over the water, sailor, where fish are plenty and breezes are gentle; beware the islands, sweet, doomed sailor, that surround your vessel, soon to splinter into tinder when they encroach.*\n\nSigrún towered, and with her attire of black from her neck to her boots she did loom, but she looked upon Elya from below the clear waters, watching her dip her elegant fingertips into the pool of calm ocean between them, around them, under the shelter. She was not lost, and she was no stranger—Sigrún spun intricacies into the deathly undercurrents, and Elya received them in delicately cupped hands, blinking cool and thoughtful at every drop she caught.\n\nThe blonde shivered. Out of Elya's sight and Sigrún's mind, a wide grin curled into its cheeks, burned darkly into the night for just a moment, onto no one.\n\nCertainly not Death.\n\n\"I'm only as graceful as my latest waltz.\" She laughed, two short huffs, wry delight. \"My shadow has light feet, but you've coloured my own first impression with the silver glinting off the tip of your tongue, søta,\" It purred.\n\nIt glided backwards to the seat next to hers, one foot lightly placed behind the other, a cat with liquid footfalls. When she sat, she leaned back onto the glass behind the bench, metal studs cushioned by black leather, head tilted up to watch the rain falling.\n\n\"We may yet make exquisite use of such an empty stretch, *Hah*? Lucky as we are...\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Elya felt the weight of Sigrún next to her. It held *Presence,* One that would never go unnoticed. \n\n*Sigrún was real. Flesh and bone, blood of a different kind, yet human all the same.* \n\nElya felt it. The way the leather croaked in the silence; the soft wind chiming notes of silver jewelry against ivory skin. The sudden proximity sent an electric shock up Elya's spine. Being so close, she could see how all consuming Sigrún was. The way it held the earth between its fingers, mountains crushed under teeth, the clouds and sky in its eyes— the world itself found home in every curve and edge. Elya *Felt all of it.*\n\n*How could she not?*\n\nElya did not care for people. She did not feel their presence, she did not care for their breath. Yet, here she sat, awaiting every word this ghostly apparition had to utter with unmoving lungs. \n\nThe way Sigrún spoke rumbled like the ocean itself. Elya could almost taste the salt deep in her core, it beckoned her. The urge to sink, below her shoulders and far into the darkness, was tantalizing. \n\n\"How could I not...\" It took Elya a moment to respond, but when she did she instinctively leaned towards Sigrún— only slightly. The breath of a rabbit in the winter snow, smaller than the distance the pale girl shifted. She would've moved closer, yet she did not. \"You practically shake the earth with every step.\" \n\nDeep eyes looked over towards Sigrún. They studied the way her blonde hair fell over her shoulders, the strong jaw that carried its words true. Every bit of the other looked crafted, sculpted, carved. Artistically born of sun and sea, dripping with the golden rays of fire and fury. Even in the night, Sigrún was brimming with a light Elya had never seen. \n_ _\n\nElya stepped between a far off glance, barely registering the other, and practically praying to every feature she could not peel her eyes from; each flick of her gaze, waltz at a masquerade ball. \n\n\"... Yes. Lucky as we are.\" The girl paused. \"I have almost forgotten why I wanted to go to town in the first place.\" Her tone was a breathless whisper, tainted with the hope the one leaned up beside her would not hear."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Sigrún needed to exaggerate little when it spoke of the eyes on it; she towered, shaking the earth indeed, leaving traces she forgot about the instant after leaving them. The sentiment had lost much of its lustre, truth be told, for it so rarely felt like any of those eyes followed it as it moved, animating her as nearly lifelike in the surely ink-wrought fantasy she lived as she danced and wove the tentative edges of her thoughts around them to be marvelled at as distant and mad.\n\nShe liked people fine, but wrapped the night around her shoulders carefully when she stole away from them, no efforts wasted peeling it back again. And then, here, a woven tapestry of the same faraway loves, wrapping a presence that tasted of bitter and sweet things, warmth pooling in her stomach.\n\nElya. She watched so closely that Sigrún felt goosebumps rise on the backs of its arms, like a creature in the long grass listening for the whistle of dove wings. She matched it step for step, and in its mind spun a vision of her pressing closer, her feet deftly teasing it backward, those eyes piercing into hers with the sharpness of shattered quartz on the black marble beneath them. \n\nWarmth buzzed behind her face as she whirled, the tips of their fingers just-nearly touching.\n\n\"We could invent a reason or two to stay out in the cold...\" The blonde tilted its head, sharp tooth just catching for a moment on its lip. \"You're quick on your feet, heh?\"\n_ _\n\nIn a sharp ear (Elya's, no doubt—what trouble Sigrún was in), the sea-beast's voice moved just a little faster at the prospect. For all its cool splendour, three heartbeats sped, violet as her eyes; Elya paused, transfixed, and the subtly crawling colours under the skin on her face curled and flexed within their pattern, hoping to transfix her yet more, to coax another low and poetic drop of sweetness from her perfectly painted lips.\n\nEven the palest planes of her face called to mind the set of glossy, sharp raven feathers, tilted up toward her ever so slightly more. It leaned down, in the same measure of spider-silk and stars' whisperings: it saw her, and it relished it.\n\n\"Perfect as cats...\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Elya's face was unmoving, blank. It stared with an intensity that could only be felt through lightning strikes and the cold sting of rain on the back of bare necks. Her eyes in the dark looked deeper than the night, pools of liquid void, gateways that led father than the universe itself. \n\nHer head tilted downwards, as she stood up and walked near the edge of the covering. Her dress, sleeves and hair moved slowly with her movements, fluttering around her ankles, wrists and jaw like bat wings tucked close to her chest. The entire girl might as well have been an apparition, a figment of Sigrún's imagination, an image pulled from the pouring rain. \n\nThe two had gotten too close, physically in contact. Elya felt the unease creep in her stomach. The girl pulled herself back down from whatever fake poetic storybook tale that soaked her idealistic mind. Daydreams were just daydreams. Perhaps, they were nightwishes in this case. Whatever it wanted, it would have to find in someone else.\n\nA long thin boney hand with sharp nails like claws reached outwards, palm facing the sky. Rain hit her pale skin heavy, and slid down to her knuckles, dripping back down to the earth. It was cold, freezing in fact, and sent a chill up her spine.\n\n\"Why, we could, I suppose.\" Her voice was soft. \n\n\"... However... This place is nice... It is like a small hideaway tucked away in the pouring rain. Its almost as if the world outside has melted away with the water.\" Thick accented vowels pulled on her tongue, and curled at the end of her words. \n\n\"Why were you out on such a night?\" Elya turned over her shoulder, looking at Sigrún through parted bangs."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "At once, Sigrún melted in reverse from the cold glass, cocked head on a string of spider-silk attached to Elya's spinneret—tracing through the labyrinth hot on Ariadne's echo, her voice the grievous stirring of the wine-dark sea, though it tasted to it more like rum.\n\nShe considered carefully, gnawing her lip with a stained tooth.\n\n\"I was stitching something together,\" It started, turning a dangling earring over a ringed finger. \"A piece of it... Flexed the wrong way, and now I don't like how it bends. I'm out to find a better scrap, if I pace the right way.\" *Clinkclinkclinkclink.* \"The town's alright for grave-robbing, better than you might think—many small bones laying about.\"\n\nIt snorted. \"Enough to zap a long-dead short story that was asked of me before the leaves changed into dancing *Just* Convincingly enough not to fail me.\"\n\n*Small bones*, small bones aplenty... Sigrún pictured the ones in Elya's hands needle-sharp, polished with great care by the rain. She wasn't the type to remember the names of all those little bones, but she knew each of their faces, where they sat beneath those cold palms, perhaps splayed delicately in her own so that she might examine them. It could fold up her fingers and bite into her perfect skin, sinking into heavy cream as smooth and white as marble, run through with her veins; blackberry blood and the rum from her throat would dribble down her chin, and she would scrape the flesh from those perfectly-arrayed bones like the sparse, bitter meat off a pomegranate seed.\n\nSomewhere in the bottom of a dry well, the blonde scratched a few notes into the muck and cursed that they wouldn't last long enough to get back to her dead computer, not through this rain.\n\n\"And I do so prefer the smell of storms to formaldehyde, don't you?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Elya looked back over her shoulder as Sigrún let words pour from its mouth, something about the way she spoke felt far too... Familiar. It made what felt like pinprick feathers on the back of Elya's neck puff up in a nervous unrest. A type of unrest that, mixed in with certain forms of excitement and dread, made everything seem rather dreamlike. \n\nThe question of *Who* Sigrún was made itself obvious and clear in her mind. A stranger, so tantalizing with a skill of pulling her in with every word strung through the fabric of their conversation, was danger to be recognized. Swallowing, with tense pressed lips painted with black, she bared her teeth to speak. \n\n\"I hope you enjoy your hunt for this replacement piece you speak of.\" Elya responded with a soft, vague kind of enthusiasm and interest. \n\nThe rain continued to tap its cold dead hands on the small covering that housed the two runaway teenagers, tucked under and away, far past curfew. It all felt rather strange, like time had stopped for them. Perhaps come the morning, this would all have been some fleeting memory of a dream had during restless slumber. \n\nThe question Sigrún posed made Elya pause and tilt her head like a black cat perched on a gravestone. The same kind of expression that mirrored wide, thin, split eyes reflecting a kaleidoscope of green and yellow in a void of black. \n\n\"I do as well yes, storms are so vast. I wish to sink into them and never return.\"\n\nThe girl tucked her hands behind her back, and returned facing fully towards Sigrún. The flowing fabric draped over her willowy limbs danced with the rain behind her as she spun on her heels. Her face now casted in shadow as the street lamp behind her lined her figure in a rim of dull yellow light. \n\n\"I dislike the stale, unmoving, environment that formaldehyde festers and grows. Nothing but metaphoric rot, preservation and a continued, endless state.\"\n\n\"It's much better to be free, on your own accord.\""
}
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405.611111 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Finley, for one, thought this would either be the *Best* Idea that they'd ever had, or, the worst.\n\nBut, he and Owen had gotten into kahoots, joyfully putting the idea of a late-night breakfast double-date with them and their respective partners (although, Fin wasn't sure *Entirely* If Owen would refer to Uriel that way, but, regardless), and, just so happening to not really tell either party about the *Full* Details.\n\nGetting Ares to agree to come was entirely easy. Late night adventures had been part of their whole dynamic, long before they'd started dating. A quick text with a little smiley face had been all it'd took to get their hot-headed sweetheart to come along; he'd met them in the lobby and laced their hands together as soon as they could.\n\nPlus, Isakstad was beautiful at night - and the cold was finally letting up from the brutal Scandinavian winter. Fin was comfortable in a (gifted) hoodie and ripped jeans. While there was no true substitute for timbits, the corner diner in town wasn't half-bad. \n\n\"Here,\" He said to Ares, pointing up at the sign. If he was nervous about how Ares would react to Uriel and Owen *Just so happening* By, he tried not to show it (though, he didn't doubt Ares's ability to read them). \"They've got great iced coffees, I think Hatsume said.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen was weaving an odd path between streetlights, bouncing on his toes looking for Finley. A shock of bluish—well, nowadays, greenish—blond hair gave his partner in collusion away in the now-familiar setting of signs written in Swedish and corners dotted with invisible cats' steps. Ares, hanging onto them, looked like he was telling them the story he had relayed to him the day before, miming some horrendous tale of sour gummy worms and pocket change. It still struck him as a little odd, seeing him so casually tender (in his firecracker sort of way), but something warm hummed in the boy's chest at the sight. Such an oddity was one that could only be good.\n\nIt was nearly too warm out for his old leather jacket, creaking reassuringly with his every move over the sun-warmed pavement that had just barely been dipped into shadow for the night, but it sat square on his shoulders anyhow. Perhaps he didn't *Need* Armour to lay waste to some waffles with his dearest friends, but Owen had perhaps overstated his confidence that this was, indeed, a great idea.\n\nAnd if it wasn't, then spouting orange juice through his straw at Ares would be! *All in good fun.*\n\nIn his fretting hand was Uriel's, light as a feather but solidly gripped in his fingers; he pushed the button for the crosswalk and looked back at them. He smiled at them, crooked as always, background blurring away ever so slightly so that he might take in how their one stray lock of snow caught the breeze of passing cars. Properly lacing their fingers together, he planted a kiss on the back of their hand and pulled them across the street.\n\n\"This way! Waffles, waffles this way. *Shhh, hahah.*\"\n\n *Act natural.*\n\nOut of the blue, his other hand clamped down on Finley's skull with a triumphant \"*EYAH!!!*\" That *Hopefully* Wouldn't cause a power blackout or a heart attack. Eh. Best to start the night off with a bang, anyhow! Definitely not the nerves."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "It was always a welcome change of pace to be whisked away from their own head. \n \nOrpheus and Eurydice traveled hand and hand through the midnight summer air, with an important amendment to the myth— for tragedy did not meet the pair at the end, only waffles at an unusual hour. \n\nUriel couldn't help but blink in sleepy surprise when they were invited along. A double date was a fascinating idea, albeit confusing in practice— they had little idea what the acceptable amount of PDA would be in a group setting, or if it would just be another night with the band. \n\nHowever, Owen had said the word *Date*, and the threads in their brain tangled and twisted at the sweet syllables. *Date*, he said, and Uriel followed like the hapless fool they were. \n\nThey were dressed in a somewhat different attire than their usual. After all, this was a *Date*, and the fantasy of a stammering, blushing Owen eyeing Uriel up and down was too sweet to only leave in the realm of their imagination. A brown, baggy turtleneck, a plaid skirt, and tights to keep warm hung from their lanky frame, and a vintage, old looking gold pendant necklace glittered around their neck. It was something they had sheepishly asked their mother to have, a long time ago. \n\nThe shock of blue-green hair was easy to spot, especially with no one around. Owen gave Finley a karate chop, and Uriel couldn't help but let out a small laugh at that, their gloved hands covering their mouth to hide the impolite action. Their eyes slid over to Ares in the midst of the two friends' squabble, looking dead on at him with their murky expression. Being around Owen and Finley at this time of night was easy— Ares, less so, even if Finley was around. \n\nIt was... Complicated, is all. They didn't bear any ill will towards the rowdy boy, but it didn't change that fact. \n\nThey smile, nonetheless. \"It's good to see you all. I am happy I didn't sleep through— I don't think I've ever done anything akin to this, after all.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Why did they not *Tell* Him? Owen and Finley, tricky little bastards. Finley had hyped this up, and of course it wasn't hard to get Ares out of his dorm but they completely failed to mention the complete *Coincidence* Of Owen and Uriel being here too. *A date will be fun,* They said. *It'll be just like always,* They said. Yeah, right. \n\nThe anger didn't soak very far, though, and his initial reaction made Owen and Fin laugh. Apparently his wide open mouth, utterly shocked expression and playfully acting like this was betrayal of the highest degree was humorous. \n\n\"Yes, yes, Owen, we know where the waffles are. Chill your shit.\" The tall boy snickered, before turning his gaze slightly towards Finley. \"Iced coffee, hm? Well I guess we'll just have to find out for ourselves then, aye?\" A smile. \n\nSimilarly to Owen and Uriel, Ares had Finley pulled close to his side. Of course, the fact this *Was similar to Owen and Uriel* Did not slip past Ares' attention. Good for Owen— about damn time. Thats all he could really think on the matter. \n_ _\n\nAres' arm rested softly across Finley's shoulders as they walked, comfortably pressed into their side. The four of them walked through the crisp and cool night air, Ares and Finley were slightly ahead but still quite close. The stars hung above them in silence, and it was late enough for the perfect twilight zone of no one else being outside but none of the restaurants being closed. Ares loved this time of night. So far, this was all shaping up to be quite the wonderful outing, even if they hadn't quite reached their destination yet. \n\nAres looked the complete opposite to the walking academia pinterest board on the far side of him— quite alarming in fact. The two were completely different sides of the partner spectrum it appeared, with Uriel being the one your parents would want you to date and Ares being the one that all the cautionary tales and educational videos about peer pressure warned you about. Sucks for Finley's parents, a thought like that made Ares silently laugh. The boy was covered in spikes, from the rim of his hood to the toe of his platform boots. With every step the chains linked to his belt loops clinked and echoed, his layered necklaces followed in a similar sound. Layered on top of his hoodie was a thick denim jacket, every inch covered in patches, band logos and symbols. It was a sight to see, but Ares loved it. If Owen thought he was overdressed for the occasion with a leather jacket, he could be comforted by the poster child of bad decisions walking next to Finley. \n\nIt wasn't long before they all stood under the sign of the place Finley had decided. They pointed upwards at it, and Ares stepped forward to hold the door open for everyone. He shoved his boot down at the base, looked at the rest of the group, dramatically threw his hand open and bowed slightly.\n\n\"Ladies first.\" The boy spoke with a playful and familiar bastard smirk."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Owen chopping into Fin's shoulder sent an (expected) burst of static shooting through Fin's hair as they yelped, and subsequently had to pat down again. The concern melted into laughter as Fin patted down their hair again, muttering in French as he went to work on his (faded) dye-job with one free hand. It would have been easier with two, but, Finley was far too comfortable holding hands with his dearly beloved to loosen his grip.\n\n\"Merci, mon amour,\" They said to Ares, both for not *Immediately* Turning Owen and Uriel away, and for opening the door. The little spikes looped around his hood made him look handsome, they thought, if a bit dangerous (which was fine with Finley. They seemed to like dangerous). Finley popped their head up and gave Ares a swift peck on the cheek on the way in, winding around the entrance and waiting up for Owen and Uriel to head in. \n\nIt was a cute little place, about the same size of a normal diner back home, rounded out along the walls and the smell of frying food almost made Finley nostaglic - though, he wasn't quite sure for what. They got the group a booth, and happily plunked down in one of the too-hard plastic seats, patting the place beside him for Ares to join them. As good of company Uriel and Owen were, and despite the fact this was *Literally Finley and Owen's idea originally*, Fin already had taken a note that he wanted to bring Ares back here, if they could. And why not? A quiet little place to exist with the person they loved.\n\n\"Come sit,\" They said, to their absolute walking warning sign of a boyfriend, and two much more respectable mates in between. \"Is this okay? It seemed alright from the door.\"\n\nIn hindsight, Finley realised their mother would have had an absolute *Fit* Upon seeing Ares in person. She would despise him, and the literal rock band they'd all three assembled. The thought made him smile. She might not have even liked Owen, which was strange - most (*Most*) people liked Owen.\n\nBut, either way, Finley smiled up at their friends, and hoped it would work out. A good group effort, he'd described it to Owen. A chance for them all to be together without too much pressure. Being at the Cradle was hard enough on it's own without drama between friends."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"A proper *Gentleman*, you are!\"\n\nOwen curtsied sarcastically to Ares as he passed through the door but the grin cracked across his face was as real as he thought a day like this would never be; that is to say, the divot in his cheek seemed to be etched into the corner of his smile permanently, giving the gesture an odd sincerity to it. He shook his hair out for dramatic effect. It was tied away from his face and spilling down his back in red waves, curling at the ends, air-dried after a shower.\n\nThe boy's hand drifted back to rest in his pocket, fingertips brushing a couple of the little embroidered flowers that sat on his hip and flared around his ankles—before he sat down, he made sure to softly headbutt the careful artisan in the shoulder. He rubbed his cheek a little on their soft sweater before floating after Finley: *Thankyouthankyouthankyou.*\n\n\"It's just fine, Fin.\" He sat. Hidden by the back of the booth, his restless fingers idly rubbed the far side of Uriel's waist.\n\nTruth be told, he was probably overthinking worse than his drummer—*Going places* With *People* For reasons other than travelling as a band, where his place was outlined clear and solid, was... Different. So much so that it had been a fight to get out the door, angry-whispering at himself all the way through making himself pretty, or what passed for it compared to his usual. *Everyone can tell that you're usually a mess*, he told himself. *Your outfit is ridiculous. Your jacket's too bulky.* His leg bounced, heel tapping fast on tile. *What do* You *Even have to try so hard for anyway? Everything you do looks so silly.*\n\n*Oh, shut* Up *Already.*\n_ _\n\nWrenching his focus out of his skull and out towards the lovelier side of his eye sockets, Owen thought instead about the scrunch of Ares' nose when he laughed at something, the errant lock of blond hair Finley had missed when he spooked them, and Uriel's... Well, *Uriel*. The tiring feed of misery couldn't say much about the beauty on his arm, all cirrus cloud edges and drops of cool dew, sweet on his tongue like-\n\n\"Chocolate syrup...\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "I write either tn or tmrw\n\nI'm not feeling too well"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares was the last to sit down. The tall boy let his friends... And Uriel... Sit down first, and offered to take the seat that was left. Ares did small behaviours like this frequently as of recent, something something *Finally* Considering other people. Sounded gross, Ares didn't want to think about it. It worked out so Owen and Uriel were on one side of the table, and Finley and Ares were directly across from them. \n\n\"It seems like a great place, *Cariño*.\" Ares pressed his forehead to the top of Finley's head for the briefest of seconds, simply signalling a gesture of reassurance. Ares did this often, Finley always smiled. Ares' voice was quiet, specifically speaking to Fin and Fin alone, before quickly returning to be present at table.\n\nAres was a firecracker mix of being far too mature for his own good, and immature as a reckless dog. As soon as he sat down, he rested his head in his hand and messed around with the preset utensils laid out in front of him. Surprisingly, Ares was relaxed and at ease. He didn't feel pent up like usual, no need to be aggressive or bite before he could bark. He simply was enjoying a time with Finley and the *Other* Two that decided to tag along. The thought made him snicker silently, it was always fun to tease Owen. \n\n\"*Oi, nena, tú ves buena.*\" Ares leaned his face forward towards the ginger, with a wink and a bastard smirk that spelt nothing but trouble. A favourite joke of Ares' recently, which originally was born out of malice but blossomed into something that could be laughed at, was referring to Owen with flirtatious feminine terms in Spanish. In front of Uriel and Finley, it was even more amusing. \"*¿Vienes seguido por aquí?*\" \n_ _\n\nThis would be fun. Ares \"Bastard\" Morales was back at it again. Never ending teasing of those close to him, a chronic poke-the-bear-with-a-stick participant. He never let down the opportunity to crack a laugh, or make fun of those around him. Owen was particularly fun, because he responded to it in a certain way that made Ares snicker. A genuine laugh not many brought out of him. \n\nBeneath the table, Ares reached for Finley's hand and held it tight. Another silent reassurance that he knew Finley would appreciate. With a single squeeze, Fin was alerted that it was all simply a joke, and Ares was doing this to bother Owen. Cracking some fun, simple as that. \n\nIt didn't take long for a waiter to come and ask if they wanted to get started with drinks of any kind, clearly frustrated with the late night appearance of a bunch of teenagers."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"You're gaaayy,\" Fin drawled, a snicker pulling on their voice as they teasingly jabbed Ares with a pointed elbow, gazing up at him with an unmistakable expression of fondness. Underneath the table, he laced his fingers with Ares's, rubbing their thumb across the back of his hand. \"And during pride month, huh? Owen, you scandalous, scandalous man.\n\nA polite enough server came by and asked them for drinks, a smiling girl named (Finley wasn't really listening, but he thought it was April), with red hair like Owen's. She grinned, and gestured between them.\n\"Gingers!\" She chirped. \"I feel like I should take your order first.\"\n\nFin, through a laugh, gestured across the table to Owen and Uriel, motioning for them to go first by way of politeness. They flipped over the laminated menu with a free hand, squinting at the little English lettering under their half-baked knowledge of Swedish. They'd considered pancakes.\n\nReally, a while back, Fin might have considered this whole event to be a *Non-zero* Possibility, but not entirely plausible. The riffs between Owen and Ares had worried them for a while, a *Good* Long while, but the familiar camaraderie between the trio (and good ol' Uriel, dependable and well-intentioned, if at times misinformed), had built back up, and Finley comfortably blew some faded bangs from their face and settled back into the booth."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Even after so long now being the subject of Ares' flirtatious attacks on his hard-won composure, Owen still couldn't help but turn bright red at his jab. It wasn't that it was *Working*, really, just that...\n\n\"*...Dos i chwarae efo dy nain,*\" He spat, through an inexplicable grin that held back laughter. \"*Slebog.*\" Two could play at that game. His heels knocked rhythmically against the bottom of his seat.\n\nHopefully, he had taught Uriel at least enough of his mother tongue for them to find that funnier than Ares... Oh, what an ugly side of him the bastard brought out. It was his own fault, really.\n\nAs if he couldn't turn any redder, though, he was singled out almost immediately by the waitress—he could have sworn she had access to his bingo card of doom, lodged between melted folds in his brain, but judging by her little laugh at the less-than-proud yelp he let out when she spoke to him, the possibility *Might* Have been there that she wasn't out to make his head explode. *Unlike somebody.*\n\nSomehow, with minimal restarts or thoughts of combusting on the spot (compensated by some unintentionally furious seat-kicking), Owen managed to speak the magic words that would summon him some strawberry lemonade.\n\nThough his heart beat just a little too fast, it was full; his three favourite people in the world, at that sweet moment in time, were contained with him in one diner booth at sundown. At his side, in between the two of them, Owen's fingers moved from the small of Uri's back to the gloved shape of their fingers, humming to himself some summery song that smelled to him like sun-warmed pavement."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "It was a strange feeling to be at a diner like this— no less with *Friends*, plural. The light fingers drumming against their waist bring them back to the present; Owen was their anchor in more than one way, Uriel mused, as they lightly rested their head against his shoulder. \n\nAres shot some coy Spanish Owen's way, and the boy so lovingly attached to their arm responds in turn. His remark is the first thing to break Uriel's composure; the albino, sitting stock still in the booth as if booting up for the last 5 minutes, finally cracked an expression. \n\nThey blinked, one at a time, the gears in their brain slowly churning until... The corners of their eyes crinkled, their mouth turned upwards in an odd, yet not forced motion, and Uriel *Smiled.* Not only that, but their head sagged down, their shoulders shaking in amusement as laughter took control of their thin frame. \"*Je ne devrais pas être surpris en train de rire de ça*,\" They muttered, hiding their smile with a gloved hand. \n\n\"And for the missus?\" The waitress chirps, and Uriel quickly regains their composure. Considering their current feminine dress, the comment was to be expected. \n\n\"May I have the...\" They squint, looking down at the menu as if it was the first time they've seen it (it was, in reality. Uriel had looked at the menu, of course, but they didn't actually *Read* It— the ability for comprehension was something only recently gained, after all) . \"Parfait? Ah... With the fruit, please.\" \n\nTheir eyes drift over to the pair sitting across from them. Finley and Ares were certainly a pair— oddly enough, they were the closest thing Uriel had for a \"Romantic benchmark.\" Their mother did not have any one else in her life, and they were never close with anyone before— and so, they stared keenly (a bit *Too* Keenly) at the pair's mannerisms, subconsciously mimicking them to the redhead beside them. \n\n\"You two should order now. Oh, and— pardon me for forgetting, but do you have any chamomile?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares dramatically gasped at Owen's words, pressing his palm to his chest with a look of pure violation. The same harrowed look of a victorian woman watching her husband fall deathly ill from the plague. Almost pale with shock, Ares gripped the fabric of the hoodie around his chest. He had absolutely no clue what Owen said. \n\n\"How dare you?!\" A smirk broke his disgusted expression for a moment, as he stifled a snicker. Uriel cracking a similar expression made Ares raise an eyebrow. *They knew what he had said... Of course they did. Horrible.* Ares playfully rolled his eyes and leaned dramatically into Finley.\n\n\"Ay, I cannot believe you hurt me so, Owen. After all my kindness.\" He wailed, before breaking out into a laugh and straightening himself back up— only sightly. The taller boy remained leaned down to look over Fin's shoulder at the menu they were holding. Of course Ares had his own, but why would he look at that. \n\n\"*Cabrón.*\" Ares sneered at Owen with a playful smile. \n\nBack to the menu. None of the drinks caught his eye, but he would get whatever came with a straw. He had a devious plan that would surely get proper revenge on the ginger sitting across from him. Ares' troublemaker brain grinned with mischief— the similar feeling that always burned in Ares' chest when he was about to make a poor decision. \n\n\"I'll just have a coke.\" He looked at the waitress once Owen and Uriel had finished. Ares was judging Uriel's order. Tea? Ares was totally sure Owen had picked them up by swiping through Tinder outside of a retirement home.\n\nAres looked over at Fin. \"What do you want, amor?\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"*Que est ce?\"* Asked Fin, amusement sprinkled in their gaze at the terror they were surely unleashing on the place. He hadn't caught on to enough Welsh, yet - a few phrases were all they could really place. But it seemed to make Uriel laugh - Fin snickered, still giving Ares's shoulder a reassuring pat from whatever dramatics were transpiring.\n\nThe waitress looked between them with some strange mix of confusion, bewilderment, and maybe amusement mixed in, nodding slowly as she penned their orders down. What a strange collection of people.\nShe looked at Uriel, speaking somewhat around the madness - \"Sure! I've got a bit left. I'll bring it out.\"\n\nFin, patient indicted by fondness for their companions, nodded, and pointed to an iced coffee with some sort of floral punch to it. \n\"I'll try this, please.\"\n\nIt seemed there was no rest for the wicked, indeed, if caffeine bothered Fin. It didn't, much, most days, a little lilt of the heart and nothing else.\n\n\"Sure. A tea, a cola, an iced coffee, and, ah - I'm sorry, what did you like?\"\n\nShe peered down at Owen, who had, the first time, only said something in Welsh. Not that she knew it was Welsh. She actually mistook it for something akin to a Slavic language, at first.\n\nFin leaned up to Ares's ear and, quietly, said, \"Look. They're absolutely nuts over each other. I think it's sweet.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen already thought that he was pretty funny, but Uriel collapsing into a fit of giggles (a *Fit* By their standards alone, perhaps, but a fit nonetheless) made the pleasantly crackling idea shoot straight through his head. Half an accomplished lyricist at his green age, and yet making the so-often cast-porcelain beauty beside him giggle was his proudest achievement in any language.\n\nAt least, that was what the wide, giddy grin spreading over his face suggested to his bandmates. The auburn-framed boy tried to look at Ares with a look of smug satisfaction, but the rapid blush kind of smothered the attempt.\n\nAres' response clicked a *Little* Better than its provocation. Owen's doe eyes widened, a slightly-crooked canine catching on his lip as he bit his mouth shut in a desperate attempt to cook up a response. The boy was never usually one to succumb to a dick-measuring contest to impress a date (he had never before been in a situation where that had become a relevant choice he'd needed to make, but at some point or another he had seen someone else do it, and decided he was above it), but Uriel's cheek on his shoulder had a history of bolstering his confidence in actually *Winning* Such a match, and his friend had a habit of challenging him to the sort.\n\n\"*Haliad hallt,*\" He hissed through a tidal wave of barely-held back laughter of his own, popping the *T*. He loved this game. Well and truly. He was still ruffling his invisible peacock feathers when the waitress locked eyes with him by accident, and he nearly made an *Incredibly* Embarrassing squeak.\n\n*Shush, he totally caught it before it left the cannon.*\n\n\"I! I like chocolate milk fine, d-*Thanks*!\"\n\nIt was ever astounding how quickly smoothness deserted him. He wondered how he ever got himself a place as the frontman of a metal band; *Probably because it was mostly screaming about imminent death and shredding for dear life*, he reasoned. Both were things he, individually, simply excelled at.\n_ _\n\nThe minutes ticked by, and soon they less ticked but melted more calmly down toward dusk like the butter he could smell seeping into someone else's dinner in the booth behind him. In the twenty seconds he had even had his chocolate milk in front of him, Owen seemed to have blissfully downed half of it without blinking."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel places their hand ontop of Owen's, looking over at him with a gaze not usually present on their face; focused and warm instead of cool and spaced out. \"No need to say such words, dear friend of mine.\" They say, the slightest hint of a sing-song tone in their voice. \"You will be a bad influence on Finley. If you all curse like sailors, it will stop being as impactful, yes?\" \n\nThe corner of their mouth raises in amusement. It was nice to be able to let loose like this— Uriel wasn't one for making jokes, but their light prod or two was something they weren't used to saying out loud. It made them the slightest bit nervous that their attempt to fit in with the mood was misplaced, and they flicker their gaze around for a quick glance into everyone's eyes . It couldn't hurt to double check— and, despite Uriel's pallid face, they couldn't help but nervously knead Owen's palm with their strong hands as they intricacies of social interaction finally showed themselves.\n\nAt least Owen was being his normal self and shoveling chocolate milk into his cheeks. Uriel takes a sip of their tea— it's hot, but good enough. Not as good as their mother's tea, but it couldn't be helped. They stir in some more sugar, and smile at the crowd."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Uriel spoke with a tease Ares had not seen out of their dead serious face. Jokes. Who knew they'd be capable. \n\nHe stuck his tongue out at them in response. A wide open, *Blegh.*\n\nWhich quickly switched when the waitress came back around. The spiked boy gave a quick but appreciative thanks when she slid all of their drinks across the table. His mother may have raised a bastard, but at the *Very least* He was kind to service workers. \n\nDespite that, he knew what he was about to do next would have gotten him smacked upside the head by his mama, but he didn't care. *This is gonna be so funny,* His mind snickered. \n\nTucking his fingers around the rim of his drink, Ares took a sip of the soda. In all honesty, he only ordered it because he knew he would get a straw with it. \n\nWith a sly hand, Ares ripped a small piece from a stray napkin on the table and slid it into his mouth without anyone noticing. Except maybe Uriel... Their eyes were always unsettlingly alert to Ares. Whatever, they wouldn't say anything anyways. \n\nA single swift moment and suddenly Owen had a small spitball directly in the centre of his forehead. It hit with a dull *Thwap* And stuck perfectly against the gingers skin. \n\nAres lowered the straw from his mouth and let out a wild boisterous laugh. A cackle, if you will. Leaning forward to catch his breath, the boy looked at Owen with a bastard smirk. \n\n\"Wanna keep up the shit talking, *Pendejo*?\" His words poured out through laughter. \n\nAres was frankly acting like a child, but it was genuinely too much fun."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "A stifled laugh became a muffled wheeze as Fin put their head down on the table, tapping it with their palm.\n\n It wasn't really that funny, in all honesty - he had shot spitballs at Nadia (whenever she *Didn't* Threaten him with swift vengeance in the form of dunking them in Lost Lagoon), but, the sight of Owen with one directly on his forehead like a sniper's well-trained second-eye was, arguably, much funnier than the ones that had littered their sister's side of their mother's clunky old car.\n\n\"Hold on, hold on,\" They wheezed, sitting up, taking a deep breath. They flickered a few stray pieces of dyed hair from their eyes. \"Sorry, Owen, mate - you just look very, very funny.\"\n\nHe picked up his iced coffee and gave it a taste test, nodding in a general sense of approval. They'd had better back home, but, it couldn't be helped. \n\nA few more snickers poked out of their mouth as they tried not to look back up at Owen, and most *Certainly* Not at Ares, because they knew as soon as they did, they'd burst into laughter again, and they wanted to keep some degree of composure in a public place."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen had spent long enough around Ares to know the twinkle in his eyes for the warning it was, but that offered him no hints yet about exactly what kind of trouble he was in. He cocked his head a little at his bandmate's drink, eyeing the condensation curiously; a big brown doe eye looked down the barrel of a straw and understood a moment too late.\n\nTruthfully, he would have applauded such a perfect shot, but out of sheer shock he was *Stunned*.\n\nThe fool that he was had no rebuttal, no smooth way to save himself from this—the redhead merely forgot to blink, unintentionally shooting his friends a comically befuddled expression that no doubt made their sides split even harder. He had a very delicate decision to make. Ares was regaining his composure (whatever cow shit that meant in his case), but Finley was on the verge of howling in the middle of the evening rush—Owen decided, then, that his path was clear. He was going to make his drummer piss himself.\n\n\"What?? Wh-uh??\" Owen laid the bewilderment on thick, his lip quivering, but ever so carefully as to not shake off the spitball. \"*Funny?!* I-I had my suspicions, but, but—\"\n\nBy any honourable crocodile's standards, he was downright *Distraught*, despite the grin threatening to yank his already-red features out of position. He quickly reached across the table (with the hand Uriel wasn't kneading, of course), grabbing Finley by the collar and forcing them to look at him even closer.\n\n\"Give it to me *Straight*, man, you're the only bloke I can trust t-to give me the *Truth*!\" The redhead rattled them a couple times for emphasis, watery puppy eyes cranked to full power. \"*My eyes are too close together, they are, isn't it?!*\" He was fighting hard now to keep it together, but he couldn't stop yet. It was rare that funny things popped into his head fully formed, and by every spike on Ares' ensemble, he was going to see it through.\n\n_ _\n\"Oh *God*, it's true, I've always *Knooowwwn!*\", he wailed, desperately shaking his fistful of Fin's shirt. By some otherworldly stroke of magic, the spitball still hadn't budged."
}
] | 411 | 7,301 |
481.888889 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The muffled talking and faint steps from the hallway is the only company Vance received since arriving at the hospital last night. He sat alone on the edge of his bed where he sat idle in the middle. The cellphone sat next to him with a black cracked screen that beeped now and then from the intranet. It was one of the only company he has was an occasional reply and then nothing after in the chatroom. Right now he didn't feel like glancing at his phone and finishing checking his emails.\n\nThe open window let in a chill breeze that flared the curtains to life that made his dark hair lightly flutter like black feathers. Through the thick brush and dense trees there was a highway busy with activity. He could see passerbys driving in and out from the direction of the small town. Yet amidst it all, standing stiff with a twitching nose, was a dirt brown rabbit, its long ears pointing up like antennas. Then with a sudden bolt, it sprang out onto the road nearly getting hit by a taxi that swerved around it. The blaring honk roared as the driver shouted an incoherent language that Vance couldn't understand nor hear right. The rabbit bound to the other side of the road where it vanished into the brush.\n\nIt was incredibly boring and lonely here.\n\nVance could barely do his homework and read his library books about spirits that sat on the small end table beside his bed. He wore a simple white T-shirt and cotton dark gray pj bottoms that he had on since last night after the medical treatment. The IV pole held the classic blood bag pushing life fluids into his vein. The bandage on his scarred forearm hid a dog bite with new stitches keeping the puncture holes together. On his neck where Mattie ripped open his old stitches with a pen was restitched once again, this time swollen with an angry red mark. He still was a bit skittish after the rabies vaccination left him timid. At this point he grew a strong detest towards needles at this point.\n\nHis starlight eyes gloomily watched the world move on while a heavy thought weighed down on his mind. He's unsure how to feel after being stabbed the second time at Newton Cradle, it left a numb feeling in his chest. After seeing Taffy and Mattie losing their shit brought back old memories of when his mom had one time docked his elven ears and had burned his arm with boiling oil. \n\nHis sharp fang bit down on the corner of his lip when his jaw clenched. Shakily raises his hand to rub his glistening eyes to shove back his emotions. This was one of the worst possible ways for him to be alone doing nothing to keep his mind busy. Vance is frightened of himself becoming something similar or worse than the people who hurt him. \n\n*'Push it all away... Push it away...'* Vance thought, turning his starlight blue eyes back towards the window to watch the scenery."
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "Craig stood outside of the hospital, a parcel in one hand and a plastic bag of food on the other. Word spread fast in Newton's Cradle and Craig heard of Vance's shanking from the intranet despite not using it all too often. Raizel has reached out to him and asked him to deliver a parcel to the hospitalized boy so he happily obliged, wanting a reason to meet up with the guy anyway. \n\nHe walked into the hospital and asked the lady at the front desk where Vance's room was before being led to a more secluded part of the hospital where Vance was being held. It made sense that the parahuman treatment ward was secluded from the rest of the hospital. A few questions bounced across his mind before subsiding the minute he reached Vance's room door. \n\nReaching the door, he knocked on it after a while of staring and gently opened the door. \"Er, I hope you don't mind me letting myself in,\" He said softly, entering the room, posture low. \"Raizel asked me to send you a parcel and I was wondering how you were doing so I came here.\" He said, placing the parcel on the bed before scanning the room. \n\nIt was a sad and sterile sight. Craig has no memories of going to the hospital so the entire building was a new experience for him. The air was cold and a sterile metal smell hung in the atmosphere. \n\n\"I brought you some food if you're hungry,\" He said, placing the plastic bag on the table next to the bed before taking a seat in one of the armchairs in front of him.\n\nDespite the chair feeling relatively comfortable, Craig was anything but that. He felt bad coming in uninvited and the unfamilar, harsh atmosphere of the hospital was a bit overwhelming for the boy. He was confused as to what exactly happened to Vance, only knowing the rough details and all those feelings combined made for a mildly uncomfortable experience. \n\nCraig shifted in his seat a bit before talking, \"I heard you got shanked by someone,\" He started hesitantly, \"Er, what happened? What landed you getting stabbed in the first place?\" He asked, his expression one of worry and curiosity."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The weighing memories entwined with deeper thoughts subsided in the darkest corners of his mind as soon as he heard the door open. A familiar voice spoke out from behind his back that made him look over his shoulder. His starlight blue eyes slightly widened at the name, Raizel, who brought a cold chill running up his back.\n\nThe last time he'd met the wild girl had nearly crushed him in her serpentine form that constricted him in a deadly hug. Feeling the air squeezed out from his lungs as his ribcage was close to caving inwards. It was a close call when she released him with a flurry of apologies.\n\nThen he zones back into reality with a dazed look when he blinked away the memories before realizing Craige was already sitting on the armchair. It took him a few minutes to process what he heard as the voice was moving across the room towards his direction.\n\nThe word \"Shank\" Made his wounds ache all over that made him rub the uninjured side of his sore neck. \"A new student was lost wandering in the forest late at night and they couldn't see in the dark. There was a lot of wildlife activity and I got worried that he would get dragged off by some animal.\" Then his hand lowered down beside him with his fingers gripping on the side of his pants. This was a little hard on his part to explain when he clearly doesn't want to talk about it.\n\nVance was strong enough to not let himself fall prey towards avoiding the subject. His elven ears slightly lowered when he begins the next part of his explanation. \"Since they were babbling like a crackhead, telling me how I look like a monster with too many eyes with too many mouths... They were a mess. Since I can see well in the dark, I picked them up to carry them through the woods. I got annoyed when they kept telling me how I look like a monster... How I am hiding what I truly look like..\" \n\nHis eyebrows turned upwards that appeared to be a worried frown as a bead of sweat slid down his temple. \"I-I don't know... I reacted poorly because I was scared that I was going to have to face surgery if I started showing more abnormal traits... I thought this idiot was purposely using their ability to see something that they're not supposed to see. They didn't make any sense... And it turned into an argument.\"\n\nVance pauses when he tried to recollect what exactly happened because he didn't remember feeling the sharp object rip open his stitches. \"The student stabbed their pin into my neck not thinking it would cause that much injury, but they didn't see that they tore open my stitches. I started to bleed out. I... Didn't notice it at first because I was distracted trying to calm them down when they were hurting themselves...\"\n\nThe tips of his nails began digging into the palm of his hands when he felt his eyes draw down to the tile floor. \"Then we heard a rabid dog barking in our direction. I ran but he didn't... And I had to go back to save his ass because he was laying there submitting himself to get mauled. I blocked the bite with my arm..\"\n\nThere was a disgusting sensation in his gut that coiled into an uncomfortable knot when he remembered seeing so much blood and gore. \"I... Was about to quickly end the sick animal... The next thing I recall was the kid started to beat it to death with a flashlight... And he kept hitting it even after it died. He apologized and offered to help me... But I declined and brought him back to the school before calling the ambulance..\""
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"O-oh, yikes,\" Craig responded to the long story, concerned. He could tell Vance was uncomfortable reciting the story from the way he shifted in his bed and he felt bad for probing. \"I hope you're better now that you've gotten treatment.\" He sighed. \n\n\"I don't know why the student would call you a monster though,\" He mumbled, removing the beanie that was covering his hair, letting the snake like vines reemerge and rest atop his shoulders. \"Considering you were helping them and all.\" He said, sinking into his chair a bit, feeling more relaxed seeing that Vance didn't immediately tell him to get lost. \n\n\"Um, if you don't mind me asking,\" He started again, \"That Raizel, she told me she couldn't send you the parcel herself, why is that?\" He muttered, \"I mean, to tell someone like me who cant exactly go out too often to run an errand, there must be an important reason to it.\" He scratched the back of his neck. It's not the wisest choice to ask Craig to run an errand outside since he's really new to being in the city or in any urban area for that matter. That and the fact he has plants for hair and the inability to say no makes one recipe for disaster. \n\n\"You don't have to answer if you don't want to,\" He says bashfully, getting up from his seat for a bit to inspect the room. \n\nHe paced around the room and eyed the machines curiously, eyebrows furrowed. If he thought the dorms were sterile, he had definitely changed his mind after seeing the hospital room. The cold feeling made him feel out of place. \"Are hospitals always this gloomy?\" He mumbled rubbing his arm. \"I cant imagine being here alone with my thoughts.\" He grimaced at the thought. \n\n\"A-ah, right, sorry for coming uninvited, if you really want some rest alone, I can leave if you're not comfortable.\" He said with an apologetic grin."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "His skin began to lose its warm color when it turned pale at the mention of Raizel's name. He couldn't help himself shuddering as his shoulders cringe at the recollection of the near death experience. \n\n\"I would rather not be ready to see her in person any time soon... Not after getting boa constricted and falling unconscious from it...\" Vance says dryly, rubbing the back of his twitching ear. \n\nHis eyes now focusing back at Craige with a sheepish look. \"Yeah... I'm sorry that she made you deliver it... I have no idea what she is thinking, but I appreciate you for bringing it here... Actually... I don't think any of my parents would bother sending anything?\"\n\n A hint of confusion stirred in his tired voice as his gaze fell onto the package, a sliver of uncertainty evolving into a tinge of fear. \nThen his attention returned back to Craige who was examining the room before apologizing about being uninvited. He really appreciates normal company from someone who isn't a mentally unstable asshole. An understanding, kind small smile from Vance was warm and gentle as the sunset.\n\n\"It's alright Craige, you may stay as you like,\" Vance said, adjusting the itching bandage on his forearm. He kept his starlight blue eyes focused on his hands to give them a break from looking at the other student. \"You did come all this way... So... Why leave so soon after all the trouble? I could call someone from Newton Cradle to escort you back later?\" \n\nHe's generally doing his best to express his courtesy speaking to Craige while his eyes are not focused on him. His pointed ears remain drooped and his eyebrows upturn in almost a sadden frown. He was mainly focusing on keeping his breathing steady and slow, so much so that he couldn't look directly at him. His hand was busily fidgeting with the bandage that didn't need adjustments."
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "The flurry of questions on Vance's relationship with Raziel quickly subsided once he saw Vance's face turn pale at the mention of her name. He was still very much so confused, but he figured it was better if he dropped the topic. \n\n\"It's okay, really,\" He said, \"It's no big deal and it's another excuse for me to see new places too.\" Craig said sheepishly, looking at Vance. \"It wasn't too hard to navigate my way here and I was curious as to how you were doing, so it's no problem, really.\" He said, continuing to scan the room. \n\n\"I've never been in a hospital before so this is a new experience,\" He hummed, looking around the room. \"I don't have any reference of how it would look or feel but I didn't expect it to be so...\" He grimaced slightly, \"Sterile.\" He sat back down on the armchair facing the bed. \"How long have you been here? I think I'd go insane being here alone for more than a day.\" \n\nTo be fair, Craig would go insane being alone for more than a day just wherever. The guy just can't be left alone with his thoughts. It was the reason he opted for a roommate in the first place. He's like an npc in the sense that he is but a shell of a human being if he isn't approached first. It's like he gets lost in his thoughts the moment someone leaves him alone. \n\n\"You don't have to get someone to escort me back, I can make do myself.\" He says with a conceited grin. *\"I don't think you even remember how you got here.\"* A strand of hair finally spoke up after being quiet for so long. \"I can make do.\" Craig said, holding the strand's 'mouth' shut out of reflex. \n\n\"Anyway,\" He says, as a strand of hair outstretches and grabs the plastic bag Craig placed on the bedside table earlier. \"Have you been eating well? I brought you some chicken noodle soup I made earlier.\" He says, taking the bag and pulling a pink Tupperware box lined with cartoon strawberries out of the bag. \"I'm not sure what you like, but this is what I always make if I'm feeling like garbage.\" He says, placing the container on the hospital bed table."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I've come here often it seems..\" Vance said he grew bitter. \"I was here a week when I first got stabbed by Taffy... Then when I finally returned to Newton Cradle, I got stabbed by a different student who sent me right back within seven hours...\" \n\nThen the recollection of Craige mentioning about going insane being alone in such an isolated room. It made him sigh which made his ears droop more realizing how painstakingly lonely and agonizing it is to be left with a busy mind. \"It's something that you start getting used to I guess?\"\n\nWhen Craige brought up food it distracted him for a second with a cautious glance at the other student. Then his view shifted in time to see a fraggle strand zip across the room to grab the bag, then it lured itself back like a spongy cord.\n\n\"Geez, you really didn't have to..\" Vance said, now feeling spoiled at this point. \"I'm grateful but... You seriously didn't have to bring me anything.\" It was difficult to grasp why Craige would bother to bring him food. Was it a reason to have another excuse to come see him? \n\nWhat were his true motives?\n\nThe suspicions played cruelly until Vance thought of a reason that Craige was just a kind enough kid who is thoughtful. It was as simple as that.\n\nHis starlight blue eyes lit up when the aroma from the chicken soup untangled the knot in his stomach. Now he remembered that he didn't bother eating much food from the hospital. \"Eh... Don't worry too much, I'll eat just about anything at this point.\"\n\nAnd he wasn't kidding.\n\nVance was already eating the best meal that didn't deceive him by its appearance and smell. He ate a bit shyly at a slower pace but quick enough to have it all gone before setting the empty tupperware box back on the table. \n\n\"Where did you learn how to cook like that? I haven't eaten anything that was this good in such a long time.\" He was indeed very surprised that the food was tasty and edible enough to not murder him seconds later. At least it's not spiked.\n\nAfter finishing the chicken soup it left his eyes feeling a bit heavy when exhaustion was telling him to rest. He was rubbing his eye with the back of his bandaged hand."
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"Yikes,\" Craig responded, cringing slightly, \"You don't ever get a break do you?\" He sighed, further relaxing into the armchair. It seems like everytime Craig happened to talk with Vance, the tall man was always in relatively poor condition. The fact that Vance have been routinely going in and out of hospitals was very worrying, he wondered if there was anything he could really do to help. \n\n\"It's really okay!\" Craig announced bashfully, \"I like cooking for people and up until joining Newton's Cradle I didn't really have the chance to do so.\" It was true, Craig lived in isolation for most of his years, only ever having Evelyn to talk to for the past few years. He's always felt a bit lonely everywhere he went, despite having a very busy community up in his head. Perhaps that was the reason why he couldn't say no to people, the reason he likes pleasing others so much. Perhaps he still believes that without giving himself to others, he will be left isolated again. \n\n\"Gosh, you'll eat just about anything? Is the food here really that bad?\" Craig said, grimacing, \"If that's the case I should just send you something to eat every now and again for as long as you're here.\"\n\nSeeing Vance wolf down the soup Craig made gave him a little boost of dopamine, the corners of his mouth upturned into a happy grin. He almost looked like a puppy being praised by its owner. He always loved watching people eat and enjoy his food, which was why he insisted on cooking for his roommate so much. \n\nThe corners of his ears turned a very light shade of pink at the praise, scratching the back of his neck shyly. \"You're gassing me up too much,\" He laughed, \"I'm not that good y'know, I've only started cooking not too long ago. I picked it up when I moved in with my previous caretaker and wanted to help around with house chores. I learned to cook from her and now I cook as a hobby and a distraction from uh,\" He paused, \"This,\" Pointing at his outrageous head of 'hair'. \n\nNoticing Vance rub his eyes, Craig lowered his voice slightly, \"Ah, you must me a bit tired, huh?\" He said, getting up from the seat and approaching the table to fill a half empty glass of water with more liquid. \"Rest up and get well soon,\" He smiled down at Vance, placing the cup on the hospital bed table and picking up the now empty container. \"I'll come visit you every now and again with more food if you don't mind.\" Craig said, a soft smile on his face. \n\n\"I'll manage to find my way back,\" He laughed nervously."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Hm?\" Vance glanced at Craige's sock muppet of hair sitting on his head. \"I understand where you're coming from... It's not easy now but maybe later you and your friends will sync together peacefully?\"\n\nHe didn't catch the pinkering color on Craige as he was busy trying to stay awake. There was an appreciative smile from Vance who genuinely was relieved to finally have company. A pleasant company that didn't stab him. \n\n\"Next time call before you visit? So I know when to expect you or in case some dumbshit happens along the way?\" He was already looking like he was about to collapse and pass out. \"Guess this means I'll see you later? Thank you for coming to check on me...\" \n\nVance's pride in remaining sitting upright on the bed is what keeps him from laying down. Once Craige would leave he would ungracefully flop down to close his eyes and fall asleep."
}
] | 478 | 4,337 |
158.866667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "The train pulled into the station with a *Clack-clack-whirr.* It was chilly outside, snow still spotting the ground. Danica hopped out of the open sliding doors, her blonde hair bobbing in a ponytail. Her red scarf made her stand out, a bag swung over her back. In her hand was a beaten up plastic bag that looked like it had once belonged to a supermarket, an unwanted but functional laptop stashed inside. It was not the same as the stolen one in her bag. This one was picked up on the way here for some 1,500kr. It was a rush job but Danica got lucky. She needed something non-Apple, and what she'd already owned wouldn't make the cut. \n\nHer breath came out in puffs as she scanned the platform, searching for Dae-hyun."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "As soon as the train pulled into the station Dae-hyun stood up. His legs felt weak from the stress he had put them through over the past couple days, and a dull ache throbbed through his bones. He would rest them soon... But not yet. \n\nIt didn't take long for the boy to find Danica, and immediately he rushed over. He was wearing a scarf, and his own breaths formed rapid clouds in front of his tinted pink nose. The two stood on the platform, away from the train, closer to the waiting area near the station. \n\n\"Danica— Dani— are you alright?\" His voice was filled with remorse and guilt, even though he had not told her anything yet. \n\n\"I'm so glad you weren't at the Cradle today.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Dae-hyun seemed in bad shape. Bad, bad shape. It occurred to her what she must be putting him through. He deserved explanations. At this point she left more equipped to deliver them at least. She scanned him, her face in a thoughtful press. \n\nDani. Only her skating partner had ever called her that. Hm. She didn't mind, especially with far more pressing matters. \n\n\"Yes. I am fine. I know more now. I can show you as soon as possible... What happened? You look terrible.\" \n\nShe meant the comment to be more caring than it probably seemed. \nThey moved further from the platform."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "A deep breath of relief came from his lungs, slowly, as he attempted to calm the nerves that never seemed to settle. He felt as though he was being hunted— like a forever lingering feeling that danger was approaching rapidly. Here, he was safe. He knew this. \n\n\"I'm glad... Really.\" He paused. \n\n\"I... I'm so sorry Danica— I really tried not to tell them about you and the laptop— I swore I would keep you out of it, and I didn't— and I'm so sorry.\" The expression on his face was sorrowful, he tried to own up to his remorse and show it, but all he felt was guilt."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "He seemed far, far too stressed. Tell who? What?? She hadn't really expected him to keep it that closed... But she hadn't expected him to seem so upset by it either. Why would he be so worried? What was he leaving out?\n\n\"Dae-hyun.\"\n\nShe stopped walking at looked at him, the bag clenching in her hand.\n\n\"I didn't expect you to not tell anyone. You're ok. I can handle this. The laptop is getting returned ASAP.\"\n\nHe wasn't being efficient with what he was telling her.\n\n\"What happened? You're not telling me what happened.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Oliver.\" He shivered. \"He pulled me into his office— and I tried to own up to everything thinking it wouldn't be that bad, that I could just, take the blame and get it over with but...\"\n\nHis eyebrows were furrowed slightly. \n\n\"Oliver he, he is going to press charges against me— for a whole bunch of things, and the lawyer the Deans gave me, told me I could be sent to jail if he goes through with it.\" \n\n\"He wanted to know about the laptop— I told him I was guilty which he didn't seem to believe— and then my lawyer pulled me aside to talk to me privately and thats when she told me about how I could get reprimanded, sent to court, and shoved away to a different facility farther away than this one.\"\n\n\"... I couldn't take it, I told her about you.\"\n\n\"I tried to leave as many details out as I could— and Joan didn't mention you in the email she sent to Oliver about the trip— so they barely know anything.\"\n\n\"The lawyer, Ruby, is going to pull you into a meeting as soon as possible. If you can please give Oliver back his laptop— I begged her to try and make sure you receive no punishment.\"\n\nThe boy sounded almost detached. His voice was calmer, albeit melancholic, like he was running out of energy to be anxious. \n\n\"I'm sorry— I wouldn't have told her if I could have helped it.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica listened intently. The way he spoke made it sound like he had stabbed her in the back. She was kind of shocked at how intense Oliver was about this.\n\nPoor Dae-hyun didn't deserve this.\n\n\"It sounds like your lawyer is going to do everything in her power to not let you go anywhere. Just stop confessing to everything, please. It'll make it harder for her.\"\n\nShe thought for a moment.\n\n\"Again. Please. Don't act like you've condemned me. I wouldn't have expected to put yourself so in danger. It would have been kind of thick-headed to not have. You did well. Also the laptop wont be a problem. I'm not going to waltz into his office with machine in hand, but it's not a problem. Let me speak to her. Also, let me speak more to you.\"\n\nShe sighed a little.\n\n\"Don't blame yourself. And don't let yourself be all alone in the legal shit either.\" \n\nHer face got a little more harsh.\n\n\"That whole Neevil thing wasn't what it seemed. Oliver has someone trapped in there. Digitized. Forced to act like a bot.\" \n\nShe stared straight ahead."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Danica's words meant a lot to him, and he managed a sort of weary smile in return. It was genuine, he just had very little energy. \n\n\"Okay... I'm glad you don't hold what I did against me.\"\n\n\"I appreciate everything you say, genuinely. I hope Ruby can sort things out with us and Oliver— and that Sigrún can get away without being found out as well.\" He paused. \"Word of advice from Ruby— don't talk to Oliver without her present.\"\n\nDae-hyun's somewhat dead, somewhat relaxed, mostly exhausted sort of expression was quickly changed, and shock pulled his eyelids upwards slightly. \n\n\"Oliver... Has someone trapped to act like a bot?\" He let out a shaking breath. \"Damn— that's... Pretty serious.\"\n\n\"How did you find that out?\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Of course I don't.\"\n\nHow could she? It was hard to imagine what she would have done. Then again, she was the one who knew why she'd stolen the laptop, so if it was her in there it wouldn't have happened like this. No use imagining.\n\nShe looked at Dae-hyun a little funnily.\n\n\"Were you planning on actually talking to Oliver at all??\" She snickered. \"You must be a legal nightmare.\" \n\nBack to business.\n\n\"On the laptop. A chatroom was open, so I poked around. Told me a name, a basic story. It's how I got the code to get this.\" She held up the flash-drive. \"He's in here... From what I understand. Once I get it running on this thing,\" She shook the plastic bag, \"Hopefully we'll be able to talk again. Then laptop goes back. Somethings fucking wrong with Oliver.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun laughed softly. \"Yeah— My lawyer said the exact same thing. I kept admitting I was guilty after she kept trying to prove I was innocent. She looked like she was about to gut me.\"\n\nOnce Danica had begun explaining, Dae-hyun listened intently to what she was saying. Nodding softly between each sentence, all of this seemed very unusual. \n\n\"I see...\" He paused, thinking over what she had said. Dae-hyun trusted her, and with all this paranormal bullshit it didn't even sound unrealistic. \n\"Well if Oliver has someone kidnapped and is holding them hostage— that kind of makes my charges look like nothing...\" The boy was sort of joking. \n\n\"Do you think we can get the person trapped in there, out? It must not be very nice being trapped on a flashdrive.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"I don't blame her.\" \nDanica smiled.\n\n\"Definitely.\" \n\nShe thought for a moment, putting the drive back in her pocket.\n\n\"I think so. I don't actually know. It was a lot worse than being trapped in a drive sounds like. Oliver shocked him. Punished him for acting out. Something about 'suppressors' that I don't understand right now. At the very least, definitely torture.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Torture?!\" Dae-hyun exclaimed, although, still softly. \n\nAll of this was beginning to sound bigger than they were. He worried if Danica was safe, if they were getting into more danger; what seemed like an innocent checkup had become turning over a rock that they didn't want to overturn, something that should've to stay hidden. Dae-hyun was conflicted. \n\nThe person Oliver had trapped seemed to be in pain... It was worth trying to save them. Perhaps turning the blame onto Oliver— if the two could get proper proof— could save Dae-hyun from getting charges pressed against him. \n\n\"Poor however is trapped in there... I hope we can help them. That sounds horrible.\"\n\n\"What's your plan?\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"I hope so too. Or at least get Oliver into some deep shit.\"\n\nHonestly, Danica didn't know the full story here. If anything, she really really wanted to be in on this whole legal business when shit (this) hit the fan. Maybe she was hoping for an explanation from Oliver himself. \n\n\"Right now, I download him to this. Once that's working, the laptop can go back. And I suppose I have a meeting with your lady. You could probably talk to the victim himself too if you wanted.\" \n\nShe paused.\n\n\"No more withheld information.\"\n\nThat was a promise on her end."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun gave a wry laugh at the idea of getting Oliver in trouble. Not the forced kind of laugh, but instead one that seemed to come from a place of dreariness; like he simply had no energy to muster a proper laugh despite the thought amusing him slightly. \n\n\"I would love for a chance to talk to this trapped person.\" Dae-hyun thought back to the Distortion with Levi and Basil, it couldn't be any different. \"For now, talk to the lawyer the Deans provided me. She should be already on her way to speak to you once we get back to the Cradle.\"\n\nDanica's last few words resonated within Dae-hyun, like pressing a thumb into the soft ripened part of an apple that had gone brown under the perfectly intact red skin. Nothing obviously surface level, but instead movement underneath. \n\n\"Yes... No more withheld information. Promise.\"\n\nHe gave in return."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica nodded, and the two made their way back to the Cradle."
}
] | 163 | 2,383 |
54.510417 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun had tried most of what he could think of, and nothing had worked so far. He was still in the *'normal'* World. \n\nThere was the chance that he'd never figure it out, and would have to wait for the off chance it could happen again, but he wouldn't give up that easily. \n\nWith Oliver not in the building, he knocked on Danica's door."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Luckily for Dae-hyun, Danica was home. Her hair was put up, and she had a mug in hand when she opened the door a peek to see who it was.\n\n\"Oh. Dae-hyun.\"\n\nHospitality took over. \n\n\"Come in have some tea.\" \n\nHer room was pleasant and smelled of beeswax and light florals."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun gave her a soft smile. \n\n\"Hello Dani,\"\nHe took a step inside. \n\n\"Thank you.\" Tea sounded nice. \n\nThere was silence for a moment. \n\n\"... I have a stupid idea and you have to promise not to be mad with me.\" \nThe boy's tone sounded lighthearted, like he knew she'd call him stupid for it but not really mean it."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "One of her eyebrows rose. There was a stool at her desk to sit on. She prepared the drink on a little side table. \n\n\"...Okay?\"\n\nDae-hyun was handed a cup of black tea with a spoon of sugar. She sat on the bed."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "He took the tea with a smile and sat down. He watched the liquid swirl. The two were overdue for having a conversation *Outside* Of some conspiracy. Dae-hyun sighed. That day would not be today. \n\n\"You still have the flash drive right? The one that has Giannis on it?\" \n\n\"I want to... Talk with Giannis. In person. In that... *Mind place,* And I cannot figure out how to get back there.\" \n\n\"Im hoping you could help me, since you have what's necessary to be able to... Talk to him right?\" \n\nIn a bag on Dae-hyun's shoulder there was a laptop. A PC of kinds, one he has had for a while. Just in case.\n\n\"... Also I wouldn't want to go in there without someone knowing.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica sipped.\n\n\"I do.\" \n\nShe let him speak, thinking for a moment. That wasn't ridiculous. The first time she'd ended up in there, she'd ask if there was a way to talk to him again on the outside. She wasn't huge on the mind space, but she also wasn't huge on losing contact options. Hm.\n\n\"Why would you have to go in there to talk to him? Don't want the records or...?\"\n\nShe sighed. \n\n\"I still have everything, but last time I spoke to him he said talking to him again from out *Here*, would take a bit of effort.\" \n\nSip.\n\n\"We can try.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"It feels more personal if I can talk to him not from a computer.\"\n\nHe took a sip of the tea. It was delicious. \n\n\"Also you're right, it takes effort to talk to him out here, so I thought i'd make it easier... I just don't know how.\"\n\n\"So I want to ask him.\"\nOne question shouldn't be too bad.\n\n\"Do you have a laptop with him already on it? Or do we need to download him again.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She raised a brow. Dae-hyun was kind of weird in that way. \n\n\"I still have the one I put him on. I cant guarantee he's still there.\" \n\nDae-hyun wasn't really getting her, but she supposed it didn't matter. She opened her closet and pulled out a little step stool to dig. Her voice was slightly muffled. \n\n\"I'd just asked if there was a way to contact him out here. At all. Even to ask any questions or say hello. This could be a complete dead end.\" \n\nShe didn't want to get his hopes up. From waaay up in the corner, she pulled out the laptop wrapped in a plastic bag. The flash-drive was pulled from another spot."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun gave a sort of dejected expression, but remained curious. He knew there was the chance this wouldn't work. \n\n\"Yeah... I know. I tried other things before coming to you and they didn't do anything... So I'm prepared for this to do absolutely nothing.\"\n\n\"I just want to try, though, yknow.\"\n\nHe watched her grab the laptop and the flashdrive. \n\n\"I appreciate you helping me, regardless.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She was curious. \n\n\"...What did you try?\"\n\nShe cracked open the laptop and jiggled it around until it booted up. A bad habit. She tabbed into where the chatroom was. \n\nShe nodded. \n\n\"You shouldn't do these things alone.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"I tried going to bed... In case it was a dream thing? Didn't work. I just took a nap.\" Dae-hyun gave a soft laugh.\n\n\"I tried to think of anything I could've done to trigger getting thrown into the space last time? Couldn't think of anything. It all seemed completely out of my control.\"\n\nTaking a sip of his tea, he thought, tapping his finger on the side of the cup. \n\n\"Oh, and then I tried to go find Oliver in case he knew something, but he wasn't in the building. Probably for the best,\" He shivered, \"I wouldn't want to talk to him anyways.\"\n\nAs the chatroom booted up, Dae-hyun walked over and sat beside Danica to see the screen. \n\n\"... Let's give it a shot then.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica laughed at him, smiling.\n\n\"That was silly.\" \n\nShe teased him, nodding along to his other attempts. \n\nShe stared at the screen."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "```ERROR: Target distributed among several devices in network. Cannot be moved to new device.\nAdd this device to the network? Y/N\n>_```"
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Hm. She didn't care about this laptop. If it got fried oh well. \n\n```Y```"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun watched. He was glad she said yes."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "```WARNING: This device may not be compatible with other devices in network. This action may damage target's functionality.\nProceed? Y/N\n>_```"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looked at the message then at Danica. A sort of conflicted look on his face. \n\n\"Should we... Do it anyways?\nI'm assuming the *Target* Is Giannis.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Yeah. He's in our brains. It's fair. It cant be that bad.\" \n\n```Y```"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The console window fills with text. It scrolls by too fast to read, and what can be made out is entirely gibberish."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun is slightly taken aback. \n\n\"Thats comforting.\"\n\n\"Is there any place to type a message?\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica puts her hands up and away from the keyboard so she doesn't fuck anything up. \n\n\"I'm going to give it a second.\" \n\nShe hoped the target wasn't their brains."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "After a few seconds, it becomes possible to type something. However, there's no prompt.\n\n```>_```"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looks at the message and then to Danica. \n\n\"I guess... We just ask if he's there?\" \n\nHe was beginning to feel more and more uncertain of this working."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Yay! Wall of text gone. She nods. *Clack clack clack.* \n\n```Test. Hello, earth to Giannis.```"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "```ERROR: Connection terminated.```"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun breathed out and pinched the bridge of his nose. \n\n\"Damn.\" He sighed. \n\n\"I wouldn't know what else to try...\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She huffs. Great!! Yaay!! That clearly did something, but they didn't get very far at all. \n\n```Reboot```\n\nShe doesn't really know how computers work. \n\n\"I don't know what'll happen if we try to plug in the drive again. And I'm not sure we should go back to the shed. Would a better computer work?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "He watched as she typed 'reboot' into the computer. \n\"Maybe? That might be easier for Giannis— but I dont think another device would be helpful, with the whole 'distributed across several devices,' thing.\"\n\nThe boy shrugged. \n\"He said 'Come back anytime,' but didn't specify how.\" Dae-hyun sounded slightly, *Ever so slightly,* Annoyed."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Yeah. Annoying.\" \n\nShe thought. \n\n\"We could also keep poking this. He reacts to being bothered.\" \n\nThe best plan? Not at all."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Alright, only a little bit more.\" Dae-hyun wouldn't want to anger Giannis."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Predictably, this has no effect."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica doesn't mind angering him. It wasn't anyones particular fault that everything about this was inherently angering."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "B2 dae-hyun stares. Really hard."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "There are no other *Options* To see on-screen, but Dae-hyun does notice something. Among the jumble of text in the console window, he sees these lines:\n\n```Network ID: 110438571790627308966896299231512355677MASKELYNE\nNetwork Status: OPERATIONAL\nWARNING: Error code 6969.\nERROR CODE NOTES: (Nice.) Compatibility issue — if you're seeing this, you probably just gave me a splitting headache. Oops! I can't run on a computer and a network of human brains at the same time. Look in MASKELYN.Txt for more info about running on the Maskelynophone. Love, Gian```"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun gave a small smile at the ending of the text. More and more was pointing towards Oliver being in the wrong here. Maybe. He wasn't sure yet. So far, Giannis was far more nice. \n\n\"Hey, uh, is there a file thats called MASKELYN.Txt anywhere? Maybe on the flash drive or in a file?\"\nHe looked at Danica.\n\nHe thought about the Maskelynophone. He'd have to go get it from Akvilė. Sigh. More walking."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"What?\" \n\nShe tries to look for what he's spotted. He's going to have to point to the message that she isn't seeing."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Oh, yeah, sorry.\"\n\nHe pointed at the message amongst the jumbled text. \n\n\"There.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Oh-\" \n\nDanica reads. She lets out a little laughing snort. Ok. \n\n\"That explains it.\" \n\nTime to search.\n\nShe clicks on the file name in the message itself, hoping it'll boot them right there."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"While, you find that file, I'm going to go get the Maskelynophone from Akvilė. I'll be right back.\"\n\nHe stood up, and left the dorm, on his way to bother Akvilė."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Frown. \n\nAnything obvious on the home screen?\n\nShe opens the basic files manager. What does she see?"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The usual. Nothing from the flash drive on the first screen in the file manager."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Boo. Anything in the chat room that she can click on?\n\nDanica sits for a second, and then plugs the flash drive back into the laptop. She gave up on leaving it alone pretty fast."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun walks back into the room, Maskelynophone resting in his bag. He glances at Danica as he takes the device out and puts it on her desk. \n\n\"Hey, did you find anything?\"\n\n\"Hm.\"\n\nDae-hyun stares at the laptop again. He leans over slightly and looks at the file manager on the flash drive. \n\nHe starts clicking on every single file or folder, available. Does this do anything?"
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica lets him at it, handing him the machine."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "...Roll Imagination.\n\nDae-hyun has managed to navigate to the flash drive's files.\n\nThrough sheer luck."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun's wild attempt by some miracle, worked. \n\nHe looks at Danica briefly with a stupid half smile.\n\n\"Alright, let's sift through these.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She rolls her eyes at him lightheartedly.\n\nDanica peeks. Search bar available?\n\n\"Dude.\" \n\nShe points."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "One named NEEVIL.Exe stands out a bit."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun opens that file and then puts it to the side for a second. \n\nHe then types ''Maskelyn\" Into the search bar."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "MASKELYN.Txt pops up."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Sweet.\"\n\nDanica gestures to take back the laptop. She's shorter so its easier for him to lean over her."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun blinks slightly. That was a little too easy for the process they went through. He would have to take the time to get better at tech stuff if this was going to be something he'd have to handle. \n\nHe hands the laptop back to Danica and watches her as she clicks the file.\n\nDae-hyun attempts to understand the technical jargon.\n\nNothing that the text file says makes sense. If anything, this gives him more questions than answers. Something else catches more of his attention. \n\n\"How do we connect a *Brain* To wi-fi.\" He looks over at Danica."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Don't know. Not doing that.\" \n\n\"How would we get the box on wifi?\" \n\nShe still refuses to try pronouncing that."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looks at the Maskelynophone. He remembers the fact it's broken. He remembered Olivers warning. Unease rises in his stomach. \n\n\"We'd have to fix it to get it to work...\n\nBut, Oliver said thats a horrible idea.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She raises a brow. \n\n\"Yeah. Don't to that.\" \n\nShe drags the file to the desktop just to keep it easily accessible. \n\n\"If you're determined, Oliver is probably your best bet. That, or waiting around to blip back in.\"\n\n\"Besides. We wouldn't know how to fix it. And if he's still in our heads anyway, it's probably not that damaged.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun stares at the message again. \n\n\"Well,\" He starts.\n\n\"I'm probably a brain on the *Network,* Since I've been in the space with Giannis... Since we can't fix the Maskelynophone, how on earth would I connect *Myself* To Wi-Fi?\"\n\nHe shakes his head. \n\"It doesn't make sense.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica thinks for a moment, trying to dig through her memory for any leads on how to get back into the brain space."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Danica didn't do anything to get in there. In fact, both times, the world just changed in front of her, and one of those times, she hadn't even noticed. It was clearly nothing she did."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She frowns. It seems impossible.\n\n\"We all are. It says it's a radius thing.\"\n\n\"I think putting yourself on the internet sounds like a nightmare waiting to happen, and you should never ever ever do that.\" \n\n\"All of this trouble is because Giannis isn't just in a body. Don't fuck yourself over like that.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "He looked at her for a second. \n\"This matters to me, okay. I want to talk to Giannis, there is so much I don't understand. Oliver told me to unplug him, but I don't know anything *About* Him. I need more answers.\"\n\n\"Let's look at the other file I found— the Neevil.Exe one? Please?\nMaybe it can give us more insight on this whole brain connection thing.\"\n\nThe boy was assuming that means temporarily and he won't end up permanently trapped, like Giannis. \nAt least he'd have company, he supposed."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica looks at him. \n\n\"I get what you're saying. I get that you care. But don't mess with hooking your brain up to *More* Things just so you can talk.\" \n\n\"You don't know the process for unhooking yourself after.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"I know, I know.\" He sighed. \n\"I trust we could figure that out,\n\nBut let's just, look at the other file for now.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Hm.\" \n\nShe's not letting him turn himself into an ethernet cable. \n\n\"Getting the thing itself on the internet seems like a better plan.\" \n\nShe hands him back the laptop. \n\n\"You did grab the box, right? Can I have it?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "He pointed over at the device on the desk. \n\"Go for it, but both Oliver and Akvilė had troubles with it, and they said turning it on could be a *Really* Bad idea. For a lot of people.\" \n\nHe looked at her. \"I'd leave it broken, it's *Paranormal* Tech...\nBut I trust you. Do whatever you want.\"\n\nHe looks down at the laptop, and clicks on the Neevil.Exe file he opened earlier."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Hm.\" \n\nDanica rethinks. She's going to leave it alone. \n\n\"You're better off just waiting to blip back.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The console window opens.\n\n```ERROR: Target distributed among several devices in network. Cannot be moved to new device.\nAdd this device to the network? Y/N\n>_```"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun blinked. He'd probably be bothering Giannis. \nHe internally apologized, maybe Giannis could hear his thoughts or something... Unlikely but still. \n\n```Y```"
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica gets herself more tea. She's not watching the screen anymore."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "```WARNING: This device may not be compatible with other devices in network. This action may damage target's functionality.\nProceed? Y/N\n>_```"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun sighed, and hesitated. \n\n```Y```"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The exact same thing happens again as did last time. Is Dae-hyun surprised? Is anyone?"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun is not surprised. He closes out of the error message and begins to thoroughly search the rest of the device. In case Danica missed anything.\n\nB2 PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Cw// semi-mild medical grossness\n||Dae-hyun manages to stumble on a folder named \"Junk\".\n\nIt's full of old text files, memes, and other, well, junk.\n\nAmong the files, however, are sketches of devices. Some to pierce the outside of the skull, others to be implanted within, yet others to interface with the brain via the nose or the eyesockets. The purpose of these devices seems to be to allow a human brain to interface with technology directly.\n\nSome of the illustrations are not good to look upon. A few have notes on the success rate of the devices. It appears to be poor.||"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun grimaces at the sight, disgust visible on his face. The images made his skin crawl He wasn't *That* Desperate. He closes out of the folder. \n\n...Good to know it was an option, at least. \n\nHe looked up at Danica. \n\n\"...Should we try plugging the Maskelynophone into this device? It's on Wi-Fi, is it not?\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"... Didn't you just say not to mess with it??\" \n\nShe was going to try and figure out if she could hook it to an ethernet cable. But Dae-hyuns advice had convinced her otherwise."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Well...\n\nThe alternative I wanted to try is worse, for, me, anyways.\"\nWas that selfish of him?\n\nHe sighed. \n\"Maybe just plugging it in to one device isn't the same as fully fixing it? Plus this device is like... Nothing. It probably wont supply enough power to do any damage.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She squints at him, now trying to circle back and catch a glimpse of whatever he found on the screen. \n\n\"What did you find?\" \n\nNothing??\n\n\"You also read how this thing is hooked to every single person in this building and maybe more, right?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun shivered. \"Nothing you want to see, promise.\" \n\n\"Sketches of what it means to 'connect a brain to the network,'\" \nHe hoped his tone was clue enough. \n\n\"Well, is it everyone? Or is it just the people who have been in the space before?\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She frowns.\n\n\"Everyone within its radius.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looks at the device. \n\n\"Maybe I can take it out of the radius of Newtons Cradle.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She doesn't like where this is going. Dae-hyun sounds more and more and more like he hellbent to fuck himself over each time something happens. \n\n\"Why don't you just wait until we can talk to someone to see if this will be catastrophic or not??\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Maybe a good idea.\"\n\nHe paused. \n\"Uhm, however, Oliver told me to go back to the house. The one we took all of this from.\"\n\nHe looked at her. \n\"I don't know when he wanted me to do that, but I can only assume as soon as I can.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"You said he wanted to shut it all down. That's probably why.\"\n\nShe thinks for a long, long moment. Putting it on the internet cant be too harmful... Can it?"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"That is why, but maybe I can find something to *Help* Giannis while I'm there instead.\"\n\nHe shivered at the thought of disobeying another one of Oliver's directions, and how he reacted to even the *Suggestion* Of fixing the Maskelynophone."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Why would you have to be there on your own?\"\n\nHe's being confusing and frustrating. She sighs heavily. \n\n\"Getting this on the internet can't be the worst thing. This is already all gummed up.\"\n\nShe wants to tell him so bad to not be stupid."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"I don't know, I could probably bring someone but I wouldn't want to in case it gets dangerous.\" \n\nHe knew how she'd respond to that, he didn't care. \n\n\"I suppose so, maybe we shouldn't do it here though.\n\n... Or maybe we can?\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "He's making her frustrated. Visibly so. \n\n\"It's Olivers tech shack. You're acting like its a slaughter house.\" \n\n\"I don't get you.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"He sure sounded like it was all horrible, he was so vague about everything. I don't know how this could go, and I'm not going to risk it.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \n\n\"It doesn't matter anyways, I'm all out of options right now. Oliver might kill me *For real* If I turn that thing on.\" He nodded towards the Maskelynophone. \n\n\"I appreciate the help regardless, I'm just going to wait, like you said.\nI'm bound to get dragged back eventually.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"He makes everything sound that way. Have you not picked up that he's bad at explaining himself?\" \n\nGood. She nods.\n\n\"Yeah. I've been twice. So has Vi and Barric.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Yeah, he is— but,\" He sighed, \"I don't know.\"\n\n\"There's no connection to appearing in that space, no way to jump start it. Other than turn on that death device or stick a wire into my eye.\" \nHe sounded disappointed. \n\n\"There's just so much I don't understand. I thought I'd be able to figure out how to talk to Giannis. I'd really like to in a space where I have time, and no stakes.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica stares at him with a far-away sort of glance. \n\nWhy does he feel like he has to get so dire for this? \n\n\"None of us understand.\"\n\nShe walked over to close and take back the laptop. She touched his shoulder. She took his empty cup, too."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun was stuck in his head. She wouldn't like what he wanted to do, he knew this. \n\nThe gesture of her hand on his shoulder was appreciated, and he gave her a soft kind of look, but he was clearly distracted. \n\n\"I'll try something else some other time.\" He gave a sort of wry smile, and went to stand up. \n\n\"Again, I really appreciate the help. I'll go give this thing back to Akvilė.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "\"Ok.\"\n\nThere was a sour taste left in her mouth. She had a nasty feeling that Dae-hyun was going to end up getting himself killed in the name of nothing. Setting himself on fire to protest against someone on the other side of the restaurant getting the wrong order."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The boy looked at Danica, and her conflicted gaze. He could tell she was bothered by him, and this wouldn't be the first time she'd think him foolish for his actions. \n\nHe couldn't understand not wanting to do everything you could to help someone in need. Clearly Giannis needed it. \n\nHe grabbed the Maskelynophone, placed it in his bag, and headed towards the door, but paused. \n\n\"Lets, get some pastries sometime, yeah? There's a nice place in town we can go. No, conspiracy bullshit.\""
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She breathed.\n\n\"Ok. No conspiracy bullshit.\"\n\nHalf of her really didn't want to let him be nice to her. He was going to get himself seriously hurt one of these days."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Okay.\" He smiled, a genuine soft smile, and left. \n\n———\n\nNow in the hallway, Dae-hyun was faced with a decision. \nAkvilė, or his own dorm. His stomach twisted with the idea of lying to Danica. \nAs much as he wanted to, he didn't. \n\nTowards Akvilė's dorm he went. A part of him hoped and prayed that a slip would just happen right then and there and he'd disappear into the mind space. \n\nHowever he knew the chances of this were incredibly unlikely. \nDisappointment plagued him."
}
] | 41 | 5,233 |
94.5 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun, as always, wasn't doing much. It was just past sunset, and the boy was in his dorm, sat on his bed, reading. A really good book, that he was quite invested in. \n\nHe was in a hoodie and sweatpants, with his hair tied up, prepared to head to bed once the clock struck late enough."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "*Tok-tok-tok* Sounded the knock at the door and *Tick-tick-tick* Sounded the clock, faster than ever as it ticked at increasing and accelerating speed, *Tickticktickticktick* Until it began to sound like a malfunctioning speaker or a rapidly spinning ratchet gear or an object clipping into another in a Bethesda game, *Toktoktok* Said the knocking at the door, faster this time, faster and more urgent and more *Ticking and tocking and knocking and and and and and* —\n\n\"... Dae-hyun?\" Asked a voice outside the door. The clock stopped ticking altogether. \"You okay in there?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looked up from his book at the sound of knock. It startled him, but very quickly his heart rate began to increase even further. The way the clock on his desk began accelerating, it was all completely out of the ordinary. He raised his back from leaning against his wall, and watched his clock with panic. \n\nAnd then it stopped. \nWith a voice outside the door. \n\nDae-hyun gave a shaking sigh, and wrote off *Whatever* Just happened. He grabbed his cane, which rested beside his bed, and headed to the door. \n\nHe wasn't sure who needed him at this time of night, but he figured it had to be important... They sure sounded like they wanted to check in on him? \n\nSo he opened the door."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "It was... Some guy. Dae-hyun didn't recognize him.\n\n\"Sorry,\" He sighed, \"I'm not sure what that was. You seemed like you were freaking out. You doing alright? Can I come in?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looked at the person for a second. He tilted his head slightly, but figured they wouldn't be a problem. \n\n\"It's... Alright.\" His voice still slightly shaken. \"Uhm, yeah, I'm okay— now anyways, it's uh, stopped.\"\n\nWhen the person offered to come in, he felt his nerves stand on end. They wouldn't be dangerous would they? *They knew his name... So.*\n\n\"Yeah, sure, go ahead,\" He moved to the side, and walked back into his dorm. \n\n\"What, can I help you with? Did you uh, need something?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I thought you wanted something from me, actually.\" He chuckled sheepishly and looked a little apologetic. \"You gave me a hell of a headache yesterday. Don't tell me you were just fucking with me for fun?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Oh!\" Suddenly the fear washed away. \n\n\"*Giannis,* I didn't recognize you, sorry.\" \n\nDae-hyun closed the door to his dorm.\n\n\"Uh... Yeah about that. I'm *Really* Sorry. I was actually trying to figure out how to put myself, uh, here, but on purpose?\" \n\nHe sighed, feeling rather stupid for bothering him so much only for it to happen *Literally the following day.*\n\n\"I wanted to talk to you, and you said *'come back anytime,'* But I really couldn't figure out *How* To come back? Not unless I wanted to... Stick a wire into my eye and connect my brain to... Whatever.\" He shook his head. \n\n\"It's nice you're here now... Promise I won't give you anymore headaches.\" He laughed softly."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Giannis looked a little miffed. \"I... I meant that as, like, a joke. Wasn't like I expected you to actually go ahead and try to fucking do it.\"\n\nHe shook his head and entered, throwing himself onto Dae-hyun's bed in an exaggeratedly exhausted manner. \"Well, whatever. You made my head hurt and dug around in my old project files. Cool. I'm here now. Why'd you want this, anyway?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Oh... Well, I, well.\" \nDae-hyun felt really stupid, but not in a super serious manner, just slightly embarrassed. \n\"Figured I could figure something out, but I don't know.\"\n\nThe boy gave a soft snicker at Giannis just making himself at home. \n\n\"Yeah, uh, I was just, I've been given a *Lot* Of really conflicting information and it's confusing me a lot. So I wanted to talk with *You* Instead of, blindly believing what I'm told.\"\n\nHe took a seat at the chair by desk, pulling it over so he wasn't too far. He gave a sort of shrug. \n\n\"What I wanted to talk about probably won't be worth the headache I gave you, I'm sorry about that.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I just wish you didn't do it twice.\" Giannis sighed, staring up at the ceiling. \"Ask your questions.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun didn't entirely know if it would happen twice, but it did. Oops. \n\nThe boy kind of shifted in his seat. Oliver's anger fresh in his mind. \n\n\"Why, are you, doing what you're doing? Like, the goal here, is what? Freedom right? Are there, downsides to that?\" He sounded genuinely curious, and spoke in his typical friendly tone."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I just wanna live my life, dude. If I wanted freedom I wouldn't have trapped myself in a copy of your prison-school outside of reality. I don't have anyone to talk to. I don't even have Wi-Fi. It sucks here.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Yeah. I figured.\" Dae-hyun spoke this as a matter of fact. \n\nHow could he blame Giannis for wanting that. He'd want that too. \n\"Yknow, someone told me that you're trying to eat our brain power, like,\" He paused, he looked sad for the wording that was used, \"A parasite.\" \n\n\"And, that doing this is a really bad idea.\" He sighed. \"But I just, can't believe that.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I mean, I'm not eating it. I'm just living in it. But yeah, I'm basically a parasite right now. Sorry.\" Giannis shrugged."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"You don't really have a choice do you?\" He looked at Giannis sympathetically. \"I mean, it's this or going back in the computer, and I wouldn't want to do that either.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Yeah, that would suck. And it's not like your last two attempts to put me back worked.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Last two attempts. Dae-hyun bit the inside of his cheek. He figured Giannis could just, tap into it, not that actively trying to communicate with him was putting him back in the laptop. Now he knew. \n\"Yeah, I don't, really want it to work. I don't want to put you back after I did so much to get you *Out.*\" \n\n \"Im, curious though,\" He glanced out his window absentmindedly, \"Would anyone get hurt if I plugged in that, Maskelynophone, like, if I fixed it?\"\n\n\"What would that thing even do? Would it get you, *Properly* Out?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"It's broken?\" Giannis looked confused. \"Shit, that might be why people are getting drawn in here. Fixing it won't do much of anything at this point. Might increase the range. But maybe you could connect me to Wi-Fi? I'd appreciate that, I guess.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"Yes, it's broken.\" Pause. \"It wasn't broken before but in an attempt to figure it out it *Was* Broken.\"\n\nDae-hyun fidgeted with his hands. \n\"Okay, so fixing it, isn't the way to go about fully helping you,\" He sighed. \n\n\"What do I do to get you out of here?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Uh. Where are you gonna put me if you do? I'm not gonna tell you how to screw me.\" Giannis craned his head up from the bed to look skeptically at Dae-hyun. \"Don't get me wrong, I'd like a nicer life, but I'm not going back in the laptop.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"No, No, I don't want to put you back in a laptop, but like, you're a person— like me, If I can figure out how to get you out of here you can live outside of both a laptop and this mindscape... Right?\"\n\nDae-hyun didn't consider, the fact that maybe Giannis, was properly stuck. \n\n\"Like, when I leave *Here,* I just wake up back in the proper world, could I not figure out how to do that for *You?*\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Giannis pushed himself up to sit upright and look at Dae-hyun.\n\n\"My body's fucked, Dae-hyun. You're right, I have one, technically, but it's *Fucked*. Those devices you saw drawings of, I tested those on myself. I'm living in a vat somewhere in suspended animation. I haven't moved a muscle in ages and I probably can't stand up if I try anymore. I didn't do this because I thought it would be cool, I did it because I thought it would let me live again. But it didn't. I'm just fucked in a different way now.\"\n\nHe paused, and looked out the window.\n\n\"If you do it, I won't die. But I won't be able to move on my own. I'll be a useless husk of a person. And you better push my fucking wheelchair for the rest of my short, pathetic life.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looked at Giannis sadly. \n\n\"That sounds horrible, I'm so sorry.\" \n\nThis process was bound to be far more complicated than he thought. On one hand Oliver wanted to *Unplug* Him, which Dae-hyun could now guess that meant his *Brain* (which was *Not* Happening), and on the other hand, Dae-hyun didn't want to just *Leave* Giannis in here. He clearly didn't like that fate either. \n\nDae-hyun sat in silence for a moment. \n\n\"So how do I help you? If, you don't have a body that works, and you don't want to go back in the laptop, but *This* Place, also sucks,\n\n...\n\nWhat do I do?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I dunno. Get me Wi-Fi, I guess? Or put me in a proper server farm? Or something. You could put me on one of those bitcoin mining rigs? I bet I'd run great on those. Fuck if I know how to fix this. This is, like, plan G. I didn't think any further than this.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Giannis didn't know either, Dae-hyun supposed that makes sense. If he knew, he would've done something by now. Dae-hyun would have to figure it out. \n\n\"It sucks that the one person who could help me wants me dead and you in a laptop.\" He sighed. \n\"I'll... Try talking to him anyways. I think. I'll see if *Maybe* He can tell me anything about this.\"\n\"I'll try to get you Wi-Fi in the meantime.\" A hint of a laugh pulled at the end of his words, but fell flat once Dae-hyun began to think again. \n\n\"I dont want to just, leave you in here, this sounds like one hell of a lonely existence.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"You got that right.\" Giannis flopped back onto the bed. \"You could stay? It's not like anything bad ever happens in here. Or anything at all.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun gave a soft smile. \n\n\"I don't hate the idea, it's, peaceful in here, but also I need to be out of here to figure out how to help you.\"\n\nDae-hyun thought about Danica, his bird, how they'd miss him. \n\n\"Time passes differently in here doesn't it? Like, 1 second in the *Real world,* Is far longer in here isn't it?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Giannis thought about it for a moment.\n\n\"I'm not really sure how time passes here, honestly. Seems like it's slower sometimes, faster other times. Sometimes backwards. Can't make sense of it. But it's not like I have a reference frame, except for the people popping in.\"\n\nHe smiled a little. \"But if you wanna keep me company for a while, I'd like that. Having a friend seems fun.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun thought about Oliver, and how he had been in the space for, at least what felt like, over a *Year,* When the boy was certain not even a full day had passed— otherwise the staff would lose their minds over the sudden and prolonged disappearance of one of their colleagues.\nSurely, this can't hurt. He had just fed Miso, and it was night, no one would need him anytime soon. \n\n\"I would assume time is strange here, but I think I have an idea of how it works... Slightly. I suppose its up for change, or not concrete at all, but if it works how I think it does then,\n\nI'd love to keep you company, for a little bit anyways.\" He smiled, seeing Giannis smile a little too made him happy. \n\nHe deserved a friend too, loneliness was a painful burden to bear. \n\n\"And then I should go and figure out how to help you not exist in constant limbo.\" \n\n \"But— hey, you can always drag me back in here to visit whenever, can't you? Or is it all by accident?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"It's... Complicated.\"\n\nGiannis paused.\n\n\"But thanks.\""
}
] | 85.5 | 2,835 |
428.4 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Nearly forgotten by the world of Newton Cradle, Raizel remained mostly hibernating in the woods where she woke to a new scent carried by the wind. From the den she shook off the moss, roots and dirt from her wooden hide. Her elongated neck stretched out from the hole where her draconic head turned to the direction where she smelled a new creature not too far. \n\nUnder the sunlight beams it reflected a glow from the gems embedded on her wooden frame. She slithered out from the hole that she dug up a few days ago. Her powerful body stretched before it began tracking down the scent.\n\nShe pumped her strength into her legs to launch herself soaring through the air, moving into a serpentine fashion using the trees to bounce off it. It almost looks like she is flying when she glided above the forest floor.\n\nThe scent leads her to a clearing of abandoned buildings where once investigated a building with Evan a long time ago. She lands heavily on her clawed feet where she begins to follow the smell that leads her to a house with a fence. \n\nNimbly her body bolted up on top of the roof where she searched around until she spotted a large bovine grazing. Raizel let out a snort at the creature to get its attention where they both look at each other for a moment; they touch noses as a sign of trust."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric lugged the hay bale down the long road that sat in the middle of the abandoned buildings. His chest heaved with each step as he tried his best to get back to the house he had kept the cow at. It was a slow progression, even for someone of his strength, but he pushed on. The house's front door came into view just as Barric took a sharp right towards the fenced in back yard. Once the farmer had approached the fence, his eyes were drawn down to the hay bale, checking that he had a good enough grip to throw it over the fence. Barric had n't noticed the creature that sat in the fenced-in yard yet. His ears only picking up the familiar huff from the cow. \"Yeah yeah I know.\" He grumbled at the cow, taking the huffs that came from it as a sign of annoyance. \n\nAs the words left his mouth and flung the hay bale over the fence, a satisfying thud followed. He unbailed his hands, staring at the indents from the string that held the hay bale tightly together. \"The things I do...\" His eyes trailed up, coming face to face with the glowing eyed creature that sat behind the bovine happily investigating the hay bale that had just been tossed into its makeshift enclosure. Barric stares at it, his mouth agape as if he was catching flies. The best way to describe it was dragon like. \"... Hi..\" He blabbered out hesitantly. His eyes flickered all over the dragon-like creature as it stared at him. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?\n\nHis eyes flickered between the calm cow that stood beside it, its nose shoved into the hay and the creature that stared at him. \"Uhm... I guess you can stay for now.\" Barric's hands slowly traveled to the fence, placing his hands up onto it. \"I'm just going to.\" With that, he pulled himself over the fence, hopping onto the other side. His boots landed on the ground with a thud. \"I need to spread that out.\" Barric's scarred hands made a gesture to the hay beside him that the cow was still happily ruffling through. \"You do whatever.\" He made a gesture at the creature.\n\nBarric sidesteps over, eyeing the creature still. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to turn his back on the thing, but he felt as if that if it was going to kill him, it already would have. After a few more moments of eyeing the creature, he slowly turned around, yanking the strings off of the hay bale to spread it out and place it into one of the makeshift tubs Barric had been using to feed and water the thing."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Then she picked up a scent of a sweaty human, scorpion and beef with developing male hormones tinged with testerone energy. It was coming toward the building where the wind was blowing his direction to where she stood by the large cow. \n\nShe was just perched on the rooftop where she carefully climbs down to where the cow is mooing once in a while. Her clawed hand was stroking the back of the creature until pulling it back in time to see a tall figure carrying a hay bale.\n\nIt was a surprise that the man-creature didn't take notice of her until he got close to the fence line. She stood still like a statue, watching him with her glowing pale eyes. \n\nThe reaction of the strange man-creature wasn't normal behavior. It was like a prey animal who had never run-in with any predators in their life. This gave Raizel an idea to test the waters to push buttons to see if this man-creature would respond normally.\n\nShe approached him with her powerful form carefully maneuvering herself toward Barric, now getting a stronger scent of him. The draconic-girl lowered her head flaring her dino nostrils to drink in the smell to get a proper memory of him. Mainly this is for memory and tracking purposes if she wants to harass him later.\n\nThen her maw opens up with thorny-looking teeth that gently clamped over his head playfully without hurting him."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "He heard the creature move with him. Following him closely behind. The huff of air on the back of his head giving him an idea of how close the creature was. Barric's hands dug through the hay, pulling it out in clumps to toss into the tub that sat near him. He felt a few more huffs of air against his neck as he moved the creature, seemingly moving with him. \n\nAs he finished up, Barric stood up from the hunched position he was in, turning back towards the other creature. Just as he was about to speak to it, his vision was covered in darkness as something engulfed his head. A pale blue pulsing light engulfed his vision as if a fireball was engulfing his head. Barric paused for a moment, unsure of what he was seeing. But then the thing that had engulfed his head moved.\n\nMoved as if it was breathing. As if it was a live creature that had engulfed him. Barric felt a glob of wetness drip onto his forehead from above. A glob of slobber or spit dripping down his face. He was inside of its mouth. It had bitten his head, keeping him in place but not hurting him. Barric's neck jerked, trying to escape the creature's mouth, his heart rate rising as he panicked. His hand moved suddenly, remembering that some animals were sensitive to their nose. Barric's scarred hand reeled back, slapping the creature on where he assumed its nose would be. \n\n\"HEY LET GO!\" He hollered from within its mouth, his southern accent loud and clear as he repeated the phrase with each slap, trying to get the creature to let go. His voice became more panicked with each time the phrase left his mouth becoming faster and louder. His hand ached as if he was slapping against wood, but he continued attempting to get the creature to allow him to let go of his head. It wouldn't kill him. If it wanted to, it would've chomped down on his neck by now, right?"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Each time Barric hit her wooden nose it sounded like he's knocking on a solid door. It didn't phase her one bit already knowing what he's trying to do. There was a growling chuckle as she slowly lifted him up from his feet, turning her teeth to become dull so she didn't hurt him.\n\nThe man-creature looked like he had a strong neck full of muscles that won't easily break. She moves while carrying gently by his head to where she climbed right on top of the roof. Then she drops him on his ass where she towered over.\n\nHer long forked tongue lolled out from the side of her maw, breathing winter air onto him while she wiggled the end of her tail. \n\nShe perched on the rooftop like a gargoyle looking down at the strange man-creature, watching for his change of behavior or other actions. \n\nRaizel found it amusing how this thing behaved like a dumb rabbit who had never found itself in the food chain just yet. Drool oozed from her maw that dripped onto the roof where it froze over with frost. She felt the pent up energy crinkling inside that was making her want to play even more.\n\nHer snout pushed against his chest, leaving behind a wet blotched from her drooly snout."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "He felt the mouth around his chuckle as he was lifted off the ground. His hitting and screams became more frantic as the creature began to move with him in its mouth. \"PUT ME DOWN! PUT. ME. DOWN.\" He repeated in between hits as the creature carried him around like a rag doll. His heart was beating in his ears like a war drum as he felt the creature begin to crawl up something. It was going to end up breaking his neck. What the fuck was this thing doing? The creature, after a bit of what Barric could only assume was climbing, seemed satisfied with how much it had tormented the boy, dropped him on his ass. He let out an oof as he felt backwards, not catching himself. \n\nBarric laid there for a moment, still frozen in fear as the creature stared at him. \"WHAT THE FUCK?\" Barric's mind seemed to catch up with the fear his body was feeling as he quickly shot up, scooting backwards away from the creature. His hair was now soaking wet from the creature's slobber, his eyes wide and terrified. Meanwhile, the creature seemed way too happy about this predicament. It's large wooden tail wagging behind it like an oversized dog. \n\nWhy the hell did it do that? Barric glanced around the area. Why the hell were they on the roof now? The farmer kid's mind didn't seem to focus too much on the location of the predicament the creature had created for him but more so the creature itself. Barric's hand found his chest clutching his tank top as he tried to breathe through what felt like a panic attack. What was happening? He was terrified, unsure of how to react to the creature's bout of energy it seemed to have. Barric honestly couldn't respond to how the creature was asking normally. Who the fuck could? A giant dragon just comped down on his fucking head and dragged him to the roof. What kind of response was he meant to have? His finger pointed at the creature accusingly, showing off how hard his hands were shaking. \"Don't you ever fucking do that again.\"\n\nThe creature seemed to find this funny, pushing its snout against Barric's chest. Barric's hand quickly pushed the creature away from him, finally standing up. \"No, we aren't doing that.\" He grumbled, touching the wet splotch left behind by the creature's snot. \"You aren't going to try to act all cute after that shit.\" He shouted accusingly at it. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he tried to think of an easy way to get down. Barric let out a disappointed sigh before awkwardly shuffling towards the edge of the roof, trying to find a way to safely get down."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "*\"Muahahahahaha!\"* The sinister laugher played on her reptilian brain when she picked up the panicking prey scent on the human creature. The way he moved back panicking was adrenaline inducing how he just flipped out. It's so cute and hilarious how he just realize the predicament he's in had made her lips pull into a toothy smile.\n\nThis was way too much fun for her to be letting him leave too soon. It was like a cat playing with her meal before devouring it later. For Raizel it was a new game for her to enjoy this sweet moment to toy with this scorpion-beef scented man-creature to go free.\n\nThe tip of her tail wagged quickly behind Raizel while she watched the man-human scramble away, assuming he was trying to find his way down. She gave him a few seconds before she bawled her claw-like hand into a fist. Then her sharp finger sprang upward with a \"Ding\" Sound as she reached over toward the crouched prey. The claw simply bent into a hook to grab the back of Barric's belt loop(if he's wearing any) to keep him from moving forward.\n\nShe lifts him up by his belt to have him twirl a bit in the air, watching to see what else he's going to do. It looked funny from her perspective, so glad that there's no teacher to stop her from what she's doing to this poor creature."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric let out a high-pitch yelp as he felt himself get dragged up and back by the creature's claw. He instantly reached over, grabbing a hold on to the creature's face. His legs wrapping around its snout as he attempted to keep himself from falling from its grip if it decided to let go. He turned facing the creature. Even if it probably couldn't see him, he still stared it down. \"You're enjoying this, aren't you?\" He snapped, kicking the creature's neck to prove a point. \"Huh?\" He was done with its shit. It seemed to enjoy annoying him and giving him a scare, but he honestly wasn't enjoying it. Barric looked around, trying to find a way done from the creature now that he could use, then find a way off the roof. \n\n\"You know you could be nice and let me down. Make this whole time a lot easier.\" He muttered half hearted knowing the creature wouldn't listen to him. It was just a thing of hoping the creature got bored and left him alone at this point. The farmer kid didn't really have an out in this situation otherwise. This wasn't the activities he expected today. Did anyone think they would get bullied by an overgrown dog that looked like a massive fucking dragon? No, probably not, so he definitely wasn't the insane one here, thankfully. \"Can you at least let go of my belt?\" He deadpanned, staring at the dragon again. \"It's really uncomfortable to have your claw thing hanging on to it.\" Honestly reasoning with the thing probably wouldn't work, but goddamn if he wasn't going to try.\n\n\"Why are you like this?\" He asked suddenly. \"If you're messing around before you kill me, I probably won't be that fun to eat. You know what? I'll make it even less fun.\" He huffed with that a loud cracking and popping of bones echoed throughout the area. Barric groaned as his skin tore to make room for the new limbs that were appearing out of his body. After a moment, his breathing slowed as the limbs finished growing. \"Yeah, now have fun eating.\" He murmured, leaning against the creature's forehead."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She watched Barric sprout extra legs that confirmed her assumption that he is indeed from Newton Cradle. There's no doubt that he is from there for certain after he boldly displayed his appendages. The girl in her draconic form decided to pry him off with her clawed hand.\n\nHer glowing eyes are half closed as she wiggles one of his legs, showing him how she can easily pluck them off like how you remove legs from a spider. \n\nIn this form it is difficult to communicate due to her mouth structure making it challenging to speak properly. Lately she hasn't been practicing since the teachers are more focused on the newer students. \n\nShe opened her maw to playfully nimble on the scorpion leg to taste a bit like beef jerky with a hint of a fishy flavor. It might sound strange but she did eat someone's pet scorpion before from the village when she invaded someone's home. It was all for survival purposes since she wasn't exactly brought up by normal people.\n\nHer blunt tooth put some pressure onto the leg until it felt like it was enough. Raizel knows exactly what she is doing when it comes to not damaging living organisms. These scorpion legs are like solid sticks that her maw could easily crush through. \n\nShe decided the fun is about over when she slowly sets him down onto the floor of the foot top. Her maw seemed to pull into a goofy smile while the tip of her tail wiggled. If she lashed her tail it would have caused serious damage or injuries. \n\nRaizel decided that this funny little man-human is going to probably be her playmate for now. Even if the government marked her age 17, it was a guess for them to assume since she was a Jane Doe when they found her on the mountainside. \n\nAll this pent up energy being in this form made her have a similar vibe to that of an otter. She crawled along the structure like a ferret without damaging the building much. As she slowly peered her head beside the ledge of the roof, she gave Barric a side-eye with a cheeky grin with her fork tongue lulled from the side of her maw."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "He dug his nails into the wood like skin of the creature, trying to cling to the creature for as long as possible. Barric was dragged away from the snout with the creature's clawed hand. \"Hey hey no!\" He yelped, kicking at it, still trying to grab ahold of its snout. Barric felt one of the creature's clawed fingers grab onto one of his limbs, toying with it. \"No, don't do that!\" One of his limbs threw itself at its clawed hand, trying to get the creature to let go of the one it had grabbed on to. He wiggled harder, noticing her dull teeth creeping closer to the limb. \"Hey stop it!\" He demanded, trying to move away from the dull teeth. The creature seemed to be prepared for that, still grabbing hold of the limb with her teeth. The farmer winced, fully expecting the creature to snap the limb in half between its dull teeth. \n\nHis heart beat loudly in his ears, waiting for the limb to be torn clear off by the creature. The pressure on the limb felt like hell to the boy. It was going to kill him, wasn't it? The creature gently pulled away from his leg suddenly. Barric felt himself unwillingly get moved as it sat him down on the ground. The creature barred its teeth suddenly, causing Barric to quickly jump back, trying to avoid the creature's possible lunge. It seemed to stay still, though. It's tail beating on the roof like an oversized dog. \"You're fucking enjoying this, aren't you?\" He snapped cruelly at the creature. He wasn't the type to snap at animals like that, but this thing was starting to annoy him.\n\nThe snake-like dragon dove out of sight for a moment before poking its head from under the roof. Its tongue lulled out, dripping with slobber. \"You're weird.\" He murmured, flopping backwards on to his back. If it was going to kill him, he'd accept death. RIP Barric, age 18, got killed by this weird dog dragon snake thing that thought he was fun to torment. His death was inevitable. Barric closed his eyes, debating on what to do. The thing seemed to want to keep him on the rooftop of this building. So it wasn't like he could climb down. It'd probably just drag him back up here and he wasn't in the mood to get more of the creature's slobber in his hair.\n\nHe pushed himself up, staring at the creature with its head still poked over the side of the roof. It wasn't like he could do much else, so fuck it. He repositioned himself, digging into his front pocket to pull out a lighter and a pack of Marlboros. He had bought the two items the night he turned 18. The Marlboros being the only recognizable brand among Sweden's anti smoking advertisement. Barric's fingers pulled one out, placing it into his mouth and lighting it. As he took a drag from it, he pointed to the creature. \"You don't get to judge me after all the shit you just pulled.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Raizel grabbed the ledge of the roof as her long neck stretched over. The smell from the cigarette brand didn't smell as right as the one from home. The true tobacco that the natives from her land create far better stuff than this. \n\nHer nose scrunched up to the nicotine scent that made her nose start to tingle and sting from the chemical smell. This chemical that they used with the tobacco wasn't right. It caused her to let out a freezing cold sneeze that made some of the roof shingles blow away.\n\nShe rubbed her nose with the back of her clawed hand, feeling a tear welling up from the corner of her glowing eye.\n\nThese are sad times for even tobacco to be wrongfully placed with nicotine additives that are crap. She knows well that it's not even the good stuff. It's all industrial reproduced products designed to have consumers keep on buying it to feed their addictions because of that chemical.\n\nRaizel scrunched her nose so much that it wrinkled her entire draconic face, causing all fangs to bare in disgust. This tanned man-human doesn't know what he's doing. She quickly slithered off in such motion that it created a gust of wind.\n\nRaizel hurried into the woods to go dig inside the den where she kept her stash. From inside her indigenous bentwood box, she pulled out a tobacco pipe she carved and a pouch of fine tobacco that she grounded up a week ago. \n\nThis may be Sweden but this girl knows what she needs to get by. \n\nThen she returns knowing the beef scented scorpion creature would still be stuck up on the rooftop. She set the pouch and tobacco bag near him, giving him a demanding stare. A type of serous stare that this dumb-dumb needs to smoke something more pure,better and stronger than that cancer stick."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric felt a rush of cold hit him as the creature sneezed. The tiles of the roof around him flying off because of the force of it. \"What's you don't like cigarettes? Is that your deterrent out of all things?\" He snorted to himself. A little bit of smoke and the creature was thrown off. It was a stupid weakness, but good to know. He watched as the creature rubbed its eyes as if the smoke were stinging them. Barric felt a twinge of guilt in his heart at the thought of possibly hurting the creature, even if the creature had done nothing but harass him for the past half an hour or so. The creature lurched forward, barring its teeth at him, suddenly causing him to fall back again. A thump echoed through the house below as he landed back in the position he was before. Before he could react further, the creature was gone. Having slithered down off the roof to go god knows where. \"Well, fuck you too.\" He yelled after it as he ran away.\n\n\"I'll get off this roof by myself.\" Barric murmured sarcastically, kicking one of the loose singles off the roof down into the backyard below. The cow down below watched as it fell down from the roof and plopped on to the ground before looking up at Barric with a seemingly disappointed look. He pointed at the creature. \"You stop it. You didn't even try to help.\" If cows could, he swore that little shit would be rolling its eyes at him. He was about to start making that way down before he heard the thundering of the creature returning. As it slithered up, Barric shot a glare at it. \"What the fuck do you want now?\" He took another drag of the cigarette that was still between his fingers. The pouch it apparently went to retrieve was plopped down in front of him.\n\nHe glanced between the creature and the pouch for a moment. \"Is that for me or something?\" He asked, confusion etched in his voice. Barric assumed it was meant for him, but the creature was probably the most confusing thing he had meant at this damned place and he didn't want to intrude on its territory or whatever. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking another drag from my cigarette before folding his leg up to put it out on the bottom of his boot. \"You can't get pissed at me cause I'm opening it.\" Barric grumbled, putting the half finished stick back in the box he had pulled it out of. He leaned down and yanked the pouch towards him, spotting the tobacco filled bag behind it. What had it brought him? His scarred hands yanked open the bag to find a pipe of some sorts. His brain seemed to take a moment to connect the dots lagging behind as he tried to figure out why the creature had brought him the items.\n\nAfter a moment, he held the pipe up to the creature. \"Do you want me to smoke out of this or something? Or did you just smell the tobacco from the cigarette and think this would be a good apology gift for tormenting me for the past half an hour?\" Barric grilled the creature, annoyance dripping from his voice like venom. The creature deserved it, he convinced himself. The constant harassment he had to deal with from it when he just wanted to feed the damn cow was enough that the creature deserved a little bit of anger after this all."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She rubbed her snout as she curled her fork tongue as if trying to prepare to speak. Opening and closing her large maw, Raizel cleared her throat before attempting to communicate.\n\n*\"Good... St-stuffz... R-r-r-r-real tobacco... S-s-smoke it..\"* She sounded like she was shivering from her sentences stuttering. Then she moved her lower jaw as if speaking felt too weird and foreign for her. \n\nEnglish was her second language after all. She had to learn how to speak in another tongue when she first got kidnapped by the authorities.\n\n*\"Do... You... Know... How... Smoke... P-p-pipe?\"* She asked, her voice shivered. Then she cracks her lower jaw to adjust it, moving it around with her claw like hand.\n\nShe was waiting to see what the strange man-human is going to do now. Waiting in anticipation was making her butt wiggle with her tail, swaying behind her as she placed held her cheeks with her monstrous clawed hands.\n\nThe pent up energy that was meant for her to survive in the wilderness had made her hold back the zoomies. She kept the derpy smile on her totem face, still waiting on the other to see what they're going to do next. \n\nOh, by the way, her voice sounds almost androgynous except for a hint of feminism in her tone that is mixed with snarls. It's almost hard to hear what she is saying because of her strange, shivering voice.\n\nThe only creature that hadn't been harassed was the innocent cow munching on hay below. Of course, Raizel takes no fun from messing with an animal who is minding their business. As for a human to cause mischief against them is another whole story.\n\nShe continued to wait on the strange man, patiently waiting..."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "His hands, that were holding the two items close to the creature's face, dropped as the words fell out of its mouth. It spoke as it if it was freezing to death. Why the fuck was it speaking? \"Huh?\" Barric asked, a blank look in his eyes as he tried to process the creature actually being able to speak. And it was encouraging him to smoke? Had he been drugged? Was he hallucinating? He needs to sit down. Barric promptly plopped down on his ass, staring at the dragon with a blank look in his eyes and his mouth slightly agape. \n\nAs the creature spoke again, he held up his finger to its snout. \"You shut up. I am on something you should not be talking.\" He dropped his hand, holding on to the pipe with both hands. What was he supposed to do if he was drugged? Should he tell Pernilla? Barric was going to vomit. No, actually, false alarm he wasn't. Barric sat there with his mouth still agape, trying to piece together everything happening around him. \"Did the cashier drug my cigarettes?\" He whispered to himself, still loud enough for the creature to still hear him. He looked back at it. \"Cause you should not be talking. You should not even exist, right?\"\n\nHe had to have been drugged. There was no way this shit show was real. Barric's fingers moved along the pipe, feeling it. \"This feels real, though.\" He murmured, falling backwards and holding the thing to his chest. \"But if this was real, why the hell would a dragon dog snake thing be offering me a pipe to smoke out of?\" He threw his hands up the air, still holding on to the pipe in the air. He pushed himself up off the ground and stared at the dragon. \"Is this god's fucked up way of telling me I should've gone to church more with my grandma?\" Barric asked, not even a meniscal amount of sarcasm or joking in his voice."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Raizel watched the man-human's comical reaction while she watched with absolute amusement while he ranted. The way he had his mouth agape was priceless like he is wondering if he's imagining things. The question of him now asking if he should have gone to church with his grandma is what made her give a growling chuckle.\n\nShe didn't mean to sound like the demonic Bowser from the Mario game series from Nintendo. It was just all too amusing for Raizel to be letting this one go free soon.\n\nHer temporary silence of no words are sent but a smile showing her wooden, dull teeth that says otherwise. \n\nThe fun kept her feeling alive being at the boring Newton's Cradle where it felt that the place was dry for her taste. The most she could do is try live out in the woods the best she can except it's always smells of people; students exploring.\n\nIt was difficult to get some sort of privacy without some dumb-dumb coming into her path. So far this weird man-human was fun to toy with instead of outright trying to kill her.\n\nRaizel waited for a few more seconds.\n\n\"S-S-Smoke I-I-I-It...\" She pressured the foreign human, wanting him to get a taste of the true nature of tobacco without that chemical crap inside of it. It's the best stuff that you could get that would leave someone feeling good."
}
] | 423 | 6,426 |
462.15 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Despite the immediate, mutual assertion that Gabe and Mattias' relationship was mostly a working one, they'd been \"Hanging out\". Not nearly frequently enough to hit the point of suspicion or worse, internal crisis, and all their meetings had fallen under the umbrella of either exchanging small pieces of information (Matti had shown Gabe a video of a student picking small pieces of cilantro out of their meal by hand, which was *Clearly* Sociopathic behavior and not funny— Gabe— *Gabe it's not funny*) or 'socializing' them. Practicing talking to people. Understanding internet slang. The like. \n\nStill, it was moving Matti's feelings from 'tentative allyship' to 'half-fond toleration' at a slightly alarming rate.\n\nThey picked at loose threads on their messenger bag with no small amount of anxiety, as they waited outside of Gabe's dorm. Today, they were exploring and \"Fixing that awful fucking fit\", something they didn't understand but was clearly important to successful social interaction. So they had donned their cleanest, nicest shirt (a plain grey button up), a pair of jeans that only had one pen in the pocket, instead of the usual three to four, and brushed their hair so they could pretend it looked better. \n\nMatti knocked on Gabe's door for what was probably the second or third time. The first time, they'd been drowned out by one of Gabe's god-awful hallmates blasting music through an open door, the second they'd lost their nerve as someone walked past them. \n\n\"Gabe?\" They asked, trying to make their voice as clear as they could. \"It's Mattias Gates.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Mail. More *Mail.*\n\nAs Gabriel shuffled through the swaths of envelopes, his eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. He had figured it would be his father's responsibility to deal with these, considering the *Fancy mandatory boarding school/prison* Thing, but it seems they'd followed him across the Atlantic and into Sweden. \n\nLovely. A bill from a familiar hospital peeked out from his hand, spurning a scowl. He was about to open it, when—\n\n*Knock. Knock*. \n\nShit. Matti was *Here*. Gabe hastily stuffed the letters under his notebook, the corner barely peeking out, before plastering on a smile and opening the door. He's dressed in an outfit fit for a night around town; which means no stuffy collars or preppy sweater vests. Instead, he wears a tight, short-sleeved white shirt, with an unbuttoned blue button-up layered over. Combined with light brown dress-pants, a leather belt, and a now-visible silver cross necklace, and the whole look *Screams* \"I'm not trying too hard\" While simultaneously looking cohesive and put-together.\n\n\"Matti, you're—\" \n\nThe door swings open, and Gabe *Cranes* His neck down — god, Matti was short — to see the other. The hair being brushed was a nice touch, and the actor made an approving tut at the button up. The look was... Well, a bit boring with the muted color scheme, but it was *Matti* Being talked about, so Gabe wasn't too surprised.\n\n\"...You don't look half-bad, actually.\" An approving half-smile, and Gabe holds the door open for the other. \n\n\"Come in, will you? God knows you've probably been waiting here long enough.\"\n\nMatti's first struck with the thought that the room is *Large*— a barren cot on the other side of the room confirms the suspicion that Gabe lives in a double yet currently lacks a roommate. \n\nIt's surprisingly normal, too. *Too* Normal, considering how Gabe usually presents. There's no clothes on the floor, but the desk area is covered with homework (all perfect grades), formal looking letters, and stacks of face-down envelopes. It's a mess expected of a teen boy, oddly enough. \n\nA mini-fridge sits in the corner, and posters of places back home, comic book characters, and actors on the stage are taped onto the walls. A tote bag of makeup sits next to a slightly-messy vanity, alongside far, far, *Far* Too many bottles pertaining to skincare. \n\n\"This is my place. 'S pretty nice, since they haven't found a roommate for me yet. It means I get this whole room to myself, for now. Pretty sweet, right?\" Gabe gestures around, pulling up a chair and sitting down."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti viciously squashed the victorious thrill that went through them at Gabe's compliment. *I did it right!* The feeling crowed from where it hid under their collarbone. *Friendship!* Except Matti and Gabe were *Not* Friends, they were business partners, executing a mutually beneficial transaction. If anything, they should be proud that they had learned enough to meet Gabe's impossibly high standards for— everything.\n\nGabe's room captured their interest for long enough to abandon their previous train of thought. \n\n\"Surprisingly normal,\" They commented. \"It seems your penchant for dishonesty doesn't apply to your dorm.\" They smiled. That was a joke, right? Yes. Probably. \"I don't have a roommate. I didn't want one.\" Plus, it'd be a hassle to *Add* Anyone into their room, what with things stashed in corners (hidden, which ironically made them easier to find when Matti lost something) and surfaces covered in. Conspiracy papers wasn't the right term. *Perfectly sane analytical notes of current subversive issues.*\n\nMatti wavered slightly, lingering by the door. \"What are today's plans?\" Fuck— small talk. \"And the weather,\" They tacked on hurriedly. *Fuck.* Now they just sounded stupid. The words that normally felt *Right*— sure and rhythmic, were clumsy. Foolish. Their face seemed to be indecisive, stuck between flushed with embarrassment and carefully passive."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"The fuck would a *Dishonest dorm* Even look like? What, were you expecting a funhouse mirror, or a fake wall?\" Gabe shakes his head, more to dismiss his... Acquaintance's weird social mannerisms than in actual offense. \n\nGod, Matti was hopeless. \n\n\"Eh, I figured having a roommate might be an interesting. Worried about what it'll be like when I take someone back to my place for the night, but besides that... It doesn't seem like it matters, what with the fact they're not *Here* Yet.\" He wasn't *Grumbling*, totally. Just... A little peeved about the lack of ability for this school to properly match him with a roommate. Wasn't this place supposed to be *Competent?*\n\n\"Today's plans? What, it's not like we have an itinerary. The only goal *Really* Is to fuck around and have fun, and that's sorely dependent on what you want to do.\" Sometimes, Gabe forgot he was talking to a total social recluse— until the painfully awkward way Matti conceptualized 'hanging out' reared that truth directly into the limelight.\n\nGabe's heart *Squeezed* At the revelation. God... Why'd he have to feel *Bad* About the other being so painfully lonely?\n\n\"Although... I am a bit curious about what you've been up to. You said you've been busy recently- with what?\" The question is spoken into the air, as Gabe pulls out his bag of various makeup. \n\n\"You like makeup? I've been rusty, and while I don't particularly *Like* The look of eyeshadow on myself, I have plenty of testimony from my sister and her friends that I'm kind of a makeup guru.\" He waggles an eyebrow up and down, the bravado and overconfidence of his bragging accompanied with a grin."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti held back a wince as the joke fell flat, but their tenseness soothed as they immersed themself in analyzing Gabe's words. He seemed annoyed about the lack of roommate— something Matti couldn't and hopefully *Would never have to* Relate to. Thankfully, whatever discontent stemmed from *That* Made Gabe overlook their. Less than tactful questioning. \n\nAt the confirmation that there wasn't a set plan, they felt a brief flash of panic. Matti had never been one to go on outings or interactions without a plan. A. One singular. And that plan was stuck to at all costs. If it failed, a new plan was constructed. Gabe's disorganization in mind, they resolved themself to just following his lead. As soon as their heart calmed, sated at the vague construction, it panicked again. Could they tell Gabe what they'd been investigating? *Should* They? Gabe had told them, their very first meeting, that he had things waiting for him back home. Getting him involved with the Angels— with something confirmed to be deadly— was that ethical in any way? They couldn't exactly lie. \n\n\"I've been investigating some stuff related to the curfew,\" They said, \"I... Don't know how much you want to know. It could mess up your chances of getting out for 'behavior'. Getting mixed up with it.\" Even if they couldn't tell Gabe everything outright, that didn't mean they wanted him uninformed. He could make his own choices. He was entitled to that, if not knowledge.\n\nAs the conversation briefly turned to lighter subjects, Matti shrugged. \"I know the basic concept, but I can't say I've ever tried anything with makeup. It's needlessly expensive and even more so if you don't know what to do with it. Not very beginner friendly.\" Sister. *Right.* Gabe had a sister. Briefly Mattias wondered what she was like, then promptly brushed the curiosity away. It was a useless line of inquiry. They'd never meet. Matti tugged through their bag and bit down on a mint in an effort to arrange their scattered thoughts."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Oho? Gossip?*\n\nA perfectly manicured eyebrow raised, and Gabe did his best to stifle a grin. Now this was something he wanted to *Hear about*, despite whatever reservations the other had about 'ruining chances of getting out for behavior'. \n\nNo, Gabe was not like Matti. He did not blab secrets to the rest of the world without a care, believing that the 'truth' was an inherent force for good. Whatever Matti was about to say, he would make sure to tuck deep in his heart and not tell a soul... Well, maybe Blanche, but *She doesn't count, she's six.*\n\n\"I have no intentions to get involved, or tell anyone else here. And I mean it, 'cause you'd know if I didn't, right?\" His southern accent comes out in full force as he digs through his bag, sorting between eyeshadow pallets and nail polish. \n\n\"And besides, what's an outing *Without* Sharing a couple of secrets? It's *Gossip.*\" A wink, and Gabe pulls out three eyeshadow palettes, and an assortment of every color of nail polish. \n\n\"You can't use my concealer unless you suddenly become a *Lot* Darker, so... Eyeshadow, nail polish, both, or neither?\" \n\nMaybe a blush would look nice on Matti, too... Gabe squints, actually *Looking* At the other's face with thoughtful, analytical eyes. It would, he decided, the pink potentially adding some life into the other's pale face. Ah, but Gabe would pitch that later, when Matti had already warmed up to the idea of getting dolled up."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti shrugged. Honestly whatever Gabe wanted to do was fine— they'd already subjected themself to the mortifying ordeal of being known in *Coming* Here, in interacting with people despite their chronic inability to make eye contact and the nights they'd spent drinking hot water and whispering, voice hoarse and strained from its brief reprieve of disuse. Besides, they didn't know what looked good and what didn't— they didn't even know what half of the things Gabe referenced *Were*. They told him as much, before pulling out their handbook and flipping to the newly added sections. The familiar action didn't necessarily calm them, but it did fan the spark a little, the excitement that came with discovery and uncovering secrets. \n\n\"Well, first of all, Uriel isn't a demon or a horrifying person, like I'd thought,\" They started. \"Actually, they're a kind person. I met them— they went into my mind when I was having a nightm- a dream. That's their ability, I think. Though they're proficient at reading people. *You* Might dislike them, for that.\" It wasn't intended to be a dig; Matti had seen Gabe's discomfort, sometimes, when whatever mask he had chosen to wear slipped, when Matti made a comment on the things he was hiding. Uriel, while kind, wasn't likely company that appealed to him. \n\n\"Secondly—\" They inhaled, stalling for processing time with deep breaths. \"The reason for the curfew is a group called the Angels. Ma- my partner in investigating called them a cult, and she has much better knowledge of them than I do. What I know for now is that they presumbably kidnap young girls and brainwash them using the leader's ability. They're also dangerous.\" Their eyes flickered around Gabe's room, to the *Normalcy* Of it. The safety. Nothing at all like frantic scribblings and locks and more locks and hidden stashes of supplies. \"The lethal kind. I recommend avoiding them, and maybe me, if you want to stay out of all that.\" \n\n.\n\nThey pulled a stray strand of hair, slightly, fixating on it as a sudden rush of anxiety filled them. Was being around them... Dangerous? Maybe not at first, but now, with Margo and Valio and Annika and Frida, hell, they'd already been *Seen* In conjunction with at *Least* One angel's appearance, if the campus staff or god-forbid the *Angels* Saw them talking to Gabe— would *He* Be in danger? They thanked their past paranoia for choosing quiet, somewhat isolated places to meet. But they couldn't ensure they'd *Never* Been seen talking, or that they wouldn't in the future. If Gabe kept \"Hanging out\" With them. Which he might not. \n\nIt would be good self-preservation instinct. A good choice, objectively. Every reason they interacted could, in theory, be communicated over the phone or strategically placed notes. It would be more efficient, even. It made Matti sick to their stomach. Regardless of how it started, they were willing to concede (only to themself) that they *Enjoyed* Spending time with Gabe. It was fun. No matter how fake it was, or for whatever reason, they felt more at ease in his presence than the other general, faceless, lying masses. But if stepping back, if being alone again, even slightly, was what would protect him— if it was what Gabe asked. Would they be able to do it? Probably. Without regrets? A clean break? Likely not. \n\n\"The Angels think one of their runaway members are here. I've been looking into it. But they're dangerous, and have made attempts to get inside the complex in the past. At night, normally. You can recognize them by the halo and wings. I'd be careful. Run if you see them. This— it might be difficult for you—\" They laughed, something strained that faded quickly. Forced down. \"—but I recommend not drawing attention to yourself. If you even *Think* That they're watching you.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Hmm...\" \n\nGabe shivered as Matti described their encounter with the so-called *Red King*. The words *They went into my mind* Made a decidedly unpleasant feeling run down the back of Gabe's spine, and he inwardly winced. He couldn't help but laugh at Matti's remark about disliking them; of course he'd dislike the company of someone who could *Go inside your head.* Who would willingly *Want* To hang out with someone like that?\n\nAnother reminder that Gabe did, in fact, not belong here. He had abilities, yes, but they were... Harmless, and the one time he tried to do something nefarious was very quickly deemed a failure. The gulf between him and everyone else was terrifying; even Matti, who was so... *Matti*, had awe-inspiring abilities. There were people with fantastical abilities ripped straight from a storybook, and Gabe was an actor who used his abilities for discount Adderall. \n\nGod. He *Really* Had to get out of here. \n\n\"Close your eyes.\" Gabe ordered, sitting next to the lie-detector. As Matti does so, he holds the other's chin, tilting their jaw up and looking down to properly apply the shade onto the other's eyelids. It was a nice color— a reddish brown, something that worked with Matti's fair complexion *And* Was bold enough to draw some much-needed eyes to Matti.\n\n\"You know, I have attention *Misdirection* Abilities, not just drawing attention. I can be sneaky if I need to— besides, it's not like they can read minds. They're not able to magically deduce I know the drama unfolding. You're worrying too much.\" He muttered, waving off the concern with the same hand currently holding the eyeshadow brush. \n\n\"Although... I'm a bit insulted. A halo? *Wings*? It's a mockery of religion. Even if they weren't dangerous, I'd hate them for the half-baked cosplay alone.\" Gabe snorts at his own joke, and the contact of his cross necklace against his shirt momentarily floats to the top of his head."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti saw Gabe mentally decide to stay away from Uriel, and a little part of them was satisfied. As much as they appreciated Gabe's company, Uriel was likely a literal godsend. They worried about the conflict that would arise were they to meet— worried for *Both* Of them. They'd to their part to prevent it from happening too, of course. Nothing major. Just... Keeping their paths from colliding.\n\nAs their rant— report— about the Angels and their danger, and why Gabe should stay away from them, at all costs, closed, they barely noticed the ominous feeling of Gabe approaching with an assortment of black boxes and paintbrushes. What they *Did* Notice was his order for them to close their eyes, and subsequent light hand on their face. *Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck*. *A liar,* They reminded themself, even if it didn't really carry the same weight anymore. *And likes women.* As many things as Mattias *Did* Identify as— courtesy of their long stretches of free time and a few rare days of home internet access— a woman they were not. They tamped down any anxiety they felt (okay. Gabe was objectively attractive but they had no intention of actually getting attached to him) and focused on his frankly ridiculous attempts to prove he wouldn't get *Assassinated* By a *Literal murderous cult*. These people were *Dangerous* And Gabe didn't understand they were a *Serious threat*.\n\n\n\nWhat sobered them, though, was the throwaway comment— *A mockery of religion*. That had been one thing they'd kept out— not deliberately, but it was important. Even in a broader sense, past the Angels. Once they felt Gabe stop applying whatever product he was using to their eyes (which remained, they thought, admirably still given the foreign sensation), they spoke.\n\n\"The Angels *Make* People into parahumans. Normal people. It's—\" *Blasphemous*, they wanted to say. So they did. \"A perversion of divine gift. Abominable.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Divine gift? So, you think God granted you your powers?\" \n\nGabe momentarily pauses in their eyeshadow application, flipping the brush with a sharp rotation to apply the pigment with a different, more angled brush. \n\nHuh. It was... An optimistic reason for their powers, one that made warmth flutter in the deepest echelons of Gabriel's chest. A gift? For *Gabe*? \n\n\"I... Never thought of it like that. That's... It's a nice thing to think about. A gift...\" His voice was uncharacteristically low and soft, tone turning thoughtful as he explored that possibility in his mind.\n\nGabe was not stupid, unfortunately. The link between when he received his powers and the... Other events occurring in his life made the connection of *Why* Fairly obvious in his head. They were a tool, something to help them with the burdens of daily life... Maybe even a coping mechanism born from necessity. \n\nBut a gift... Did God see Gabe struggling, and bless him with abilities to help him overcome his obstacles? The thought made Gabe still, and before the pleasant feeling fully enveloped him—\n\n*A gift from God, and look what you did with it.*\n\n— It stops. Whatever warm sensation that came with the love from a higher being grows hot, boiling hot, molting its prior sweet feathers and turning into bright-hot shame. Gabe takes a deep breath, the hand currently holding his brush shaking slightly. *Not in front of Matti,* He thinks to himself. *I'm better than this.*\n\n\"Interesting thought. You might be right about that.\" The loud sound of the actor clearing his throat cuts through his own internal monologue, and he shakes his head. *No more,* And Gabe picks up a bottle of nail polish. \n\n\"What color? I have everything in the goddamn rainbow, so don't be shy. And I'm vetoing anything *Boring*, like black.\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "\"Divine gift?\"\n\nMatti stilled. They knew the things they knew— *Believed* Left a vile taste in their mouth— weren't exactly normal. It was rare to acknowledge higher beings, especially in the way that Mattias had. The unsure, yet completely devoted way. Blind faith, without rules. To be fair, whatever entity gave them their powers likely didn't care too much for human lives. It was like a chess game. A television show. At best, a way to sponsor a lucky inferior life form and give them a true Purpose (the word made them think of Frida, now, and it unsettled them). It was good Gabe didn't sound *Too* Repulsed by the idea. They weren't sure they could handle this kind of rejection. \n\nThey heard the uncertainty in his voice, though. Considering. The pause. Then when his words continued, the self-depreciation lying hidden. Wrapping around their friend's throat. *Deceitful viper.* Mattias cursed it in their head. *Foul fucking snake. Get you the hell out.*\n\n\"Well I'm glad you're fulfilling your purpose, at least.\" They spoke plainly. \"With your gift, I mean. It took me a while to get it, at first. But there's no way you can really do the *Wrong* Thing. That's good, I think. It's like giving an ant a sugarcube. You do it because you want to, and the ant is small, and interesting, and just because you can change things. Or maybe because the ant is... Struggling somehow. And you think 'I might as well help'.\" They shrugged, careful not to jostle the various products piled near them. \"But even if the ant uses the cube to become the Ant King, or sculpts it, or shares it among all its people. I guess even if it pushes the sugarcube over and uses it to get revenge on the ant that killed its ant family, or something. You just think 'huh, cool'. Everything's so much bigger than your- our- actions. The only way god will be mad, at least to my knowledge, is if you try to never use your gift at all.\"\n\n.\n\nThey weren't good at reassurance. But they spoke the truth, and maybe that was what Gabe needed. Right now. Even so, when they shut their mouth it was with the slight flush of embarrassment. They'd never talked about this— about their god, and powers, and purpose before. They let all thoughts of deities and cosmic motivations sink into the mud of their unconsciousness, where they usually lay. \n\n\"Oh. And maybe blue?\" It was a more neutral color. Closest to black (which Matti was definitely *Not* Planning to pick, before Gabe vetoed it)."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You're... You know, you have a point there.\" \n\nGabe takes Matti's hand in his left and applies the bright-blue shade with his other. The precise, delicate strokes of paint are somewhat rhythmic and soothing, and Gabe can't help but hum to himself as each of the other's slender nails are coated in a baby blue. \n\n\"Still, don't you think that's a little... I dunno, sad? Don't you want to believe God does these things because He loves you? Like a parent loves their child, I mean. Or maybe like a friend?\" The idle musing about religion was... Surprisingly genuine, and Gabe couldn't help but feel a bit sheepish after the fact. \n\nGabe tilts his head, moving Matti's side to side to properly inspect his handiwork. The eyeshadow made their eyes look larger, the brownish-red wing making Matti look... Fierce, confident almost. It was good work, he thinks to himself, a self-satisfied smile blossoming on his face. \n\n\"One more thing— you want blush?\" \n\nGabe scoots behind Matti and takes the other's hair in his hands, running through the brown strands multiple times to smooth it out. It was dry, and a bit coarse— it didn't seem Matti had the same 6-step hair care routine Gabe had. How unfortunate, truly; but that was for another day. \n\nHe takes a hair tie off of his wrist, and ties Mattias' hair into a high ponytail before scurrying back to the front. Truthfully, Gabe had wanted to bring Matti out of his shell. It... Well, he didn't want to admit *Made him sad*, so his internal monologue replaced that word with *Disappointed* Instead. It was partially why the look was so... Unlike Matti, with the ponytail taking the hair away from the other's face and pulled back to accentuate the cheekbones. Dark (but not whorish, looking for attention dark, a line Gabe was *Acutely* Aware of) eyeshadow made the other look... Almost feminine? \n\nHe hummed in approval.\n\n\"Dude, you look *Great*. Let me put some lipstick on you, and you'll pick up all the dudes in town.\" Gabe gave Matti a playful jab in the ribs and a *Go, get 'em tiger* Smile and wink."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "\"Maybe.\" They shrugged, feeling almost... Naked without their signature hat and glasses. As much as they used both accessories to manage their ability, they were also a shield. Something for Matti to hide behind. \"I guess it would be— not impossible, but something close to it. Not to love someone you choose like that. Like watching a character in a storybook. You give them power, by watching them. Seeing them. You can't do that without starting to love them, at least a little.\"\n\nIt answered the question so many people seemed to ask— about why. Why give powers? Love was fickle. Nobody did things because they loved you. Nobody did things on your behalf unless they wanted to, at least a little. What did gods get out of watching humans? Entertainment, in a callous word. Fulfillment, in a kinder one. They didn't say any of that, though. They'd noticed the crosses Gabe wore, well, *Religiously*, and their opinion seemed to be stepping into the realm of \"Trauma dumping\" And \"Religious controversy\". Instead, they busied themself by eyeing the blush in Gabe's hand skeptically, and nodding. \n\nWithout their hair in their eyes, they could see *Everything* In their normal range of vision. The sensation was jarring, and somehow stable. \n\n\"I wouldn't limit myself to guys,\" They grumbled good-naturedly, feeling lighter, freer (in a way they would absolutely *Not* Examine in painstaking detail later), and a little more willing to push social boundaries. \"*I'm* Open to everyone. It's not my fault I'm surrounded by lesbians, gods, and straight men.\" They almost told Gabe he didn't *Need* To use blush, with all Matti was sure they were flushed from the compliment. But it was a warm kind of embarrassment. Though Gabe was attractive they didn't consider him a romantic prospect; that wasn't what this was about. It was just. Nice. To hear someone compliment their appearance. \"It's all your work anyway. Stop being narcissistic.\" They bit down a smile. They were, god forbid, having fun."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Ah, so you're an anything-goes type of guy. Honestly, I kind of envy that. Seems easier, not having to limit yourself to people of your preferred sex. Then you could sleep with *Anyone* Who finds you hot, you know?\" Gabe sighed, the prospect of missing out on reciprocating the affection of adoring fans clearly disappointing. \n\nHe takes Matti's face once again, adding the blush on the apples of the other's cheeks. The other didn't really *Need* Anything more— certainly not contour or highlight— but Gabe applies a coat of mascara and lipstick (not without a \"Come on, it won't give you *Cooties.*\") anyway. \n\n \"Lesbians, straight men... Wait, *Gods?* Here?\" Gabe spluttered, a bit taken off guard by the word.\n\nThe lesbian was easy enough to figure out, given his... Unfortunate run in with Margo on the intranet, and \"Straight man\" Was very obviously yours truly. But... Gods? Even a lowercase-g god?\n\n\"Man, who the hell did you *Talk to* While I was gone?\" Gabe offhandedly muttered to himself, incredulous. Matti had *Already involved himself in a conspiracy, and met a lowercase-g god.* He, on the other hand, found out where the gym was, and barely finished unpacking. \n\n\"It *Is* My work. That's why I'm going to compliment it as much as I can, and *You* Will too, because that's the fee I've decided you're paying with.\" \n\nGabe clears his throat, voice raising into a perfect falsetto. It... Actually sounded convincingly feminine, the years of voice training evident and on display. High, but not overly so, almost seeming natural. \n\n\"Oh, *Gaaaabe,* You did *Such* A good job dolling up my face, you're so *Cool* And *Have I mentioned totally ripped, too?*\" He puts a hand to his forehead in mock fluster, adding an obnoxious bat of eyelashes to ham up the performance.\n\n\"You know, something like that.\" A wink and a smug grin come with the return of Gabe's normal voice."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti hummed, the pleasant feeling of contentness wrapping around their bones. They closed their eyes and leaned back into the chair. They could picture themself falling asleep like this, maybe, with comfortable conversation with a closed door and no corners for killing-things to lurk in. Instead, they simply let themself relax. Gabe's furniture was much better than theirs, or maybe it just felt different in a room warm and bright and full of life.\n\n\"Went out in the woods. An eldritch creature, maybe a person as well, tried to kidnap me. It had too many eyes and gnashing teeth and black shadowy mass for my tastes, and then got mad at me for looking at it. So I stabbed it with a pen and then—\" Their eyes flew open, revulsion skittering down their spine. \"I. A wild animal tried to attack and it protected me. So I killed it- the dog, I mean, and went back home.\" The memory of gore encased the back of their eyelids, painting each blink with horrid shades of red, and *Red*, and more shades of red. The discomfort faded faster than it normally did, held in the arms of the chair as they took deeper breaths. \"Oh, and Uriel I suppose.\" They gave a small, slightly shaky grin, before laughing. \n\n\"Gabe, I think you're incredibly skilled and a good person. Your ability to interact with people is admirable, as is your passion.\" Matti too raised their voice, to the more feminine side of androgyny, but it held none of the mocking Gabe's words had. They didn't lie. Especially not about something like this, especially not when Gabe's eyes had flashed something dark and strangling when he'd heard about the Gift. With another small smirk, they allowed amusement to briefly color their voice. \"As for your handiwork...\"\n\n.\n\nThey took the opportunity to look at themself in the mirror. Normally they avoided it. Mirrors were unsettling. Looking at themself even more so— like some creature had crawled into their skin and taken their place. Something looked better, now. More right. They weren't a woman, and they'd never be, but something in the balance of them shifted, if only to suit what they felt in the moment. \n\n\"It's nice. *Really* Nice. I appreciate it.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You... You killed a dog that tried to attack you?\" \n\nGabe blinked in surprise. Truthfully... He didn't believe the other had it in them, to actually fight and attack instead of cowering like a little bitch. Matti seemed to defy expectations, in a pleasant way— they were more capable than Gabe gave them credit for, even if their social inability made it hard to realize. \n\n\"Good. Good on you. You protected yourself, and that... Creature-thing. Don't feel guilty— you didn't have a choice, and it attacked you first. It's a dog-eat-dog world, after all. I'm proud of you for defending what you needed to protect.\" \n\n*Dog-eat-dog world.* It was a literal sentiment this time, but Gabe remembers being told that fact for the first time, his father gripping his tiny boy self by his shoulders, already drunk despite having come home from his second job barely shy of an hour ago. \n\n*It's a dog-eat-dog world, Gabe. Y—*Hic*— You gotta do what you gotta do to survive. The rest of the time you spend trying to cope with it.* He said, waving the bottle in his hand around, the sudden movement making Gabe's gaze dance around the interior of the small, cozy traditional New-Orleans style living room. \n\nIt was a moment of weakness unlike his usually-sober father, and his startled younger self could only nod at his father's words. \n\n*Dog-eat-dog world. It was ok, because they'd eat you, if they had the chance.*\n\nA small pat on the shoulder, heavy enough to jostle the smaller person but not enough to be painful.\n\n.\n\n\"You're going off script, Velma Dinkley. You're supposed to roll your eyes and call me a self-absorbed nincompoop in whatever formal language you types like using.\" Gabe gives the other a flick on the forehead, no actual malice behind his endearing insult. \n\nIt was... Nice, surprisingly so— Gabe allows himself to express the calmest smile, the true extent of the effect Matti's words had in his mood tucked into the deepest part of his brain. \n\nThe best— no, the worst— part was that Matti *Meant it,* The other's stubborn refusal to tell a lie meaning that every word that came from their mouth was truth. It was... Unsettling, deeply so. \n\n*Gabe, I think you're a good person.* Matti had said, and Gabe had to choke down a laugh. He wasn't— he'd made peace with that fact long ago, resolving to sacrifice whatever parts of himself hesitated or gave sympathy to those who stood in his way. It was a fact he lived with, albeit uncomfortably. \n\nIt was a dog-eat-dog world, after all. Someone had to kill the dog, didn't they?\n\n\"Also, please, do me a favor and...\" \n\nGabe unbuttons the top two buttons on Matti's shirt, exposing the neck and collarbone. \n\n\"There. You look like less of a square, now. The chicks'll— or men, or *Gods, apparently*— dig you.\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*Don't feel guilty. You didn't have a choice. It attacked you first. I'm proud of you for defending what you needed to protect.*\n\nIt should have been comforting to hear the words from Gabe. After all, they were similar to the ones they'd told themself, on that dark walk home through the woods, in the hours lit by bathroom lights and bile afterwards. *You did what you had to. It was you or it.* It *Should* Have felt comforting. Instead, it felt poisonous. Like a worm chewing through the cyanide heart of an apple. *That's not normal!* Buzzed in a discordant growl, bubbling up from their memory. Because they had protected themself. Protected the creature. But— *Their grip on the flashlight slipped from the slick slide of **Red**. They beat the body into the background, making it one with the landscape. Splitting it open*— it wasn't right. It wasn't. It was suddenly *Important* That Gabe knew— \n\n\"It wasn't good. It wasn't fast. I fucked it up. I fucked up. You probably know already, how I am sometimes.\" They moved their eyes away from their reflection in the mirror, and away from Gabe's gaze. \"With our first encounter and all. I *Ripped it apart*. Even after it was dead. The creature— the fucking eldritch creature— said *I* Needed help.\" \n\nThey tried to shake off the sudden grave turn they'd taken the conversation. Raising a hand to pick distractedly at the now-freed section of their collar. \"Anyway, uh.\" \n\nMattias rarely stumbled over their words— well. That wasn't correct. But they rarely used fillers, hating resorting to \"Um\"S and \"Uh\"S to give them time to stall. But in this moment, it was all they could say. Empty words that filled space but didn't make conversation. They fell silent. What had once been pretty and perfect, comforting, now filled with foreboding."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"How you are sometimes...?\"\n\nGabe thought to himself, eyebrows furrowing upon looking back at Matti's behavior. \n\n\"I mean, I guess, but it's in the past now. You can't change what you did, but adrenaline is a hell of a drug, man. You can't really fault yourself for acting erratic in a life-or-death scenario, you know?\" \n\nThe tone shift surprised Gabe. The other's anguish at sudden flood of bad memories made something... Overly familial stir within him, a desire to *Make the bad go away, no matter the cost.* \n\n*Anyway, uh...* \n\nMatti was hurting— what did he do when his sister was feeling down? Of course, the same thing he always did. A charming mask of bravado and confidence, one so bright it couldn't help but cheer up even the most troubled, hurt six year old... Or, well, a teenager, in this case. It was easy. He could *Do this.* \n\nAn easy-going smile grows on Gabe's features, and he slings a muscular, dark arm around the other's shoulder. \n\n\"Hey Matti, you know of something called 'boba tea?' It's pretty popular with the kids, apparently— m'sis talks 'bout it all the time, says it's a cool new drink from Asia or sumthin'. Heard there's a place that serves it in Isakstad, and nothing like a nice day to explore the city.\" \n\nWith the familiar task of cheering up a younger kid comes a familiar, natural accent — words are shortened, slang is thrown around. The deeper, Southern twang is less clipped and... Conventionally appealing than Gabriel's usual trans-atlantic accent. It's messy and imperfect, and *Normal.* \n\n\"Plus, maybe you'll make some more friends with the new get-up— although you already seem pretty popular, from what you've told me.\" \n\nA small bit of pride shone through those words, pride directed towards *Matti,* For once. Gabriel *Was* Proud of Matti, despite the setback of the dog attack. It was a lot for the former, stunted child, and they were handling it remarkably well considering the odd circumstances.\n\n.\n\n\"Oh, oh, and we have to take some photos, too! And post them in intra to show off the great time we're having. It'll make us seem all *Spontaneous* And *Fun*. Besides, what's dressing up with a friend without a bit of strutting, am I right?\"\n\nA playful wink, one that radiated *Don't take this— or me— too seriously, all right?*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti knew somewhat that this was a mask. That Gabe was slipping into one of his many different selves, switching out his skin while holding his soul close. But this one felt... Thinner. Closer, somehow, to reality. And even though it hummed with the slight feeling of *Hidingconcealingfindthetruth*, it was quiet. Background noise. And it was effective. They breathed, and let the image of gore stained forest clearings fade. Let themself get caught up in the distraction. \n\n\"I haven't tried it. But it sounds fun.\" A little part of them recoiled at the idea of galivanting around— they might have been fine sans glasses and hat in front of Gabe, but in front of *Other* People? The thought was enough to send rats running down their spine. But the rest of them looked forward to it. It would be, maybe, *Fun*. \n\n\"I've met three people, Gabe, that's hardly a party,\" They were confident enough to quip back. \"Though I suppose being your friend will kick that number up quite a bit in the future.\"\n\nFriend. *Friend*. They acknowledged it. Gabe was their *Friend*.\n\n\n\nThey were friends. Friends who protected each other. Friends who cheered each other up. \n\nThey let their relaxation show in their body language— calmed the stiffness in their shoulders and let a small smile loose onto their face. \"I can't exactly say I've been on an outing before. I'll trust the wisdom of your sister; let us taste the sanctity of 'boba tea'.\" At the end of their sentence, their voice rang faintly in a mockery of a monk or fantasy story. In less overt tones, they gave Gabe an inaudible message. *I trust **You.** Lead the way.*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Of course. Don't lag behind too much, yeah? Or I'll have to pick you up and run away.\" \n\nGabe laughs and opens the door, gesturing Matti through with a mock bow before the dorm is once again left empty, the prior sweet sound of laughter between friends making the silence even more jarring. \n\n—-"
}
] | 452 | 9,243 |
184.916667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel shuts their eyes, turning their phone off with a sigh. \n\nThey couldn't do much— they were a comforting presence, and they did not have the constitution or reflexes to help on the physical part. \n\nThey could do only one thing, but they could do it well. Within the theatre of their mind, hands travelled along interconnected strings, following them until they reached a familiar knot: *Fennel.* \n\n*Are you there?* They flick the string, the vibrations carrying their message as a whisper in Fennel's dream— if only to get a response from them, to see what kind of activity their mind was putting on. It could be nothing, or... It could be a twisted nightmare that corroded their sanity. \n\nNo one knew. No one except them, that is. \n\nUriel gently runs their fingers along the edges of Fennel's mind, attempting to get a gleam of their dream."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Uriel flicks the string, and it makes no sound. It barely vibrates - it simply snaps and crumbles to dust and ash. If the mind had scents, it would smell like burning plastic.\n\n...\n\nDay 4,294,967,295.\n\nFennel is sitting on a rock, observing the barren landscape. The monotony has stopped getting to them. Their life now is nothing more than a numbing haze, wandering an endless, desolate wasteland in which all life is artificial and light brings only destruction.\n\nThey're used to it.\n\nOne of the black ash-clouds snaps, like a string, and vanishes.\n\nFennel snaps a twig in response.\n\n...\n\nThe snapping sound reverberates back again and again, far longer than it should. Perhaps, somehow, Uriel got through after all."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "It wouldn't be safe to go in. But— Fennel had been kind to them, so kind, and a deep part of Uriel's heart wanted to prove they could do something for good. Their powers were more than horrors that haunted Ares and Amelie and Danica's mind— perhaps they could be a hero too. \n\nUriel sticks a hand in slowly, as if testing the water. Their imaginary heart beats in their incorporeal chest, and they dive into the dream."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel's mind is brittle. Uriel is taking a risk - if it collapses, it'll collapse on them - but it's still stable enough that it can survive Uriel's presence.\n\nThere's no sun in Fennel's 'dream'. There are no clouds. Light is produced by an explosion swallowing perhaps a fourth of the sky, and clouds of ash and smoke are the closest approximation to real clouds anyone will see anywhere else.\n\nThere's no life. The landscape is barren and rocky. Trees are plastic, animals don't really move. It's a poor facsimile of life, populating a poor facsimile of reality. It's all fake.\n\nExcept, of course, for Fennel and Uriel - though at first glance, Fennel might seem to be just as false and lifeless as everything else.\n\nThey don't even turn their head to look when Uriel arrives."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "There's silence save for the sound of rocks crunching underneath their heel. A spring of lavender falls to the ground, a sole beacon of life in this barren wasteland, and Uriel takes a silent seat next to Fennel. \n\n\"*What did it do to you*?\" They ask, and it's almost as difficult as speaking in the vacuum of space. Air itself barely feels real, the concept of particles moving in the sky too full of life for even this hell. \n\nAnd yet, the sentiment travels anyway. Here, they are their sun, the moon, the sky, and their words are commandments. This was their world, too.\n\nA follow up question falls from their lips. *Where are we?* They ask, and kick a pebble."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "*\"I don't know,\"* Fennel replies matter-of-factly, not even expending the effort to cast a gaze in Uriel's direction. Their voice is emotionless and flat - they seem not to care that they don't know what happened, or where they are.\n\n*\"I've been here for four billion, two hundred and ninety four million, nine hundred and sixty seven thousand and two hundred and ninety five days. You're the first thing here that's ever spoken to me. I don't think there's anyone around to name this place except us.\"*\n\nIn that sense, they do know where they are. It's all they've ever known. But the question, 'where are we'... It implies, perhaps, that there is somewhere else to be that is not here. And in that scheme of things, Fennel doesn't know.\n\n*\"You can, if you want.\"*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"*This place is you. It already has a name— Fennel.*\"\n\nUriel pauses, toying their words in their mind before sending them into the dream like paper cranes taking flight. \n\n\"*You saw something bad. Your mind formed this protective shell around itself, and you retreated into nothing to avoid everything.*\" It was shell-shock. A way to deal with trauma, perhaps the mind's way to deal with the horrors of passing out while in the spot. \n\nOr perhaps it wasn't— after all, Uriel had never seen anything quite like this. But they had done something similar long ago, when the horrors of everyday life made them retreat into the comfortable recesses of their mind. \n\nPerhaps Fennel was doing the same. \n\n\"*What happened to Amelie?*\" They ask carefully. Jogging Fennel's memory of the events of the waking world needed to be done, but it was dangerous— who knew how their dream would react upon recalling such horrid events. \n\nIgnorance is bliss, but it was a luxury neither of them could afford."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel couldn't refute it. After all, they don't remember much. Whatever their mind is protecting itself from, it's working well enough... If that was true, at least.\n\nStill, Fennel learned something - they were inside their own head. No wonder no one else was there.\n\nThey calmly turn their head to look at their new companion. Uriel is there, but ephemeral - unquestionably alive, but only half there, like they could dissolve into wisps of dream-stuff at any moment.\n\nUriel, for their part, gets their first good look at Fennel's face. It's blank, emotionless - totally unlike how they've ever seen Fennel before. And something about Fennel's deadpan response just makes it even worse:\n\n*\"Who's Amelie?\"*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"....Never mind.\" \n\nA full shut down of the outside world, then. A coma, not our of necessity, but for protection. A mental refusal to interact with reality. \n\n\"Do you remember how you first entered this place?\" \n\nUriel's boots (boots— they always seemed to wear their usual outfits in dreams. Their modesty extended to the subconscious, funnily enough) tapped on the ground once, and a plant began to sprout from the ground. A single spring of fennel grew before their very eyes, as if fast-forwarded by a television remote. Time was meaningless in the land of dreams, and so, the sprout began to grow. \n\n\"Time still flows in the outside world, despite the reprieve of reality this place seems to offer.\" Their voice echoes, and they turn to face Fennel. \"Would you like to get out of here?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The truth is, Fennel is only partly shut down as a defense mechanism. Their mind was damaged, not beyond repair entirely, but still severely - the outside world a figment of their imagination and their memories of it practically absent.\n\n*\"I've been here as long as I can remember,\"* Fennel replied. They stepped forward to observe the sprouting fennel. It was alive. They pulled it out of the rock effortlessly, as though it were little more than air, and bit into the bulb. It tasted... They didn't have the words to describe it, but they did like it.\n\nFennel mulled over Uriel's offer for a moment. *\"If there's something out there apart from this...\"* They nod. *\"I think I'd like that.\"*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel nods solemnly, their cold pale hand taking Fennel's wrist and holding it up to their chest. \n\n\"*You have to find that resolve in yourself. I can only guide you, but you have to be the one to take the leap and wake up.*\" Their fingers drum against the inner side of Fennel's wrist, and the landscape around them begins to shift. \n\nThe decrepit, withered emptiness began to fall away from the interior of Fennel's mind. Features of the landscape began to fall away and were swapped out like props in a play, with new features taking their place— cold concrete walls and a familiar hallway. \n\nIn the middle of the floor were two dolls, collapsed on top of each other. One bearing a striking resemblance to Fennel, the other Amelie. \n\nThe dolls eyes were empty, black buttons. Their skin was made of yarn, and they lacked the hands or feet to do anything besides slump on the ground, in the pile of injuries and Amelie and bone. \n\n*Remember. Remember. Remember.* \n\nIt's echoing, but no longer from Uriel— the landscape itself is talking to Fennel, speaking with Uriel's same accented voice but coming from everywhere simultaneously. They were the landscape, and the landscape was them, and the landscape was giving Fennel a command: \n\n**Wake up.**"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Uriel bent Fennel's mindscape drastically and suddenly, and Fennel could only watch - and perhaps feel a slight headache - as the world around them twisted and vanished into a scene they didn't recognize, and Uriel's voice spoke to them. In the dream itself, the conscious - if it can be called conscious - part of Fennel felt little, but the rest of Fennel's mind was creaking under the strain, having been bent out of shape by an outside force into something it no longer recognized as itself.\n\nThe landscape held, Uriel intertwined with it, until it could not hold any longer - and broke, exploding with the light of a thousand suns and expelling Uriel's influence on Fennel's mind entirely.\n\nWhether Fennel would 'wake up' or not...\n\nFennel wasn't sure. They'd have to sit on that rock a few more days and think about it."
}
] | 185.5 | 2,219 |
421.653846 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "The smell of petrichor assaults the senses.\nThen again, everything is assaulting the senses.\nA deafening silence of the night with only the light buzz of the streetlights above her to overwhelm her already throbbing head. The screams of pain and regret emanating from her wrist. At least the sprinkling of rain felt cool. Helped with the burning that felt across her body.\nAnja is sitting at the corner of an intersection. Told to stay put by her... What do you even call this anymore? Co-dependency?\n*She would hate it if you thought of yourself like that.*\nCrush. She guesses.\n\nShe doesn't want to be here.\n\n\n'Making sure of something.' Of all the nights to be cryptic. It would be funny if it wasn't frustrating right now.\nShe turns her head side to side every now and then, looking for the same silhouette that would make her heart skip when it showed up right in her room.\nAnja just wants to splint this wrist and go lay back down. She doesn't care if she doesn't get sleep. She just wants to lay down.\n\nThe feeling of the sidewalk would be nice. Laying there with the rain drops slowly, one by one, hit her.\nSomething about that seemed comforting right now.\n\nLike it was spoken to her, Amelie's words echoed in her head again.\nShe snaps out of her stupor, shakes her head lightly, and stands up, holding her wrist close by. \nContinuing to stare out to the darkness. Looking for the same silhouette as always.\nFunny, that.\n\"Where are you...\" A light muttering to herself. \"Please just be safe.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "One step, two steps, three steps, five- she can't feel a thing. Every step she takes is marked by an evil looking red that she refuses to stare at for a second time. She'd left, She knew Anja had left. She knows those steps. It'd a habit to know how one talks, she swears it is. She breathes and it hurts, her ribs shutter and she coughs. \n\nNot that the air helps, it's humid, it's awful. It's about to rain and all she is hoping that the rain leaves no evidence behind of where she has been. There's air in her mouth, swimming between her teeth as she can feel the thin fibers of her face trying to grasp at eachother. She feels like a poorly made plush, holding together by her own bare bones. \n\nShe feels the broken fibers of her legs and arms pushing together at odd angles. (Just like not quite right puzzle pieces.) Holes in her body large enough to fit curious fingers, large enough to stick the papers she's written her woes into, large enough to coat them her her agony and wash the words away with her own blood. \n\nThe trees around her give way. Funny how she thought she was moving at a rather sluggish pace, she didn't know she could move so fast when she felt like the puppeteers strings that were just about cut. The air isn't crisp as she would expect, it smells like gasoline and cigarette dreams. There's a hole in her nose, her cheek is falling and tapping against her throat and she can feel the air against the top of her mouth like the sea of sorrow in her brain. \n\nShe stares at the location on her phone and at which it tells her she has arrived, she meanders into the spot where she's supposed to be which a groan. Sounding like wet twigs being bend and twisted every step she takes, she leans more onto her cane she surprisingly still remembered to take. She didn't want to lean against trees when her clothes were torn, but her jacket was fine.\n\nThere was blood turning her reflection back at her in a mockery and her jacket was fine. \n\nShe heaves a breath, her head hung low. She feels drool try to exit from the gash in her face and broken fingers shaking to try and wipe it away. She succeeds with a hiss clenched through sharp, jagged, and stained teeth. She looks like a growling feral thing, snapping at the mere look of herself. She dosent want to be any longer, but push a mortal into the mold of an angry thing of your best nightmares and they just may become it. She became her own reflection.\n\nShe sees a pair of shoes beside her, her throat stings, she can't say a thing."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "5 minutes. 7 minutes. 8. 9.\nShe is checking her phone every few seconds now. It's been too long since she last messaged.\nShould she bother messaging again? Or is this another part of her \"Test?\"\n\n10. 11. 12.\nShe's gone back to sitting down.\nThe shadows are getting to Anja now. She thinks every little shift is Amelie's judgement waiting to walk out and disapprove of her now. It would be fitting. Now, when she's so haggard and so unpleasant to be around now. This would be the best time for her to finally push her away. She wouldn't blame her. She never could.\nNot when she'd be in the right to.\n\nHer mind floods with hate again, and she starts picking at the scrapes on the knuckles of her fists. Peeling away the now broken layers of skin, trying to mold her hands into what they were before her damn meltdown.\nPathetic girl.\nShe picks the flayed pieces away, wondering what she could've done better.\nAlways the inquisitive one.\nInquisitive.\nThat's what she would call her. Not nosy. Not annoying. Stubborn, but never in a way that seemed upset. She never understood. Why was she not upset with her stubbornness? Why did she adore her? What did she even mean by adore?\nIt didn't matter.\nShe was on her way to tell her it was all over. Everything she ruined has come to face her now.\nFitting.\n\n 17. 18. 19.\nA shuffling makes its presence around her.\nShe stands up, trying to locate its origin.\nThat familiar silhouette. Shambling now.\nShe must've walked forever.\n\nHer head is held low, but Anja's stays high, watching her come closer.\nEyes contract. Fear settles in.\nBut not for what she was expecting.\nShe was haggard. She was dying. Again.\nBut still she stood.\nAnja finally feels her breath catch to gasp.\n\n\nHer mind is racing, watching her shuffle to her like this.\nShe shouldn't be moving. God.\n*Is that her cheek?*\nFear begins to kick in. Adrenaline makes her talk.\n\"*What happened,* Amelie? What am I supposed to see from this?\" Her native tongue fades from her. It still peeks its head out is soft swears and prayers to no one.\n\"I need to call... Ambulance.\"\nFirst. Ambulance.\nShe grabs at her phone, shakily dialing 112.\n\nWhat was this supposed to mean? What was this supposed to prove?\nFuck. No time for this line of thinking. She needs to focus.\n\nShe shuffles in her pockets to find *It.*\nBetween the heavy breathing of panic and exhaustion. A click rings through the air. A glint of stainless-steel shines in the streetlight above them.\nShe takes off her overshirt.\nHer intentions are clear. She's going to get do what ever she can to patch up this woman before she does call."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Every word was like a melting petal to an uncaring gardener, unforseen. Uncared for. She stares at Anja, her eye red and freshly raw looking from tears she forgot she shed at all. She was breathing the air was coming out though the open gash in the side of her face than where it was actually supposed to leave.\n\nIt sounded like a gasping whistle, the tearing of Anja's shirt making her wince. Without warning to herself, without signal she'd reached over and begun to take the ripped shirt from Anja. Her fingers were sinewy and broken, some beginning to repiece themselves together into something workable. Each digit curling into Anja's own fingers, bloodstained and slick but Anja's fingers were shaking and loose. They could not hold onto the fabric so tightly. \n\nIt's funny how cold Anja's hands felt at that moment when she's usually so warm. She pushed the shirt away and then looked at herself, she grabbed her shirt which was slashed and littered with holes and tore it open. Ripping the fabric in two and facing Anja again. Amelie's chest was bare, except for the few bandages that exist to cover older wounds. There was a deep cut below her left breast and holes from bullets aplenty. Her torso was soaked in red, her jacket covering what was necessary. \n\nShe took Anja's hands into her own and started wrapping what she could with the fabric she had, it wasn't the best with it's state but it was better than nothing. She looked at the blood and the angry red that blistered her hands and only felt guilty for what she had done. Every motion was shaking but careful. Her face was tattered but there was the threat of the garbled noise in the back of her throat trying to voice how horrid she felt. \n\nThere was no bones there was only how cold she felt.\n\nAfter trying her best to fix Anja's hand she had interwoven their fingers and stood there with her at the intersection. The necklace of hers just dangling above a thin cut, it was stained. \n\nShe narrowed her eye as there was a persky light that seemed to want to burn into her eye so she just, looked at the ground again. She spat something onto the floor and crushed it beneath her heel and said nothing."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "The ripping of fabric breaks through the girls' exhausted minds.\nShe almost has it fashioned into *Something* She just needs to-\nHer hands are still shaking.\nThey just won't stop.\n\nAnja flinches as she sees Amelie's hands rise towards hers.\nA shudder comes from her as that same freezing grasp meets her burning skin. The feeling of the bones setting back into something resembling hands felt sickening. This was normal for her? How does she keep going?\nThere was no resistance. Like her hands gave up on the idea of helping her before her own mind could.\n\"Why?\" Was all that was weakly vocalized. Her voice was disappearing from her stint in the forest.\nLike it would be here even if she didn't make a fool of herself, screaming out like that.\n\nShe gives up on trying to press for answers. She did not have to voice to ask them, and Amelie did not want to answer them.\nHer gaze meets her shoes.\nOnce again. A woman who needs more help than her is the one taking care of her.\nShe feels useless. \nLike she was supposed to be something anyways.\n\nAnother rip of fabric makes her look back up.\nA wave of confusion.\nWhat is she trying to prove? *Is there anything?* What was she missing?\nTattered fabric meets her still bloody knuckles, tears start to run down her cheeks.\n\nThe second time their hands meet, her heart skips.\nShe doesn't want this right now. She needs to focus on getting her somewhere safe.\nShe wants to hold her. Comfort her in some way that felt the same whenever Amelie did for her.\nShe doesn't care about consequences anymore tonight.\nAnja's knees can't hold her up anymore, and she starts to drop to them.\nShe shakes her head, trying to convey that Amelie did not need to apologize to her. She didn't need to feel guilty. This wasn't her fault. \nIt wasn't hers.\n\nWhy can't she prove that she did not need to apologize to her? Why was this her fate?\nShe didn't want Amelie to hate herself because of her. She couldn't stomach it.\nGripping tight to the hands that are locked with hers, Anja silently sobs."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Silence wrung the air dry of everything in an instant, the moisture, the noise. Her arms jerked downward and the sickening slick pop of a joint sliding and squelching jolted her ears. She didn't even know they'd dislocated them, broke them. She had just needed to move and leave. \n\nShe'd heard Anja weep before, in that purgatory prison. Just seconds away from being swept into that hell unending she'd watched tears fall from Anja. Colors flooded in too quickly in that moment, within a second her memories were reflected into a fun house mirror. It was a hollowing experience even if the most she felt was... Guilt. \n\nShe'd brought this filth, she'd brought this pain alone. Yet... Amelie found herself lowering to Anja's level and even if she could not take her hands away from the hold the girl before her had upon them, she found her now forced back fingers inching to her face. \n\nHer bloody fingertips brushing away tears from her face and smearing her blood on her in the process. The tears formed rivers on the red of her fingers, slowly moving down to drop to the ground from her wrists. She continued to try and wipe it away but Amelie got tired and her hands and Anja's had settled somewhere in the air, still. \n\nIn the sleeves of her jacket you can see her arms which were once bend at odd and awful angles slowly smooth into something more human, less monstrous. \n\nShe tried pursing her lips and found they were marred and almost shredded, but they were also raw and the feeling of lines of wires of red and white and *Blood*. She's supposed to be used to it, still hurts. \nAmelie points a red finger at Anja's head, tapping it and then points to her throat and makes a talking motion with her pointer and thumb before shaking her head. Trying to say that she cannot speak currently. \n\nShe couldn't leave Anja here, so she had a split second decision.\n\nShe hoisted Anja up by their hands and started fragging Anja along, across the empty road and onto a sidewalk. It was beginning to sprinkle slightly and her leg was making a noise unlike how it would normally, she still had her cane. She still had it. \n\nShe made a motion with her head that they were going to head towards a direction. She wandered enough to know every direction which the hospital would be. She just hoped Anja wouldn't get sick while they got there."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja feels the sickening pop of Amelie's shoulder travel down her arm. Did- did she just do that? All this trust from her, and she dislocates the woman's shoulder. She shouldn't be respected. Shouldn't be adored.\nA silent \"I'm sorry.\" Is mouthed out to the other woman, and the tears continue to flow.\n \nAmelie kneels to Anja's miserable level. She wishes she didn't perceive her. That she was never seen of anymore. She lightly turns her head further down, as if she was trying to focus on the ground.\nShe sees that other hand raise towards her face. Instinctively, she tenses, her own body steeling herself for a strike.\nBut... Why?\nWhy did she expect such a thing from her?\nShe flinches when the opposite happens, the cold of her hands still gets to her own nerves.\nAnd yet, she still lets Amelie treat her, despite her own mind telling her she deserves the opposite.\n \nHer head still hangs low. She truly doesn't deserve this comfort.\n \nThe tapping atop her head finally makes her look up. Eyes lightly tinged red from their tears, finally meet the other's exhausted gaze in a blurry state. They then follow the gestures closely. She nods, making the lift easier by complying.\n \nShe eases her hands as she is dragged along, letting go with one of them to wipe the remainder of her tears.\nHer face is flushed with embarrassment, disappointment in herself for being in this state. She can barely follow with her head held up. It feels like its weighted down by her own failure.\nBut even her own mind can't help but look up at the woman leading her to where only she would know.\nShe blindly follows along, doubting herself each step of the way as she's dragged underneath the light drops of rain."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie tugs Anja towards her, just enough where the latter is next to the former. The shirt in her hand gets put into her mouth. Amelie's *Now* Free hand is on her own chest, she can feel the coagulated slick of her own blood. It feels like slime to her, she supposes that's just normal now. Her hand slides over open flesh and bullet holes and a noise garbles from her throat like boiling water. \n\nIn a second she's pulling her jacket together, staining it's leather with more red like it's paint. She stops and presses against a wall to steady herself without her cane for a moment. Then she realizes she cannot do anything about it and lets it go quickly and pulls the shirt from her mouth with something akin to frustration and defeat. She walks a little quicker now that she feels exposed, her fingers just now finding her cheek that had been hanging limp from her face and pushes it upward back into the place where it's mostly supposed to be. When she feels strings of muscle come to take hold and she can not just imagine the presence of flesh, her hand falls and it swings for a moment before it goes still. \n\nShe pushes off the wall and she's back to walking quickly, the rhythmic taps of her cane almost in tune with the rain's slight pattering against the concrete.\n\nShe feels like her ears are bleeding, there's an insistent ringing that comes in and out like the tide and it's so annoying. Everything still feels so damn cold. Then she realizes again that Anja is with her, she is not alone and so she finds herself looking at her and her tear stained face. \n\nAmelie's hand flies up and she makes motions with her hand, trying to communicate through ASL if Anja knew. \n\"*Please, stay with me.*\"\n\nAnja probably didn't hear and Amelie felt her lips purse. She looked at the sidewalk in front of her and continued to walk as the rain got a slight bit heavier on her shoulders."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "If the sharp tug from the girl did not jolt Anja back into the present, her sudden shifting of weight towards the wall made her fully realize the situation that she had left herself to ignore the present, and wallow in her pit of misery.\nShe left Amelie to try and care of both women.\nShe tries to say something but ends up coughing. Her own voice has been exhausted by her previous usage.\nShe follows, matching Amelie's now brisk pace.\n\nAnja has come back from her own self-hatred, aware of the situation, and begins to think. \nHer gaze is no longer fixed on the ground below her, but the now mending flesh and the face of the woman guiding her.\nShe's taking them somewhere, but she can't say where. Not because of trust, but for a physical reason. Obviously. It's not back to the facility, that was two turns in a different direction. This is where she needed to trust her.\n\nThe rain starts to fall harder.\nShe shouldn't've ripped her shirt.\nIt's fine. Just keep following Amelie.\nTrust her.\nShe wipes the rest of the falling tears.\n\nThey stop, suddenly.\nAnja is now *Presently aware* Of Amelie's situation. She very quickly looks back up to her face.\n\nShe's... Signing.\nWith the speed of her movements, she's fluent. But unfortunately, it's just not the language Anja has learned.\nShe tries to understand the mimed actions in the signs Amelie uses.\n*\"Please, with me.\"* Is all she can piece together. Perhaps that's all she needed to understand.\nAnja holds them both in place before they both start moving again.\n\nAnja can feel her own throat closing in on herself. Trying to stop her from talking anymore. From further using what has been spent.\nA deep breath, her eyes shut as she inhales.\nShe opens them again, fixed on the face of the woman guiding her again.\n\"Always, Amelie.\" It's hoarse, a whisper, meant for only them.\nAnja only hopes she can hear her underneath the buzzing of the streetlight above them.\nLetting go of her hand for just a moment, she reaches out to her open jacket. She fastens the two ends together and zips the jacket up for her.\nShe finds her hand again to interlink them again. Anja nods.\n\nAfter her."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Liability. Amelie thinks, she is something... Foreign to the mind. Herself, her actions, her mind, invasive to all that she is. What is she? Why does she hate it so? She looks down to Anja zipping up her jacket and she wants to sob and wail like she's in her eldest sisters arms again. \n\nBut, she was the one who held her sister. She's fine. \nIt is just a rather stressful situation, there's nothing bespoken of guilt over something so small. \nShe's covered in blood and feeling like she's just awful. \n\nShe has looked at her own reflection and pulled skin from muscle with *Ease*. Would it be any different from her face if she pulled the skin from her torso through the newly made bullet holes. She can feel them slowly try to sew themselves shut, no, she cannot. It's not like those moments of raw silence as the reverberation of haggard breathing breaks like the tide against the mirror that reflects her. Skin from bone, bone from flesh. She felt her fingers move under veins.\n\n'Al *Amelie*'\nShe covers her mouth and coughs, the sudden air released through the still healing holes in her face making her gag a little. She wheezes a breath as she doubles over just a bit, facing away from Anja. She finds herself looking at Anja with a disjointed feeling of fear. She quickly stood up and nodded at Anja. She felt like shit, trying to fix a situation that was already beyond her but she'll try anyway. Amelie felt the right corner of her mouth twitch upwards for a fraction of a second and she squeezed Anja's hand slightly, just to let the woman in question know that she's still here. \n\n\n\nThey're getting somewhat closer in the small amount of time, she can see the vague corners of the hospital.\n\nShe wants to hold Anja's hand tighter for her own sanity, it's cold. She can do so. But, she is afraid, and she will always be so. She's afraid to hurt anybody, even the ones she knows can protect themselves. \n\nShe speeds up in her walk, the sooner she gets to the hospital then the faster she can leave. She thinks she needs to leave, Anja has never needed this."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja needed this.\n\nThe ice-cold skin against her wrist aided with some of the ache, even as it was pulled by the woman going way too fast for her own limits.\nThe coughing fit was... Worrying. It doesn't help that she keeps worrying. It feels like her worrying had only caused Amelie more stress than safety.\nWas the idea of zipping her jacket the right idea? Why did she just... Reach back for her hand? This really wasn't the time for doing things without thinking. What is she going to do if she asks about her outreach again? This was going to spiral into a worse scenario.\nA squeeze against her hand makes her look down at their connection, breaking her thoughts.\nTheir interlocked fingers felt right.\nShe exhales, realizing her breath was held.\n\nShe'll find time to pace and regret this later.\nJust enjoy the moment, Leta.\n\n\nWincing slightly at the tug on the recently settled wrist, she speeds up again, trying to match her pace.\nShe hasn't had to run this long for a while. The aching in her legs reminded her of hiking, climbing for hours just to find a nice place to sit and think. She should do that again.\nA familiar color of brick meets her eyes. A sigh of relief. \nThey're heading towards the hospital. Another release of the unending weight of worry. They can get treatment for Amelie's wounds.\nMatching Amelie's dash seems easier right now.\nShe looks at her in the bright lights, watching her face, trying to read her again.\n\nShe only wondered what the start of this sudden meeting was for."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "There was a shriek in the forest she still could not believe that her one ear still worked that well. She had gotten up instantly, despite feeling like the fires of hell opened it's gates behind her in welcome. She still had to leave, even if she wanted those fires to curl around her. She didn't know her options too well and didn't have enough time to study the afterlife so vigorously. She knows what it looks like, she was afraid that another that didn't need to meet it so was just about half a step there. \n\nShe took the nearest person she trusted because she couldn't trust her step and mind made of fetid voices. It was Anja, the one who stopped for her and when she saw where she was and those bloody knuckles; it was Anja who had been hurt. Her thin woven fingers slid like a lost hiker over the tattered cloth on Anja's knuckles, she feels the divots in skin like displaced dirt on the floor of a clean house. \n\nShe wondered why Anja had did so but she wasn't the person to question the actions of others, lest she be questioned herself. \nShe loathed being looked at as if her actions needed a deep meaning to be counted as something good. She did everything good without reason, she did. \n\nHer fingers let go, there's no pressure. Just Anja holding on at this point. \n\nThey're at the hospital doors, she stops before they open at her presence and looks to Anja. She makes a motion with a tilt of her head for Anja to go inside."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "A fear holds heavy on her heart. A fear that wishes to snap out, hurt something instead of continuing to gnaw at the ribcage around it. A fear that wants to ruin everything just for the answer that never would be told.\n\nAnd that would be a fate worse than death for Anja.\n\nShe hates her constant need to lie to her. She knew it was never *Truly* A need. Amelie was never in danger knowing anything about Anja. Almost like wishing for her own isolation, she put this fate on herself.\nEven if she was the one to question others, even if Anja *Could* Speak to her, tell her why she brought herself into that forest, screamed until her voice gave, willingly tracked mud into the house. Her throat would just give out on her. Close in on itself before she could say anything to her. For to tell Amelie her intentions would lead to more questions. And to those more questions would be the one she dreaded confronting the most. The one that weighed across her mind night and day.\n\nThey've stopped again.\nShe looks down, to the one-sided hold.\nShe looks up to the jutting head.\n\nShe knows what this means. There is no need to translate. No need to parse anything. She frowns, shaking her head no.\nShe's not going in there alone. There's no point for her to go in there on her own, anyways."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "The thought of dying behind her own hand-picked burgundy curtains... It shadows her mind often. To haunt the souls that looked at her insignificant. To rot in the place where she found the souls that loved her *More than life*. Yet she was left behind, scratching fine slashes in her signatures that mirror the eternal scowl on her face. A thin angry slit that cut through the cold poise that showed her obsolete heart. \n\nThere was a tempest in her gaze that caused even the most attuned people to the storms shun her in fear. There was a telltale sign of frost snaking up the shell of Amelie's ear as Anja held firm. \n\nShe thinks differently, Amelie chides herself. \n*Anja is softer than first glances procure.*\n\nOnce every month or less she wishes she didn't have to entertain the friendships she had gotten here. She doesn't speak to her roommate, even when she promised to herself when June left that she would this time. She doesn't like them, she knows the look in their eye. \n\n*Do they think about leaving her corpse behind as often as she does?*\n\nAmelie makes a noise in her throat that sounds like a growl for a moment before taking Anja through the doors of the hospital. Sanitized air meets the raw hole in her face and she cringes. She ignores the woman at the front desk to immediately go to the emergency rooms. \n\nA doctor notices her immediately recognizing that worn leather jacket, she can hear them sigh. \nAmelie looks at the doctor with a raised brow before looking at Anja with interest to her thoughts."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Unfortunate for Amelie, Anja was one to peek behind the curtains. She would've never been satisfied with the illusion of a backdrop, of the curtain call being the ending. The stubborn girl would rather lose all the imagination in the world before giving up her need for answers.\nShe continues to stare at Amelie, even with the anger behind her natural scowl. She doesn't let her leave her eyes now.\nIf she wants to leave. She's not going to be leaving her here. Anja will stay here with her. Or will leave this hospital alone.\nThis night has been nothing but exhausting, trying to understand what happened, what was going to happen. \nShe just wanted to untense her shoulders.\n\nThe buzz of the hospital is enough to keep her up, despite the weight of her eyelids demands. She continues to follow Amelie, a more natural, casual frown crossing her face.\nPerhaps not as much as her guide, but Anja hated hospitals.\nThe harsh lighting. The quiet yet loud ambience. The waiting.\nNeither woman have a reason to be here. Was it spite that made them enter?\n\nShe didn't want to talk about the fever that was going to appear on her eventual checkup.\n\nAlmost like second nature for the other girl, they march their way to the emergency rooms. Hearing the loud sigh makes her shoot a look at the doctor, if looks could be weapons, she would've made a message in this hallway. \nShe grimaces in response to Amelie's quizzical look. The idea of someone being 'tired' of treating someone made a pit in her stomach.\nThey treated her like she was just a hypochondriac. *Ridiculous.*"
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie looked away from Anja and scoffed at the doctor, she quickly moved past them and into an empty operation room. She found a table to equipment and took a scalpel and some surgical tweezers. \n\nShe quickly exited the room and bolted to an empty post-operation room. She closed the door and slid down against it. She let's go of Anja's hand, taking her hand from the hold and unwraps the haphazard shirt wraps. (Not that they were of any use, they were bloody anyway.) She puts the scalpel and tweezer in her lap as she fumbles in her pockets for the bandages she always has. \n\nShe takes them out, slowly wraps Anja's hand in them. She wraps her wrist as well as she heard Anja's hissing of pain when she sped up quite the few times. She takes the other hand and repeats the process as carefully as she can with her thin and shaking hands. \n\nShe examines her hands for a moment, making sure they're good enough with a swipe of her thumb over the knuckles lightly. She seems them alright then moves to the bathroom, she takes the surgical instruments with her. She sits down on the toilet and opens her jacket, the cold sterilized air making her shiver. She takes the scalpel and tweezers, she makes an incision on her torso. The blood from the cut sliding down her stomach as she forces the tweezers into the cut. She hisses and bites her bottom lip as she moves the tweezers around and deeper until the touch a foreign object. She takes a moment to breathe and the instrument clasps around it and pulls it out quickly. \n\nShe coughs and wheezes for a moment, a bullet casing shining in red greets her. She almost wants to vomit, not that anything would come up. There's red painting her torso now, moreso than there was. It slips onto the floor like a water fall, the white now a eye-catching crimson. \n\nShe bends forward, her head on her knees.\n\nThe bullet clacks to the floor. There's white at the edges of her vision as she listens to the light of the bathroom make a subtle noise. \n\nThere should be an easier way to do this herself, she muses. It makes her sick that she even has to do this at all. Why couldn't she go back to the childish guilt of entering her friends home with a black eye in hopes to get into her bed to lay there comfortably. She misses those calm moments, she wasted them indefinitely."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja makes a sharp inhale as they push into the operation room. If there was no confirmation about her hand, there was now. She swears in a non-existent voice.\nThere went that arguing point.\n\nFurther and further of operation rooms, they make a stop.\nShe crouches down to the level of the other woman, letting her remove old coverings, wrap, and bind her damages.\nA sharp exhale is let out, not on purpose. Just, she is surprised of the worthiness for her treatment still.\nShe looks up to Amelie, watching her focus on her hands. She would rather watch her before looking at her work. She would just put herself into another cycle of hate.\n\nAlmost with a blink, Amelie has up and left to the bathroom, surgical tools in hand. She makes a noise to protest, but it falls on wooden doors.\nIt wasn't something Anja should see.\nShe just hoped she came back out soon. If there was anything Anja hated about hospitals, it was being alone in one.\n\nThe ambient hum in the hospital makes her fidget. She looks to the bathroom door more than she likes. She lightly picks at the bandaging. Trying to think of something to do to wait.\nHow long is too long? Hospitals don't often have windows in their bathroom, right? She wouldn't do such a thing.\nCoughing comes from behind the door.\nShe sighs.\n\nIt has been too long, and she's getting ready to tear at the edges of the bandages.\nShe stands up, looking to the bathroom door.\nShe knocks. Not sure what type of answer she'd be expecting."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Bullets fit for a tyrant scatter beneath her. She certainly feels like a tyrant, is she a fool? Is she a menace to life itself. Those are what she has been thinking about over and over like a broken tape. \nIt is not like she has been helped with such a matter. The things she has pulled out of her chest only cements it so. \n\nShe can feel the strings of her neck forming together, how it thrums in her ears like a heartbeat. Her skirt is now soaked in blood that she'll never be able to get out. She takes to and pulls it off, she reaches around the bathroom for something to wear and finds a hospital gown. She's worn them too much for her liking but beggars cannot be choosers, especially when it isn't their fault. \n\nShe puts it on after taking off her jacket and immediately shivers, she quickly puts her jacket back on. She feels ashamed without it. That isn't quite normal is it. She feels like something in the eyes of a god, something scorned something hated. But, she has no right to that feeling. \n\nThat hatred festers, she can now see her legs. How bone protrudes out of them even after some years of that event happening. She hates it, she hates how she sees herself and how she is seen. But she cannot change that. She won't. \n\nA knock comes to break her out of her stupor. \nAnja. \nShe steps over the pool of metal and red and opens the door. She puts a hand to Anja's shoulder to push her back gently and steps through to close the door after. She raises her hand to sign, she has her cane in the other. \n'*Unless you want to see bullets, blood, and bone. I advise not going in there.*'\n\nShe threw away the shirt into a bin that was conveniently in that bathroom. She moves past Anja and to the door to the halls. \n'*Also...*'\nA pause. \n'*If you do not wish to answer to that doctor, I suggest we leave.*'"
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja holds her breath as the door opens.\n...This was not something she should look deeply into. A curtain to be left closed, for both the girls sake. Curiosity was not to take over the mind. This was something Amelie wished to be left to only her own burden, and Anja would not intrude into these depths.\nShe gives her the space to maneuver to the door without pushing past.\nShe nods grimly, not sure what Amelie was signing, but the look in her face told her enough. It was time to go.\n\nThey both step out to the hall, Anja heeled right behind Amelie. The hospital was still unfamiliar to her. A maze of beige walls and white tiles. She wished she never became familiar with it.\n\nThe girl looks off to the side, lost in thought. She wish she understood why she was even considered worthy of this... Attention.\nAmelie has intent on having limited time to, well, deal with others.\nSo why her?\nWhat was Anja worth?\nEver since the moment Amelie mentioned that despite her social pleasantries, she still felt socially isolated, Anja has had a fear bite into her heart.\nA fear that she is only the same.\nPerhaps she isn't? Perhaps this might be a part of this grand test?\n\nShe has to stop focusing on herself.\nIf only she could ask her something. Anything about her. Something to show that she wasn't wanting to leave her to deal with her night on her own. Something to show she didn't have to do so. She exhales a raspy breath. Her voice still feels lost. Perhaps not even physically right now.\nNeither of them can speak in a shared language right now. Both stuck voiceless by their nights events.\nShe shakes her head.\nExhaustion is starting to close its grasp around her, and yet she keeps walking\nAll she can do is keep walking.\n*Atleast out of this damn hospital.*"
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "They set off, Amelie taking her cold hand and settling it back into Anja's own.\n\nThe halls pass them by, their sleek white making her nauseous as she passes it by. She feels more safe when covered in blood than in the halls of a hospital, that's demented. She dosent feel human, despite Pernilla saying she is. She has never felt human from the second she was born. \n\nShe feels her lips purse, she always consistently felt like an omen of ill.\n\nShe passed the doctor, she can feel the glare in the back of her head. She feels bad for that doctor, how she has may brought harm onto them. Hurt them. She feels a cough climb the walls of her throat. She wheezes as it tears from her throat, she covers it with her hand. She knows she didn't do a good job of getting anything out, she's still just a teenager. She can feel the blood coating her hand. \nShe can't feel the air, she feels frictonless from reality for a moment. Her hold on Anja's hand turns bruising for a moment. \n\nShe almost hits a wall, she stops from doing so with her arm and continues on. She dosent know why she wishes to go so fast, she hates the hospital.\n\nAll she gets is a headache that feels like it's trying to split her head into some kind of bone-made flower. The feeling of her eye being torn slowly from her body, she remembers screaming and still trying to scream even when her throat no longer spoke. Tearing at anybody who got close. The head the feeling of muscle twisting and ripping from being strained too far. \n\nShe keeps her head to the floor, lest she vomit at the sight of the hospital lights. Not that there would be anything to heave. \n\nShe feels the cold air and she dosent even breathe. She keeps her mouth shut because she feels like if she opens it she's going to lose all structure she has right now. She hates hospitals, she hates the feeling of being operated on. She hates feeling like being stuck between the clouds and the depths of the ocean. It's sickening. \n\nShe dosent make sure Anja is with her, she knows her hands are shaking just a bit. She needs to reign herself in she needs to be better. She needs to take her medication and lay awake in bed and beg for death when it takes her to make it painless. \n\nShe also really needs to say sorry, to Anja mainly. Perhaps others. She shudders and finally breathes. She tries to keep herself steady but her vision feels like warbled lines, shattered by glass that maybe was from a glass or a window. \n\nDid she break something. She broke a lot of things. She feels like she's being rubberbanded between the hospital and her old home. Her vision is flashing into angles that shouldn't be possible; images that slide together seamlessly by don't and clash together in bulbous noises of nails on glass and voices twisted with anger. \n\nShe needs to leave this place, she needs to leave. She feels her step falter and she's leaning against something. Her vision lurching like tree limbs in a windy storm. \n\nThis happens too much for Amelie's comfort. It's getting annoying.\n\nShe closes her eyes and waits for a moment, begging that whatever she is leaning against just stay still for another moment. Just until she can piece herself back together for a moment."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Interrupting Anja's unasked questions that haunted her mind, Amelie's hand meets hers once again. She hopes these interruptions happen again, at a more favorable time.\n\nInterlocked fingers meet again in a hurried state. Both of these girls need out of this hospital before it becomes the end of them.\n\nShe looks towards Amelie, seeing her sight match a familiar doctor.\nShe scowls, hate piling further from the look they give her. As they rush past, Anja's free hand tenses.\nThe doctor begins to sweat, vision blurring. The lights feel like they became brighter and brighter. Perhaps they've not been keeping track of their intake of water this shift? They sit press their hand against the wall, trying to hold themself up.\nSomeone should check the thermostat in here. It feels like their burning up.\n\nPerhaps one feels bad for this doctor, but there is no remorse in this course of action. No matter the worse of their patients, they don't deserve to find such an open hatred towards their patients. She continues to focus on making this doctors shift more miserable than it already was.\nUntil of course, Amelie's grasp becomes too strong for focus. Anja winces, looking over and dropping concentration on her vengeful path. Did she realize what she was doing?\n\nA catching from the wall informs her.\nTheir hands release from eachother as she reaches for Amelie's face, something to get her attention off of the hospital. A bone quickly juts towards her hand, protesting her action. A hiss comes from Anja as a burning sensation comes from the fresh gap in the bandaging of her hand. Just a graze, thankfully. She slows, pressing against the line of crimson on the side of her hand.\n\nShe still hasn't come to terms with their nature. How does a power have such a hateful personality to its host? How does this go day to day? She looks back up and gasps as Amelie starts to tilt away from the wall. \n\nTo hell with it, the bones could throw as many fits as they please. Anja catches back up with her and wraps her arms around Amelie. They both stop as the woman shakily leans into her hold.\nAnja tries saying something. Her voice is still lost. She wasn't even sure if Amelie would be able to hear her either way.\n\nTheir warpath out of the hospital can wait for a moment."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie knows and thinks about every moment, how she wants her name dashed across the dirt the corpses of those whom did her wrongfully, lay so peacefully. She wishes them to writhe eternally. In turn, she went to churches and places of holy ground for an once of hope. She had received nothing. Some sort of sin her mother said, that she was a sin an omen. \n\nShe thinks about the moments of her mother- Vanessa's hands wrapped around her throat, determined to end her daughters life there. \n*Why was it so easy for her to just do so?* \nWhat had she done to warrant it. She felt as though her entire body was dissolving once more. She loathe to think that after all this time she was worth nothing at all.\n\nShe felt arms wrap around her, she melted like wax against a flame in a second. She felt arms around her. \nBefore her eyes could open her arms swung up and grabbed what she thinks is shoulder and tries to rip this person from her. She felt her eye snap open and her vision coming into focus like a dying lightbulb. \n\n\"*A-Ah*?\"\nShe tried to speak but it came out garbled and split from her throat. It felt like there was tar that breathed and melted together in her lungs and mouth. Bones that ripped from the left side of her face in a twisted red form of chaotic branches.\nShe stopped trying to rip Anja from herself and put her arms on Anja's chest and gently pushed her off. Taking Anja's arms and pushing them away, she stepped back.\n\nShe felt the frown etch across her face. She shouldn't have done that. By the gods, Amelie would rather scatter her brain onto concrete than hurt Anja again. They're out of the hospital. They'll have to wait for a bus or they'll just have to walk back to the cradle themselves. \n\nShe avoided looking at Anja's face all together. She felt guilty, as she always seems to when taking touch away from Anja. It wasn't her fault. She just didn't want to see Anja hurt."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "She had her. Anja wouldn't let Amelie go down. *Not this time.* She was cold. But like meeting an open flame she melted into her arms.\nIf only this wasn't a horrible time. If only she could actually reflect on this moment.\nShe had no time to.\n\nShe held her breath, bracing for some type of retaliation from Amelie's power. But there was no sharp, burning pain, not this time. \nShe exhales as Amelie steadies herself on the ground they stood on. Perhaps she was doing better?\nAs Anja looks up, a hand feels around, starting at her face. She blinks, trying to understand whats going on. Amelie then finds what was Anja's shoulder pushes her away from her.\n\nAnja is stunned, to say the least. She backs away to give her the space she is needing. What did she do wrong? Was this too much? She tries to wipe the hurt look off of her face as Amelie comes back to the situation at hand.\nMaybe she should've been less hovering over this. The full hold was too much.\nA gentle hand pushes Anja fully off from Amelie. She nods in understanding.\nShe shouldn't be this hurt by this, why was she so upset? God. She wanted to just lay down.\nFollowing her outside she quickly readjusts to the chill of the wind, a light shiver was all that responded to the cold.\n\nIt was probably too late for the buses. She steps towards the main street, where she is familiar. Looking towards Amelie. She does that too often, really.\nAlways looking at her, trying to see what she was looking at. Hoping that she was looking at her, possibly.\nShe felt foolish all over again. Looking away she raspily exhales again.\nShe just wanted to see Amelie again. To let her know she could confide trust into Anja. \nNow she stands at the sidewalk wondering how the night turned into this."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie stood, facing away from Anja. She felt suffocated in the walls over her mind. She could not think correctly, if at all. \n\n*Why*, would Anja do such a thing? To risk danger, let alone death for something so simple. Amelie is frightened at the mere image of crimson sliding down bone that isn't her own. Watching and still with shock over a body impaled. She couldn't do it again. She hated remembering the blurry image of Vanessa's face, twisted with scorn venomous enough to reduce gods to but a shriveling mess. \n\nIf she had done the same now? \nBones writhed and carved caverns into her muscle at the mere prospect. \nShe would tear herself apart, as she has done so many times before. \nYet she felt guilty, a confused and whirlpool-like sorrow that threatened to watch away at her walls just enough for them to fall so easily. \n\nWhy had she pushed Anja away like she was nothing? She didn't deserve death, but she didn't deserve to be torn away so uselessly. \nShe wanted to turn to Anja and speak her woes, yet she has listening to them so many times before. Does she know? Will she listen? \n\nAmelie looks back to Anja once more after minutes pass them like a winters breeze on a warm day. She points to the direction of where the cradle is. \n\nShe begins to walk by herself. Not fast, not like how it was. Amelie wanted Anja to catch up."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja presses on the thin line of blood on the side of her hand.\nIt wasn't a thought-out decision. It was impulsive. She knew that she would've been fine, but... She couldn't watch Amelie fall. Not when she was there to do something. Seeing her fall only reminded her of the day she stepped out of the stairwell. Staring at a pile of raging bones punishing two for the crimes of others.\nHer body shivers at the thought of what could've happened. Her hands shakily end their communication with another. \n \nAmelie wouldn't be at fault for it. Anja knew how dangerous her decision was. How fatal it could've been. She just wishes that in those few seconds, time had stopped. Just so they felt longer. She looks back up to Amelie, her heart justifying both of their actions. \nOf course, she pushed her away so quickly, for she was just worried about both of their safety. It was easy to find the reason in her actions, when you look for it.\n \nFoolish warmth crosses her face as she looks up to her. She nods to her friend. \nShe wishes she could say her mind. To tell her that it was okay. To tell her to fight against that guilt about her. \nAnother day.\n \nShe follows, by her side. Her shaking hands settle with each step towards the cradle."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelies hand, empty: it reached out beside her. The back of it looking moreso like a spiders web with how there was bones beneath skin. \n\nShe felt her fingers tease Anja's hand open. Boney, cold fingertips opening clenched fists. One bloodstained hand into a clean one. Amelie let her pinkie finger curl around Anja's tightly as they get closer back to that cement cradled hellhole. \n\nShe finds herself not wanting to let go."
}
] | 417.5 | 10,963 |
157.941176 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Every night, Fennel is free. One night, they're an adventuring knight, seeking a treasure in a faraway vault. The next, they're a spacefaring captain, deciphering an alien language. They haven't lucid dreamed in a long time — their dreams take them where they will.\n\nBut tonight, Fennel is just Fennel. They're dreaming, but the dream feels different than normal, somehow — they're not in any of the fantastical settings they're used to, but rather in the back of a minivan. There are soft, warm blankets and pillows strewn around them, and paper and colored pencils in front of them. Someone's drawn some squiggles, but they don't think it was them. The car is driving, but they don't know where. The roads outside all look the same, fields as far as the eye can see.\n\nThey remember it. Faintly. It's their parents' van — their birth parents, that is. They're somewhere in central Europe.\n\nThey can't have seen this in... More than a decade. But it feels like safety, and a little bit like home too, so they don't question it too much.\n\nThey figure, if nothing else is gonna happen anyway, they might as well start doodling."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I like your drawing.\" A voice says, the words floating in the thick, syrupy dream air. Next to Fennel sits a figure— pale, tall, with white hair flowing around the silhouette's torso and down their shoulders. \n\nIt takes a seat. It is Uriel, but only vaguely so; it misses the distinct humanoid details that decorate their body in the waking world. There are no pores that dot their cheeks here, nor are there tiny follicles of hair on their face.\n\nHere, they are simply a collection of fragmented ideas— face and hair the color of milk, a voice that every object in the room echoes. \n\n\"Fennel,\" They say, head tilting to face the other. \"How is it you remember this?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"*Nais tuke!*\", Fennel says happily, and for a moment, they're a little girl again, with the long curly hair and the pretty, yet hardy floral-pattern dress they used to love so much.\n\nBut it's only a moment. They quite quickly regain their bearings, and slip out of the memory. It goes on around them, but they cease to be part of it. They look at Uriel a little inquisitively.\n\n\"I don't know.\" They don't feel like going into any more detail. \"What's your name again? It's been so long, I forgot. Was it Michael...? No, that can't be right, you're not a Mike.\" They look out of the window, mostly just to avoid looking at the uncanny-valley almost-person in front of them as they think. \"It was definitely an angel.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel's eyes wander towards the memory— it floats barely above Fennel's head, spilling out of their ears and leaking from their brain. \n\n\"I am Uriel. You've met me before, Fennel.\" They smile. \"You have a good memory, though. I'm impressed.\" \n\nThe creature in front of Fennel briefly closes their eyes (eyes? Does it have eyes? Or just empty holes people gloss over and assume are doe-like dark eyes?). The colors of the dream feel more vivid, now. Smells and sights and sounds are turned up a bit more, the edges of the memory turning solid. \n\n\"This is a nice dream.\" They let out a low hum. It seems like both the only noise, and yet it barely exists."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "They laugh. \"You're right. I have a very good memory for an amnesiac.\" They shuffle around to lean on one of the walls of the car. It's just a dream, they don't have to worry about wearing their seatbelt. Still, they feel the gentle, disorienting pull of the car's motion as they shift. Maybe they should worry a little.\n\n\"It is. It's pleasant.\" If it's not the car crash. Sometimes, the car crashes again, like when Fennel lost their father. But Fennel was only three. The memory is vague at best, the dream a reconstruction of what they imagine the crash was like. \"At least so far.\"\n\nThey look at Uriel, who looks strikingly out of place among the warm, earthy colors of the caravan. They think for a moment. \"Why are you in it?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"It?\" Uriel asks. They look around the car, eyes wide in interest. \"It, as in this car? Or do you mean in this dream?\" \n\nThey put a hand to their chin, musing idly. \"Well. That's the same question, is it not? Perhaps I can answer them both.\" \n\nUriel feels the structure of the dream hum alongside the car's motor. They can see the load bearing strings holding the memory together— they could almost touch them, if they wanted to disturb this idyllic peace. \n\n\"If you know my name, you must know I enter dreams.\" Uriel state plainly, looking at Fennel. \"For I am a dream-weaver, and that monicker is almost like my second name.\" \n\nIt was the core of Uriel's being. A dream weaver first, a person second."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"You say that like you're a force of nature,\" Fennel remarked. \"Rain falls, volcanoes erupt, and you enter dreams.\" There's an implicit refutation of that statement there, nestled in Fennel's tone — *But you're a person.* They don't say it out loud, but they know Uriel will pick up on it. Fennel is dreaming, and Uriel is a dream-weaver.\n\nUriel looks different than Fennel remembers. Fennel remembers them as slightly more... Living. Vivid. The Uriel in this dream is almost like a sort of doll, a hollow facsimile rather than the real thing.\n\nFennel wonders why. Maybe something's changed about Uriel. Maybe something's changed about Fennel.\n\n\"You didn't answer my question, Uriel. There are many dreams to enter. Why mine?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "They hum at Fennel's silent comment, choosing not to respond. After all—they've been reminded of their fleshiness as of late, and they've grown to accept that they weren't so different from the people whose minds they entered. \n\n\"Because I'm worried about you.\" Uriel's porcelain, doll-like skin barely contorts as they open their mouth to speak. \"Because I want to help you remember.\" \n\nTheir smooth, thin limbs kick to a silent beat. It rivals a metronome in its methodical nature. \n\n\"And... Because I'm curious, too. What are the dreams of an amnesiac?\" Their eyes drift towards the window, staring out into a scenery only they could see as props of a mind. \n\n\"A conscious that forgets, and a subconscious that remembers...\" Uriel thinks out loud. They don't finish the thought."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"That's kind of you.\" Fennel doesn't look at Uriel. Their eyes are trained on the landscape outside the car, the subtle, unnatural way in which it seems to shift. \n\n\"Has it helped, then?\" They ask quietly. \"You want to help me, and you're curious. Did you learn what you wanted to know? Or only what you needed to?\"\n\nThey pause. \"I don't sleep well when I'm lucid dreaming. If there's something I can do for you, I'll help, but I'd like to get some rest too.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I don't know if I've helped.\" Uriel joins Fennel in looking out the window. \"I don't usually end up helping people. I... Would like to be able to do that. I miss the Fennel who remembers the Cradle sorely.\" \n\nThe scene outside the window shifts. The car stalls, coming to a halt with a noisy clank. They're in front of the Cradle.\n\n\"Do you miss remembering your friends?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Hard to miss it.\" Fennel muses quietly. \"I don't remember it.\"\n\nThe door to the van opens. The person outside doesn't much look like a parent, and Uriel couldn't know them. Fennel seems to recognize the face, though they don't put a name to it for Uriel to pick up on. They smile, and Fennel smiles back and climbs over to the open door to get some fresh dream air.\n\n\"Amnesia is forgiving that way. You don't feel so bad when you don't know what you lost.\" They gesture to the driver, standing outside. \"They're a friend from before Newton's Cradle. They cracked my egg, actually, and they hugged me after when I cried. It's a nice memory, but if I forget it... Well, it'll be like it was never there, won't it? And it's no use crying over things that didn't happen.\"\n\nTalking to Uriel is nice. Uriel understands that sort of thing, and has the temperament to listen. *I should talk to Uriel more,* Fennel notes to themselves, quietly, and hides the thought in between the car seat cushions and behind the dashboard and wherever they think Uriel won't notice it.\n\n\"I remember the Cradle, you know. I've spent most of my time at the Cradle *After* Losing my memory, at this point. The Fennel you miss is the one who remembers everything before that.\" They pause, and their body slumps a little. They look sad. \"I miss them too. You should come tell me what they were like. When we're both awake.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"That's the big question, is it.\" Uriel asks. Their words float in the air like the seeds of a dandelion. \n\n\"*Do* They still impact you, even after you've forgotten?\" Uriel taps the walls of the dream. \"They're no longer accessible in your conscious, yes— but those memories are still baked into the very foundation of who you are. They've silently formed or reaffirmed opinions and ideas you've had your entire life, without you even knowing it.\" \n\nThey look over at Fennel. Uriel is knitting something— it's a collection of words and old times being woven into a scarf. \n\n\"To leave the foundation of who you are undiscovered is... Terrifying, no? To know your innate responses to something, but not being aware of the memory that lead to such a thing... I worry, Fennel.\" \n\nUriel's eyebrows furrow. They look more human like than before— perhaps it was because they felt more human now. \n\n\"Seeing a tapestry, but being unable to locate the individual stitches... How many weak points would that create? How many holes in the fabric?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"If I have to continue your thread metaphor,\" Fennel replies softly, \"I guess I'm kind of hoping to weave something new. I don't want to be that guy.\"\n\nThey pause. The scenery quietly fades to black, but Fennel stays where they are, dangling their legs off an invisible ledge as they stare into the void.\n\n\"I appreciate your concern, but I think I'm okay. And if I end up breaking, you can just put me back together like that Kintsugi stuff, or cover the holes with cute patches, or something.\"\n\nThey bundle themselves up tighter in their cardigan, not for warmth but for comfort. It feels a little like a hug. They miss hugs. No one's hugged them in a long time.\n\n\"You can mess with my head if you think it needs fixing, Uriel. I trust you.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Eek sorry for the wait\n\nHad a test yesterday and was cramming"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "No worries! Just bumping because the thread went inactive"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "They turn silent at Fennel's words. \n\nHumans were fragile, fragile beings. \n\n\"What you are wishing for will not work. It will be only painful.\" They utter, and collapse upon Fennel. Uriel's wispy form settles around Fennel's back like a thick, woolen blanket, their curly white hair falling down their chest as they lean on Fennel's shoulder. \n\nThey wrap their hands around Fennel's waist. \"Breaking is painful,\" Their voice echoes. \"Rest, instead.\"\n\nIt's comforting. It's thick. It feels like a soothing, calming mist."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel is silent for a few moments, just long enough to soak up the warmth and comfort from Uriel's hug. They haven't really experienced familial love in a long time, but they imagine it's pretty close. \n\n\"Thank you, Uriel.\"\n\nThey don't need to say anything more. They spend a few moments silent, frozen in time.\n\nThen, Fennel wakes up, and once again remembers nothing."
}
] | 173 | 2,685 |
312.666667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Six weeks of dead, undying, immortal silence.\n\n□ Sitting in the third-floor rehearsal room with drumsticks pressed into the folds of her joggers, Margo dwelled on the past six or so weeks. She dwelled on it, on the flights, on nearly lighting her hotel room ablaze with a faulty European charge, on seeing her entire family gathered in one place again, commiserating and finally being honest with each other about what had happened. It hurt, in a way, knowing that Mary had effectively disowned herself and thus would never know she'd been vindicated of all the blame she'd internalized, and it hurt knowing that Holly's only contributions to the case were over the phone, twice a day. What had went wrong? Why had her siblings all handled the shared tumultuous upbringing in such a myriad of ways?\n\n▪︎ Holly turned to the Bloods, Mary to religion... Ben to mango carts and screaming slurs at others online to vent frustrations. What a fucked up family the Abernathys were.\n\n◇ So, she sat there, in the dim lights of the rehearsal room, rolling a cigarette by hand and tapping her foot expectantly alongside glances shot at the door. She was expecting company in the dojo tonight."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Knock, knock.\" They said, the only sound of their arrival being the *Clack* Of their slight heels against wood floor. \n\nUriel's pale face peeks out against the door frame, meeting her gaze with stormy eyes before fully stepping into the room. A moments pass, and they join Margo's side, long legs folding onto themselves. \n\n\"You are back.\" They state, almost matter of fact. A small hum, and they pass their full thermos of tea over to Margo's side. \n\nUriel doesn't know what to say. There was nothing to, with Margo— when she wanted to talk, she *Would*. Margo Killjoy had no reservations with speaking her mind, and Uriel had no problem with listening to her woes."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Close the door, man.\"\n\n□ Looking up, she welcomed in Uri with a meek request and a small smile; rarely seen by anyone other than Vi. Compared to their storm-battered eyes and poncho determined to protect them against it, she seemed resolute, yet oddly uncertain. Stone-faced; carved by Michaelangelo.\n\n■ \"Thanks, but... I brought my own tea. Magnolia, my beloved.\" She hummed, silently reminding herself to lift her stim-ridden bouncing leg from the kick pedal of the kit, mostly to keep things quiet and focused. \"So you can keep yours. Things have been fucking *Hectic,* Man. You've seen me, up to my nostrils in evidence, trauma bearing... Dreadful Teams meeting with the prosecution. I dunno what kind of strings Ginny pulled, Uri... She's never wanted the wealth. Maybe she was just smart enough to stash some of Hiram's money away. God knows I did the same. I still have a car waiting for me in the garage back home, I think... An Audi. Beautiful old girl.\" She fondly continued, a certain longingness in the lilt of her voice, at times hesitant and forceful and proud. \"But that's another story.\"\n\n◆ \"So, ask away. Nothing's off the table; stupid or not, I thought it's high time I filled you in on the past six weeks, because fuck sakes, they've been *Busy.*\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Questions...? I don't know what I would ask that you would be comfortable sharing.\" \n\nAt Margo's refusal of their tea, Uriel lets out a low, non-committal hum. Magnolia tea was her favorite, and the familiar scent brought back good memories— a soft smile at the realization that despite the hectic events as of late, some things stayed the same. \n\n\"I suppose my first question... How are you doing?\" \n\nIt was the only question Uriel *Truly* Cared about— so long as their dear roommate was alright at the end of the day, the details of the case were unimportant. *So long as she was alright..*"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Just don't ask me about my dick.\" She chuckled. \"And we'll be fine. Anyways, how have I been...?\"\n\n□ A low hum rumbled from her throat, brow furrowed in deep thought. She knew that Uri was non-judgmental, and she trusted them with their life, but what *Could* She say without potentially compromising the case, and the secrecy her family's lawyers had advised her to maintain? \"Well, as you know, I went back home. Back to Brooklyn... I missed it, honestly. It's kind of a shitty place at times, but I missed all the food, the bodegas, my friends. I actually got to hang out with Omar and Anton for the first time since I got sent here, and...\" A smile spread across her face. \"I missed them. We spent a while catching up, we jammed for a while... We all got drunk together. Anton's so tall he doesn't even get fuckin' carded, man; tall privilege is real.\"\n\n■ \"But, it was more business than leisure. I didn't even know I was heading over until the Deans came to our room a few weeks back and asked for me to come with them. Next thing I know, I'm packing my shit and giving Vi a huge dossier on how to care for my sons. Kind of a whirlwind...\" She paused for a second, suddenly cognizant that she'd veered off the original question's clearly defined path. \n\n◆ \"But I've been okay, I guess. About as good as I can be, given the circumstances. It hurts having to... Y'know. Bare years of abuse to the prosecutors, but we all had to. Even Holly was allowed to attend the meetings, though she had a pretty hefty security detail making sure she didn't try to escape.\" She continued. \"Anyways, every one of my siblings except Mary are a part of this, and that's just because she's basically fallen off the face of the earth. She found God and forgot where the fuck she came from.\" Her voice warbled mockingly. \"I'm not even sure she knows I attempted to murder Hiram, or that we're now coming together as a family to put him behind bars, man. How about you, though? We... Haven't talked much the past couple of months.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Margo told the tale of her time at home, and for a brief moment, Uriel smiled. \n\n\"Being back home for a bit must have been a nice reprieve from the madness of the Cradle. If you didn't have the court case dangling over your head, it would have felt like everything that happened here was some forgotten fantasy.\" \n\n*If she didn't have the court case over her head*, was the key word. They were happy she was able to taste a brief bit of life as normal, but... Was it worth it, given all the pain she's been through? \n\n\"I am happy you were able to get a short taste of home while you were there. Omar and Anton sound like lovely people— perhaps I'll get to meet them, one day.\" A small, airy laugh at the thought. How hectic that would be. \n\nUriel hummed, trying to picture Margo's various escapades in the city in their minds eye— it did not help they had no clue what New York City looked like, but they could almost picture her traipsing amongst skyscrapers. \n\n\"Life for me has been nothing short of stable and calm,\" They smile, \"Which is oddly uncharacteristic for someone like me. Then again, perhaps my idea of stable and calm might be a bit more hectic than everyone else's.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"It's more like replacing *Doing things a thousand times over and expecting different results* Madness for Lovecraftian madness.\" Margo chuckled in turn. \"But honestly? I like the madness here. I like the madness back home too. Life's kinda boring without a little discord, hm?\"\n\n□ Weirdly philosophical for a gal who'd, not five minutes later, been engulfed with intro and retrospection about the past six weeks. Things had been absolutely hellish behind closed doors, a fact that she didn't let anyone in on. Maybe it was a vague wariness about breaching the terms of the lawyer contract, or maybe it was just that old male socialization that drove her to bottle her problems up; who knew? Continuing to roll, she exhaled sharply and briefly. \"Honestly? I think Anton would dig your whole dreamweaving shtick. He's... Parahuman like me; can detach his soul from his body and walk around. He'd probably want to talk out-of-body experiences and obscure spirituality and stuff, like the pretentious bastard he is.\" \n-\n\n◆ \"But, shit, man, that's good. Who cares how that stacks up to the idea other people have of calm? It's all subjective. Some people thrive in chaos, and others cry when they get yelled at. It's all about how you feel deep down, I think.\" She casually spoke, sticking her tongue out afterwards and running it along the glue strip of her cigarette. The seam sealed, she propped it atop her right ear, simultaneously hidden and in plain view, a fact she addressed by letting some of her hair down. Tying a bun into the back of her hair, she bounced her leg softly. \n\n◆ \"Anyways. The legal proceedings have been really rough on us. Lots of cigarettes, lots of permitted glasses of wine from Mom's collection; it's not healthy, but shit man, we're facing our demons down with this whole case. Ben doesn't drink, and Holly isn't allowed any, but... There's been some late night sessions over bottles of chardonnay between myself, Ginny, and Mom. It's... Kinda affirming, oddly enough, to be treated like just another of the women of my family, to be chatted to and around like another daughter. It's straight euphoria, and those moments made the hard work a little easier to bear, I'd say.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Wait— you know other parahumans? *Outside* Of the Cradle?\" Uriel sits up straight, momentarily caught off guard by the revelation. The concept of parahumans existing in the wild always seemed impossible to them— not only were the chances of being a parahuman astronomically small, but the chances of meeting *Another one*? Almost impossible, in their mind. \n\nAnd Margo... Did it. Casually. \n\n\"Has he always been parahuman? Did you two get your powers at the same time?\" They inch closer to Margo, eyes wide open in wonder. \"The chances of that happening... I can't believe it.\" Their dumb-struck face only lasts a moment before they shake the expression off, remembering the rare Melancon foil of *Social cues*. \n\n\"Ah... Drinking wine? Not healthy?\" Uriel's white eyebrows furrow, and they gain a pensive look, their gloved hand cupping their chin in thought. A small laugh of amusement, and the crinkle of their eyes in crows feet looks strange on their otherwise marble face. \n\n\"Well, clearly you're not *French.*\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah. Just Anton though; never met any others before I got shipped here.\" Margo calmly replied, well aware that Uri was blown away by this revelation that she'd known a parahuman *Before* The Cradle. \"And he wasn't *Actually* Parahuman when we first met. It just... Popped out of the woodworks one day. He's never told us *How* He figured out his powers, or when he did, just that he knows about 'em, y'know?\"\n\n□ Casually speaking, she took a sip of her cup of tea before setting it back down on the snare drum of the kit she sat behind. It was nice to be back, talking about her home city and her friends in the same breaths she spat daggers at her father's image. It was oddly domestic, even; weren't they like an old married couple in some regards? She zipped that thought up rapidly. In its wake she looked up at Uri as they quipped about the lack of Frenchness in her blood, silently thanking God that she wasn't born that way yet betraying none of the slander back to her roommate.\n\n▪︎ Instead she simply let out a soft chuckle. \n\n◆ \"Guess you could say that. Us Americans... It's Natural Light instead of wine. Maybe whisky if you're feeling generous. God knows I... Never mind. *That* Would have been too grim a joke.\" She laughed. \"Trauma things, I guess. But yeah, it was mostly the cigarettes. Wine's whatever, but... Mom smokes. I smoke. Ginny has this god-awful nicotine vape thing. It was crazy fucking smoky in the study; probably knocked a solid year off my life.\"\n\n● \"But, yeah. It was really nice to be back. Yet...? It's also nice to be back here as well. The Cradle really is a second home for me now, weirdly enough... But I guess after six or seven months in the same place you're due to feel a little at home, huh?\""
}
] | 277 | 2,814 |
371.945205 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia had spent that night and day restless. His emotions were still very much a mystery to him... But he had found one or two ways he could... Calm down. Eventually the hour came for him to meet Nikita so he dressed full out. He pulled on two pairs of pants, wearing sweatpants under some thicker jeans, a long sleeve shirt under a sweater, a thick scarf, gloves, and a beanie. He stepped out of his room, also wrapped in the same blanket as yesterday, and made his way down to the cafeteria... He tried to be inconspicuous, he really did, but he couldnt help but draw other people's eyes as he skirted around the edges of the room to avoid the shadows. His heart was aflutter as he walked, a sensation he had never felt before yesterday, as he made his way over to the exit. He stood by there, mostly waiting for Nikita to approach him... Given the fact that he couldnt really see the other boy approaching. His clothes were darker hues, though some of them had white and silver accents which complimented his natural colors. After waiting for a few minutes he finally realized he should probably text Nikita, and slowly typed out a response.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita sat in his room at the edge of his bed, lit in scattered sunshine. \n\nHis room was much smaller than the one at home, but he kind of enjoyed it. He didn't have as many things to keep track of, and it was a lot easier to find things. \n\nThe boy's hair was still wet from his shower as he pulled his tall boots over his black skinny jeans.\nAfter that, he grabbed a too-big yellow cardigan he had set out and hurriedly put it on over his loose white shirt. \n\nOn his way out, he grabbed his bag from his chair, made sure he had his phone, headphones, and keys, and finally left his room and locked it. \n\nNikita was rushing, and in doing so he had forgotten to blow-dry his hair like normal. It was still curly, but flatter against his head and neck. \n\nHe ran his hands through his hair the entire time he walked, trying to get it to normal consistency. Not that he cared about his looks- he had never feared the ridicule of his peers for his looks. But he disliked how his hair clumped and stuck to his skin, dripping a bit onto the neck of his clothes. \n\nHe groaned as he entered the cafeteria, finally giving up any attempt at saving the mop on his head. \n\nHe looked around. His amber eyes found Pythia's white hair quickly. The boy was looking down at his phone as he approached, slowing his pace as he got closer. \n\n\"Pythia?\" His voice cracked half way through, and he wanted to jump in a hole right then and there. He still wasn't used to talking, and trying to call out without any warming up resulted in a voice break. \nBut regardless of how he justified it, he sounded like a pre-teen when he had said Pythia's name. \n\nHe tried to speak again, hoping the boy hadn't heard how his voice sounded at first. \n\n\"Have you eaten yet?\" He asked, voice a bit softer. He wasn't going to try and strain himself so early on. \n\nThe smell in the air made his stomach growl. He was sure they were about to serve lunch, if it wasn't already ready."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Nikita's hopes were dashed as Pythia perked his head up upon hearing the other boy. He smiles softly, but still doesnt really know where to look since the cafeteria is fairly crowded. He felt that voice crack deeeep in his soul. The first time he talked to his therapist his voice cracked so much he refused to speak again for half an hour. His walking stick is on his hip, folded up... But it wouldnt be of as much use here, so he holds out his arm in a silent plea for Nikita to help guide him. Knowing now that this is 11am and not 11pm, he is dressed a bit less, wearing only one pair of shirts and pants, though still with the gloves, beanie, and scarf. He doesnt have a jacket with the thick sweater and the blanket.*\n\n\"I... I havent... I... I um.. Dont come here often since I c... Cant really get food by m... Myself.\" *He says quietly, holding his hand out. When Nikita gets close enough his world is swallowed by darkness, and he closes his eyes. He could activate his powers but... Well, a part of him liked the help. It was embarrassing, but he liked feeling like he could depend on someone.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita nodded and put his arm out, allowing for Pythia to grab onto him. He started walking toward the lunch counter where premade dishes sat under heated displays like a buffet line. His steps were a little awkward and misplaced, but he soon fell into step with Pythia. \n\n\"So how do you get your meals? Does anyone bring you food?\" He asked calmly, grabbing two plates. \"What do you want? Oh, they have pasta today!\" And suddenly he was dragging Pythia further down the line, grabbing the big plastic serving spoon, and placing two sloppy spoonfuls of baked ziti onto his plate. The pasta, realistically, was rather plain. But such foods weren't something Nikita ever had much chance to eat, so he savored them all the more. \nHe was about ready to walk off to a table in the corner somewhere, but the other boy clutching his arm reminded him he wasn't alone. He hadn't realized how natural helping Pythia felt, so much so that he had almost forgotten him. \n\nNikita coughed, feeling a little embarrassed about his rush to stuff his face when Pythia didn't even know what food there was to choose from. \"Anyway, there's pasta, salad, chicken nuggets, and...\" He trailed, eyes narrowing to stare at the end of the counter. \"...A mystery sandwich, of some kind.\" He eyed the aluminum wrapped sandwiches at the end of the line. They didn't have an indicator as to what they were, but he assumed it was probably a burger of some variety. \nHe hoped those options were enough for Pythia, but he went on just in case. \"They might still have some breakfast bagels, if you wanted to ask.\" Nikita offered, unsure if Pythia was the picky type."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "\"I... I... Mostly either g... Go when everyone is gone and they have the leftovers, i... In which case I store them and then eat them when i'm hungry... The system took me a-a while to figure out, but it w... Works and I... I dont need to bother anyone to eat\" *He says quietly, grabbing tightly to Nikita's arm. He lets the other boy whisk him along, closing his eyes and focusing on not tripping. He half moves behind Nikita, knowing the other boy could make a path for both of them. He listens to Nikita grab his own food, not really wanting to pipe up until the boy realizes he still needs food... When nikita finally realizes he smiles softly.*\n\n\"P... Pasta sounds good\" *He says quietly not really trusting himself to hold the plate given he may bump into someone and spill it... Or may end up tipping it and wouldnt be able to see it tip until it was too late.. So he let Nikita carry both of their plates as he just focused on walking. The two of them were quite the pair, both a fair bit shorter than the other members of the cradle, so they blended easily into the crowd. He let the other boy guide them over to a table and would sit down, feeling for his plate before positioning it where it touched his chest so he could feel it*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "\"I highly doubt you're a *Bother* To anyone.\" Nikita said simply as he grabbed a second plate of pasta and two plastic forks. \n\nHe balanced the second plate on his forearm and positioned it so that it would lean against his chest instead of tipping, still giving his second arm to Pythia. \n\nNikita led them to a secluded table, helping Pythia into his seat and placing his plate in front of him. He clattered his own haphazardly down as he sat down, \nThe red head wasn't hesitant to eat, nor did he have many table manners. He dug his fork in and started to practically shovel the food into his mouth. \n\n\"So.\" He began, food still in his mouth. \"Do you ever go to the woods around here?\" Nikita said, words muted and messy from the food still clogging his speech. \n\nNikita definitely wasn't a slow eater, but at least he kept food in his mouth. He didn't spill any, or get any food on his face save for a bit of sauce on his chin. \n\nThe next time he spoke, he made sure to swallow his food first. \"I've been a few times already. The trees here are a bit different from the ones in Russia.\" He rambled a little as he stuffed his mouth with another large bite."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia sat down with Nikita, and he was a much slower eater compared to the red head. Given his blindness he had to be careful, so he ate slowly. He also cared to be more refined around Nikita... He didnt really know why, he didnt usually care what others thought about him that much... But he didnt want to look bad infront of the other boy. So he took his time, and tried to savor the food. It was alot better when it wasnt cold or reheated... And the cradle didnt have bad chefs, so he did his best to enjoy the moment.*\n\n\"I... I dont, i-ive never really had a reason to. T... Though I would be lying if I said i... I wasnt curious\" *He says quietly between bites. Nikita would be finished a bit before Pythia, though he wouldnt take much longer to finish. The food felt good, a bit of warmth ahead of the blistering cold they would soon be exposed to.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita nodded as he listened, finishing his food soon after Pythia had stopped talking. \"It's nice. The trees are harder to climb, but there are some in particular that are really comfortable.\" He imagined the sprawling branches of the oldest trees, moss growing steadily up their trunks. He had made marks in his favorites. But he knew there were many more to discover. \n\nHe waited for Pythia to finish his food before taking both their plastic plates and dumping them in the trash nearby, trying to disregard the constant hum of voices in the cafeteria. *Too loud.* A voice in his head reminded him, something in his brain that was itching to run away. The feeling never truly left him, but he could ignore it most of the time. \n\nNikita grabbed a few napkins and took care to clean the table and his face before getting ready to go. \n\nOnce everything was thrown away, he trailed over to Pythia and nudged him with his arm. \"Ready to get going?\" He asked, heart skipping a beat at those words. He was about to take Pythia to show the boy a part of himself only two people had seen before- both of those people having been hurt by him. \nBut this wasn't a fit of rage driving him to reveal part of himself to Pythia, it was friendship, or at least him trying to extend what he thought was friendship out to Pythia- hoping the boy would accept him."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia listened as Nikita cleaned up, trying to help where he could but knowing he wasnt exactly that much of a help in this regard. He stood up slowly, grabbing the other boy's arm and taking a now more familiar place next to him. He didnt hold Nikita's hand... If he did Pythia felt like he may just explode from gay panic, but he did wrap his left arm around Nikita's right, his hand holding onto the red head's forearm. Sometimes for support he would grab his arm with the other hand too. The two began to walk as Pythia made sure he had all his fixtures for going outside. He pulled his beanie down lower, his hair frilling out where it exited the hat with a longer lock of hair falling infront of the right side of his face. He wrapped his scarf around his neck, settling down into it as he closed his eyes and they stepped out into the cold.*\n\n*Pythia was excited... Nikita had alluded to this ability several times. It was some kind of transformation.. .... With goats? Pythia couldnt exactly tell if it was like, a full goat transfotmation... Like Nikita just became a goat, or maybe even a very big goat... Or more like a chimera hybrid with more dominant goat like features. Either way he was very curious... Though he was also anxious. Nikita obviously didnt like showing this power, and Pythia worried that he was being a bit too pushy and making the other boy uncomfortable... But, there wasnt much he could do now, all he could do was be supportive* \n\n\"W... Where are we going?\" *He asked quietly. The forest was a big place afterall, and he wondered if Nikita had decided on a specific spot, or just the general forest. As they moved outside the sun helped heat them, though to Pythia the cold was intense... If he hadnt basically conditioned himself to enjoying the cold, he probably would have wanted to go back inside. But, given the fact he spent many winter days on his balcony, watching the world which was so often clouded be free, he had enough experience to withstand it.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita opened the doors, and that sense of familiarity surged through him. It felt as though he was going home. His heart would always have a place in nature. \n\nHe was sure he'd die in a forest, he was sure that in a past life he did die in a forest. He thought that maybe that's why his soul had been given the powers of a beast, that he was so attuned to mother nature she had blessed him in the only way she knew how- by giving him a piece of herself. He was her creation, and he would always go back to her. \nNikita thought this as they began to walk.\n\nHe shrugged at Pythia's question. \"Don't know. I always just walk around until I feel far enough away from it all, then I...\" He quickly glanced around, looking for passerby and listening ears. Nikita's senses found none. He turned back to Pythia. \"Then I change. Sometimes I'll climb trees, watch wildlife, run and jump and go where I please.\" He thinks of some of his adventures.\n\nThe time he found a den of wolves, when foxes ran to investigate him, observing salamanders and frogs by small creeks, and much more. He had a world of knowledge stored in his head, kept as fond memories.\nNikita knew of nature from observation, no need for books and studies- though he enjoyed that too.\n\nHe escorted the two of them onto the overgrown fields. He had walked here so much in recent days a path was beginning to form in the grass. He only hoped the staff didn't mind. \n\nNikita knew the staff's knowledge of his condition. They knew he needed to be kept stable, and be allowed to run freely. But that didn't dwindle the thought that he was a burden on them- despite this place being made to help people like him.\n\nHe neared the treeline, heart beginning to race with excitement as his steady walking began to hurry as he started to practically drag Pythia along with him. There was a *Need* That drove Nikita here, one that he had little control over. He knew that he'd want to leave Pythia behind and go running, but he needed to withhold. \n\nA year ago he'd call Pythia a burden, say that he didn't make friends for that reason. He wasn't that boy anymore, he had already made that decision.\n\nNikita was purposefully quiet. He moved with eloquence here, steps quiet against the frosted over ground. The birds didn't stop singing when he entered the woods, the bugs continued their chorus, and the frogs croaked periodically. \n\nThe forest had a different smell, one that he had grown used to. In winter, the air was crisp and new. Spring would bring the smell of flowers and tree sap. Winter, however, was void of pleasant smells- it was all neutral. The bark on the trees, the frost and snow on the ground, even bodies of water smelled different. The world was weary in winter, slow and lazy. He enjoyed the peace it brought him. \n\nHe slowed a bit once they were further in, being satisfied now that nature surrounded him.\n\nThe forest was painted in hues of blue and white. He wondered what new sight he would encounter today. \n\nThen a thought came to Nikita. He looked over to Pythia. \"I-\" He didn't often talk in nature. He found his voice in a moment. \"I wish you could see this.\" He had that voice from before, the one that sounded somberly tired."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*The two of them walked through the woods, and thankfully for Pythia, Nikita was a gentle enough guide and helped ensure Pythia didnt trip. He knew he could have let go of the other boy, moved a few feet away, and then been fine... But he didnt want to. Nature was beautiful, and he wanted to see it, but his desire not to let go of Nikita's arm overwhelmed that ten times over. The snow and grass crunched under their feet as they moved through fields of grass, bypassing shrubs and thickets as Pythia traveled further from the cradle than he had ever dared to go. He didnt take trips to Isakstad, so this was by far the farthest out he had gone since coming to the cradle.*\n\n*He felt how different the forest was, the smells of winter, neutral and clean, the occasional rustling sounds, the feeling of uneven earth underneath him. They were all so different from the garden. Where that place was contained, this was wild... And he wasnt afraid of it. He trusted Nikita.*\n\n*As the other boy spoke, the sound breaking the almost silence of winter, Pythia giggled softly. There were two things he could do to easily fix that, so he tried the first one, the one that would let him stay next to Nikita*\n\n*His eyes snapped into focus, and he reached up to push the hair out of his face as he lowered his scarf to speak. A wide smile bloomed on his lips as he looked around the forest.* \"B... Beautiful...\" *He whispered quietly, looking around the forest before looking up at Nikita. He stares at the other boy for a few seconds before blushing and looking back to the woods.* \"W... Well, I... I can see now\" *He says quietly, just incase Nikita didnt notice*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "When Pythia's voice broke the silence, he quickly looked over. Any faster and he might have snapped his own neck. \n\nWhen their eyes locked together, something flickered inside him. Like a match being lit. \nHe liked the feeling of Pythia looking back at him, them being able to really see each other. He drank in the silvery eyes of Pythia's, until the other looked away. \n\nNikita thought Pythia was as pretty as winter. He looked calmly dull, peaceful, serene, but there was an edge about Pythia. \nWinter was similar. \nThere was an edge to it. The starving wolves, bears driven out of hibernation by hunger, big cats stalking in the shadows. \n\nHe wondered what Pythia could do, truly. His power could be dangerous, he was sure. \n\nHe stopped his staring and looked out into the woods again, watching more carefully where they walked. \"Yeah, I figured.\" He chuckled. \n\nHe continued in their peace for a bit longer, then looked around. The loudness of the cradle had subsided. He couldn't hear it at all anymore, and that's when he knew he was safe. \n\nNikita pulled slightly away from Pythia, allowing their arms to fall away from each other as he stopped walking and stepped back. \n\n\"You...\" He tried, unsure what exactly to say. \"I-\" He sputtered again. He was getting upset with himself. How the hell was he supposed to do this calmly? \n\n\"Damn it.\" He brought a hand to his mouth and turned away slightly, seeming to think. \n\nHe took in a deep breath and lowered his hand. Nikita counted to four as he inhaled, then four as he exhaled. He was okay. \n\n\"I'm trusting you.\" His voice had found a sternness. He seemed more stoic for a moment. \nHe hoped his trust wasn't misplaced. Trust was a weapon, it could be used to his advantage, but it could also hurt him. \nNikita just had to hope- no, trust- that Pythia wouldn't share this. \n\nThey had just met. There was no logical reason for Nikita's trust, not really, but he could kind of tell when people were genuine. He had to trust himself, too.\n\nTrust that he chose the right person to show himself to. \n\nHe took another step back. \n\n\"So, it works in parts.\" He started, knowing Pythia would want an explanation. \"There's a sort of fog that comes from my skin, and when I change fully it envelops me. Look.\" He holds out an arm. His forearm grows and fog begins to bellow from his skin as it changes, reddish hairs turn to fur and his hands- boney and slender- turn long and sharp. Claws, like that of a mountain cat. They aren't retractable, however. The fog clears quickly. \n\n\"On walks when I don't feel like fully changing, I allow certain parts to change. Horns, a tail, my ears, and a few other minor things.\" He continues. His voice is calmer, but it has a certain deepness that wasn't there before. \n\nIn a moment, his face does the same. Smoke comes from his eyes, ears, and from somewhere under his hair- which has long since dried from earlier. \nHe uses a hand to waft the smoke away, so Pythia can see. Yellow eyes with rectangular pupils, fluffy ears like a goat and wolf, horns that reflect those of a goat as well. \nWhen he speaks, a bit of fog escapes his mouth. \"My vision is wider like this, and I can see a bit further, but it's harder to read and use my phone. And.\" He looks a bit around, ears flicking in a few directions. \"I can hear a lot clearer.\" Everything feels more separated. He can pick out which bird calls are coming from where, same with the bugs and frogs. \n\nWhen he speaks like this, that deepness in his voice is almost raspy- like a growl is at the back of every word. His voice rumbles, a bit like thunder. And his teeth are visibly different. Sharper, more separated. Some of the ones toward the back look almost like needles, and his canines look like dog fangs. \n\n\"I'm going to change fully, but it's harder to talk. Ask your questions now, please.\" He tries to sound soft, like normal, but his effort is futile. He sounds beastly, regardless of his attempt."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia could* ***Feel*** *Nikita's tension, the other boy's fear of rejection, of broken trust. It was sad... Sad that he had to feel that way, that someone had hurt him so much he was afraid of himself, or atleast showing himself. As the other boy stepped away Pythia felt a small twinge of desire yearning for more, but he quickly smoothed that as Nikita began his transformation. Pythia jumped a bit at the sternness in Nikita's voice, and he felt the inner conflict within Nikita's soul.* \n\n*Then, a mist began to form around Nikita's arms.. And hair turned to fur, bones extending and muscles growing. Sharp looking claws formed on Nikita's hands. The transformation then moved to his head. From his crown, two long horns rose up creating a menacing silhouette... Distracted slightly by two adorable, incredibly fluffy looking ears. His eyes were yellow, with rectangular pupils that caught the light.*\n\n*Oh anyone else the transformation would have spooked Pythia, but with Nikita... Well it was exciting. The smoke helped hide the transformation, making any body horror which would arrise from that invisible to the eye, which Pythia was glad about. He smiled softly, seeing the \"Monster\"... And he looked absolutely adorable. Pythia took a step forward, then another, starting to close the gap as he flicked his eyes between the altered features. One hand had begun to reach up and out, as if to reach and brush Nikita's horns... But he paused and his face flushed as he thought to ask for Nikita's permission.*\n\n_ _\n\"M... May I? Uhm... ... F... Feel them?\" *He asked nervously, staring up at the boy's horns and ears. Questions began popping in his mind, questions Nikita began answering. Of course the altered pupils would catch more light, and his ears were much bigger... His eardrums must have expanded aswell. As he spoke Pythia noticed his teeth. They were sharper, and the back ones looked particularly pointy. They were slightly more separated than normal... He wondered if he had less teeth in this form... Maybe the spare teeth merged into the others to add the extra length for the points? His voice was shocking in a way that sent a shiver down Pythia's spine... But Pythia liked it, the almost animalistic growl sounding feral... But pure. A voice lacking veils.*\n\n\"D... Do you have more teeth i... Im your normal body? W... What about your next form? I assume your jaw will change a... Alot more in that one, but what about between your usual form and this one? Your bones also seem tk change... ... A... Are you taller right now? A... And your muscles seem... Tighter? Are your horns made fully of keratin? L... Like, do they grow from stumps of bone like antlers, or do they have a core of bone? Have you ever chipped or broken a... A horn before? Also, is your view of color changed? A... And your ears, is the level of frequencies you can hear different?\" *He asks quickly, one question forming into another, almost giving Nikita no chance to respond until he pauses to breathe.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita was wary of Pythia's slow approach, ready to go sprinting at the slightest chance that Pythia was going to do something rash. His muscles were visibly tense, his eyes ever watching. \nBut he also saw Pythia's small smile, something that reassured him at least a little. \n\nThe hand that reached for him was... Strange. He was unsure what to do as it got closer to him, but luckily he had the choice. \n\nNikita's eye wavered, flicking to the ground, to a few nearby trees, then back to the boy in front of him. He was glad nobody was around to see this. \nHe gave a gruff grunt as he nodded, ever so slightly, and bowed his head a little so that Pythia could better reach. He could feel his face grow hot in his embarrassment. \nNobody had ever felt his softness, only the sharpness of claws and teeth. He felt almost too open, too willing, but he needed to be more comfortable around people and this was going to be a part of it. \n\nThen the questions came as he knew they would, and he tried to answer as rapidly as they were asked- just barely keeping up with Pythia. \n\"I'm not sure. I can feel my teeth move around, but my mouth is also wider I think? If I had to guess, it's probably about the same- maybe a little less because some merge.\"\n\nThese questions really made him think. Why had he never considered these things? To Nikita, they were always just there as a simple fact, nothing to question. It simply was. But now he's realizing that his transformation is a lot more complicated than he feels it to be. \n\n\"I don't think I'm taller, but my muscles do change a bit. They become more lean like this. And uhm... My horns are like a goat's? I don't know. I definitely don't shed them, though. They're really strong, so nothing has ever really been able to break them. My colors? Uh...\" He does a quick look around. \"I have the same color receptors. Not much changes. Some colors do seem more vibrant though, blues and greens mostly.\" He tries, noticing that some things do have a slight difference. \"And yes, my hearing is a lot more sensitive. I can hear higher pitches. Dog whistles were one that always bothered me. We used them on the farm sometimes.\" \n\nHe had fallen behind Pythia since starting to answer, but he recalled all of the other boy's questions and was still able to answer. \n\nThe talking was distracting him from his current stance, head positioned down for Pythia still. He wasn't sure exactly how he would react to the touch, but he guessed he would find out soon."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*As Nikita lowered his head, Pythia reached a hand forward to gently stroke the boy's horn. He runs his hand along it, feeling its smooth ridges and solid form... It feels sturdy, most definitely a goats horn and not an antler... Meaning it had a core of bone in the middle that had to grow out of his skull... Did that mean his skull was reinforced too? To provide better support and foundation for the boy's horns. After giving the horns a few pets he reaches down to Nikita's hair. It is soft in a way he wasnt expecting, and Pythia squeaks softly upon feeling it. He wanted to run his hands through Nikita's crimson locks... But he did have a reason for touching the other boy's head.. And he pushed through the softness and began feeling around the bases if Nikita's horns. He was feeling for if his skull was thicker here... But unbeknownst to Pythia it may also be more sensitive.*\n\n*He nodded in response to the answers, both of his hands feeling the base of Nikita's left horn. He would gently push and rub the skin around the horns, being gentle but moving with a firm hand. He didnt speak yet, to engrossed by Nikita's dark grey and crimson features.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "The initial fingers running over his horns sent a shiver down his spine. Nobody had come this close to him when he was like this. There was a tension he couldn't quell, an instinct. That voice that always told him to 'get away', or 'too loud', or whatever else it had to say, was currently telling him that this was too close. Too dangerous. \nPythia was playing with fire, but Nikita didn't want to be the flame that burned. He wanted to comfort. \nA flame can provide respite from the cold world. Despite his power, he could be warm. \n\nAs his fingers trailed down, Nikita only grew more uneasy. The more something felt nice, the less he trusted it. And this felt like scratching an itch that had been there for years, like finally getting that spot on your back that you normally can't reach. \nIt felt like relief. \n\nHis scalp was sensitive, but his thick skull definitely wasn't. There were a few times he tested the strength of his horns, on trees and rocks. \nNikita's headbutts were probably really painful, all things considered. \n\nNikita twitched as Pythia's hands found the base of his horns, where keratin turned to skin and hair. He retracted slightly, raising his head. He gave Pythia a timid glance, just a short look in the eye. He looked back down, both hiding his reddened face and giving Pythia a second chance. \"Not there.\" He rasped, voice gruff and plain. He wasn't asking. \n\nHe could feel his heart in his throat, counting to four as he inhaled. *Calm down.* He exhaled for four beats. \nPythia was his friend. \nWas Pythia his friend? He had never really considered what that meant to others. Was he supposed to ask for friendship, or was this it? \n\nHe opened his mouth, but closed it as he realized the strange intimacy that question might bring in their current moment. \n\nNikita stayed quiet and allowed Pythia to inspect him, like a child to a dog."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*As Pythia felt Nikita's skull, he felt it had thickened alot... It would make sense given a goat's tendency for headbutting. Nikita had crouched down a bit past Pythia's eye level as he began feeling the skin around his horn. Pythia felt the shiver that moved through the other boy as he touched that more sensitive location. Nikita pulled back slightly, and Pythia looked him in the eyes. They were both blushing a bright crimson, and as Nikita gives his command Pythia nods, going back to petting Nikita's horn a few times before exploring somewhere else...*\n\n*He reaches a hand down to the side and gently poked at Nikita's long, fluffy looking ears. He was more careful this time, a single finger sliding along the top edge of his ear... But that almost made it worse. Pythia was suprised at how soft Nikita felt... He may have expected something different, but this was a pleasant surprise. He wanted to go further... But he knew that would be too much... So he tried to keep his contact to a minimum for now.*\n\n*He wanted Nikita to feel safe more than anything... Warmth was what they both desired. A gentle fire, not to burn or brand, but to comfort. Someone else had helped him come out of a place he never wanted to go again, if he could help someone else like that... Well that was all he wanted in that moment.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita's ear flicked out of reflex, but relaxed, as Pythia moved to touch that too. \n\nThere was a mild joy that came with Pythia's hand, soft and gentle on his ear. It was strangely calming. If not for the strangeness he felt, he might have begun to slouch and rest his eyelids. But he watched Pythia's hand still, for both caution and curiosity. What did this boy see in him? In this? \n\nThe red in his face faded, shrank to a small blush over his rosy cheeks, This continued for a while. Once again, Nikita was grateful the only eyes watching the two of them were of birds and bugs. \n\nNikita made a sound from the back of his throat, something like a cough and a growl mixed together. \"Is this what you intend to do all day?\" He commented, half jokingly when Pythia was taking too long. Nikita still wanted to rip this bandaid off, and it was only halfway done. \n\nHe wasn't sure what would happen after all was said and done, but Pythia seemed calmly curious. He hasn't felt judged yet. Pythia showed no hint of it. Nikita had only felt how kind Pythia was. At some point that had to run out. \n\nNikita still didn't pull away. He'd let Pythia decide when he was done, despite his impatience."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia grew a bit bolder with his ear petting, but only a bit. He felt at the fluff around Nikita's ears, feeling how thick the skin of his ears were and trying to hide his curiosity behind a scholarly desire for information... Though truly he just wanted to rub Nikita's ears because they looked soft. While Nikita's blush faded, Pythia's remained as he was only barely managing to hold into a calm exterior. Inside he was almost fangirling, how could he not! The red head was just so soft! He wanted to hug Nikita's head and nuzzle his hair, but that desire came from a rebellious faction in his mind that he wanted to keep on a tight leash, so he stayed quiet.*\n\n*At nikita's growled comment he yelped slightly, and stepped back.* \"Y... You may go f... Forward.\" *He says quietly, looking intently at the other boy, wanting to watch the transformation as it happened. He didnt know what possible form could be next. Nikita had mentioned that he wouldnt be able to speak, but what did that imply? His features were obviously caprine, so would he turn into like a mountain goat... Or was it something else? Pythia's curiosity was killing him, and he held his hands together infront of him, waiting expectantly for the transformation to take place. A soft smile was omnipresent throughout this whole experience, his face colored by the red-pink blush as he kept brushing the hair out of his eyes.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita nodded and drew in a breath. \n\nHis entire body began to fog over, a thin veil of mist masking the secret horror of his change. \nThis was because of the extreme temperature over his skin, similar to that of dry ice. \n\nThe process brought Nikita no pain, or discomfort. It was as easy as changing clothes. Speaking of which, his clothes didn't tear away. They seemed to disappear with the rest of him. \n\nThe entire transformation took very little time, maybe ten seconds. \n\nHis head was the first to come through the fog, which seemed to almost follow him as he teared away from it. \n\nHis horns and ears were the same. His head reflected that of a goat, in some aspects. The way the snout was angled down, long and strange looking. But in truth, the shape of his head was the only goatish thing there. His eyes were narrow and observant, his nose looked strangely cat-like, and the faint whiskers that clung to his face didn't help. \nFurther down, his neck was strangely long. Not so much so it looked silly- like a giraffe might look- but enough that it looked strangely unsettling. \n\n\nHis body was lean, covered in ginger fur. His legs were long, made for running mostly. \nThe tail was last, and by far the fluffiest. It was strangely shaped, wider in the middle than the rest like some lizards. \n\nThe sharp teeth and long claws suggested he was a carnivore, but luckily his diet was still human enough. \n\nHe opened his mouth, looking like he was trying to speak. He had never tried to do so before, never had a reason. \nThe sound that escaped him was like a snort, reminiscent of a boar. \n\nThis sound continued, until it started to form into something more comprehensible. \"I-\" He repeated this same syllable a few times. \n\nHe moved his mouth and tongue in uncomfortable ways, trying to bend the sound of growling to sound human. \nNikita scoffed and gave up, head angled down in mild disappointment.\n\nThen he looked up at Pythia for his reaction, trying to gauge how exactly Pythia felt about him by sight alone. \nIf there was even a hint of disgust or fear he would change back. The last thing he wanted was to make his maybe-friend uncomfortable."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia wasnt disgusted or afraid. The look was different... But where Nikita may look upon himself with horror, Pythia thought he looked adorable! The proportions of his body were weird, but in a cute way... And his overall body shape looked more canine...? He couldnt tell, but it looked nice. He didnt really pay attention to the teeth of claws, more focusing on Nikita big gold eyes, his soft looking ears, and oh my god his extra fluffy tail. He takes a few steps forward, giggling as Nikita struggles to speak. The sound is a bit spooky, but that was expected, his vocal cords would probably be entirely different! Well they would have to be, look at the size of his neck! They are probably super stretched, making normal \"Human speech\" Impossible...*\n\n\"Y... You dont have to t... Talk!\" *Pythia said quickly.* \"I... I wonder i... If you c... Can even really talk l... Like that... M... Maybe you could talk... Differently? L... Like a different intonation, i... I dont know, but you d... Dont have to talk. C... Can... Can I?\" *He asks, stepping closer and closer. He makes his way up to Nikita, holding out his hand like one would to an animal, allowing them to sniff before he goes in for the inevitable pets. With this more animalistic form Pythia is hardly restraining himself from hugging Nikita's neck and scratching him behind the ears. He hasnt had alot of experience with animals, but he read that they like being pet under their chins and scratched behind their ears.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "As Pythia approached, he raised a paw in caution- akin to a cat getting ready to bat something away. \n*'I am not yours to tame.'*\nA strange thought. Like this, thinking like that was more common. He was more prone to acting animalistic- following any whim that presented itself. He wouldn't do something if he was even the slightest bit unwilling. He wouldn't bend to anyone's will, not like this. \n\nThen Pythia held his hand out, and Nikita shot him a bored look. He would say he isn't a cat, or a dog, but he currently couldn't. \n\nBefore Pythia could reach out and trap him with pleasantly incessant petting, he began to move past the boy. \n\nHis paws left little indent in the grass and snow, unlike his boots that left an easily detectable trail. He moved like a shadow, wisping along the forest floor like a ghost. \n\nHis body was similar to a canine, but where dogs often bounced and swayed as they walked, he was kept steady. Not a single movement was out of place. \n\nBefore, he seemed stiff and clumsy, limbs strange and gangly. Here he seemed to actually fit, like his body made sense. Any trace of that awkward boy seemed to disappear when he was like this. \n\nHe didn't trail far from Pythia. Nikita looked back, yellow eyes meeting with those silver ones. His tail twitched and swayed slightly behind him. Nikita was waiting for Pythia."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia paused as Nikita backed away slightly, raising a paw like a cat. He could read postures enough to realize that Nikita didnt want Pythia to come closer... So he respected that wish and backed away slightly as Nikita brushed past him, his paws leaving barely noticible indents in the grass and snow. Where Pythia's feet crunched, Nikita's paws made hardly a sound, and the difference in skill between them was now obvious. As Nikita moved away, Pythia moved to follow... And then he was on his knees. He fell like a doll whose strings had been cut, and his vision fuzzed. Shadows sprung from everything, the world became darkness... The ground cracked and exploded upwards, trees fell in every direction simultaneously, everything that could happen happened in his mind, a chaotic mess of possibilities, a scream that echoed in his brain. He fell forward, pressing his forehead against the snow and earth as he began shaking. He had unconsciously pushed his abilities too far, his focus on Nikita had distracted him, and now his curse struck back. It wasnt just that he was blind, he could see them all, each future playing over eachother. If he was blind it would have been easy, but now his vision felt like it was tearing his brain apart. He couldnt hear, he couldnt even feel the earth beneath him. The cold was gone and all that was left was the pain of his sight.*\n\n_ _\n*He didnt realize when he fell over, but he awoke from a daze on his side, his beanie having slipped off and his pure white hair mixing with the snow. He had lost the concept of time in his mind. He didnt open his eyes, his eyes had been open the entire time... But the world slowly returned to normal... The ground shifted back into place, the trees righted themselves, and he shut his eyes tightly. He curled in on himself, shaking as the pain slowly left him. His body ached as he had been tensing all his muscles, but the pain was the worst in his head. His ears rung and everything felt... Distant. Like his senses were slowly returning after being lost.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita watched as Pythia began to walk. \n\nThere was a feeling, just before Pythia collapsed, in Nikita. His stomach lurched, full on anxiety. Something was wrong. \n\nThe moment the boy's knees buckled to fall, Nikita was running to his side. A thick fog came over him, swallowing the both of them into the smoke. \n\nThis transformation was quicker, sloppier. Fur still clung to parts of him, his ears and tail remained, horns still poked from him, but he was human again, holding- clinging- to Pythia. \nHe had already passed out, but words flowed from Nikita anyway. \"S-stay with me.\" He wheezed, taking care to lift Pythia into his arms.\n\n\"It's okay, it's going to be okay.\" He rocked back and forth with the boy in his arms, repeating those words to himself. They weren't really for Pythia's sake, they were for his. \n\nHis breathing was rapid, his heart pounding against his chest. He didn't know what to do. What the fuck was he supposed to do? \nNikita's jaw felt tight. He was clenching his teeth so hard he was sure they might crack and break under the force. \"Stay with me.\" He rasped, biting back tears. \n\nHe wasn't even sure he was helping. Nikita realized he could be making it worse, but he held on to Pythia and felt the boy's heart. \n\nNikita sat like that until Pythia began to wake. \n\nHe didn't know how long it had been. Seconds? Minutes? Maybe even an hour had passed, he wasn't sure. But as Pythia began to wake, a calm came over him. \nHe wasn't going to have to drag Pythia back, like all the others who had seen his beast. \n\nMaybe, he thought, it might be a bad omen. Maybe this was all his fault. \n\n\"I'm sorry.\" He croaked. \"I shouldn't have brought you out here, I'm sorry.\" He choked. His eyes were close to spilling. Nikita didn't want to cry in front of Pythia, not now. He was sure the boy wouldn't want to be his friend, not after all this."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*He had seen something... Everything... His ability was normally contained, it showed a wide range of possibilities, but it never showed everything. His folly had caused a massive extension of that range, of possibilities even wilder than anything plausible. All ranges of natural disasters, cataclysms, overwhelming his mind so much his brain hadnt even been able to comprehend his other senses. His eyes focused... Well focused was the wrong word. He was in darkness again, but this was different. The pounding riptide had turned peaceful, back to the gentle babble of only probable futures.*\n\n*He felt Nikita's arms first, his ears still rang so much he couldnt hear Nikita speak... But he felt warmth from the other boy. He reached up with shaking arms, and wrapped them around Nikita's waist, as if the other boy was an anchor to reality itself. He realized he was crying softly, he hadnt been able to feel the tears on his cheeks until now, and he sniffled softly. He didnt speak for awhile, simply clutching to Nikita. As long as he had been out, it took him longer to recover. It may have felt like hours to the two of them, but in reality not much time passed at all.*\n\n*Eventually he pulled back slightly. He looked up towards Nikita, even though he couldnt see the red headed boy, and he smiled softly.* \"T... T-t... Thank y... You\" *He croaked softly, his voice feeling hoarse. His eyes were red and puffy, tear marks staining his pale pink cheeks as he reaches up to wipe his eyes.* \"I... ... ... I-i\" *He hacked suddenly, coughing.* \"I... I h... Havent made t... That... M... Mistake i... In a... A..Awhile\" *He stuttered, still hugging Nikita's waist.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita's expression hardened as Pythia spoke. \n\nHe clutched the boy, the ends of his claws poking uncomfortably. \n\n\"Do not thank me. This isn't your fault.\" His voice was strangely stoic, maybe even cold. \n\nNikita's breaths were still quick and shallow, but they came in at a steady pace. He wasn't as erratic as before. \n\nHe could barely look at Pythia, not that it mattered. They couldn't see eachother anymore. His vibrant eyes had grown dull. They were his normal ones, at least, more brown than yellow when like this. \n\nHe lets Pythia sit there and recover, but he doesn't relax. \n\nThe only thoughts in his head are of how things could have been different. If he didn't invite Pythia, or maybe if they hadn't met, maybe then the boy would be safe in bed at that moment. \n\nTime passed, and Nikita's throat felt impossibly closed. He was quiet again, unable to break past his own barriers. He sat there, dull and distant, waiting for Pythia to make the first move at leaving. \n\nHe should never have tried to change. People wouldn't be hurt by him if he just disappeared."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia hugged Nikita's waist, and he couldnt help himself from smiling like an idiot. He had no clue of Nikita's tension and doubt, instead all he could feel was the warmth of the other boy. That had sucked, it had sucked alot... But it was his own damn fault for stretching his powers... And it was over. He had done that a few times in the past, pushing his powers, and they worked a bit like a rubberband. He could force himself to see for longer, but that snap back stung like a bitch. It was scary, seeing the world crack and rupture... But well, when you were already used to seeing the future, foreseeing cataclysm wasnt too traumatic. The loss of senses and pain was the worst bit, but in Pythia's mind, the anticipation of pain was often worse than the pain itself... And he was already over the hurtle. Though he doubted he would be in as good of a mood if he was by himself.*\n\n*The last time he had done something like that was a few years ago. The vertigo had been intense as he had been in his room, and he had seen the building collapsing in a hundred different ways... But the worst part of the experience by far wasnt the pain, it was being alone afterwards. He could deal with the skull splitting headache, the tinnitus, the complete loss of senses... But being left alone too, that was too much. For someone who had spent so much time alone, one would think Pythia would have a better handle on loneliness, but in truth he hated it more than anything... SO he was smiling like a dork as he hugged Nikita's waist.*\n\n_ _\n*He felt like Nikita wasnt going to move until he did, so he was a bit greedy and held onto the sensation, until finally he felt an ache in his muscles and gently let go of Nikita. He stretched back, working the stiffness out of his muscles as his face was absolutely beaming. He... Moaned? Groaned? I cant think of the word, but the noise you make when you stretch, a kind of closed mouth, \"Mmmmmm\" Characterized by like, closing the throat and pushing air out? I cant describe it for the life of me but it is a good sound, a sound of contentment, and afterwards Pythia lets out a relaxed sigh... Before breaking into an absolute fit of giggles.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Pythia's fit of laughter pulled Nikita violently into his surroundings, finally looking at Pythia and seeing how calm he was relaxed some of Nikita's own tension. \n\"What's so funny?\" His voice was hoarse. He didn't care. He'd simply strain to talk. \n\nPythia was okay, and Nikita felt like maybe, somehow, he did something right. Maybe he had messed up by bringing Pythia out here, but he could forgive himself if Pythia kept laughing like that. \n\nNothing else mattered in that moment. The ambience of the forest hushed because of their noise, and for once he didn't care about that. He didn't care how he felt, even. Just that Pythia was safe. His friend was safe. Or, well, maybe-friend. Nikita still wasn't sure."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia giggled more at the tension in Nikita's voice, the juxtaposition of the absolute pain he had been in a few minutes ago with the bliss he felt now was just funny to him. He coughed again, his throat still feeling a bit sore as he felt around for the small bottle of water he brought. He drank it down greedily, soothing the ache in his throat as he sat back on his legs, looking towards where he thought Nikita was.* \n\n\"T... That... W... Was n-nice\" *He says, his face flushing crimson.* \"N... Not m... My power flare, t... That sucked as a... Always, but... You being t... There was nice. The last t-time that happened I... I was alone and... Well it is s... So much easier t... To recover when... U... Uhm...\" *He stopped suddenly, his face turning an even brighter red as the last thing he wants to admit is that feeling Nikita's arms around him almost made the pain worth it. Hell, if he was a bit more desperate he may consider it worth it to go through that again for some more cuddles.* \"T... Thank you... R-really\" *He says quietly* \"I... I was an i... Idiot and I wanted t... To see you so much t... That I forgot to s-space out my p... Power activation. I... I think I can stand n... Now\" *He adds in a slightly shaky voice.*\n\n*He takes a second, before slowly standing up. His legs wobble, but they are stable, and he smiles at Nikita.* \"N... Now um... You looked l... Like you wanted t... To bring me somewhere i... In your... ... Goat? Cat? Dog-goat-cat? Y... Your big fluffy animal form. I... I think I can walk now! I... I can feel my feet again, which is nice\""
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita was blown away at the sheer resilience of Pythia. How had the boy gone through what seemed like an entire lifetime of pain, only to recover and laugh?\n\nThis sight alone was the greatest superpower he had seen at the cradle. \n\nHe watched as Pythia stood, ready to leap and catch him if need be. Nikita frowned a little at Pythia's words. \n\n\"No.\" His voice carried an air of command, yet it was empty and uncaring. This was his fault, and if Pythia wasn't going to punish him then he'd punish himself. \"I'm taking you home. This was a mistake.\" He muttered flatly, standing and walking a few feet toward the way to the dorm. \n\nHis words carried weight, and it hurt to be hit by them. He disliked what he was saying as much as Pythia probably did, but if he was going to protect Pythia then he needed to leave before it was too late. Bad things seemed to follow him, no need to drag someone like Pythia into his shitshow. \n\nHis tail flicked at the end, back and forth like a cat. He was conflicting with himself. Nikita was usually one to follow his gut, and when he betrayed that his own body turned on him. His tail was a dead giveaway. He was glad Pythia couldn't see that much, at least."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*The words hit Pythia just as hard, if not harder. More akin to a suckerpunch, they more came out of nowhere to Pythia. Now he wasnt against going back to the dorms, the wilderness was cool but so were beds and stuff, but more than that he didnt want to be alone. He felt the coldness suddenly, not a physical thing... A numbness in his mind, a cruel coping technique that had defined much of his time. He still hurt from the experience, his mind still ached... But with another so close, it was like a sun burning away the darkness... When that light moved away it would return... And more than anything he couldnt go back into it.*\n\n*He stumbled forwards, and as Nikita moved away light returned to his eyes... But he didnt care about seeing, he just focused on the sphere of darkness that represented Nikita... His mouth felt suddenly dry, and he tried to speak but nothing came out. He couldnt wrap his mind around what Nikita was doing... He had told him that it was okay, that he had helped. It hadnt been Nikita's fault that Pythia was an idiot and stressed his powers. Or... Was this Nikita's way of punishing him...? No... He couldnt believe that, it was too cruel... But his mind still whispered such falsehoods, each with just enough believability to stick and drag at his mind.*\n\n_ _\n*A low whine escaped him as he took a shaking step forward... And then another. He wanted to run forward, to grab onto the other boy and to tell him that he didnt want to go back, that more than anything it would hurt him even more to be alone, that the worst thing he could do to Pythia right now was to leave. But he couldnt, his own feelings petrified him. A fear of rejection, that if he does say something Nikita would just transform and leave... That he would think Pythia was weird or gross... Hell, parts of his mind whispered that he was acting gross or too clingy. So he fell into step about five feet behind Nikita, just outside of the bubble of shadows so that he could see the floor. His body shook visibly, and tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. His low whine sounded like that of a beaten animal, a small cry for mercy, for help.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita watched Pythia. His jaw tightened as he looked toward the way back, then at Pythia again. \n\nHe wasn't going to let Pythia stumble through the forest when he could easily help him back. Nikita knew Pythia could see, at a distance, but he could still be prone to falling- or even another attack- and Nikita could be there to catch him. \n\nHe continued this line of thought, justifying the reasons to help Pythia. \n\nThe small cries that came from Pythia pushed him over the edge. He wasn't a bad person, he couldn't ignore someone who wanted help. \n\nNikita closed the distance between them, came to the boy's side and hooked his arm with Pythia's just as they had done before. \n\nHe couldn't muster any words, not yet. No matter how desperately he wanted to tell Pythia how sorry he was, his dry tongue refused to move and his throat made no noise. All he could do was bring Pythia close to his side and start walking, making sure that the other boy had a clear path that was free of roots and bushes. \n\nMeanwhile, he tried to calm his nerves. He was still on edge. Any sound that was out of place might send him into anohter state. \n\nHis tail lashed behind him, ears flicking and twitching at every bird call or frog croak. He knew he couldn't leave the forest like this, but he could at least lead Pythia to the edge where it was safer to walk by himself."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia stumbled slightly as Nikita stopped and they entered darkness. They closed their eyes, their body shaking slightly... Not from the cold, but from a fear that when they open their eyes again... That the darkness around them will be gone and they will be alone. But they feel Nikita's arm, and Pythia grabbed onto it like a lifejacket. They could deal with pain, they could bear it a bit, if someone was there to help. The numbness receded slightly, but it was still there. He couldnt speak either, not for lack of desire, but because his mind held him back. He held onto Nikita's arm tight, pressing his head against the other boy's shoulder as they walked. The gesture could have been intimate, but Pythia just needed the support at the moment. His ears still rang softly, and his fingers and toes felt fuzzy. He wanted a distracted from that, to do something fun with Nikita... But his stupid powers had ruined something again.*\n\n\"I-im s... Sorry\" *He mustered quietly after a few minutes of walking.* \"I... I... It a... Always r... Ruins everything\" *He whines, more to himself than to Nikita. He felt like he had to say something.* \"I... I liked... S... Seeing you... T... Thank you for trusting me... I... Im sorry\" *He says again, each time repeating it is like a blow to himself, an admission that he had fucked up.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "A silent regret creeps onto Nikita, whispering all of his wrongdoings to him as Pythia apologizes. He grits his teeth together. He thinks he could break his own teeth, if he tried. \n\"None of this is your fault.\" His voice is dry, and suddenly he's the same boy he was a year ago. He blames himself for every second of what happened, and decides the world will be better without him to interrupt. Nothing he can do can remedy their situation, so why try?\n\nHe wants to leave it there, to drop the conversation and just walk in his own bitter silence. Yet he decides against himself. Nikita has continued to decide against his better judgment over and over around Pythia. \nHe's torn in half, between being human and being something else. He has to give humanity a chance. He has to give himself a chance. \nHe's convinced himself that starts with Pythia. \n\n\"I'm sorry.\" He says again. Some of his voice has returned. \"For everything.\" \n\nHe pauses, biting his lip as he contemplates his words. \n\n\"I'm not good at friendship. I've only ever known sheep and dogs. Human is something new, or at least strange to me.\" He says, and lets those words hang in the air. \n\n\"If that makes you want to be my friend less, then I'd understand.\" \n\nBefore he'd retreat to silence. Now he cowers at the face of it, fearing Pythia will ignore him and what he's said. He wishes he had his music on, so that he didn't have to think in the small moments between conversation."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia stopped walking as Nikita said that last sentence, they were getting close to the school now, but he wanted to have this conversation before they got closer. He planted his feet and held tightly to Nikita's arms... ... Though the other boy could probably drag him through the snow if he wanted to... ... Particularly if he was in his other form.*\n\n\"I... ... I want to be y... Your friend. I... I want to be c... Close to you. Please d... Dont push me a... Away. It... Being p... Pushed away hurts me m... More than anything you c... Could ever do. M... My pain wasnt your fault. You helped me more than y-you can know. Please...\" *He says in a voice hardly above a whisper. It is hard to get out because it feels far too much like a confession. He still is afraid that Nikita would leave, and at the same time part of him is screaming to go further, to say more... But those two balance out and leave this confession in its place.*\n\n*He looked nervous, but hopeful at the same time. His eyes tried to look into Nikita's and there was a kind of sincerity in them the boy hadnt seen in many places... Pythia held tightly onto Nikita's arm, hoping beyond hope that the other boy would see that he wanted to atleast try.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita didn't force Pythia along, but he was reluctant to stop. \n\nHe stood in place with Pythia, listening to his pleas as he observed the other. \n\nThere, in the woods so far from home, somewhere so new and strange, someone was begging for *Nikita's* Friendship, someone who could do a lot better. Someone who deserved better. \n\nBut who was Nikita to deny Pythia of something he was so sure of? \n\nNikita's eyes found Pythia's, searching for something. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, exactly. He isn't sure what he finds, either. \n\nHis gaze falls, and he lets out a low sigh. \n\nPythia doesn't know the decision he's making, doesn't know what he's asking. He doesn't know Nikita. \n\n\"I won't stop you.\" He said, and then he was quiet. \n\nThe silence stretched on for what felt like eternity. \n\nNikita wasn't leaving, and he was allowing Pythia to stay. That's all he could do, for the time.\nThough, he knew they couldn't stand idly by forever, so he spoke again. \"Where do you want to go?\" His voice was softer. He was going to let Pythia decide his own path, instead of dragging him along on his."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia sighed softly. He didnt know why his emotions had fixated on this boy... Maybe it was how they were so similar, yet also so different. Maybe it was the way that they were both outcasts, and Pythia thought he could help Nikita too... He didnt know, but the fact he wasnt getting pushed away was a relief. He pulled slightly closer to the other boy, not wanting to get weird but... Also wanting to be close to him.*\n\n\"C... Could... W... We go o... Over to my room? O... Or to your room? I... Im... Kinda tired... But! I... I do want you to t... Take me into the woods again sometime. Uhm... D... Do you think I could ride y-your other form? Im trying t... To think of ways where I wouldnt slow you down\" *I comment quietly.* \"A... And... I... I do want t... To ask you s... Some more about your powers, m... Maybe in a place where I dont need a... A jacket and a blanket\" *He says with a soft giggle, meaning that entirely as a joke.* \n\n*Maybe asking to go to their rooms was moving too quickly... But it was the one location where he knew they could be alone. Plus he wouldnt be freezing his butt off, which would be nice. It should also be big enough for the boy's other form, meaning he could see more of that if Nikita was willing.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita lightened up as Pythia talked, clinging so close. Maybe he wasn't ready for normal friendship, but he was fine with this. He could at least be there for Pythia. \n\nHe nodded and began to walk slowly. \"I don't mind questions. And... I think you're small enough that you could try to stay on.\" He shrugged, not seeing a reason to not try next time they came out to the woods. It would just be like a piggyback ride. Probably. \n\n\"I could use a blanket right now.\" He let out a loud sigh, meant for Pythia's ears. Being warm seemed like a comfort he hasn't had in a long time. He didn't like the blankets the dorm supplied, and he hasn't bothered to get new ones. Instead, he's been sleeping on his bean bag in his other form. \n\nThen he began to hear the hum of electricity, moving closer to the facility, and he remembered his current deformity. \nHe stumbled a moment as he started to change. \n\nHorns, tail, and ears all began to fog over and seemingly evaporate with the mist as it disappeared. He was a little fluffy in some parts. Some fur still remained on his arms, some tucked just behind the ear, and extra hairs along his jaw. Those minor details were harder to just get rid of. He had to do a lot of shaving, to say the least. But they were minor enough that nobody ever took care to point out. He also still blended in with the crowd in Newton's Cradle that he didn't need to explain much to anyone. He was grateful for that much."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "\"D... Do you want to go to m... My room or to yours?\" *He asked quietly as they began walking again... And the sounds of the cradle grew closer. He liked the idea of trying to ride Nikita's animal form... It sounded like it would end with Pythia in the snow, but it still sounded fun. Maybe if he had a harness of some kind... Or could he use his scarf? Well, he could figure out the details later.* \n\n\"A... And... You can use t... This one if we g... Go to your room... Or I have a lot more in m... My room. The blankets here suck, s... So I had my mom mail me the ones f... From my room. They are way softer. I... I also got her to send over my mattress and stuff s... So my bed is really soft!\" *He says, slightly geeking out about his bed. It was probably the most expensive thing in his room, given he didnt use technology a ton and he spent a lot of time there he had made it essentially perfect for him.*\n\n*As they moved closer to the cradle, Pythia felt the change in Nikita. He hoped that when they got to a room that Nikita would feel comfortable going back to his more demi-human form, because it was super cute, and he wanted to see more of it.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "A smile played over Nikita's lips, raised ever so slightly at the ends. He felt fragile, akin to glass. He hoped Pythia wouldn't drop him. \n\n\"It sounds like you want to go to your room.\" He chuckled softly. Now that he spoke, his voice has lost its ruggedness. He was just the Nikita who had ice powers now. \"It sounds better than mine, anyway. I kind of have yet to fully settle.\" He said, starting to think. \n\nBack home he used to horde towels and pillows, cover them in blankets, and lay in them. There was always a security in being burrowed in a soft pile of clothes. \n\nNow he had one towel, and one more than itchy blanket. \n\nTo say he was uncomfortable sleeping in his bed was an understatement. \n\nSo, the more Pythia described his room the more Nikita wanted to run there. But he continued his slow stroll for Pythia's sake. \n\nThe trees gave way to the familiar grass field of campus, and Nikita felt exposed quickly. All desire to remain monstrous left him, and he was soft again. Part of him even grew a little self conscious, double and tribble checking that his tail was gone, making sure his ears were normal, plucking a few hairs from his chin, and other small gestures to \"Fix\" Himself up. \n\nHe did these little actions the whole way to the dorm. \n\nIt was a little past noon when they got back, and the halls were full. It made Nikita's head ache, going from such peacefully quiet woods to loud and bustling hallways. \nHe hated how normal it was for things to get so loud around people. \n\nHe sighed as they climbed the stairs, finding a fair bit less people on the second story. Nikita remembered the way to Pythia's room. This time, he wouldn't be leaving him at the door."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia blushed a bit at the comment. Yes he was curious about what Nikita's room was like but oh gods he wanted to lay down on his bed. The two made their way through the courtyard and into the building.* \n\n*Pythia couldnt see the other people... But he could feel them. Hearing the sounds of people bustling always made him anxious. It was all so overwhelming, the loss of sight, the loudness, the smell of alot of bodies packed together, and of course the constant bumping. The two skirted the edges, and made their way up to the dorms. It was a bit calmer around here thankfully, and Pythia led Nikita to his room.*\n\n*Nikita would love Pythia's room. First of all, his bed was big. It was a full queen sized mattress that had a few matress covers on it, making it extra plush. On top of that was a mountain of blankets where Pythia had made almost a nest, a little spot in the middle he could curl up. There was also a plain body pillow on his bed, a wire running from it showing that it was heated. It looked a bit like the structures he had made, just withoug any kind of covering on top. In terms of furniture there wasnt a ton, Pythia obviously spent a lot of time in bed, and that was his prefered spot to chill. He has a small desk with a few papers and a small laptop on it, aswell as a small bookshelf... Which holds more knickknacks than books. He has a simple wardrobe, with the other big piece in his room being a reflex punching bag near the center, where it could be danced around.*\n_ _\n\n*Pythia was still blind, and didnt feel like using his powers given his head was still a bit sore... So he stayed close to Nikita and gave the room a little \"Ta-da\" Wave of the hands as he said* \"W... Welcome!\" *Before breaking into a small fit of giggles at the stupid presentation. He threw his blanket towards the bed off of muscle memory and thankfully it landed no problem. He began slipping off his coat and scarf, feeling along the wall for his coatrack and putting those things up until he was left in his jeans and sweater. He began pulling the sweater off, since it was really too hot for the indoors and he had a t-shirt on underneath.. Though in the process it hiked up his shirt and Nikita could see Pythia's slender chest for a few seconds until he pulled the sweater off and tossed it towards a laundry basket... This throw was less successful as the sweater landed on the edge of the basket but that was close enough for Pythia.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita lazily glanced over the room, focusing more on the plush bed. \n\nIf it was his, he'd currently be crashing into the nest part. Just looking at the bed he can understand why Pythia doesn't get out much. \n\nHis eyes found Pythia again when he did his welcoming motion. He laughed along with the boy and closed the door behind him. Then it was just them in a room that felt all too small. \n\nWhen he turned back to Pythia from the door, he got the glimpse of his bare chest.\n\nHis heart skipped a beat as his eyes flew to the floor. \n\nRight. \n\nNikita was gay. And he was alone with a boy. In a room that felt all too small. \n\nThe ginger felt how hot his face was, and soon his cardigan felt like too much warmth on his skin. Luckily, his power gave him an out. \nHe began to cool himself, being careful to not overdo it. \n\nHe wasn't a complete stranger to nudity. He's had a phone for most of his later life, and the boys on the farm weren't shy to remove their shirts on hot summer days, but it was a topic that always felt too personal for Nikita. And he had never been so close to it. \n\nOnce he felt like he could breathe again, he stopped trying to cool himself off. He just focused on taking off his frost-covered boots. He left them by the door and found the courage to look at Pythia again. \"So, uhm.\" He tried, tripping over his own words as he spoke. \"Y-you said you have questions?\" Nikita asked, trying to distract himself from his mind."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia blushed bright as he felt his shirt riding up... But he was already most of the way through taking it off... And he rationalized it as them both being guys... I mean, Pythia knew he was gay... Even though he hadnt done anything with anyone... But he couldnt be sure about Nikita. The boy absolutely lacked a gaydar. The room wasnt too small to Pythia, but given the boy's stature most things would seem to big for him. He yanked down his tshirt, covering his body and blushing softly as he leaned back against his wardrobe in an attempt to look casual.*\n\n\"I... I.. Uhm... ... About your... Other form. Does it affect how you think? Your b... Behavior seemed a bit different but Im not totally sure\" *He said softly, trying to distract himself with the questions. His room had two places to sit, his chair at his desk and his bed... So Pythia chose to lean... He didnt feel like taking the one \"Neutral\" Seated location, wanting to leave that open for Nikita... But laying in his bed felt way to intimate... Even though he really wanted to hug his heated pillow. He was close enough to Nikita that he was still enclosed in shadows, so he couldnt see the blush on the other boy. He heard him stutter, but stuttering was so normal to Pythia he didnt even really notice or think about it.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "The ginger stood idly for a moment, before realizing Pythia was giving him the chance to choose where he would lounge.\n\nNikita eyed the bed, envious of Pythia's current living. However, he chose the desk chair. He wanted Pythia to be comfortable in his own room, after all. \nPlus, after his surge of not-so-wholesome thoughts he figured he should sit by himself. \n\nHe dwelled on the question. He had never considered it. \n\nNikita was always more *Himself* In his other form, which he has dubbed Zima- meaning winter. It was sort of a second identity. Of course it was still *Him*, but it was more unfiltered. He followed instinct, lived on his whims. \nHe had less self control, in the simplest terms. \n\nUltimately, he shrugged. \"I'm not exactly sure. But, yeah, I do act differently.\" Nikita said, scratching his chin. \"Like, maybe it's a change in hormone and chemical levels? I dunno. It's not like I can go off a real life example, since there's nothing like... That.\" He made a circle motion with his hands, trying to communicate he was talking about the animal. He quickly realized Pythia couldn't see him and he lowered his hands. \n\nHe sighed. He hated calling it anything other than the name he'd found for it. If he was calling Zima a beast or monster, he was inherently calling himself such a thing. \nYet it was embarrassing to Nikita, like sharing the name of a treasured stuffed animal. It was childish. \n\nThen again, Nikita probably shouldn't be scared to share such a thing with Pythia- the one other person at Newton's Cradle who knew about his power. \n\nHe gave in. He wasn't going to keep calling himself a beast or monster everytime he needed to talk about his power. \n\n\"Could you... Uhm.\" He mumbled, words blending into each other. \"Could you call it Zima? When referring to my other form. I call it Zima. It's Slovak for winter.\" He said, slightly more confident in his words. He didn't think Pythia would deny his request, but that didn't stop him from thinking it weird."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia nodded at the answers... It made sense that it would be difficult to judge... His brain would have to have changed to some degree, so his hormones would 100% be changed a ton. As Nikita brought up the name Pythia smiled. He had been walking that line delicately, but using the term \"Your other form\" Constantly was way too wordy. He didnt want to call them a beast or a monster, and animalistic wasnt that much better because it was still Nikita... Zima sounded nice.*\n\n\"Z... Zima... T... Thats a beautiful name\" *Pythia says quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he hears Nikita sit down in his chair. He walks over to his bed and flops down in it, grabbing a blanket, the same blanket he had been wearing outside, and tossing it towards Nikita. It was a very big, very thick blanket, with one very fuzzy side. Pythia grabbed some blankets and made them into an impromptu chair back so that he could recline easily without just laying down.*\n\n*He felt... Nervous... Both afraid and excited at once... He wanted Nikita to join him on the bed... Maybe it was big enough where they could do that? Being super close to eachother like they had been on the bench was hard... It would feel more deliberate now, more intimate. In the cold it was a method of survival, of staying warm... Here it would be out of a different desire, a desire Pythia had a hard time placing... But he still wanted to feel some parts of Nikita's transformation, and having one in the chair and one in the bed would make that hard... Well, he could deal with that later, for now the two were just talking.*\n\n\"W... What do you normally do as Zima?\" *He asked, immediately switching to using the more proper name.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "There was a small warmth that filled Nikita when he heard Pythia say that name. He had never heard someone else say it before. \nHe liked the way it sounded in Pythia's voice. He didn't feel so embarrassed about it. \n\nHe nodded curtly at the compliment, a small blush appearing over his cheeks. He wanted to thank Pythia more formally, but it felt too forced at that moment. \n\nHowever, he didn't get much of a chance to dwell on it before a blanket was being hurled at him. Luckily, he didn't have to do much for it to land comfortably in his lap. \n\nHe was quickly wrapping himself in the blanket, cocoon style. The plush material felt particularly welcoming on his skin, far more than the itchy cloth that the cradle called blankets. \nNikita leaned back into the chair, bringing up his legs to sit cross-legged. He had to tuck his feet under him slightly, but he was successfully able to wrap his entire body in the blanket- save for the top of his head. \n\nHe shrugged at the question. \"Run around, mostly. Watch, usually. Learn, occasionally.\" When he put it like that, it sounded so simple. He guessed it was, in truth. \"I need to go out there pretty often.\" He says, simple as fact. He didn't allude to why. \n\nThough the answer was quite easy. The more time he went without freeing himself, the more he began to act out. It's easy to have bursts of anger when he goes without Zima for too long. \nHe was just grateful that the cradle let him roam freely, within hours of curfew and off class time. \n\n\"Anything else?\" He asks, a little eagerly. \"I like answering your questions.\" Nikita smiled, pushing his face a bit into the blanket to hide it- not that he needed to. \nPythia asked questions he hadn't even considered, and they were nice to think about. Or, when the question was easy enough, he enjoyed talking about it. \n\nMaybe he just enjoyed the simple back and forth of conversation."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*The blanket was incredibly soft, maybe not as fluffy as Nikita or Rima's tail... But still very soft and fluffy... And it was an old blanker that Pythia used almost nightly... But if Nikita had an enhanced sense of smell he would easily be able to smell Pythia's scent on the blanket. It was big enough that Nikita could easily cocoon himself in its warmth, with plenty of blanket to spare.*\n\n\"I... Im glad, I... I like asking q... Questions... ... A... And if you ever w... Wonder something about m... My powers I feel the same.\" *He adds. It was sometimes hard to talk about his powers... Especially given how often they brought him pain... But talking about it always helped in the end. It made him feel less alone, and having someone else be able to bear the burden... Even if it is just the knowledge.. Was incredibly helpful.*\n\n\"D... Do you... Eat raw meat? L... Like alot of animals eat raw meat, h... Humans are a big exception to that standard... As Zima, c... Can you eat raw meat? If so, can you eat raw meat i... In your hybrid form? Y... Your normal form? A... Also do you have preferred names for those forms too or are the terms I... I used okay?\" *He asks, thinking about Nikita surviving in the woods leading to the question of sustenance. He leaned back against his little blanket mound, grabbing his heated pillow and turning it on before hugging one end of it to his chest.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita nodded. \"If any questions come to mind, I'll ask.\" He said and closed his eyes. His voice had found a sort of dreaminess to it. \n\nAt the question, he let out a loud snort followed by gentle laughter. \"As Zima, I can better digest raw food. Technically I can eat it in all forms but... Anything besides Zima and I'm on the toilet for hours.\" He admits with another soft laugh. \"I don't crave it, though. I have a normal diet, for a teenager at least.\" \n\nAt the next question, he shrugged. He did that a lot, even though Pythia didn't see it. \"Call the half-forms what you like. Just not... You know, anything mean.\" He muttered the last part, but it was still audible in the quiet of the room. \n\nHe shook his head. \"Besides that, back to food.\" He liked that topic particularly. \"Not really about powers, but what do you like to eat? Any favorites that come to mind?\" Nikita asked, being sure not to specify any type of food like \"Favorite meal\" Or \"Favorite snack.\" He found those options strangely limiting."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*He giggles at the comment about indigestion. It would make sense that Zima would have a different digestive system... Though it brought up a secondary question...* \"W... What if you like, eat something raw a... And then change back immediately?\" *He pondered, wondering if his body would purge the raw food or if it would stay in his gut, and he would have to wait until digesting it as Rima before turning back... And in regards to the form questions, he liked calling the in-between one hyrbid... But was still a bit stumped on what to call the everyday form... Normal implied that the other two were weird or strange... Which they were, but Pythia didnt know if Nikita would be sensitive to that. Human implied that Nikita wasnt human as a hybrid or Zima... Which was part true and part not true... His instinct changed slightly, but it was still Nikita in the end.*\n\n*As food was brought up Pythia smiled.* \"O... Oh! So much. Um... M... My favorite cuisines a... Are probably Italian, Japanese, a... And Chinese. Though Korean, Thai, a... And Vietnamese a... Are also really good... My mom i... Is a great chef. And... It was kinda h... How we connected for awhile. She would c... Cook for me as a way of showing s... She cared when she couldnt do it physically.\" *He said, getting a bit emotional at the memory. He shook his head suddenly, reaching up to wipe his eyes.* \"I... I dont have a favorite... M... Maybe lasagna? G... Given it tastes great also a... Also reheats well so its really practical... But to be honest my favorite c... Changes from day to day\""
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita let out a hum, contemplating. \"I haven't tested that. But, if I had to guess, I don't think anything would happen. My normal body doesn't reject raw food like other people. It's just difficult to process.\" He said, trying to explain it in vague terms. \n\nNiktia called it normal, because it was his default form after all. He didn't grow up as Zima. That came later on, with rage and isolation. \n\nThe ginger nodded and smiled as Pythia talked, eyelids still handling lightly closed as he listened. The more Pythia said about food, the dumber he felt. He didn't really know food as categories, he just understood food as types. Fish, meat, fruit, that kind of thing. But he tried to understand regardless, trying to picture the food Pythia listed. They sounded more like cultures than food, but he wasn't so dull that he couldn't guess that the food came from those cultures. \n\nThen the mention of mothers came, and Nikita tensed slightly. Nothing that was off putting, just *Tense*. He didn't know how to speak about mothers, especially not other people's. \n\n\"She sounds like a nice lady, your mom.\" He tried, leaving it at that. \n\nAnd then there was something he understood. Lasagna. Even though Nikita had eaten an entire plate of baked ziti just a couple hours prior, his mouth watered at the thought of a good piece of lasagna. \n\nHe stopped his salivating and thought about his own \"Favorite.\" In truth, Nikita liked basically anything. That's another thing he knew he got from his grandfather. Both of them would race to finish plates of food when he was younger, and they'd eat anything put in front of them. Well, basically anything.\n\nThere was one memory, however, that stood out. \n\nHe was maybe seven or eight. Nikita wasn't sure, it was hard to remember a time so far away. \nBut he remembers the smell, the mess on his hands, the taste in his mouth. \n\n\nThe sky was orange as the fruit in his mouth, and his grandpa was telling him a story he can't recall. \n\nHe smiled at the thought. \n\n\"I like oranges.\" His words had a certain somber tone, something distant. \n\n\"They remind me of my grandpa.\""
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia smiled at that... He hoped that Nikita's grandpa was a good person. He may have hurt Nikita... Or Nikita may have hurt him... But if he cared that was enough. Lord, Pythia knew that his mother had hurt and been hurt by him too many times to count... But neither of them could be blamed for it. They both just didnt understand how they were making the other feel, and they didnt intend any pain... She still tried alot, and he had spent some time talking to her last night. It was hard to talk sometimes... They had grown alot more distant... But they still cared, so even though talking was difficult both of them made the effort.*\n\n*He decided not to talk about Nikita's grandfather in a similar way to how Nikita didnt talk about Pythia's mother... Neither of them really knew how to approach the topic and Pythia didnt want to dig up any bad memories... Instead he asked about oranges.* \"D... Do you like t... To cook with them a... At all, or just eat them raw?\" *He asked, wondering what form Nikita preferred the fruit in. Pythia wasnt the biggest fan of raw fruit, he preferred making something like a pastry with it, but he saw the appeal.*\n\n*Past that his questions dried up a bit and nothing popped into his mind.. Even still it was nice to sit together... Or atleast near eachother... It made his room feel warmer somehow, more inviting.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita paused. \n\nHe opened his eyes and stared bug-eyed at Pythia, despite the boy being unable to see him still.\n\n\"You can... Cook oranges?\" He was on the brink of laughing, unknowing of Pythia's opinion on raw fruit. Mixed with amusement, there was curiosity. He wondered how different it tasted. \n\nSeeing Nikita's ignorance on cooked oranges, it was obvious he had only ever had them raw. \n\nHe chuckled lightly. \"You know way more about food than I do.\" He sighed and closed his eyes again, tracing a finger over his palm under the blanket. The action was soothing, and it kept him moving instead of dozing off. \"Growing up on a farm has downfalls, I guess.\" He said. There wasn't any particular emotion that he spoke with when he mentioned the farm, no signs to point toward disdain or fondness. \n\n\"Oh, that reminds me. You said you grew up in the city, yeah? It's kind of stupid, but what was school like? If you went, that is.\" Nikita asked, timidness creeping into his voice as he spoke. He didn't want to poke a sleeping bear. He decided to look at Pythia, searching for any mixed emotions. He wouldn't bring up the topic again if Pythia seemed uncomfortable. \n\nSchools were always so prominent in books and television, yet he had only attended a real school as a toddler. Though, Newton's Cradle kind of counted. Still, he never had the typical teenage experience of school. \nHallway crushes, self discovery, comradery, and all the other cliche bullshit that came with school and coming-of-age films were things Nikita kind of hoped for. \n\nTo a child so used to loneliness, school almost seemed like fiction."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia grins widely, giggling as Nikita laughs, imagining the boy trying to put an orange whole in the oven, or on a pan.* \"W... Well... You can grill them whole along with a protein... But typically you w... Will use the juice in something... Like in a... A cake, or in a marinade for meat\" *He said quietly* \"I... If you do roast slices of orange you would probably w... Want to put them over something else, s... So their juices leak out onto it and flavor it\" *He says with a small smile... Which dampens a bit as Nikita mentions school.*\n\n*Pythia felt the same... He hadnt ever gone to school... So it was a fantasy to him aswell.* \"I... Im not s... Sure... My powers d... Developed so early I... I wasnt ever really enrolled... I... I think I went to kindergarten but a... After part way through... W... Well it didnt start out all at once. It was like a fuzzing... P... People began to become harder to look at. T... Their bodies would ripple and warp with black shadows. It started out minor, b... But grew steadily until eventually plateauing. It... Was really r... Really scary back in those days\" *He says with a small whine.* \"S... So I... I dont really know, I... I wish I... I had been able to experience it...\"\n\n*He had also seen school in media and fantasized about it... His medium was less TV and video and more in books, but he fantasized about it all the same.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita nodded as Pythia listed off all the things you could do with oranges. He figured he'd have to try them some time. \n\nAs the other boy went on to describe a small part of his childhood, Nikita remembered how similar they were. But Pythia never had a choice. His power was debilitating, and in some sense it still is. \nNikita was just... Angry. He had his father's terrible temper. \nMaybe if he had behaved as a child things would be different. \n\nHe couldn't dwell on \"What if\" Though, not with Pythia sitting across the room from him. \n\nNikita closed his eyes again. \"Yeah. I think I was in first grade when I got sent to Russia.\" He said, unsure if he'd already shared that small piece of information. \n\nThe redhead thought of the two's similarities. It sickened him to know Pythia had to go through what he did in any semblance. \nIsolation was a monster. Its claws were disguised as blankets you could feel comfortable in. Nikita had been wrapped in the monster's grasp for far too long. \n\nBut there was another part of Nikita, a selfish one. One that would say he was glad they grew up how they did, otherwise they may be two different people who had never met. \n\nBefore he could speak again, a yawn came onto him. His yawn was strangely... Doggish. It held a high pitch at the back of his throat that made it sound like a whine.\nIt didn't help that he stretched his arms out forward, reminiscent of a dog yet again. \n\nImmediately afterwards, Nikita clamped his mouth shut and rested his arms to his sides. He knew how weird his yawn was. Others have commented on it before. \"Sorry.\" He muttered, half in apology and half in embarrassment."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia had spent years wondering about what ifs, and that question only led to pain. In the end, his life was his and he couldnt change it... Instead of worrying about what could have been, he had to appreciate what he had. He still felt that twinge of sadness at hearing how Nikita had been sent away... He must have been so scared. Pythia remembered being that age and how terrified he had been at times...*\n\n\"I... Im so sorry t... That happened.. You must have been so s... Scared being forced t... To leave home\" *He said softly, trying to imagine being sent somewhere strange and scary at such a young age... He hated it but part of him felt similarly to Nikita... Each of them had suffered, but that suffering had led them here... ... Maybe... Maybe it had been worth it?*\n\n*As Nikita yawned Pythia smiled widely, giggling softly at the high pitched whine Nikita made. He felt suddenly sleepy, and he yawned too. He grinned and leaned back against his blankets, feeling the warmth of his bed. He wished Nikita could feel it too... M but didnt know how to invite the boy on without it being wierd.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita shook his head at the comment slightly. \"It's fine.\" Was all he could say. He couldn't call it a *Good* Thing, but it also wasn't *Bad*, it simply was. \n\nOf course the memory wasn't pleasant, but he had a lot of memories of Russia that he wouldn't have if he wasn't sent off to live with his grandparents. \n\nThere were a lot of mixed emotions Nikita had about his childhood. He would never say he had a bad growing up, but in no way was it good. He wasn't going to dwell on it. If he thought about it, he would share it, and he didn't want to dumb his entire life story on Pythia two days into meeting each other. Especially because Nikita wasn't even sure if they were friends. After his whole stunt, he felt strange thinking about it. He just figured Pythia would leave him at the door and never speak to him again. \n\nBut he didn't, and Nikita was still there. \n\nThe question polluted his mind. If he asked, then Pythia might be inclined to say no and Nikita would be damn near back at square one. Though, if he didn't ask how would Nikita know what terms they were on? \nHe couldn't continue to dance around the topic. He wanted to be able to call someone his friend, and if not Pythia he didn't know who. \n\nFin came to mind for a moment, but their interactions were brief. They were closer to acquaintances, if anything. \n\nUltimately, he gave in to his whims. \n\n\"Pythia.\" His voice cut through the silence, almost painfully so. He sounded far more serious than he had meant to. \"We're friends, right?\" The words burned his throat as they escaped. \n\nHe had asked this once before, still prior to moving to Russia. He was only a child then. Maybe he still was, but he had grown a lot since then. \nNikita remembered how that ended up. He threw a giant tantrum, hoping that if he yelled loud enough *Someone* Would finally pay attention to him.\n\nHe wouldn't do that, if Pythia decided he was done. \nHis voice had lost its ability to reach such noise since then. It would only clog with all the things he;d want to say. The words would escape as tears, if he tried. \nBut he wouldn't try. He wouldn't plead or argue. He'd disappear quietly, receding back into the hole he's trying to claw his way out of. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Pythia. No matter the boy's answer, he needed to keep his emotions in check."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia didnt even hesitate for a moment.* \"O... Oh course! ... ... ... I... If... Uhm... T... That is i-if you want to be\" *He adds, blushing a bright crimson. He hoped he wasnt being too forward but he really wanted to be Nikita's friend. He liked talking to the other boy, more than he liked talking to alot of other people. Sure, people like Penelope and Connor were nice... But he didnt feel like he could connect with them on a deeper level... Nikita however... Even though their pasts were different, they shared an experience of prolonged isolation. It had left scars... But both of them were trying to heal and he hoped they could help eachother do so.*\n\n*Pythia squeezed his heated pillow, hoping his sudden answer to the question hadnt been too much. He normally considered questions alot more but that... Well he had felt that one. He didnt really know what else to say, and waited for Nikita's response*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita was taken aback by the boy's swift response. Pythia was usually slow to his words, even Nikita knew that. \nHe wanted to laugh at the realization of their situation. As he had said, they were both on the same boat. Two kids so desperate for friendship they'd confide in the first person that understood them. \nNikita didn't really know how to navigate friendship. He hoped Pythia knew better, given his time here. \n\nThe ginger smiled, covered only by the blanket that he grasped so closely. \"Of course.\" He responded, because *Of course* He wanted to be friends with Pythia. It was as simple as *Of course*, there was no other want for Nikita at that moment. Well, maybe except food and rest. \n\nJust like that, in the span of a week Nikita did something he hadn't been able to do in seventeen years. He was far too late to be making a first friend, but at least he could *Finally* Say that he'd done so. \n\nA small, resentful part of him wanted to take the next train home just to rub it in the farm hands' faces. He huffed lightly at the thought. \n\n\"Thank you.\" He sighed. Nikita felt the need to thank Pythia for this victory, because it was thanks to him that Nikita could even accomplish such a feat."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia could almost feel Nikita's smile in his voice, and the passion the other boy felt was palpable. He started smiling too... It was a really nice feeling. He didnt have alot of friends, but he was glad to have Nikita... And while the other boy hadnt been his first friend at the Cradle, he could tell that Nikita would be one of his most dear.*\n\n*It was an odd thing to say thank you, but Pythia thought he understood.* \"T... Thank you t... Too.. F... For being here a... And stuff... I... Its really nice\" *He says softly, blushing slightly deeper at that last comment. He hugs his pillow, nuzzling his face against its fuzzy cover, smiling like an idiot. He wondered which would be fluffier... His pillow or Nikita... But it would have to be the latter. That brought him to the question of warmth however... And he had to assume Nikita would win in that regards too... ... ... Wait what was he thinking?*\n\n*He shook his head suddenly, trying to clear the swamp of thoughts that now swarmed his mind... ... And then he was painfully aware of how he had felt the other night... He had been laying a few feet to the right when he... ... 'No! Snap out of it you idiot!' He thought to himself as his mind seemed determined to stray to places it shouldnt.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "There was a warmth that Pythia's words carried. For a moment, there was a feeling he found in that room so far from home. It felt like, maybe, he was where he was supposed to be. \nHe had never felt that way so close to people. The feeling that came to him in that room was always felt elsewhere, deep in the woods and wild. \n\nAnd then it hit him. \n\nNo one had ever thanked him for his presence. Nikita was never seen as a good thing to have around, so why be grateful for all the problems he brought with him? He was sure that even his grandpa saw him as a burden on some level- something to take care of out of familial obligation. Not Pythia, not if the words he spoke were true. \nNikita hoped they were true. \n\nThe ginger opened his eyes after a while, his muddy yellow eyes finding Pythia. He looked comfortably huddled up with the large pillow that he held close. Nikita just smiled and averted his gaze. \n\nHim and his friend, just lounging together. Nikita never thought he would be able to do something so *Social*. \nHe felt a bit like a stray animal, just learning to be at peace with people after resenting them for so long. \n\nHis eyes trailed around the room, looking for something to do. There was a bit of unrest, sitting so tightly in Pythia's desk chair. Now that he couldn't really sleep, he felt the need to do something. But this wasn't his room, and he wasn't about to start scrounging around for whatever interested him. \n\nInstead he asked, \"So, is there anything else you wanted to do? Or any other questions?\" His voice was lighthearted and innocent, but he quickly realized how something like that could come off with just them in the confines of a private room. \nNikita felt his ears get hot at the ends, silently hoping Pythia wouldn't take it that way out of embarrassment for himself."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia looked around and shrugged. He didnt normally do a lot on his room. It was why he spent so much time in the gardens... He didnt have a ton to do here. He would read alot, especially audiobooks. He had recently fallen in love with those. It was nice to have someone read to you... Since when he read a book he had to buffer before turning the page... And he also had to keep the book super still. An audiobook made it easy.*\n\n\"I... I dont know r... Really. I... I like to listen to a... Audiobooks, I... If I feel antsy i... Ill use the reflex punching bag. I... If i just need to move my hands I have m... My pens and all my knickknacks. I do homework when I have it... I... I have been wanting t... To get a new hobby but n... Nothing has called to me yet\" *He says quietly. It seems like he didnt pick up on the possible inuendo.* \"T... The only other question i... I can really think of is h... How soft is your fur... Hair? I... It looks fluffy. I... If it is soft then how do you keep it so clean. F... Fluffy things usually pick up a... A lot of dust and dirt and stuff, which I... I imagine the forest would have in droves... But when I saw you your fur looked clean.\" *He asked. He was more thinking about the logistics of being fluffy... ... But after a few seconds he realized that the question could easily be interpreted as permission to feel Nikita's fluff*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "\"I like books. I've never really tried audiobooks, though. I like reading at my own pace.\" He said. Nikita used to take his favorite books with him everywhere before he started drawing more often.\n\nAt the mention of cleanliness, Nikita wanted to curl up and hide. He knew how strange he was about to sound. \n\n\"Well... If I'm out in the woods I usually...\" He coughed, clearing his throat to make way for words that felt too hard to just spit out. \"You know how cats clean themselves?\" He mumbled. He figured Pythia would pick up on it quickly. \"But, uhm, otherwise I just sit in the shower for a while until I feel clean enough. It's a bit of maintenance, but I don't mind it.\" He shrugged and sat up to fix his posture now that he knew he wasn't going to fall asleep. \n\n\"And, yeah. It's fluffy.\" He laughed a little. \"Sorry for not really letting you get super close earlier. I don't mean to be rude, it's just harder to let people get near me when I'm like that.\" He admitted. \"When people see me as Zima, they'd reach for their weapons before reaching out.\" It was a reality he had long since accepted, and breaking the routine of being as far away from people as possible as Zima was difficult. \nBut, over time, he'd change. \nMaybe someday he could even walk around the campus as Zima. But that seemed near impossible. If he could ever do it, he'd imagine it might take a couple years. \n\n\"You felt my ears earlier. I'm not sure about doing that again, but I could let you feel my tail?\" He offered. His ears felt too close for comfort, for the time being. And, he kind of figured Pythia might want to with how eager he was to pet Zima."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*At the thought of Nikita grooming himself like a cat Pythia giggled. He couldnt imagine that tasted the best... How was Zima's sense of taste anyway... Smell and sound were probably enhanced to a great degree, but would taste be lessened? He couldnt imagine raw meat or dirt would taste that nice... But given how obviously embarrassed Nikita was about the topic he decided to let it drop.* \n\n*Talking about people wanting to hurt Zima made Pythia feel... Angry. Sure, Zima could look scary but he was also so fluffy! He shook his head slightly in response to that, giving an exasperated sigh.* \"U... Unless you seriously spooked me i... I couldnt ever see myself reaching f... For a weapon when you're Zima... Hell, e... Even then I dont know if I would. Y... You are intimidating as Zima, sure, b... But in the same way a lion or a... A wolf is. T... The gorgeous raw ferocity of nature!\" *He said, making his hands into claws before giggling again.*\n\n*He blushed when Nikita brought up how he had touched his ears... That had probably been way too quick... But his tail! T... That would be nice. Pythia nodded eagerly, looking... Maybe a bit too excited.* \"S... Sure! Um.. You should be able t... To poke your tail through the back of the chair... I... If you scoot closer t... To me you may be able to reach over with it... I... Is it prehensile?\""
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita laughed with Pythia, but shook his head. \"You saw me up close in broad daylight. Imagine seeing a giant, deformed looking creature sulking along the treeline by your house. I understand *Why* People do it. Honestly, I don't have a problem with it anymore. It just made me develop a bad habit of avoiding people when I'm like that.\" He explained, a smile still resting on his face. Nikita could really care less when normal people took knives and whatnot into their hands, especially when he was Zima. \nIn truth, not even guns scared him. He was often too quick for an average person to aim down sights on him, and too perceptive to not notice someone trying to shoot him. \n\nNikita started to shift in the chair, trying to find a comfortable opening. \"My tail isn't really strong enough to hold onto anything, but I can kind of control it. It works more like a cat's tail, helping me balance mostly. But, it's... Well, it's really hard to compare to one thing.\" He said, still moving uncomfortably. \nThen he looked at the bed briefly. \nIt would be significantly easier there, simple as that. \n\"Would you mind if I just sat at the edge of your bed? There might be left over fur, though.\""
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "\"Y... You arent deformed l... Looking as Zima. I... I think Zima looks gorgeous\" *Pythia said quietly, huffing slightly at the self deprecating way Nikita spoke about Zima. It wasnt good to speak about yourself like that... Particularly when you looked as good as Nikita did as Zima.*\n\n\"F-f... Feel free!\" *Pythia said, stuttering a bit more than usual. He moved over to the side a bit more, clearing room for Nikita... Though his bed was big enough that there was plenty* \"F... Feel free to move b... Blankets a-and pillows a... And stuff um... M... Make yourself comfortable\" *He squeaked, his voice going up half an octave as Nikita approached. He held his breath slightly... It was like they were on the bench again... But well, this time they were sitting together less because it was the only place to sit and more because they wanted to... He didnt know why that was so exciting.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita stopped for a moment, like he was hit with a bullet. Really, it was Pythia's wording. \nNobody had ever thought such things of Zima, of him. To be fair, he'd never shown Zima to anybody else. \n\nIt made him wonder how others would perceive Zima in the future. Of course Nikita would probably end up showing his other forms to more people at *Some* Point, but he had no clue when or how. He hoped that everyone would be as accepting of his power as Pythia. \n\nHe muttered a small, \"Thank you\" In response. He had barely squeaked the words out. \n\nNikita stood after that, removing the blanket from himself and throwing it to where he was going to sit. As he moved toward the bed, he adjusted the back of his shirt where his tail began to appear. The way the fog came was as if the tail was always there, rather than growing from his backside. \n\nHe collected his own tail, holding the end close to his side so that it didn't lash in any particular direction and destroy something by accident. His tail was often too big for indoors, he had found. But, it was comfortable to hold as he slept. \n\nThe fur on his tail was similarly colored to his hair, though a bit lighter. It darkened at the end, matching his hair a bit better there. It was also thick, and strangely shaped- being wider slightly in the middle than the rest like some gecko tails. \n\nHe sat a few feet away from Pythia, releasing his tail and moving it to be closer to the boy than he was. Nikita looked at Pythia, realizing the other wouldn't be able to see where his tail was, so he moved it. \nLike he had said, he couldn't control it fully. He had put a bit too much force into his movement, and his entire tail lifted and slapped into Pythia's side as it fell. \n\nNikita let out a groan of annoyance, \"Sorry.\" He grumbled. His tail, to say the least, could be inconvenient at times."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia smiled at the small squeaked response. It was probably something that Nikita hadnt heard before, but it was something he would need to hear. Even if it was only from Pythia, someone had to be there to say stuff like that, to encourage Nikita when no one else would. Pythia heard Nikita stand, and felt the blanket hit the bed. He tensed up slightly, his heartbeat thundering in his chest as he finally felt the other boy sit down. Nothing happened at first, so Pythia just waited... Until something slapped him in the chest.*\n\n*He gasped slightly. It hadnt hurt at all, it had just startled him since he hadnt been able to see it coming... But as soon as it slapped against him he reached up to grab onto it with both hands. His left arm wraps under and around Nikita's tail, holding it gently but firmly so he wouldnt lose his grip. His other hand is more free to wander, and he begins feeling down the other boy's tail. His eyes were closed as he focused, gently dragging his fingers down the appendage, almost like he was petting Nikita. When he eventually feels like he is reaching the end he turns around, brushing his fingers the other way and causing Nikita's fur to stand up a bit as he moved against the grain.*\n\n*He couldnt stop himself from smiling. Nikita's fur was soft, and his tail felt fluffy. He had completely let go of his pillow by this point, and it was now slowly sliding off of his lap as he explored Nikita's tail. Pythia didnt seem to mind however, it seemed like he had found a possible replacement*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita watched Pythia closely, looking for the emotions as they fell over the smaller boy's face. \nA smile crept onto Nikita without realizing, admiring as Pythia felt the end of his tail. It felt *Strange* To sit there and have someone play with his tail, but that was just it. Strange. Not good, not bad. \nEven a few months ago he would have kept every hair of Zima's out of other people's grasp, yet there he is. A few months older, allowing his friend to pet him like a tamed animal. \n\nThe entire interaction felt strangely *Human.*\n\nNikita's eyes trailed down from Pythia's face to his hands. He hadn't really paid much mind to the caressing of his tail. It felt a bit like someone running their hand up and down his arm. He thought nothing more of it, just connection. That's all touch has ever been to Nikita, simple and primal connection. Boys would push and punch, parents would hug and kiss, and he watched it all from afar. It was human, and he was not human. He was more doggish, even in that regard. He never really let his grandparents hug him, so he'd always just receive pats on the head and words of praise. But this, despite the tail, was all very human. Pythia's curiosity, his admiration, his touch. It all felt closer to human than Nikita had ever been. \n\nHe let Pythia continue for a while, his tail occasionally flicking or swaying in its disuse. Eventually, of course, he began to grow bored of their lounging. It was hard for NIkita to *Not* Be doing something, even if that thing was just talking. \"Is there anything else you want to do? Or touch?\" He added the last part with a bit of snark, remarking Pythia's clinginess. He meant it in a joking manner, and hoped Pythia wouldn't see it as otherwise. \nHe guessed Pythia was particularly touchy because of his sight, as well. He *Could* See, on occasion, but it was probably easier to learn things by touch."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Yea, Pythia learned better by touch... Though he still isnt the best at reading braille. But even more than learning, Pythia liked petting Nikita's tail. After a bit of time he relaxed more and laid back against his blankets, getting more comfortable as he hugged Nikita's tail like he had hugged his pillow... Which now half flopped off of Pythia's bed (abandoned, such betrayal ). He slowly moved from exploring Nikita tail to just straight up petting it, sometimes scratching and ruffling the fur before petting it down smoothly.*\n\n*It felt... Nice... Better than hugging his pillow, partially from the warmth, partially from the small movements it made every once and awhile. It was just... Nice... But eventually he could feel Nikita growing antsy, and he yawned softly.* \"I-im not s... Sure... ... I... Um... Did you have s-something in mind?\" *He asked softly. That little additional question made his face flush a soft red, and he squeezed Nikita's tail slightly tighter as parts of his mind whispered impure things... But he was absolutely not letting them take any kind of control over him.* \n\n*He didnt want to let go of Nikita... It was really nice to be able to hug him... Or well... Part of him? Most forms of contact beyond holding onto people's arms was totally foreign to him... But it felt nice and he didnt want it to stop.*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita shrugged and looked lazily down at his lap. His eyes trailed slowly up, from one side of the room to the other. This room wasn't like his. He probably had close to a hundred different things he could do- art, games, music, anything he wanted. This room was comfortable and welcoming, one he'd probably find himself sleeping in if Pythia wasn't the main occupant of the bed currently. \nBut Nikita wasn't about to suggest sleeping, that was something he'd do in his own time. \nFinally, he sighed and looked back to Pythia. \"Maybe I should go? If you're okay to be alone now.\" He suggested, softening his voice so that Pythia wouldn't think he was upset. Nikita didn't necessarily want to leave, he just wanted something to do. However, if Pythia still wanted Nikita around he'd stay,"
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia whined softly, but nothing would come to his mind. He wanted to do something, anything... He didnt want Nikita to go... But he also didnt want to chain the other boy down. He could feel Nikita's desire to go, to move... Pythia was just tired... He wanted to sleep, he wanted Nikita to stay... But he also recognized that he was stable enough now that he would be okay if Nikita left.* \"Y... You can go. I... I just want to take a nap. I... T... Thank you. B... Being with you has been nice. I... I think I would like to g... Go out into the forest again sometime. Maybe I can try riding Zima\" *He says with a small smile. It was slightly sad, it was obvious Pythia didnt want Nikita to leave... But he also didnt have any plans*"
},
{
"author": "gumsnail",
"message": "Nikita nodded and slowly drew back, now feeling lethargic and unwilling. Of course he'd rather stay and talk, but he needed to keep moving or sleep- neither of which he was able to do in the confines of Pythia's bedroom comfortably. \n\"Maybe next time, yeah. I just hope I'll be more willing. It could take time. After all, Zima-me isn't even really comfortable *Seeing* People.\" Nikita reminds Pythia gently. In his current state, it's hard to predict his own raw emotion on the matter. He hopes that by seeing Pythia more frequently in that form, he can warm up to the idea of people being around himself as Zima. \nNikita lets a sigh escape him, silently resenting his own overly cautious nature. \n\nFinally, he pulls his tail fully from Pythia and forces it to disappear- a small cloud of fog concealing where it goes. \nHe begins to move, limbs long and gangly in his young age. He has a small thought on occasion, wondering if or when or how tall he'll grow. Now is one of those times, as he stands and looks around the small-feeling room. How much smaller would this room feel as Zima? The creature is bigger than Nikita in his normal state. He wonders if he'll ever be bigger than he is as Zima normally. \n\nNikita ultimately shakes his head, and looks at Pythia. \"Make sure you get some rest, alright?\" His voice is higher than usual- the tell of concern on Nikita's tongue. He still remembers the episode from earlier, still has the twinge of guilt stinging at the back of his mind. He hopes Pythia can simply sleep it off. \n\n\"Text me if you need anything.\" He gives a small smile, realizes Pythia can't see much, and turns to leave. \"Or uhm, if you just want to text me you can just do that too.\" He adds, this sentence far more shaky and unsure of itself than the previous one."
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Pythia whined softly as Nikita pulled his tail from his hands. He then began feeling around his bed for his pillow... But it wasnt nearly as soft or as warm as the other boy... Even still, it was better than nothing... And he squeezed it tightly as Nikita said goodbye. He didnt respond much verbally, not wanting the other boy to leave... But knowing he shouldnt keep him here.*\n\n\"I... I will... I... Ill text you w... When I wake up\" *He said quietly, and as Nikita got up and walked to the door Pythia left his bubble and was able to see most of his bed. He began getting it ready... He was tired and he wanted to immediately go to bed.*\n\n\"T... Thank you... F... For helping... A... And for trusting me\" *Pythia added quietly, just as Nikita was leaving. He wanted to run up and hug the other boy but... Nikita wasnt used to touching... Hell he wasnt either... So he just stayed in his bed until he heard the door open and the click shut.*\n\n*He sighed loudly, flopping back against his bed as he began to undress for sleep. He felt exhausted... Pushing himself with his powers was... Draining. Thankfully his hearing and sense of touch were back to normal, doing something like that would fuck with all of his senses but those two always seemed to be hit particularly hard... Probably because he depended upon them so much. Even still, they still felt... Wrong. They would feel like that until he slept...*\n\n*But as he tried to drift to sleep... He found that he would need to take care of a few matters before being able to release his mind to the void...*"
}
] | 342 | 27,152 |
311.392857 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "[For Consistency's Sake...]\n\n[Chemistry Lab, roughly 2:30am...]\n\n\n\n◆ \"Well, that's... Huh. Now that is forbidden fruit. Fuck...\"\n\n\n\n□ Late nights were always an interesting time, and given the lack of structure in Silas' life there were a lot of those in the present. Late nights spent by the piano, weaving somber yet hopeful melodies through the sterilized halls and walls of Newton's Cradle, or all-nighters on the game with his friends back home, or even just drinking too much ZzzQuil simply for the high. Tonight it was messing around in the lab, and in a moment of quiet thoughts and no immediate experiments in mind he'd begun to research, reading paper after paper, and...\n\n\n▪︎ Now he had the knowledge of how to make hydrazine, and it was easier than he'd thought it would be. Too easy.\n\n\n\n• Forbidden fruit. He needed a distraction before he killed himself on hydrazine fumes."
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "Two-thirty in the morning on a day filled with classes, and the local human rubber band was still awake. What to do, what to do...\n\nWell, there was nothing to do. Not even on her computer. Not even in the confines of her room. She sighed as she idly stared at a w-tube video playing on her phone, the information being transferred bouncing off of her eyes and ears. Her head laid on the bed atop a pillow, yet the rest of her body sat on her cheap office chair, her feet lying on the desk. A noodle neck connected her body to her displaced head. Seeing Margarita's body stretched out was a common occurrence in her comfortable dormitory, catching some people off guard as her parahumanity was in full view. But for her? It was normal.\n\nAnd an annoying part of life.\n\nAfter having left her neck stretched out for what had to be half an hour according to the video she was watching, Margarita audibly grumbled to herself as she found herself unable to retract her neck, a part of her body she was supposedly in control of all the time. Oh well.\n\nThe only thing left to do at this point was explore the facility again, with all the lights off save for some to keep the facility seem somewhat maintained, plus to allow the night staff (if any) to go about doing their business without having to have one hand clutching onto a rechargeable flashlight.\n\nHolding her head on her left hand like a mythological dullahan would, she walked about the facility, the odd and lower point of view making her wonder what the place like seemed for short people.\n\nLike Silas, who was coincidentally in the chemistry lab, playing delicately with clear liquids contained in bottles, flasks, and test tubes with papers upon papers by the table and a laptop. As expected for a ZZZquil-drinking madman like him.\n.\n\nWith the promising aspect of having *Something* To do and chat with someone, Margarita used her free hand to push open the door, her neck that loosely hung behind her rubbing against the other, stationary door.\n\n\"Good... Early morning. What are you doing this time, making meth? Or not. No really, what are you making?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, good... Uh. When the fuck does it turn from night to morning?\" He chuckled, though it was also rhetorical. \"Like, when does it shift? Obviously evening's the beginning of night, but even then evening in summer and winter are two entirely different things. Different times and all that fuckin' nonsense. Anyways I'm trying to talk myself out of making hydrazine because that shit would kill me without a moment's notice, and I guess you being around helps. Take a seat.\"\n\n\n\n□ Gesturing to the table at which he sat, her assertion of his quarters was pretty spot on. Papers stacked high, several test tubes and a flask, a Bunsen burner he'd forgot to switch off – late night forgetfulness, he'd justify it as if questioned – and a cup of tea like the Brit he was at heart. Cleaning his side up a bit, he looked up at Marge, likely his closest friend and confidant at Newton's Cradle, despite her frequent good-spirited headbutting over the chat.\n\n\n\nBlack_small_square︎ Refreshing was what it was, just like...\n\n\n\n◆ \"Tea? Got a pot of the black stuff just over yonder if ya need a pick me up.\" He gestured to an old blemished tea kettle, still warm to the touch despite being off the heat for an hour. That little quirk came from being brewed over a goddamn Bunsen of all things, and... \"I brewed it over a Bunsen. Tastes kinda burnt but fuck it, tea is tea. Now, whatcha doin' up, mate? Can't sleep?\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Uh... Sunrise. Or 12AM everyday- nah, nighttime is longer during winter, I'm pretty sure about it.\" She would've added more to the whole 'nighttime and seasons' thing if it wasn't for the mention of 'hydrazine', which, even to the lack of knowledge to what it is, Margarita still assumed it's still a poison considering what kid of Stories she hears from Silas' mouth. \"Making what- don't tell me you're making poison are you?\"\n\nThankfully, he wasn't, which is a fact that became apparent as he continued onto his sentence.\n\n\"Oh, uh... Yeah, sure, grazie.\" She replied as she took the warm kettle with one hand, her other grabbing a nearby cup as she left her head seemingly levitating over some of the equipment, busy exploring the desktop's apparatus as her hands did their thing. \"This is some Breaking good type shit you got here. What are you making other than tea anyways? And uh, sorry for the neck thing. I left myself stretched out and... Yeah.\"\n\nOnce could get really creative with the names when it comes to her and her abilities. Margarita is honestly surprised she hasn't got mad at almost all of them.\n\nTaking a sip of the slightly burnt tea, she put the cup down just beside the warm kettle and drank it down, her expression something like tasting hard alcohol for the first time. \"Do brits like you like your tea burnt? Sheesh. Not bad though.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"So that's where ya draw the line, huh?\" He looked up at her, his own thoughts dangling off his lips like trails of drool in a particularly boring class. \"I've always thought that days are best divided into three sections: morning, day, and night. Morning is from four AM to noon, day is from noon to eight PM, then night's from there to four AM. Then you have your divisions as well, like... Evening's kinda between day and night, for example. I've put too much fuckin' thought into this.\"\n\n\n\n□ He sure had, and that was just one of the many effects of long late nights spent with the soft glow of one twenty hertz monitors and candles across his desk. He had a lot of time to think, to read, to really hone the mind that clutched onto the sciences with a raptor grip, and sometimes that oddly brilliant mind latched onto something as weird as day-night divisions. No matter. \"Fuck no, hydrazine is a common rocket fuel. Apparently it can be synthesized from urea and tert-butyl hypochlorite, and I have both of those on hand. Kinda.\" He'd explain further, sipping his tea with the air of an actual chemistry professor, albeit an unusual, dangerous one.\n\n\n\nBlack_small_square︎ It was fitting; he was aiming for a career as a chemist, after all.\n\n\n\n◆ \"Yeah, it's definitely a set-up, mate.\" He laughed softly, his naturally fuzzy voice mingling with the whirring of the fume hood left on by mistake. \"I was messing around with chlorinations not long before you sauntered in like the fuckin' coked out string bean you are, so.\" He chuckled. \"Y'know. That's why this whole awareness that I could turn a few chemicals I have on hand into a crazy potent crazy toxic fuel by sunrise is so dangerous. Like, fuckin' hell... Anyways, God no, Mum would probably yell at me for burning it, I just didn't feel like walking to the kitchen to brew a pot.\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Morning for me is from sunrise to noon, afternoon is noon to sunset, and the rest is evening. I don't know, slighly different, *Si*.\"\n\nRubbernecking around the rest of the apparatus (since she might as well do what she could already do), she could only assume how long he'd been here. Fuck that's a lot of scientific stuff, which was news for Margarita. She knew that he was up to some crazy shit, but not *This* Scientific! He had a knack for science and it jsut... Showed in a different, not-so-safe way. \"Oh cool, at least you're not out here to poison people. On an uncool side, you're making rockets, aren't ya?\"\n\nLetting her head float back to her side of the table, she was relieved to find that it was easier now to retract her stubborn neck. It was still a noodle, but a much shorter now.\n\n\"Hah, string bean.\" She snickered just after him, laughing at the stupid joke which her brain found a lot more entertaining than what it was supposed to be. \"Oh good, I thought you had standards lower than a copper mine. Good to know you're not a monster, hah.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Aye, yeah. I'm making rocket fuels to try and make my own bottle rockets, and it's basically just... A fuel, like hydrazine or liquid hydrogen, an oxidizer like fuming nitric acid or liquid oxygen, and some way to mix them in a controlled manner. I don't give a bloody shit if I injure myself doing it, but hurting others?\" He scoffed lightly. \"I'm looking to make out with Thanatos Mano y Mano, y'know? No sense to send any extra souls.\"\n\n□ Oddly grim, oddly poetic, and just a bit of mythological symbolism chucked in for flavour. Late night Silas was a different beast than the one who existed in the light, although how much of this was a genuine shift in temperament as the sun and moon took turns dancing across the sky and how much was simply his demons learning to yell louder than him at night was anyone's guess. No matter. Sipping his tea, he began to organize all of his research material, dozens upon dozens of pages of articles and journal papers stacked somewhat haphazardly as if he'd been devouring the knowledge with no care for where the paper lay afterwards.\n\n▪︎ It was partially accurate, at least.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, string bean.\" He'd softly laugh, though it was more of a social courtesy rather than genuine amusement. \"But yeah, us Brits usually take our tea a bit more serious, but... The burner's there and I leave a kettle off to the side just in case of nights like these. Can ya tell I've been here a while?\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Oh, okay. Okay that sounds reasonable. Sorry, I just htought you were here trying to find ways to knock people out with chemicals, ya know?\" She replied, scratching her itchy back with unnatural ease. \"And don't even fucking thing about it because the moment I see you trying to passively kill yourself you can fucking bet this arm of mine will grab you and pull you outta there whether you like it you not, m'kay?\"\n\nWatching Silas fix his papers while her vertebrae correct itself was an odd sight for the lone janitor outside, but he must've been used to this considering everyone in here was a parahuman. Including him.\n\n\"Judging from how messy your desk was before you sorted it out, and from the chemicals, and from the stuff, and from the tea, yeah I'd assume you were here for quite a bit. I don't know, I've been up all night as well and... I guess I lost track of time.\"\n\nAnd now that her body remembered that it was supposed to be this way and not that way, her neck began to shorten even more. A few centimetres more and she would look like a normal human again instead of a giraffe of all things."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Nah, I'm not *That* – I mean. I know how to make chloroform.\" Silas awkwardly laughed. \"But that's neither here nor there, mate. Whatever. Your arm better be fast because I go through every day like *God, stop being a pussio, rip my soul out my fuckin' body already.* It's just the vibe.\"\n\n□ Perhaps it was uncouth to respond to what effectively was *I care about you* With dismissive negativity, but then again it was entirely in his character to. Years of unchecked undiagnosed untreated depression had left him hell bent on an early death yet unwilling to do the job himself, and thus he took every day as an opportunity to go out with some sort of bang. Neatly shuffling all of his papers into a drawer underneath the desk, he took a sip of his tea and looked back over at Marge.\n\n▪︎ At least he had company now.\n\n◆ \"Yup.\" He'd plainly confirm her guess. \"I think I slipped in here around... One AM? Not sure. I lose track of time in here all the fuckin' time. It's so easy; no clocks, no alarms, just me, a bunch of chemicals, and a fume hood. It's heaven.\" He chuckled softly. \"You got any places like that around the prison, mate?\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"And my friend,\" She replied, patting Silas on the shoulder in a friendly manner. \"That's a scary fucking thing to hear from anyone.\" She took her hand off of Silas as they both laughed awkwardly, one from admitting the fact, and one from hearing the fact.\n\n\"Hey, don't worry, I'll do my best, even if it means you'll look like you're being grabbed by a smoker from left 5 dead, if you've ever played that game. Things aside, I'll be here if you need me to get ya outta your mess.\" She patted the busy boy on the back as she busied herself with getting more burnt tea, taking a bit of liking for it although she still knew that tea was better without it being burnt. \"Unless we're both in separate countries afterwards, ya know? I don't think this place would like us staying here permanently anyways.\"\n\nFinally. Normal-necked Margarita. She sighed in relief now that her neck wasn't resembling anything like a rokurokubi (or whatever that long-necked Japanese mythological creature was) as she sipped some tea.\n\n\"Huh.\" Her neck twisted around with frightening ease, vertebrae twisting like rubber as she observed the room's actual lack of a clock or anything. \"You're right there; plus I guess you enjoy this place a lot anyways.\" She replied quietly. \"Oh, I just hang around the courtyard; either I'm using my pwn body as a hammock or I'm chilling on one of the bigger branches; it's got a great view, man. Wish you could get up there.\" Stretch replied, a smug smile forming on her face as she wrapped her noodly arms around herself as to emulate a hug. \"Oh, and there's the forest camping spot I made. Falling asleep there is just perfect.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ And all he to say in return was a faint chuckle.\n\n■ \"So, keep an eye over my shoulder for a fuckin' bubblegum vaudevillean cane to rip me away from the death I crave, got it.\" An amused breath shot out of his nostrils, inadvertently hitting the tea beneath his head and splashing it up onto the porcelain white desktop. Groaning, he quickly rose to his feet, strolling over to where the one roll of paper towels lay, and once his fist was full of flimsy paper he strolled back over, platform soles squeaking quietly against the concrete floor. \"I'm a fuckin' idiot, huh? But, that aside, appreciate the concern. Usually I just get a *Hah, mood* Or *Without me?*\" He pressed his fingertips together to emphasize the tone of the statement.\n\n◆ \"But, hey, good to have someone who cares. I care 'bout ya too, I guess it goes without saying. Anyways...\" He finished wiping up his mess and sank back down into the seat, looking at his friend as she chatted about her own haunts. \"Yeah, you were talking about that. Maybe one of these days you could show me it, huh? God knows I could do with a day out in the woods instead of huffing rocket fuel fumes all goddamn day.\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Yup, a flesh-coloured one with a hand at the end covering your mouth and nose.\" She replied, relaxing now that they were completely alone in the lab with nothing but beakers, scientific material, burnt tea, an open flame, and each other's company. Her arms loosened, her elbow joints seemingly missing as she folded her arms and leaned back on the office chair she sat on. Her back moulded onto the curves of the seat.\n\n\"Nah, *I'm* The fucking idiot, I can draw well but surprise surprise, I still don't do commissions because.. I have no idea. Which is why I'm a moron.\" She replied. \"But you, you're a chemist, and while I don't dig the idea of you making rocket fuel, that's how stuff gets invented. You're brilliant man, don't go killing yourself because of whatever happened long ago.\"\n\n\"Yup, it's just two repaired tents, a fire pit, and an empty log full of food. Shit I think I bought a can of condensed milk and put it there...\"\n\nShe laughed quietly at herself with a slight whisper of something along the lines of 'God I'm a moron' as she thought about the camping spot. She could've done better, but now she had to show it off in its half-assed state. Oh well."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Mouth *And* Nose? Sounds like you're doin' my job for me.\" He joked, leaning back into his chair slightly. \"Jokes aside... Yeah. That's a good thing. Someone's gotta keep me anchored here, and I guess that's you and your rubber arms.\"\n\n□ Deep down, it felt *Wrong* To admit that he was more or less living for his friends and family rather than himself. His parents, his online friends, his favourite uncle... *Cara.* Just the mere thought of his closest friend back home seemed to signal a shift in his demeanour, his brows knitting themselves into introspective crochets; after all, what would *She* Have thought of him messing around with rocket fuels, explosives, flammable substances, precursors to nerve gases? How would she have felt?\n\n▪︎ Needless to say, he could almost *Feel* Her dragging him out of his chemist funk, tree trunk legs rooted into the soil, refusing to let go.\n\n◆ \"Shit, you can draw? That's neat, mate.\" He'd finally speak after a prolonged bout of pensive silence, tapping his foot against the ground softly. \"There's nothing wrong with not being able to do 'em, though. Heard people are pretty nasty to deal with as an artist sometimes... Something about people being entitled and expecting you to draw for *Exposure* Or whatever. I dunno. Anyways... I guess so. It's more just a childhood fascination that bloomed into this whole future of chemistry dreams, so that's kinda cool.\"\n\n• \"Was drawing something you were always into?\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Hah, just until I can get you into a safe place.\" She retorted. Her right hand slipped underneath her folded arms and ruffled his already-messy and two-toned hair playfully. Her genuine smile was an oddity for some if not everyone; she pedalled drugs, she's been beaten up a lot of times, she'd beaten up a lot of boys her age, became a parahuman, and yet, she smiled. Despite all the wrongs and mistreatment done against her and despite all the sins she had committed,\n\nShe smiled.\n\n\"-and then you can go ahead and try freeing yourself. If you can, that is.\" She continued, her hand wrapping him up like a spool of rope wrapped around a tube, starting from his chest all the way to his torso. Her hand reached back to a length of her arm and grabbed onto it, squishing her arm a bit. \"I mean you can go ahead and try now, but I'll keep you like this just in chase shit blows up, ya know?\"\n\n\"Oh, *Si*, I can.\" She replied. She let go of her grip right hand's grip her arm and grabbed a pencil, weaving around Silas' workspace as she quickly sketched a hand grabbing a pencil as if it was drawing one of the graphs on the research paper. Even to her, she was astonished she could still draw so damn well despite her arm being stretched out, wrapped around a friend, and stretched out a bit more onto the desk. \n\nNeat.\n\n\"Oh, you have no goddamned idea how many people ask me for drawings online, honestly.\" She chuckled as she continued to refine the rough sketch. \"It's annoying, but thank *Dio* For the block button. And I see. Chemicals got your curiosity hm?\"\n\n\"Kind of? I've done it a lot of times but I'm really out of practice. It's all fine though.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fuck, I don't think –\" He giggled in a rare moment of genuine happiness. The hand through his hair reminded him how nice the touch of another person could be, and the arms wrapped around his body left him feeling oddly safe and warm inside. Butterflies, even. \"I don't think I'd *Want* To free myself, mate. Anyone ever tell you that you give great hugs?\"\n\n□ It was a genuine compliment, too. He'd never been the greatest at giving hugs, nor receiving them in the aftermath of a fling from the pits of Hell itselr, but something about the way Marge hugged felt *Different.* It was familiar, comforting, almost like a memory foam mattress, and how much of it was her actual technique and how much was her elasticity was a debate. Leaning his bushy head against his friend's shoulder, he watched as she sketched out a surprisingly decent hand, anatomically correct and plastered on some graph paper he'd been using to take notes.\n\n▪︎ What a strange turn the night had taken.\n\n◆ \"Mate, that's bloody awesome, actually. Ain't hands a bitch to draw? Feel like I see artists on Twitter complaining about it a lot.\" He spoke, a statue in the wrap Marge had put him in. \"And yeah, chemistry always piqued my interest. First time it really blew my mind was when I saw a video of a Pharaoh's Serpent being made. It's mercury thiocyanate being ignited; it starts to form this crazy mass that just grows on and on intonation serpentine form, and six year old me was *Floored.* Still am, really. Chemistry is just so fucking cool, man...\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"A few times *Sí*, but those weren't stretchy hugs, so I guess this is the first, *Grazie*.\"\n\nHer shoulder would deform slightly as he laid his head on it, her drawing hand shifting its position as his body did, but all she needed was a bit more stretch to get her hand back to drawing, busy perfecting the rough hand she had drawn.\n\nHer arms were folded, but one stretched out over Silas' shoulder, wrapped around him, and was also drawing a hand. Her unmatched versatility did come with prices, but being able to give comfortable 'hugs', and be a comfy pillow for someone? She'd pay the price every single damn time.\n\n\"Oh God they are, but they're weak.\" She jokingly retorted, scribbling lightly on a pencil to mimic a logo and markings. \"But it's a matter of practice, learning from yourself and others, and using your own hand as a reference.\"\n\n\"I can see why. Mixing shit and explosions are cool and honestly? I wouldn't pass up on it either.\" Stretch replied, her shoulder squishing in even more as he rested his head on it. \"But I suck at practical lab stuff, so, yeah. I'll let you do all the work and save your dumbass when the need arises.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ *\"Oh,\"* His voice curled into a smirk. \"The elastic hug cherry has been popped, huh? Honoured. But for real, you give great fuckin' hugs. Like being wrapped in a memory foam mattress.\"\n\n□ Yawning, he reached out for his tea with one hand, curling his fingers around the handle and raising it to his lips. Seemingly, being wrapped in a hug had begun to slip lead weights on strings through the pores of his eyelids, and the only antidote was to slurp down tea by the mouthful. Looking back down at Marge's graph paper sketch pad once he set his mug down he watched with languid, relaxed eyes, oak bark peering down at the hand and pairing it to the words his friend was saying.\n\n▪︎ Jeez, he was starting to feel tired...\n\n◆ \"Fair enough, mate. Most of us got two so there's even a wee bit of variance to look at, huh? God, now I'm... Fuck, this is stupid, but do ya think NSFW artists use their own bodies as study material? Or do they put on Silk Sonic and just let the funk guide them?\" Half joke, half genuine question, all waffled off with a soft, faint voice whose edges curled slightly with the tiredness he'd begun to feel. \"But yeah, explosions are honestly only really a risk with stuff like... Alkali metals. Though, fuck it's cool to cut a chunk of potassium metal and chuck it into a pool. You ever see that shit?\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "Memory foam mattress. She chuckled upon hearing those lines. Has she come to this? She was only a coke pedaller six weeks ago, but now she found herself vulnerable, playful, and cheerful. It was a nice change of pace, and honestly? She liked it. Her free hand refilled her cup and drank some more of the now-lukewarm but still burnt tea, becoming tolerable with each sip.\n\n\"Mhmm. Well... I've definitely posed in front of a mirror clothed for use as references, and... When it comes to anatomy studies, well...\" She cleared her throat, breaking the soon-to-be awkward silence and averting her eyes from him. \"Let's just say that I *Have* Done *That* Minus the music with nothing but a camera. I'll... I'll leave the rest to your imagination.\" Blood rushed to her cheeks, pretending to have her attention caught by a non-existent janitor to turn her head away momentarily. All Silas could see for now was her twisted neck and her ponytail, tied quickly and without much refinement.\n\nStill, she quickly regained her composure and turned her neck in the same direction, leaving her neck twisted a whole 360 degrees with no other practical intent than to show off. One could only wonder how her neck and arm looked under an x-ray; and even if scientists *Did* Manage to get results, they'd probably be drinking themselves to sleep trying to figure her pliable physiology out. \"Isn't that the explodey thing? Or is it sodium? I know it's one of those, but... Blegh, I excelled in biology more than chemistry, really.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh shiiit... I see.\" He'd laugh, though his brain flashed briefly with a slideshow of what that might have been like. \"Guess it's good reference material, huh? Since you can just... Twist and contort yourself into whatever position you're tryna draw. Yeah...\"\n\n□ Yawning again, he looked up and all he could see was her ponytail, pulled into a loose mass behind her head. Part of him was tempted in the moment to reach up and fix it, but it might have been intrusive so he didn't bother. Instead he pushed his tea cup away gently and fished his phone out, checking the time. As expected, night had gave way to morning, and though the laboratory had no windows he was almost certain that if he stepped outside he'd be met with the fresh dew and brisk wind of Swedish spring, perhaps a robin chirping or simply just the beautiful colours on the horizon.\n\n▪︎ Admittedly, he saw a lot of sunrises nowadays, yet they hadn't lost their allure yet.\n\n◆ \"One of 'em. The entire alkali family – aside from hydrogen because it's a gas – is infamous for reacting pretty... *Violently* With water. Sodium's the most well-known, but there's also lithium, potassium, rubidium, cesium, and francium. They're all soft, shiny metals that you can cut with a butter knife and which need to be stored under something like mineral oil. Maybe I'll cut some potassium one of these days and take it into the woods when we hang... Y'know of any lakes or rivers in the area?\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Hah, I probably know what's running though ya head, so cut it out. Or not. I dunno, it's your idiot brain lol.\"\n\nMargarita really just said \"Lol\" In real life unironically huh?\n\n\"I don't even need to do funny twists or not, keeps things realistic. Which is the point of studying for realistic art anyways, so yeah. It's usually just me sitting on a chair or standing casually, so nothing special. Boring, right?\"\n\nPencil and paper. Tablet and stylus. Margarita would spend hours on end usually making pieces of artistic work, whether they be studies of anatomy or a pine tree, or the faux-prison walls. Art was one of her ways of expressing herself, and she's just glad she could finally express things about it again without people kneeling in front of her just to have a sheet of paper with her artistic skills imprinted on it.\n\n\"Ooooh. Well, I think I remember seeing a pond back in the forest? Why'd you ask- oooohohoho.\" She laughed, rubbing away one last bit in her drawing, her pencil loosely in her noodle arm's grasp. \"Am I thinking what *You're* Thinking?\" She questioned, a smile forming on her face.\n\nAnd with that, her drawing of a hand was finished. It was made to look like it was drawing the graph. Its shading is mediocre, but spectacular for a quick sketch with a hyper-elongated arm.\n\n\"Honestly? Chemistry sounds fucking fun now that you said that!\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh, there's nothing up here except melatonin and comfort.\" He quietly spoke, eyes growing heavier by the moment. \"But gotcha. Nothing boring about it, it's just part of the process, mate. Or so I'd imagine. I'm a scientist at heart, not an artist, though I do apparently have a good singing voice.\".\n\n□ Maybe a bit of modesty, or maybe just his own distrust of his voice when he didn't have absolute control over every inflection, every decibel, every noise that came out, but regardless he wasn't sure what to make of his singing voice. He'd been told it was nice, but... What if they had been lying? Whatever the case he let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, dangerous as such a prospect was in this particular moment, and hummed lightly as his friend talked.\n\n▪︎ What an oddly comfortable scene for a stint in prison.\n\n◆ \"Aye, yeah, I think it'd be fun to chuck some potassium into a pond.\" He chuckled, though sleepiness began to show in his voice, tugging at his words as they left his mouth. \"Maybe a kilo or something... Though we'd need to be safe, because, uh... Pound for pound potassium in water's more powerful than dynamite, if I'm remembering correctly... Anyways.\"\n\n▪︎ Another yawn, his eyes shut. Seemingly he was about to pass out."
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Oh really? I'd ask you to sing, but I don't think you should in a small, empty space like this.\" She snickered at the passive insult, her sleep-deprived mind easily swayed by emotions. \"Just kidding; I'd like to hear ya sing someday.\"\n\nHer body too was slowly succumbing to the lack of sleep; her elbow and knee joints were gone, her limbs having gone soft and her legs bending softly instead of a 90 degree angle at the joint. Silas' head, if he was still laying on her shoulder, would sink in even more and deform her arm, which she genuinely didn't mind.\n\nIt really was an oddly comfortable scene for a stint in prison.\n\n\"I-... Wow.\" Chemistry was not an unknown field for the Italian, but potassium being as powerful as dynamite? That's unheard of. \"So potassium or sodium plus water equals bang. Sounds like a very fun experiment if I've ever seen one.\"\n\n\"Dude, am I really that comfortable you're falling asleep?\" She questioned, eyeing her own deformed arm and his bushy hair. Her stretched arm made its way to Silas, wrapped around his neck, and laid her hand on his hair, messing with it carefully.\n\nSilas reminded her of her ex-boyfriend, in a positive way. And she found herself treating Silas like the way she treated him."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Maybe one day, huh? Though, I'll be honest, I don't always trust it to not go super loud, so...\"\n\n□ Stretching, he finally tapped out of the coil he had found himself in for the better part of the past hour. Sleepiness was beginning to take over, and he'd rather not have passed out in the lab of all places, nor with the expectation that Marge would be able to carry him back. After all, she seemed to be succumbing to sleep as well, so why make her life harder? Of course, though, he was at her whim, and so for the moment he let himself go loose and lazy, sinking a bit further down.\n\n▪︎ He let out a yawn.\n\n◆ \"Oh yeah, alkali metals and water is always a fun experiment. Had the chance to chuck a chunk of Rubidium into a lake once and... Let's just say I'm lucky I didn't get pelted with red hot metal.\" He quietly laughed. \"Also, mate, it's late and I didn't sleep much last night. Either you gotta let me out or you'll be carrying me back to my dorm – or yours, honestly, unless you're gonna be a larcenous shit and pick my pockets while I'm out.\" A clear tease. \"But yeah, you're comfortable. Also... Right there.\"\n\n• He butted his head lightly into Marge's hand. Seemingly she'd found one of his soft spots."
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Nah, I know you won't.\" She replied in a genuine manner.\n\nMargarita shifted her arm coils to allow Silas the freedom of movement he needed as he stretched (not in the same way as she did, of course), and yawned, making it quite obvious that the two of them were slowly succumbing to sleep. Maybe she'd carry him to her room provided she didn't fall asleep first, or else the poor guy will have to untangle himself from her rope limb AND drag her to his room. For now, her shoulder was completely deformed as he laid on it, Margarita finally getting the 'memory pillow foam' joke people had been calling her.\n\nNicknames are funny, especially when you're made of squishy rubber.\n\n\"Rubidium sounds expensive if it explodes in water like that, jeez.\" She answered. \"It is, right?\" She laughed along with him, a product of both sleep deprivation and camaraderie. Mostly the former. \"I mean... I can nick your wallet right now, you know?\" She smirked smugly as she tightened her wrapped arm's grip around him and sent her other arm to tap his pocket, feeling his hard yet thin wallet on his side.\n\nBut that's for later. For now, she had a head to scratch, and hitting the right spot made her feel just as happy as the comfy Silas right beside her."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ And with that...\n\n□ He began to untangle himself, like a headphone jack had wrapped itself around his feet and demanded his immediate attention. Of course, he was a bit slow with his motions, comfort holding him back like leg weights, but after a few good moments he began to come unstuck, upper body first then his legs in tow. Once he was fully unfurled and on his own two feet again he stretched, let out a loud yawn, and began to clean up his station, sorting research papers into a portfolio he had on him, and cleaning up a tea stain he'd missed earlier.\n\n▪︎ Of course, though, as he worked he talked.\n\n◆ \"Oh, it is. It's something like six grand per kilogram. It's a fraction of what, say, gold costs, but it's still expensive shit.\" He spoke as he went about his nightly lab routine. \"Also, don't even try, I'll stick your hand into a bottle of piranha solution, don't test me.\" He joked. \"Anyways, uh... I'm gonna head back. Nice seeing ya, huh? Unless you want me to walk ya back. Who knows, maybe there's danger in the shadows here?\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "As soon as she felt Silas feel tired of her serpent-like wrap around him, she spared no effort in reeling back her arm, yawning as soon as he finished his. She took one last sip of her tea and grabbed her and Silas' now-empty disposable plastic cups, throwing them into the trash bin in the far end of the room with one long arm.\n\n\"Right. Fuck though, you know? Six thousand Euros for a block of the stuff.\" She commented, rubbing her previously stretched arm, still lacking a joint in the middle. \"Hah, as if you'll even remotely get close enough to a bottle of the solution.\" She smugly replied, her neck stretching as she stuck her smirking face closer to his, leaving a gap of a few centimetres between her face and his cheek.\n\nMargarita's human anatomy was fucking impossible, yet here she was. Stretched neck, bendy limbs, a faint rubbery smell, and still without negative effects to her physiology.\n\n\"Ah fuck it, let's walk back together. Might as well make sure you don't trip and fall over nothing. Anyways, I'll wait for ya.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh yeah, suppliers charge a... Fuck, it's highway robbery sometimes. Like, for example on that tangent... Sigma-Aldrich is a really common supplier of all things chemistry, but they charge a bloody literal king's ransom for their stuff. It's why us chemists tend to just DIY it half the... Wait, did you say something?\"\n\n□ Speaking with his back turned at first, it only registered in his fuzzy played out brain that Marge was saying something to him after a solid twenty seconds of complaining about chemical prices. Thinking on it, the words slowly fell into place with a hum and the processing power of a 1946 supercomputer – *As,* *If,* *Piranha,* *Oh, she said I won't get close to the piranha!* His thoughts slowly slotted together. Laughing, he rubbed the back of his head in slight embarrassment; after all, how had he went from talking so smart to so stupid?\n\n▪︎ Then again, it *Was* 5:42am, so...\n\n◆ \"Oh, who's saying I don't carry that shit in a Teflon jar? Those exist and if they can hold fluoroantimonic acid they can hold this shit.\" A joking threat, but one nonetheless. \"Who said you'll be waiting? I'm good to go now, mate.\""
},
{
"author": "lolmanmclmao",
"message": "\"Welp, gg.\" Now she couldn't pull a funny on him. It's probably better anyays, it's... About fifteen... Or is it twenty? Minutes before 6 AM. Six-fucking-AM.\n\n\"Right, let's go then?\" She asked, yawning already while her arms touched the ceiling as she did a quick stretch, her back folding in on itself. \"I'm fucking tired and roll call is in... What, twenty?\"\n\nAnd that was that. Margarita accompanied Silas all the way to his room while her overextended arms (which she didn't bother retracting) were dragged against the floor and stairs, managing to raise one of them as she waved the Brit goodbye.\n\nNow time to wait for the morning headcount, and then wait to see how much of her tired rubber body she could get onto the bed before passing out."
}
] | 309 | 8,719 |
291.263158 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "[A section of forest just outside of Newton's Cradle...]\n\n◇ Well, this was much needed.\n\n□ After the absolute chaos of the past week or so, River was pooped right down to the soul. Sure, she'd made it safely to Sweden, got her room set up nicely, slept through much of the jetlag, and made some friends, but at the same time she felt somewhat *Off* On a level she couldn't pin down. It wasn't mental, because a bit of guilty pleasure girlfriend ASMR and an hour spent cuddling her body pillow would've healed that sort of wound. It wasn't physical, she'd managed to find a section of the prison that was just freed enough from its snowy blanket to skate. Not emotional, either, because she'd cried no less than four times and barely felt better.\n\n▪︎ So, with some marginally warmer clothes than usual she'd decided to go for a little stroll through the trails surrounding the prison and the suburb that lay nearby. It was a page out of her QPP back home's book, and she hoped it'd work.\n\n• And so far? It had been fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes spent slowly walking, looking around, absorbing the crisp March air, listening to the birds sing, simply letting herself shed her worries in favour of peace and relaxation, and already her shoulders felt lighter. Maybe Arty *Had* Been telling the truth. Maybe nature was the ultimate pick-me-up. Thank God she had many more miles to aimlessly explore, huh?"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "He and this tree, Owen thought, might just be the death of each other. It had given him nothing but trouble every time he had attempted to reach the top but today, today was it. A more sensible, possibly easier to injure person would have given up weeks ago, but he had reached a point of boredom, spite and determination that was impossible to pedal back from. And so, eleven metres from the ground, he made his stubborn pilgrimage up the unsolvable conifer. \n\nSwinging a leg up toward that one branch that he could never quite bend toward, Owen held his breath-\n*And made it.* Finally made it. Stifling a cry for joy, he made a move to swing up his other leg. Unfortunately for his hard-won joy, the branch clutched tightly in his white-knuckled fist broke-\nPeeled-\nAnd snapped. \n\nShield leaping from his skin instinctively, Owen tumbled down through the branches face-first, loosing a stilted stream of curses; not of pain, but of wounded pride and the *Unbelievable* Wrath of defeat. Whoops, looked like he was going for a faceplant landing-\nWas that a person?!\n\nCried the reddish crystalline figure seemingly hitting every branch on the way down, \n\"OILOOKOUTBELOW-\"\n\n*Thump.*\nHitting the ground hard, Owen groaned as (a comical couple of moments later) his shield melted back into its ether form and sank through his clothes and into his skin revealing his long, messily-tied back hair, old green plaid flannel shirt, and dirt-scuffed cargo pants. He.. Didn't seem dressed for the chill today.\n\nHe swore internally that he would check if he hit someone on the way down, as soon as he was sure all his ribs were intact."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Things had been peaceful, at least until...\n\n□ She heard a branch snap, but it wasn't low-lying. It wasn't close, faint but unmistakable. Initially she figured it might have just been a squirrel or something, engorged off of dumpster food in town, but as she continued to walk her gut told her something was up, and just as she began to look around in a rapidly-building worry she heard the shriek of a man who, without a doubt, had to have been in trouble. Breath clutched in her throat, and she saw it, a guy falling from the sky enveloped in a shield of some sort, like a stork had just airdropped the dude from the sky.\n\n▪︎ Naturally she jumped back, frightened by the sudden appearance of a whole-ass dude from the sky.\n\n◆ \"Ohmygod, are you okay‽\" After a brief moment of catching her breath and settling her emotions she quickly closed the gap between herself and the boy, noting his dirt-stained clothes, the twigs and leaves in the rough fibres of his shirt... The strange liquid seeping through his skin. \"Don't tell me you fell out of that tree!\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"YyYyou're ok?!\" Owen turned his head to face the concerned voice. \"Goodgood, I didn't crush you,\" He wheezed, making careful, mechanical moves to pick himself up out of the dirt. \n\n\"I, I think?\" Inhaling deeply, he ensured that he hadn't re-broken any ribs. \"Oh, yeah, I did, didn't I!\" His white-hot fury shifted into sheepish embarrassment as he rose to his full height, cheeks flushing slightly at his abysmally terrible entrance. \"Another happy landing!\" Perfect place for a *Star Wars* Quote. Couldn't possibly make this any worse. \n\nPicking a branch out of his wavy mess of a ponytail, he got a better look at his (thankfully) not-manslaughter victim. He blushed a little harder- it would have been almost comically easy for her to be pancaked from his clumsiness. A pang of old guilt rippled uncomfortably through his chest as the thought hit him. Oh no, was he staring? He was definitely staring. Like a goldfish. *Dammit.*\n\n\"Uhm. I'm Owen, and uh, usually my entrances are slightly less jarring than that...\" His big doe eyes looked genuinely apologetic, even though his mouth twitched a little at the corners with amusement as he relaxed into his usual slouch. It was a little bit funny."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Well, I mean...\" She gestured to herself, a hand held up to her stomach as if it were an offering. \"I'm still alive, aren't I?\"\n\n□ Now that she was certain that this guy, whoever he was, was okay, a giggle left her mouth like her fright venting. Somehow, it seemed as though this guy had fallen thirty or forty feet and walked away with naught but branches in his long hair. Worse still, he seemed to be caught between guilt and embarrassment, and in all honesty she felt bad for him, even if he *Had* Surprised the heck out of her and broke her out of her meditative walk.\n\n▪︎ At least he was fine, though. She smiled back.\n\n◆ \"Hah, yeah, perfect landing, ten outta ten.\" She replied, mildly amused in tone. She could see a bit of herself in his saucerplate apology eyes, a bit of her own soul within his expression. \"Anyways, uh... Owen? Gotcha. I'm River!... Or, uh. Littlecreature in the chatroom? Maybe we've talked there?\" She awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, a nervous tell as she kicked a bit of dust behind her. Compared to his frankly lumberjack crossed with inner city yuppie outfit, she was dressed a bit warmer, her slim frame hidden beneath baggy burgundy joggers that slimmed out near the ankles, black snowboard jacket, and distinctive yellow beanie, with her leather Docs lifting her slightly beyond her standard height.\n\n▪︎ The boots sucked for winter, but everything else was fine, and that was good enough for her."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Oh, yeah, Creature! You're friends with June too,\" He bubbled, sparking happily at the unexpected connection. \"You'll recognize me as Orchidforge,\" He clarified a second later. Other people weren't as aware of himself as he was- have to remember that. \n\nRiver looked to him almost like how he felt- his body took up space he didn't quite know what to do with sometimes, expressions floating in distorted space, but she was compact enough that no space was wasted; the awkward humour permeating the space between them was evident in the way she carried herself.\n\n\"You're new! The one with all the axes in your room- I, ah, I play too,\" He continued, easing into conversation. Ice was already broken now, though haphazardly, so why not? He shoved his fidgety hands into his pockets. This was already a lot more talking than he'd expected today- he'd dug himself into more yet now, though, so nerves be damned. \n\n\"Mind if I join you?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh yeah, June's a total sweetheart! She gave me an energy drink the other night and we just plain hit it off like lightning.\" It was the truth, and she felt no shame in admitting how effortless being around June had felt despite them being a virtual stranger. \"Oh, so *You're* Orchidforge... Nice! Yeah... It's crazy how we all have, like, double lives here, we don't know who the heck is behind the screen name until we actually meet face to face. Kinda crazy, huh?\"\n\n□ Speaking with a slightly rattled voice, it was just a little side effect of nearly being crushed beneath the weight of someone far larger than her. She was due to be a little rattled still! Looking up – an act that required her to crane her neck slightly – she observed his facial expressions, or at least what she could see through the opaque aura that surrounded his head like most people. Through it she saw that he himself had seemingly let the whole falling out of a tree bit slide by without even worrying about his well-being, and this surprised her.\n\n▪︎ That, and she wondered if if was possible to learn such a power.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, that's me! With my army of pawn shop guitars I've modified to heck and back...\" She exhaled through her nostrils briefly. \"You don't even know how worried I was about my guitars. I seriously sent them by ship to one of my aunts in Norway and then had her ship the guitars here. Ain't no fricking way I'm trusting a plane to keep my babies intact! Anyways, you play too?\" She tilted her head lightly, almost like a curious dog. \"That's sick, dude. Nice. What'cha play? Also, sure, I'm not going anywhere special anyways, just out for a stroll, y'know?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Bass!! Electric bass, I have my Rickenbacker up in my room- I'm not sure the exact year, I got it secondhand, but I think it's mid-70s, it's this sky blue beauty that's kept me sane out here,\" He rambled, thrilled for a shred of normalcy. \"I've even.. Figured out how to use my shield to create distortion, but, it's still in the works,\" Owen rambled, matching her pace. An uneven smile across his face, eyes glazed over by stars. \"You know how it is, sometimes it's gloriously heavy and sometimes it's a screeching mess.\"\n\nReaching up to pick some pine needles out of his hair, he fiddled with the hair elastic. \"Bloody thing always gets twice as tangled on the way down.. I've figured out how to survive a thirty foot drop straight through a tree but am more concerned with sounding like Motörhead,\" He grumbled, finally wrenching his hair loose. It already felt lighter as he tried to comb through it with his fingers (though, he gave that up after a couple more twigs). \n\n\"Argh, I'm talking a lot- what've *You* Been up to? This place is looney but you don't seem to have lost it yet.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh, duuude, Rics are expensive as heck! You're lucky, I'm sure it's beautiful.\" She spoke with a mix of jealousy and admiration. Not because she wanted a Ric, pet se, but it was more the expensive vintage aspect that made her eyes glitter with wonder. \"That's pretty cool though, how's your shield even able to plug into the signal chain? I actually built a distortion circuit into one of my guitars, it sounds wonky but I kinda like it, y'know?\"\n\n□ Perfect, absolutely perfect. Out of the blue, she'd found another musician to talk shop with, a music nerd who'd understand her non-sensical rambles about guitar modding and the solo record she was working on. Starting off down the trail again she hummed very lightly, looking over as Owen complained about his hair being tangled – \"That's why I cut mine short a while back,\" She'd butt in, \"No worrying about tangles when you've barely got a head of hair to talk about.\" – but soon the topic was back on her.\n\n▪︎ Peachy.\n\n◆ \"Oh, uh...\" Owen was someone she'd never met in the flesh, so how truthful could she be...? He had no rights knowing any of her weird hobbies or interests, so... \"I've just been... You know, adjusting to Newton's Cradle. Sleeping off the jet lag since I flew all the way from New Jersey to get here. Setting up my room. I finally have my amps, guitars, and pedals all neatly organized, so now all I need is an electric drum kit and I'm set! Aside from that it's just been... Living. Talking in the chatroom. Trying to stop my head from spinning off of my body, you know the deal.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Hmm. Signals point to *Pressed an odd button*. Must be a boundary he hasn't unlocked yet- no worries, back to rambling about instruments. \n\n\"Yeah, you figure it out day by day. Luckily, this place doesn't really hit you all at once, so you've got plenty of time to process,\" He mused. \"And to innovate!\" The thrill of telling someone what he had cooking up overrode the usual nerves he had around his power, making showing it off a thing he could do. \"Oh, I don't need to plug it in.\"\n\nOwen opened his hand and dragged his fingers along his forearm, from the crook of his elbow to his wrist. Sometimes it needed a little help. Following his fingers, the ether rose from his skin in reddish orange wisps and hardened into a crystalline form over his skin, shifting under the light like puddles of oil on concrete. It hummed its own inaudible chord, swelling imperceptibly with his heartbeat. His nerves came back to him at the sight of it, and a look of uncertainty flashed across his eyes for a moment. *It'll be fine. You haven't melted the strings, and you won't melt River either.*\n\n\"It moves,\" He tried. \"It has these.. Invisible effects on the strings that fingers or picks don't, like it breathes, almost.\" He gingerly held his hand closer to River, tiny flecks of orange and gold racing across his palm and then dissipating. \n\n\"You could probably pick up on it, you know your stuff.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, I've noticed that.\" She spoke as the soles of her boots squished into the soggy dirt beneath her feet. \"It's pretty nice that it just... You know, hits you slowly. Which, like, given how abruptly it seems we end up here it's almost like the darn place is designed to ease us in slowly. Also, ooh... Sweet.\"\n\n□ At first, she didn't look back at Owen, but something in her head flipped – perhaps a bit of social awareness – and she turned to face the arboreal reject. Of course, though, she didn't just see flesh and bone, but instead she saw his arms encased in crystalline fire, fierce reds and oranges wafting together into a solid display of might. It was rather impressive, in all honesty, and though she could see worry in the shade of his aura she decided against commenting on it.\n\n▪︎ After all, he surely had it under control, right? Maybe he was just a bit nervous because she was cute.\n\n◆ \"Duuude... That's awesome. That explains why your aura naturally kinda looks like a blaze.\" She leaned in for a closer look, her eyes widened in awe. \"So it kinda acts like a pick, but it its own way? Ooh, that's. I gotta hear it at some point. We should jam! Not now, but... Sometime.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Prickles of excitement sparked through Owen's body at those last couple of pieces. Or nerves? They were the same sensation. They were likely the same emotion, when it came to him. \n\n\"First up. You can see auras?! Second. *Yes?*\" His voice was trying to catch up with his head, skipping over thoughts that might have connected or clarified his thoughts or tone. There was something sincere in his choppy speech, unpolished and almost childish. \"I, um, was hesitant to ask when you posted your instruments, but.. Brain's worried about nuthin,\" He beamed, an amused snort escaping his (mildly scratched) nose. \n\n\"Sometimes you just need to face-plant out of a tree to knock your head back in order, ah?\" He prayed to any benevolent thing in that there forest that whatever he was spewing made a lick of sense."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ And, understandably, she could see those sparks of excitement as fuzzy cartoon stars in the otherwise nervous, skittish bands she saw around his head.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, I can see auras! It kinda just... Developed a while back.\" Better to keep it vague than say it was from that time she tried to kill herself, she figured. \"And it's, like, everyone's got a slightly different one, and the colours, dude... They change all the time. It's like everyone has a mood ring, but, y'know... Mood cloud. I like that, heh.\" She kept on walking, a cheeky smile on her face. Seemingly she was proud of her joke, feeble as it was. \"Anyways, yeah, I guess so, huh? Kinda like a manual reset for your brain. Also, heck yeah! Music buddies. Yee!\"\n\n□ Was that something that even made sense? Or was she just delirious with loneliness and homesick thoughts that squeezed her gut into a knotted mass? Now walking backwards, she kept her gaze trained on Owen, who was still chattering about music and jamming out like a nutcracker with a loose jaw. She could understand it, but the blues and bluish-purples she saw in his aura told her that he was worried to rattles, shaking in his core despite spitting conversation like an excited child.\n\n▪︎ So, she stopped for a moment.\n\n◆ \"Hey, you okay? You're gabbing like there's a bomb in front of you. I know the feeling, just...\" She walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. \"In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. You'll be fine, dude. Am I that cute that you've got your tongue in a knot?\" She giggled, gently elbowing him in the rib. \"Just kidding, I'm not cute, you're probably just a worrywart like me, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "At the sudden touch on his shoulder, Owen released an.. *Undignified* Squeak. \"Whhoooopsyoucanseerightthroughmecantyou,\" He wheezed. Making a show of straightening his back and taking a deep breath, he lost his composure on the exhale and burst into a fit of giggles. His laughter crackled like a sparkler, spitting sparks every which way from the centre. \n\n\"Thanks,\" He clarified. River was swell, he decided. \"Must be leftover adrenaline- usually I'm halfway up the next tree by now-\"\n\n\"I suppose I am- hah, well, you can actually gauge that by looking at the colour in my cheeks, let's see.. A lighter rosy colour indicates you're cute, a deeper strawberry tone means I've got a crush, a middling-to-severe mahogany says that I need to be rushed to the hospital, have you got a paint sample? I can't quite tell,\" He spewed, dramatically feeling around his face. His face was, indeed, a little bit flushed, but that was for all sorts of reasons. A lopsided smile lifted his cheeks, easy and genuine."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh yeah, I can see right through people! Auras are windows into the soul, I've noticed, and the colours say a lot about how people are doing.\" Admittedly, she didn't sound entirely certain of herself, but that was just an artifacts of how things had came around, and the path her life had taken up to this point. It was safer to sound uncertain, she'd found out, so that people didn't take her word as law. \"Anyways, dude, there ya go! Now you're fine, just gotta let the nervousness vent out. I know the feeling, it'll swallow you whole otherwise.\"\n\n□ Smiling, the wide arc on her petite face and its chubby cheeks was genuine, a sort of happiness she'd been learning to reclaim from all the bullies and whatnot who had tried to rip everything away from her. Stood in place, she looked on as Owen began to run the gamut of blushes, from mild to severe, and she couldn't help but laugh at the last bit. \"Pfft, guess so, but I've never seen anyone with mahogany cheeks.\" She'd chuckle. \"Maybe that's a good thing.\"\n\n◆ \"But, yeah, you're right, I think, although everyone has their own shade. Some people go Dakota Red, and others go Shell pink, it's all just part of the game, I guess.\" She shrugged, stuffing her free hand into her pocket and producing her cellphone. Clicking it on, she checked for texts, and quickly fired one back to one of her friends. \"Anyways, uh... God, when's the last time I climbed a tree...? Must be years, holy. If you're still in a tree climbing mood then heck with it, I'd be down to give it a shot!\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Aye, really?\" His eyes opened a little wider. \"Ah, you seem a touch more graceful than I, maybe you'll rub off on me.\" Already pulling his hair back again, Owen's eyes scanned the nearby trees for one to suit them. He was a little lanky, but River.. Was not, and so flinging her legs up above her head and muscling the rest of the way up might not be so easy. Neither was falling twenty feet, but *One issue at a time*. \n\n\"Here! This one!\" Gently but insistently linking his arm through River's, Owen led them a little ways off of the path toward a familiar tree. \"I've reached pretty close to the top of this one, but that was, what, a couple months ago? There's a nice spot to sit at the top,\" He babbled peacefully. His voice was more relaxed now that he knew where he was going, his accent putting a singsong lilt over some of the vowels. \n\n\"I'll, ah, try to aim away from you if I slip!\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Dude, I'm not graceful. I think we're both just... Awkward dorks. Kinda.\" She chuckled. \"I'd say that's a good thing but, jeez, I'm on Zoloft, so maybe don't look up to me for how to deal with your nerves? I dunno.\"\n\n□ Stigma be damned, she felt no shame in admitting that much of her progress towards a better, healthier mental state was gifted to her by medications. After all, the brain was just another organ, and when other organs were ill medications were normal for it, so where was the shame in admitting that she was on meds for her anxiety? Snapped out of her thoughts by Owen linking his arm around hers at the elbow, there was a mild flush, a bit of intoxicating tingles courtesy of being generally predisposed to physical touch, but she followed along regardless, boots squelching through the soggy dirt.\n\n▪︎ Soon enough, they were at the tree in question. \n\n◆ \"Gee, that's a tall tree... Wow.\" She'd softly utter. Now, how was she supposed to climb this damned tree with a somewhat restrictive coat on? Why, by taking it off! So, she unzipped her coat, slipped out of it, and only then remembered that she was in a frankly nerdy shirt. \"Oops... Uh. Don't mind the shirt.\" She nervously looked away, though in this case away was turning her body a bit while look up the tree regardless. \"So, uh... Guess I'll meet you at the top? If I even make it. Not sure if my noodle arms'll be able to pull me all the way up, heh.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Aw, you'll be just fine! Hopefully. Maybe a little sore in the morning. Just pay close attention to where your feet are and you're golden!\" Beckoning for her to follow, Owen began to clamber up the tree. His boots were mostly good for latching onto branches, and his hands had grown plenty of healthy calluses between playing his bass and climbing all those trees. \n\n\"And your shirt's fine, honestly, I trust a nerd any day,\" He added on, pivoting on his branch to face River. There was humour in his voice, more (metaphorical) sparks jumping from his tongue. \n\nAnd so they made their way up the tree, slowly but surely, as the sun inched across the sky. Owen tried not to speed upward too quickly, offering a sturdy hand when needed; occasionally spitting out pine needles and bits of bark. One more hoist, and he seated himself on a branch for a rest. \n\n\"All good, mate?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Greaaat. As if I'm not sore in the morning already.\" She groaned, though this soon broke towards laughter. \"God, I sound like a grandma! Anyhoo, yeah, let's show this tree who's boss, huh?\"\n\n□ With that bit of reassurance came a swell of ambition. Surely she could make her way up this tree, either on her own or with the help of the more experienced tree climber, but the gap between theoretically being able to do something and practically being able to was a gap that she was having trouble bridging at first. Sure, she'd climbed trees as a kid, but it had been a while, and she simply wasn't built the way she once was, so the first couple of minutes were mostly spent getting to grips wifh how tight she'd have to grip her legs against the trunk, how to inch herself up like a worm, how to claw with her hands. It was tricky, but with the help of her newfound friend she managed to get further up than she'd have ever expected to.\n\n▪︎ One more hoist and she came to a rest one branch beneath Owen.\n\n\"I think so...\" She huffed slightly, looking down at the ground. How far had she climbed? Twenty feet? Thirty? \"Jeez, though, we're so high up! I think I can see the Statue of Liberty from here!\"\n\n• What a dork."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Hah, and I can see *Eryri* If I squint,\" Owen dork-ed back, noticeably more laid-back; the effort of flinging himself up another tree seemed to have used up the extra energy he was using to be a mess, leaving behind a steady, even blaze. \n\n\"It's nice up here, especially when the wind picks up,\" Owen mused, grabbing a branch above him and daring to tilt his head back a little. \"Sometimes I bring music, or a snack or something; I've been crashing through branches less lately, I swear!\" Another amused snort. He had, truthfully, probably been falling *More* Lately, but it had stopped freaking him out quite so much, which was a little strange. He was pretty sure, at least, that he hadn't been concussed."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, it really is nice up here... Even if the breeze feels like it's gonna knock me to the ground.\" Was that even possible with how tightly she was gripping the branch? \"Also, dude, you should probably... I dunno, stop falling so much? That's just plain not good for ya! I'm not your mom though, so...\"\n\n□ Giggling softly, she looked back out over the horizon, finding the view from roughly twenty five feet up to be incomparable to the view on the ground. Down there all of the trees, underbrush, and foliage meant she could barely see twenty feet, yet up here she could see Isakstad, and she swore she could see Gothenburg, though whether that patch of buildings she could see on the horizon were a suburb of the big city or if it was its own city was unknown to her.\n\n▪︎ Not like she was a Swedish native; her Norwegian wasn't even properly attuned for this place.\n\n◆ \"So, outta curiosity...\" She'd break the comfortable silence after a few moments. \"How'd you wind up here?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The story of how he wound up here still seemed surreal to Owen, and telling it was like recounting a bedtime story to one of his littler cousins after a night of popcorn and nail-painting. \n\n\"My power manifested suddenly. We didn't think it would manifest at all, actually- we're seventh sons of seventh sons, see, and no one thought I would count in the cycle. My moms, they used the last one as a donor, so. Patrilineal line got a little murky. I passed the age that their power usually manifested at with no issue, and then.. A couple weeks after I turned sixteen.\" He kicked his legs idly as he spoke, his eyes in some far-off place. \n\n\"It started as something I thought everyone could do, yknow? I could make my hands warm on command, mess with my temperature and all that. And then, I pushed it just a *Little* Further than usual, and.. This happened.\" Holding up his left hand, the glove of red crystal reformed over his skin. \n\n\"It scared me shitless, not gonna lie!\" A lighthearted laugh. \"I, ah, wasn't expecting it. I grabbed my dog's leash, ran outside into a thunderstorm. I.. Somehow made it out to the beach, and it wouldn't go away, and then *'crack'*, this.. Impossibly loud noise, this shooting pain, and then the rest has been mostly told to me by other people.\" A white lie, one that wasn't entirely false. What really happened afterwards could stay lodged in his chest just a little longer. \n\n\"I was in and out of this murky sedative sleep for a couple of days, but it felt like weeks. My body was weak, but, my shield wasn't. I think it might've been drugged up sleep paralysis- I couldn't move my body, but I was terrified, and my shiny new defence went haywire and I broke.. Many pounds' worth of hospital equipment!\" A sheepish laugh, and an exaggerated cringe. \"I broke my bloody bed in half, and my arm was in a *Sling*. Handprint singed into the wall, footprints melted into the floor, security footage no one can make any sense of-\" He was rambling again.\n\n\"They didn't know what do do with me, so I just. I healed, I slept, I dreamt some more, and it was.. Sugges-*Told* That I be sent here. And so, here I wound up!\"\n\nThat was.. The first time he'd gone into detail about it. The story sounded different out of his mouth than in his head, try as he might to add some humour into it. \n\n\"That's my tale of woe- might we trade, if I may be so bold?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Well, she'd expected perhaps an amusing short tale like she'd heard from June, or some sordid confession like that girl from the kitchen the other night, but this...? This was something else.\n\n□ Hands curled around the branch upon which she sat, the tale just kept on spinning from Owen's mouth, family history and drama and sudden manifestation and medical troubles all curled up into a three minute bundle. Admittedly it was a lot more dramatic than her own rise to power, even though part of that had been rather traumatic and thus not something she liked to talk about much. Of course, though, she felt obligated to swap stories, so...\n\n▪︎ So she cleared her throat.\n\n◆ \"Holy moly, dude, that's... Wow. Seems like your power manifesting really turned your life on your head, huh? As for me, uh...\" How in-depth did she want to go? \"I wasn't *Born* With powers. Both of my parents are totally normal people, and my brother is too, but me...? Let's just say I had a near death experience when I was thirteen or so and when I woke up from the coma I could see colours around people's heads.\" That worked well enough. \"The rest came later! Like, I tried meditation with one of my friends, and I had this really weird, brief vision. Almost like a... A dream, except I was totally awake, and white as a sheet if she's to be believed. It was *Weird.*\"\n\n• \"And, as for how I got here...? Picked up a rusty can of old instant coffee while I was exploring an abandoned building and the cops found me in a catatonic state. An interrogation later and I was on my way here! Really awful, honestly, but... Heck. I'll live. We'll both live, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Hell *Yeah* We will. I mean, you've seen me fall from this height hitting every branch on the way down and come up - tougher stuff, we are!\" Owen was suddenly aware of how much detail he'd spewed. Whoops. \n\n\"I'm.. Sorry for dumping all that on you,\" He tried, sheepishly looking away. \"It's a funnier story in my head, I swear- maybe I spend too much time up there.\" He'd be kicking himself for a while. *Always realize a second too late.*\n\nShifting his position so that his back leaned against the trunk, he dug the heel of his hand into his forehead. The pressure felt nice. \"Some of my ancestors have been clairvoyants,\" He mused. \"It's *Hard*, isn't it; I can't relate, but I feel for you.\" A mushy soup of sweetness pooled in his doe eyes. Poor kid. Visions were a terrible way to lose one's mind- but, she seemed to be at ease with it. Best to hope that she was."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"No, no, it's fine! Not every story has to be funny, it just has to have some sorta nugget of truth.\" She smiled back, gently swaying her chicken legs in the cool Swedish breeze from twenty five feet up. \"But, heck, it seems like we both had a rough go, huh?\"\n\n□ Rough go for certain. Rough enough, in fact, that she couldn't get into the true details, and thus had to slip a white lie in when she usually didn't care for lies or deceit. As Owen shifted around she kept herself rooted in place, mostly out of fear for falling out; unlike her friend, who had a shield to break his fall, she had nothing but her own tiny, bony body, and this a fall from this height would rival even the greatest skateboard accident she'd ever had, the reason there was a huge patch of gnarled scar tissue from a bit above her elbow down to the midpoint of her forearm.\n\n▪︎ It was a badge of honour, almost, very much unlike the sort of stories she could tell about falling out of a tree.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, it's kinda hard, y'know? I'm not exactly a clairvoyant, but I do have these visions... Past, it's usually kinda clear. Twenty-twenty vision, something like that. I dunno. The future, though...?\" She hummed in discontent. \"You know that feeling when you see memes from another country and it's, like, you can't understand them even on a surface level because they're written in a language you don't understand? To say nothing of the cultural awareness you'd need, and the quirks in the writing? Well, future sight's like that, turned up to eleven. It's tough, but the visions are rare so I kinda just vibe in the meantime. It's just part of my life, y'know? Kinda like you and your crystal stuff.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"It is part of my life now, isn't it,\" The subtly crackling boy murmured to the chill biting at his cheeks. \"It makes the cold feel nicer, I have to admit. I'm not a great landing spot, but I'm a decent hand warmer, turns out!\" A few strands of dark, coppery hair had worked themselves free of the already loose ponytail they were restrained in; his cheek twitched as it skirted his skin. \n\nA chord rumbled from his throat, an old habit. Wrapping himself in a familiar cacophony was a comfort, the vibrations soothing something antsy in him. The chord melted into the muted tune of a song stuck in his head, the little world he lived in when he was alone tugging at the edges of his mind. \n\n\"Thanks for keeping me company up here.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, I feel it.\" A bit of wistfulness laced her voice like those of the boots on her feet. \"Except my powers don't make me warm. You probably give killers hugs then, huh? Like hugging a space heater!... With a blanket or two on top. Those things are *Hot.*\"\n\n□ Giggling, she leaned back ever so slightly, looking out over the horizon as much as she could see it through the tree tops. A lot of the smaller trees were now far below the pair, but some towered ever higher, even past the apex of the tree her and Owen were sitting in. With that thought in mind, an old playground tease fluttered into her her and her cheeks flushed lightly. Yes, her and this guy were sitting in a tree, but no they weren't k-i-s-s-i-n-g.\n\n▪︎ At least, not yet. Her cheek kisses were reserved for friends she knew better and she'd never given up her first lip-to-lip kiss.\n\n◆ \"Oh, no worries! It's kinda exhilarating being up here, y'know? And peaceful. Worryingly peaceful.\" Her voice dropped a quarter tone. \"I should probably slink back down the tree. Visions are rare, but, uh... Usually this is the kinda mindset I'd have to be in, and God knows I'd break a lot of bones if I went catatonic and fell out.\" She prepared herself to scale down the tree from whence she came. \"But if you wanna keep climbing then go ahead! I'll be here in spirit. Yeah.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The space heater boy blushed a little more at that- he bet it did feel nice. Giving them certainly did. \n\n\"Ah, good plan. I'll head down too, I think. The view is lovely, but this branch is *Not*,\" Owen remarked, slapping his leg like he was fixing to simply hop off of a bench in the cafeteria, rather than a branch way up in the air. \n\n\"The way down's a little tricky; rest if you need to, it's not worth the scrapes.\"\n\nThough he had long proved his durability, Owen was methodical and tentative in his trip down the tree. He was more muscular than he looked; it was evident in the quiet yet practiced way he dropped himself downward that he was solid and capable, but, almost.. Just not sure of himself."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"God, right?\" She bounced lightly on the branch, mostly as a joke before, unexpectedly, a loud crack could be heard. \"Uh oh. IgottagetdownbeforeiiiIAAAAAH!\"\n\n□ What was that about having to get out of the tree before she fell? In a twist of events even she couldn't have foreseen, her humorous branch bounce led to the branch breaking, and with a panicked shriek she began to fall back to the ground. In that moment her mind raced into survival mode, trying her darnedest to hit as many branches on the way down to kill her momentum. Surely it'd be less damaging overall to hit herself a bunch on branches rather than fall in a clean shot all the way down, huh?\n\n▪︎ As it'd turn out, she was right. Fifteen seconds of plinko-esque terror later she was on the ground, disoriented yet thankfully alive.\n\n◆ \"Gee...\" She quietly groaned, checking for broken bones on instinct rather than active thought. Thankfully none of them seemed broken as of yet, but her body... Oh, her poor body, how battered it felt. Rather than get up she kept herself flat on the ground, mostly to let her senses rejoin her and to give Owen a chance to get down and make sure she was fine."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"RIVER-\"\nOwen almost crashed downward the same way that his unfortunate companion did, processing the branch snapping a moment later than she did. His descent certainly became more rapid, seemingly less careful of scratches and impacts. His feet hardened in their boots, absorbing hit after hit, mostly successful- of course, he slipped a metre from the ground, landing flat on his ass a little ways from River with a (frankly impressive) stream of curses that sounded a little strange out of his mouth. \n\n\"*Shit*, are you alright, butt?\" The lighthearted term of endearment slipped out mid-giggle as the hilarity of both of their descents hit him. \"That was spectacularly terrible- I'm not laughing at you, I swear-\" More crackling laughter; it came in loose, short bursts that *Most certainly* Weren't malicious, or so he hoped. \n\n\"Seriously, though, I have a friend who knows first aid, don't know if they're awake- or, just, ground for another minute.. Dirt's nice, dirt's forgiving,\" He offered, his chest shaking with more barely suppressed laughter."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, I think I'm o- *Butt?*\" Once the term sank in her cheeks dusted red, for reasons unknown to her. \"Do I look like a butt to you‽\"\n\n□ Initially coming off as annoyed, this soon broke into laughter, though every note that left her throat stung her bruised ribs. She'd really taken a huge fall, huh? Or maybe not. She was still in one piece. That was good. Laying flat on her back, she looked up at the sky, the beautiful blue abyss above her peering back, the birds overhead chirping. Brought back to the land of the living by Owen continuing to talk, she looked over at him, her bangs unkempt, her face dirty and scratched, yet her eyes were alive with the joy and hubris of being a teenager.\n\n▪︎ Maybe it wasn't so bad to be alive.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, suuure you're not laughing at me.\" She snickered. \"I just fell out of a fricking tree for the sake of a bit! What a dumb decision. Anyways, I'll be fine, dude, nothing's broken, just... Need a few minutes to recollect my marbles. The bag ripped and now they're all over the ground, heck.\"\n\n• Well, this would surely be a core memory of her time at Newton's Cradle."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Ah, no, no, it's a nice thing- must be more colloquial than I thought,\" Owen rushed to clarify. \"Too Welsh for my own good, looks like!\" \n\nLaying back and sprawling out, he dug his fingers into the earth. It was blissfully cool, snaked with countless layers of roots and rot and *Life*, all packed beneath him. Taking a deep breath, Owen took in the rich scent of the ground and tested to see if any of his ribs were cracked. They weren't! Huzzah. \n\n\"It was fun, though, have to admit. It's just not the same when you do it alone,\" He joked. \"Oh, shoot, really? How many are there?\" Voice again turning sincere, he was already scanning the ground for anything marble-shaped."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, I'd... I'd say so.\" A chuckle followed. \"Like, butt in America only really gets used for cigarette butts and oddly polite catcalling, and I'm neither cigarette nor catcall material. Have you *Seen* Me? That plank thing from Ed Edd and Eddy has more curves than me, for crying out loud!\"\n\n□ Ah, nothing like a little self-depreciating humor at the expense of her own slim, boyish body. It was hers, sure, and she should have loved it more than anything else, but deep down it was quite the insecurity. Through no fault of her own she'd wound up uniquely genetically predisposed to skeletal rakishness, and even though her entire life had been spent this way she couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if she was a normal girl, not some coin toss freak with far too much testosterone in her blood and wisps of facial hair that she had to obsessively shave.\n\n▪︎ Speaking of which, she noticed a new pimple on her cheek, and out of habit quickly busted it.\n\n◆ \"Ooh, there we go! Popping pimples is so nice, huh? Uh... Never mind. Weird point. My marbles are all still out and about.\" Her voice veered towards throaty effect, trailing off as she sat up. \"Anyways, I guess so, but jeez... I'm gonna need a few weeks before I get back up in the trees!... And maybe an airbag suit. Do those exist?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Hah, well, I'm not sure I'm equipped to comment, seeing as society would have *Me* Flat as a board,\" Owen tried, miming a flat plank down his front. \"Honestly, though, I've never really put too much thought into it. I've gotten hit on by people who thought I was a girl, though, that was *Strange*. I must be pretty.\" He twirled a loose strand of wavy hair for emphasis, rolling his eyes. \n\nHis issues with his own body were less form, and more function; the colossal blunder that had sent him to this place had been because his body had been weakened, he and his powers turned into a tiger contained by a cage crafted from toothpicks. It caught him when he needed it to now, gods only knew how many broken bones he would have by now without the, er, *New developments*, but there was always the nagging fear at the back of his mind that his body would betray him again, that the ether would spill from his fingers again and wreak havoc on everything he touched. \n\nBut that was another train of thought, one for when he was trying to get some sleep! Marbles. Find the marbles. \n\n\"Pfft, yeah, that was a rough landing- I swear, these trees make up new muscles to bruise,\" He snorted, dabbing at a scratch on his forehead to ensure that it wasn't bleeding. \"My shield's good for preventing injury, but it's not as comfortable as an airbag suit, if there is such a thing.\" Once again untying his hair, he swiped it over his shoulders and combed his fingers through the overgrown bangs framing his face. A couple more pine needles dropped onto his shoulders. \n\n\"Don't push it too hard, ah? You fell quite a ways, be sure to stretch plenty; my apologies for dragging you up such a monster!\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"No worries, no need to comment. Just... Airing a bit of discontent, I guess.\" She hummed, a verbal shrug of sorts. \"I mean, that's not a bad thing though. It happens if you start toeing the gender line; I had a gay guy hit on me once – at least, I'm pretty sure he was gay – because he thought I was a guy. So that was fun.\"\n\n□ Now partially upright, she began to pat herself down again, checking for any fractures or breaks she might have missed in the initial fall. Satisfied after a few moments that her body was fine she bent her knees upwards, pressing her body against them and letting our a sigh. What a day this had been! And to think she'd only been out of the prison for about half an hour before all of this happened... Wild. Looking back over at Owen, she let out a soft chuckle as he spoke, finding his somewhat disjointed speech to be charming.\n\n▪︎ They were going to get along just fine, she could feel it.\n\n◆ \"I'd say you're right. Maybe that's just gravity talking, huh?\" She exhaled through her nostrils, tapping her fingertips against her calf. \"But hey, at least you've got a shield, dude. All I had to break my fall was my own body, and gosh I'm going to pay the price for this eventually! Anyhoo... It's fine! Just... Maybe I should try some smaller trees in the meantime. Less chance to fall and hurt myself, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Right- yeah, *Oof* You're going to have some impressive bruises tomorrow mate,\" Owen wheezed as he picked himself off of the ground. \"Smaller tree. Definitely. At least this way, the next attempt can't possibly be *Worse*!\"\n\nCracking his back and shaking out his hair, the green-clad boy ensured that all his bones were where they were supposed to be. Now that the adrenaline of falling out of two trees and making a new friend had started to subside, he was feeling just a little bit cold; a feeling to be savoured, yes, but also maybe he should go inside. \n\nAfter picking up River's jacket from where she had dumped it, he strode over to her to offer a hand. \n\n\"I can walk you back if you want; I'll tell you this, you only notice how many bloody *Stairs* This place has after you've fallen out of one of these trees!\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Guess so, huh? Gonna be looking like a fricking jawbreaker with all those bruises!\" She laughed, then winced lightly. Seemed as though her ribs had taken quite a hit. \"Darn... That stings...\"\n\n□ Still seated, her thoughts were still both focused on the sky and the pains that were beginning to shoot through her body now that the adrenaline had worn off. Reality hit quick, almost as quick as the branches in her ribs, stomach, and face, and now she was paying the price as she took hold of Owen's hand and pulled herself to her feet. In itself a test, she took a few steps, seemingly checking for any sprains or fractures, and when all she got in return was the squelching of damp soil beneath her bootsoles and the general aches she was feeling she knew she was fine.\n\n▪︎ At least, for now. Come tomorrow, she'd be one sore stick.\n\n◆ \"Thanks.\" She slipped her jacket back on, zipping it back up if only to keep her nerdy shirt out of view. \"Uh... Sure, might as well, huh? Who knows, maybe I'm hurt worse than I think and maybe you'll have to carry me back or something. Who knows? Anyways... Trust me, I already notice *All* The stairs with my stubby legs, so...\"\n\n• She softly groaned. Yawned. Groanyawned. Yeah."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"*Pfft.* Come now, this is no place to fall.\"\n\nThe birds chirped a sweet song to soothe the aches in their muscles, and the lazy clouds painted across the sky in broad, loose strokes hovered in the endless blue. The duo wound their way back to the facility, sure to remain as upright as humanly possible. No concussions, and one new friend! Not bad.\n\n————-"
}
] | 294.5 | 11,068 |
53.923077 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "Kaleb Young",
"message": "He opened the door, peering inside. \"Er... Is this penelope?\" He would query, glancing at the still beaten up Penelope."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She was typing on her phone for a while, before Kaleb came in, before just deleting it all with an upset huff*\n\n*She looks up as he comes in, still a bit bruised but mostly healed* \"Oh, yes I am Penelope!\"\n\n*She immediately brightens up from her upsetness before, in just moments*"
},
{
"author": "mortemtheloneo",
"message": "\"Oh, did I uh... Interrupt something..? So sorry if I did.\" He apologized at seeing her annoyed demeanor. \n\"Well I was reading through the intranet and I heard you were in the hospital so I thought I might come to visit, heh.\" He chuckled, a little nervous. \nHe closed the door, sitting down. \"I'm kinda new here so I needed to find some way to meet new people, heh.\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"No no, you didn't interrupt anything at all. I was just getting off the intranet!\" *She'd smile innocently, although you could tell she had some lingering anger*\n\"That's very sweet of you to come visit me, thank you a lot. What's your name?\n\n\"And it's always nice to meet new people, I can be your little tour guide. Or, will, I could if I wasn't trapped in this bed.\"\n*She'd chuckle a little and sit up*"
},
{
"author": "mortemtheloneo",
"message": "\"Oh don't mention it. Well uh, my name's Kaleb, nice to meetcha.\" He replied jovially, though picking up on her lingering annoyance... \n\n\"Right, well there will be time for that later, heh, something on your mind..?\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She seemed a bit suprised at how easy it was to notice her emotions, but from the outside it's easy to see through her masquerade*\n\n\"O-Oh well um... Just some intranet stuff, n-nothing to worry too much about!\""
},
{
"author": "mortemtheloneo",
"message": "He chuckled, rolling his eyes a bit. \"Tch, right. Oh well I won't press you too much, so uh... How did you get like that?\" He asked, gesturing to Penelope. \"Hope ya didn't mind me asking, I'm just curious.\"\n\nFixed if you were wondering."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"Well... I'd decided to try to fight a bull girl and uhhh... Yeah I've found out since then that she's got some tough skin, and that I'm really weak\""
},
{
"author": "mortemtheloneo",
"message": "\"Damn, oh well, there's always room for improvement in everyone, at least by my philosophy.\" He would reply. \n\"Who all do you know at the facility? I've only met a few so far over the intranet, heh.\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"I don't know very many people... I know Tiffany, the girl who I sparred with, a shy kid named Pythia, and... I think that's it...\""
},
{
"author": "mortemtheloneo",
"message": "\"Mm. Oh well, there's plenty of time to meet new people, I might be going soon, but if ya want I could come visit some time later?\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"I would very much love that, I'd love to know you better! Get another friend under my belly, y'know?\""
},
{
"author": "mortemtheloneo",
"message": "\"Heh, yeah. Well see ya later, I suppose.\" He replied, waving daintily before walking out the door, shutting it with a soft *Click!* And leaving Penelope alone once more."
}
] | 53 | 701 |
97 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Without her mask but a hood over her head with a scarf to hide her lower face, Rai walked out from her dorm wearing her oversized leather jacket, a simple T-shirt, cargo pants and bootss. It look like she is sneaking out some time at noon to go explore. She'll text Evan if he wants to go check out some abandon buildings for their exploration? The girl would be waiting outside by the entrance."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Evan arrives, almost late, the same stern expression on his face. And same the parka, pants, and boots combo he always has. It doesn't look like he has much other clothes, with the only exception being the shirt Rai bought him. That one he has underneath the parka.\n\nHe raises a brow when he spots her as he examines her face closer. \"Warming out of the mask, huh?\" He says. \"Changing it out for a scarf instead, I guess?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I stand out too much downtown when I wear a mask,\" Rai said, subconsciously tugging the scarf up a bit higher. \"Prefer to wear it among people here and in the woods...\" This might sound silly but she felt too exposed among rowdy people in Newton Cradel. Compare to Evan, she has a natural sad puppy dog look that she can't do anything about. \"Let's go before it gets too dark? Brought some stuff in case we might need it?\" Rai gestures for Evan to follow her as she head down to the woods. \"I-I want to show you something cool. I-I think it might be faster that way.\""
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Sure,\" He says, as he starts to walk after her. \"I'm not an expert on the woods, but I think we can both agree its a good idea not to stay after dark.\"\n\n\"Stuff? What kind of stuff would we need?\" Evan asks, not even really knowing what her plan is, his eyes furrowing a little. Rai had always been a bit of a weird person in Evan's eyes, though that wasn't a bad thing. But it makes him wonder what she'd find cool that she'd want to show it to him.\n\"That way? Just lead the way then.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Like maybe a rope, flashlights, snacks, water, some money, face masks, gloves?\" She was speaking a lot smoother with not so much of a stutter. When they got past the tree line, Rai's body shift into a 6'5 serpentine creature that stretches out to 9'6 ft long. It would look weird how her form suddenly morphs in front of him when she pulled off some crazy Harry Potter metamorphosis. Her mouth opens as if it is smiling while the end of her tail wiggles happily. Then the ground slightly shakes from her heavy weight when she goes running towards him like a happy seal."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Doesn't seem like your average Wednesday night, at least.\" He muses in response to her choice list of items, but he doesn't refute it.\n\nHe startles a little. This was after all his first time seeing her undergo such a dramatic transformation, or see her use her power at all. He instincitvely backs up a bit and holds his hands up when she starts barelling towards him, only calming down he realizes.\n\"Oh, is this what you wanted to show me?\" He says, his voice still tinged in surprise."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Yah!\" Her voice sound slightly growly and deeper, yet still sound like Rai. She lowers her head to meet his with a gentle, cold nuzzle when she let out a hiss. It would be noticeable to see that she is much more energetic and happier being in this new form. Rai lowered herself towards the ground as she turns her glowing eyes to her back."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Okay, I can see how you need to take me to the forest.\" He shoves his hands to his pockets. At least his concerns over safety has mostly went away after this display. \"...Guess I shouldn't be surprised.\" He hums.\n\nHis eyes move with hers when she turns to look to her back. \"See anything?\" In the meanwhile, he starts to slowly walk up. Still a bit wary, but supposing he should try and trust Rai a little bit more.\nHe lets the tip of his boot lightly poke her side. \"So... You let other people ride on you?\" He can't help but ask."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Ride!\" She chirped, nudging his back to move forward. \"Once! We stole chickies!\" Her words are choppy from not being too use to the structure of her mouth. She didn't complain when he nudged her wooden side."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"...Huh.\" He says. Carefully, he reaches up to find some purchase against her side he can use to climb up to her back, wobbling a bit the entire way.\nIt takes him a bit to balance on her back, but he gets himself situated. \"...Why'd you steal 'chickies'?\" He asks, once he was bit more confident in not falling off."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"For eggs and students need chickie therapy!\" As soon as he climbs up onto her back, Rai's ears perks to the side when she turn her head as she moves to the direction where the town is located. The woods is a place that she knows well enough to find shortcuts to get to civilization. Without warning, Rai darted forward on fours as she nearly glides through the air from her serpent's body wiggling like a snake over water. Gracefully her large form weave through the trees before leaping across the creek and then climbing up over the hill. It wouldn't take too long for them to make it to the edge of the forest that overlooks the town."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"What?\" He says, but is cut off.\nEvan immediately ducks down when she starts to move, if only to hold on and try not to be tossed off. He wrenches his eyes shut as the wind hits him, but he slowly opens it up and looks around as they move. \"Wait, where are we headed?\"\n\nHe immediately hops off once she stops, and the dirt crunches underneath his boots with a soulful smack as he lands. Evan blanches. \"I definitely prefer to stroll.\" He murmurs, before he walks over to her front and looks up at her face in her monstrous form, and finally over the view of the town.\n\nHe silently eyes the scene for a few seconds, eyes furrowed.\n\n\"You prefer it here in the forest or in the city?\" He asks, finally.\n\n\"Always found it kind of weird how you haven't ran away still.\" He says. \"Makes me think you probably don't think this place is all that bad.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Rai suddenly shifts back into her human form with her hands resting inside her jacket pockets. \"I like the forest much more... But I want to understand the city better... And people so I can make less mistakes.\" Her ember eyes looked out at the bustling town where she scopes out the place that she wanted to explore. \"I'm in Sweden... I'm not able to find my way home yet. I-I don't know... I don't feel ready visiting my mom's grave yet.\" And she begins to walk forward until she starts sliding down the hill on her feet. A trail of dirt was left behind and came to a stop when she made it to the bottom."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Evan watches her slide down the hill for a second. He takes a few seconds to find any other ways down- he isn't exactly thrilled with the dirt, but eventually slides after her.\n\n\"Oh,\" He says, \"You're not from here?\" He asks.\n\"How the hell did Cradle whisk you from all the way? Didn't know they bothered outside of Sweden.\" He murmured, but quiets down when he mentioned her mother.\n\nHe takes a few second to consider what to say next.\n\nEventually, he decides.\n\"Well, do you feel like you ever will?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I'm from the Coast of Canada in BC... I was held in captivity before coming here?\" And she pauses for a minute as she gave him an actual sad look. \"I think I should... Just to make sure those humans didn't take her body away like they did to the other remains.\""
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Canada, huh.\" He hums.\n\n\"Good of a reason as any, I suppose.\" He says.\n\nHe hesitates for a second, but eventually decides to pat her on the back awkwardly.\n\n\"You're a better person than most, Rai.\" He says.\n\nHe falls silent after that."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Rai felt her mouth twist to a pained grimace behind her scarf that slid down her chin. Evan's words echoed from the empty spaces of her mind that brought some memories back to life. Was she really a better person than most? Her ember eyes begin to well up until they look like maple syrup from the slight glow from her eyes. She blinked them away when her arms pulls Evan close into her embrace. Right now Rai wished that she had her mask on to hide her face."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Oh, okay.\" Evan hadn't expected a full on embrace, but he awkwardly accepts it. He pats her on the back in his measy attempt to comfort her.\nUnsure what to say, or if he even should at all, he keeps quiet and continues the very awkward embrace for now and lets her cry as much as she wants until she's ready to calm down."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She didn't wail like most people would when they're grieving. She already done that when her mom died right in front of her. At the very moment, all she wanted is a genuine hug to have this pain fades away. \"For a human you're not so bad yourself..\" She said, now setting him free. \"I don't know what's all that about... But let's say we continue our exploration?\" Rai tried to smile but it is a sad one."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "He raises a brow at her. \"For a human, huh?\" He says. \"I'll take it.\"\n\"Just... A conversation between us.\" He offers. It was darker than usual, but it happens. Then he shakes his head. \"Sure, if you're sure.\" He says. \"That's still not all you wanted to show me?\"\n\nBetween her monster form and the view of the city, today has already been pretty full of surprises."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Mhm..? I... Have a hard time talking about stuff... A lot of people make me nervous.\" Rai takes Evan's hand into hers with a gentle firm grip. \"I'm sure? Its a house that is said to be haunted? No one lives there and the place is unlivable?\" Rai was trying to lighten the atmosphere. Without looking at Evan, she gave the conversation bit some thought before finally replying back to it. \"I... Don't mind if its between us... If you have any questions..?\""
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "He looks down at her hands as she takes his into hers, brows furrowed. \"...Yeah, I could tell.\" He can't help but poke a bit of fun at her. \n\"...I feel like I've asked all I wanted to ask for now.\" A pause. \"But I'll tell you if I have more.\"\nAnother pause. \"I suppose... This means you can ask me if you have any questions, too.\"\n\nHe is quiet for a bit, but eventually swaps topics.\n\n\"Haunted, huh.\" He says. \"I don't usually believe in those sorts of stuff, but... Well, powers a real.\"\nSlowly, he pulls his hands back to his sides."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Rai considers asking him a question but quickly changed her mind after thinking maybe its not a good time. \"Of course hauntings are real! I use to haunt a village and intruders for disturbing the sacred grounds.\" She looked at him shocked. \"Monsters and spirits are real! Oh my god! Have you been living under a rock!?\" Rai now taking her turn to poke fun at him. When they soon reached the spooky abandoned house, she came to a stop to gesture it with a faint smile. \"Here we are!\" Its little ways from the city itself that is somewhat close to the lip of the forest. The dismal grey walls stained from weatherworn signs of wear and tear, it stood alone with bare thicket growing wild around it,"
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "He raises a brow at her small lecture, but doesn't comment further. \"Never expected the monsters of myth would be like you, at least.\" He half comment, half refutes.\n\nHe looks up at the house with a squint in his eyes, before he looks back at Rai. \"Your idea of fun, huh?\" He asks. \"Where'd you even hear about this place?\"\n\nHe shakes his head. \"Whats the plan here anyway?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I like exploring a lot... I mean a lot, alot!\" Rai spread her arms out to gesture the entire area. \"It gets a bit boring staying cooped up at the school, so I prefer to wander until I find something neat!\" Rai's mood seem to shift towards excitement when she thought of the neat things that they could find. \"Its a whole sense of adventure and discovery... And I am hoping to find something neat here.\" Her ember eyes seems to twinkle at the thought of finding more animal bones or some small antique trinket. \"We'll go in to explore and see if we find anything neat there? I like finding old stuff it has some sort of history to it!\""
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Guess it makes sense.\" He says.\n\nHe looks back at the house. \"Well, you certainly have history down pat.\" Old and weathered as it was, it made him wonder who used to live in it.\n\nHe's never shied away from the chance to loot a place. This was mildly less bad even, as abandoned as it was. Probably.\n\n\"Well, lead the way. You're the expert here.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"On it!\" She was happy to go ahead to push open the creaky door before saying,\"Helloooo... Anyone who lives heeere?\" Almost in a singsong voice. When there is no answer, Rai counted in her head up to 20 before walking in. With each step the old wooden floors creaked beneath her weight. The hallway appeared to be draped in cobwebs, black and white picture frames hung on the walls with faded images. And in that very hall there is a staircase leading up to the second floor where there is a door near the top can be seen.\n\nFrom the front door there is another room that appears to lead into the kitchen, the second one further down the hallway is a closed door with rubble leaning against it.\n\n\"Do we split up or stay together?\" Rai asked him."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Evan peeks his head past the door framewhen she pushes it open, before he steps inside proper. He's a bit more quiet in his steps by instinct as he looks around.\n\n\"We definitely don't split up.\" He says. He eyes the picture frames first and takes a closer look. \"This is definitely one we should take if I've ever seen one.\" He points."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Okay?\" Rai was more casual in her steps when she comes closer towards the picture frames. \"They do look really old? Some of them are damaged... But maybe we could salvage a few?\" As it appears, someone was into photography. As Evan takes a closer look of the pictures, these are definitely antics here."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Evan looks across the different frames. \"Sure, sounds like a plan.\"\nHe eyes the one with the cat, before he steps up and reaches out to try and unmount it from the wall.\n\nHe stumbles with it a bit. A cumbersome picture frame may not be the most convenient to carry on hand, but he seemed pretty married to the idea he'd take one."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Rai couldn't help herself when she smiled after seeing Evan take the black and white photo of the kitty. It didn't take long for her to pick the photo of the ships in the lake water. It was a kind reminder of coast in her homeland where she would sometimes watch ships pass by with shipment. Her hands gingerly removed the frame from the wall before wiping the dust off with her gloved hand. \"I have my backpack, we can place it in there so we can have free hands?\""
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "He sends her a look, as if hesitant of the idea if only for a second. Then he lets out a sigh. \"Yeah, okay. Fine.\" He offers her the frame.\n\nThen he looks to the door with the rubble, further down the hallway. \"Guess we should look deeper in,\" He murmurs. He doesn't wait before he starts to walk down."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Don't worry I won't keep it, its for safety.\" Rai tag behind Evan like a lost puppy. She was careful to avoid stepping on anything dangerous like sharp rusty nails, glass or anything that look like its going to poke into her boot. When they got to the door with rubble, it didn't look like the hatch was fully closed. So Rai pushed it open to reveal the entirety of a mostly empty room. There was a broken bedframe, vandalized end table, broken mirror, broken window, rubble displayed on the floor... And there's cat shit on top of the hill. And Evan would know its cat shit because he cleaned Toaster's litter box. This could indicate something here..."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Huh,\" Evan stares at it, not put off. He looks around the room, before he starts to climb up the rubble by the door, and into the room proper. \"I'm not surprised some animals have been here.\"\n\n\"Think its new?\" He asks Rai, and he obviously refers to the poop."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"It looks like fresh poop,\" She says bluntly, covering her mouth and nose behind her sleeve. There are tears specking from the corner of her eyes. As Evan look around the room, he could find dirty pawprints on the wooden floor."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Sure,\" He says. \"Guess we should leave this room alone. Don't know if a cat is open to the idea of two strangers stomping around its home.\"\n\n\"Unless you see something you like in here, I guess.\" He says. \"Then we can just swipe it real quick.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Do you want to keep the poop?\" She asked, giving him a weird look. \"I think I am good?\" There is a second closed door next to what appeared to be a kitchen, a living room and a basement."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Definitely not.\" He shakes his head. Evan takes one last, cursory look at the room, before he starts to climb back up the rubble by the entrance, and exits the room.\nHe considers the decision for a second, but ultimately decides to open the door to the basement. \n\"You brought a flashlight, right?\" He asks."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She already pulled out her flashlight to hand it over to Evan. \"Mhm..\" And her eyes lit up with an eerie white glow when she stared down at the old steps that lead into the darkness. There was a sign that there is probably a window down there that offered some light."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "He accepts it, fiddles it with for a second, before he switches it open and pointing it down the dark. He eyes the steps, before he carefully starts to make his way down deeper."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Rai made sure to keep a good 4 or 5 steps behind knowing that her heavy weight could cause a step to break under her. It groaned with each complaint as she carefully descend down the steps. As Evan scan the dark room with his flashlight, the first thing he would find is a large washtub, a clothing strainer, an empty shelf with some broken and empty jars, a moldy clothing line laid unattached from one side of the wall. \"Careful, its flooding over there near the tools.\" Rai was looking at a holding rack that kept a shovel, a rake and with a couple other tools on the floor. She nudged at the hammer that laid next to the old crowbar."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Evan points the light at the spot she mentioned with a wince. \"Ah.\" Overall, he doesn't look very impressed with the room. \"This place is gross,\" He says. \"I don't think we'd find anything good here, and I definitely don't want to get wet with stagnant water.\"\n\n\"Who knows how long it's been sitting down here.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Rai jumped when something dark skitter across the floor passed her foot that ran underneath the shelf. \"I-I would agree...\" Her mouth wavered in a nervous squiggly line. \"Where to next?\" There are two rooms that they haven't explore yet, the kitchen and the other closed door."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "He sends her a weird look when she reacts, but doesn't comment. Instead, he starts to walk back up to the hallway. \"Kitchen first, then.\" He says, non-commitally. It doesn't look like he expected much else from the house as his enthusiasm ran low, but it didn't matter. He was already pretty satisfied with the pictures.\n\n\"Ugh. I swear, if we find rotting food. That'll be the grossest thing yet.\" He murmurs his thoughts, as he made his way to the third spot of interest."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Oh god, no... I really don't want to think about it,\" Rai said, following behind him. When they reached the kitchen it look like its in better condition that the turd room and the basement. There are Broken plates, old dining table and chairs, old jars of food, old can food, melted candle on an old candle holder, faded black and white photos of two elders and grandkids, old fashion dial phone, empty bottle. It didn't look much to find anything interesting. As for Rai, she was checking out the cupboards and had found a slingshot that look like it belong to one of the grandkids from long ago. \"Ah-ha! Check this out!\" Then something rustled inside the cupboard near her."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Evan lets her look around for the place a bit, as he idly picks up one of the broken shards and flip it around his hands for a bit to examine it in relative disinterest.\nHe walks over to check on Rai when she called for him, but he only raises a brow. \"A slingshot? Do you even know how to use one?\"\n\nThen he suddenly eyes the cupboard when it made a sound. He stares at it for a solid second. \"Wait,\" He says, \"One second?\"\n\nHe walks over, and carefully opens the cupboard."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Nope... But I can learn... But... I prefer using a real bow, it shoots further.\" And just as she is about to give him it, Evan walked past her to open the cupboard. There was a scruffy black creature with bare paws and a naked wormlike tail sitting before him. Without warning, it shoot out to come land on his face."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Evan immediately pack pedals into Rai behind him as he raises his hands up to try and peel it off his face. \"Ack,\" He cries out, \"Rai, a little help?\" He says, his voice louder than it usually is.\n\n\"Fuck.\" He hisses under his breath, as the initial shock slowly turns into annoyance and anger at the thing."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She grabs the back of the rodent that was clambering on Evan's face with a firm grip before whipping it onto the corner of the room. Thunk! It bounced and laid there stunned with its leg kicking. The thing wasn't cute. Its scissor teeth are yellowed, one eye is missing and it has some patches of fur missing. \"Are you okay?\" Rai asked, fishing out a water bottle and rag to wet it before giving it to him. \"Wash your face, don't know where its been.\""
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "He wordlessly accept it, his mood obviously bad as he uses it to wash off his face. He mumbles under his breath, before he places the cloth down on some random surface in the room and reaches up to examine his face closer with his hand, to see if he'd been bitten anywhere.\n\n\"Ugh.\" He says, before he takes a deep breath. \"I'll be fine, I guess.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "There were some scratches but no bites on his face. Rai gave him an apologetic smile with a sorry look. \"Hey, if you want to go back we could?\""
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"Yes, I do.\" He says, his voice a little hard. He closes his eyes for a second. \"Just... The pictures frames. They should be enough, I guess.\"\n\nHe shoots her a questioning look. That was a questioned aimed at her more than anything else."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She felt bad that he had to get his mood ratted that ruined his fun. \"Yeah... I'm sorry.\" This was her gesture of apology when she hugged Evan to try make him feel better. When she caught on with his last sentence, Rai lets him free as she turns her eyes at the stairs. \"I... Sort of want to check one more room but I think you're right.\" Raizel turns to him again. \"We should get back before it gets dark.\" Raizel gave him a gentle smile."
}
] | 92 | 5,141 |
223.166667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "It was that time when Raizel decided to finally show-off her complete form. She did put on her sweatpants and simple T-shirt before waiting until all the other girls left the locker room. This is when she shifts into a large totem monster in a shape of a serpent with Native American tribal markings.\n\nWhen she slithered across the floor she lifts her head up to check herself in the mirror. Perfect! She's beginning to get the hang of weaving herself into another shape.\n\nA goofy, wide smile spread across her face before slipping out of the locker room. Her claws clicking against the smooth floor with her tail acting as a fifth leg to help push her forward like a seal.\n\nA mix of clicking and wooden thunks from her body echoed down the hall when she comes scuddling towards the gym's doors."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Record scratch. Freeze frame.\n\n*...Yep,* Graham thought, *That's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.*\n\nHe watched the 9 foot long wooden death serpent awkwardly hurtling at him like a seal, with all the excitement of a dog springing in its step, and though the seconds suddenly felt a whole lot longer, he could do really very little with them. He could fix a lot of things, but his bones were not particularly on that list, and it was looking increasingly likely that the indigenous Nessie hurtling toward him at breakneck speeds would, well, break his neck.\n\nNot a fun way to start gym class.\n\nHe did his best to dodge out of the way before Raizel managed to hit him. Not that he was sure it would be enough."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Graham, well, unfortunately it has to be Graham, is perhaps one of her favorite teachers from delinquent prison school. When he arrived in frame within Raizel's line of sight, her awkward scrambling quickened with her flurry of slipping and sliding clawed feet and tail. In her increasing excitement it made her movements a challenge to move like a proper adult monster. It was ridiculous how she is springing in such an ungraceful manner. \n\nThe floor shook beneath her 500 pound weight of destruction when her wooden frame darted towards the poor man. \n\n**Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!**\n\nThe scene would suddenly slow down in a low speed frame as her maw pulls a goofy grin with her glowing fork tongue lolling from the side of her snout. Her long neck bent into a tilt that was like a Canadian goose pointing its nose up. Her large form waddled quicker with louder steps that sound similar to the drums playing in a Jumanji film.\n\nLike an elementary student wanting to show their teacher their drawing, Raizel very much wanted to show off her newly developed form. She knows her mom would be so proud of her achieving a full-on improvement.\n\nThen she tripped over her left clawed hand that toppled the rest of her form into a scorpion position when she slid forward with a skid."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The giant-wooden-sea-lizard-puppy-thing came to a grinding stop in front of Graham. He paused, for a moment, looking up and down Raizel's monster form, then burst out laughing. \"C'mon, really? I thought I was gonna die, and then you just trip over yourself like that? You've gotta do better than *That.*\" Truthfully, he was still sort of in shock, but no better way to get over that than to laugh it off, so he did.\n\nHe scratched the gargantuan thing on the head, somewhere around the equivalent of behind the ears. It felt like wood. \"C'mon, Rai, get outta there. We can't have you playing dodgeball like that, everyone's gonna hit you.\"\n\n*And don't ever do that shit again,* He thought to himself. Raizel really wasn't supposed to be *His* Responsibility, and he certainly didn't know what to do about her powers, but he seemed reasonably adept at the person-slash-animal handling bit.\n\nLuckily. If he wasn't, he'd be dead by now."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The end of her tail wiggled so fast that it made a whipping sound when she struggled to contain her excitement.Her pointed ear flickered when Graham scratched behind it that made her maw pull into another goofball smile.\n\nShe rolled over onto her clawed feet and hands to shake herself from the fall with a loud ruffle. When she attempted to speak, it felt weird enough that she had to open and close her maw until she got the right feel.\n\n\"Kay!\" Rai chimed, her voice chipper and carefree.\n\nAgain, it is very unfortunate that Graham had to multitask three different classes that Raizel signed herself in. She was more in depth in crafting, training in martial arts and P.E that she enjoyed very much. They're perhaps the only classes that she ever rarely missed.\n\nWhen her massive form suddenly twists, turns and bends into a more human shape it was almost like watching a wooden sculpture molding itself. She was taking in ideas from the lessons that she learned from the crafting lessons that helped her enhance her morphing abilities.\n\nNow back in the same old body, Raizel still wore her classical wooden mask with her glowing eyes in a shape of upside down crescent moons. The energetic jubilance shifts towards a meek, timid person who stood in front of Graham. She nervously grabs her forearm as she rubs it out of habit before glancing at the floor."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Raizel changed in front of Graham's eyes - both literally, from a sea monster to a masked girl, and emotionally, from bright and enthusiastic to timid and reserved. It was quite a sight, and one Pernilla would probably have been more prepared for than Graham was. He really needed to get this poor, troubled girl off his back - he was *Not* Qualified to deal with this.\n\nBut he did what he could.\n\n\"You've improved,\" He said, smiling, keeping his voice low and hushed so as to not startle the poor lass. \"You should show Pernilla. I'm sure she'd be very proud.\"\n\nHe felt a little bad passing Raizel on - but it was for her sake, not his. He couldn't help her. Not more than he already was, and she needed more help than she was getting.\n\nHe gently put a hand on Raizel's shoulder. \"C'mon, let's get to class. The others are waiting.\""
}
] | 219.5 | 1,339 |
148.018182 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie stands within the premises of the angels tower in the industrial district, looking a bit haggard but determined. She came here on the off chance of getting some answers since nobody wants so speak of anything at all. What is the reason, if they had any. Why? It's confusing when it shouldn't be, their reasons are vauge and almost not there at all. She wants to know at least something to put a meaning to this hell. So, since the distortion wants her dead she figures the angels might be something better to talk to. Getting stabbed to death already sounds better than what happened those months ago. \n\nMargo didn't elaborate on anything the angels did and that left much to be heard, she didn't wish to talk to Margo in general. The least amount of interaction seems to do her well, she hasn't spoken to her roommate and she dosent want to considering the only thing she gets is a pitiful stare. She was quite tired of just watching others, it's been a ride but she'll get far better answers on her lonesome.\n\nShe walked over to the door, her crutch making slight groan every step as she closed in on the rusted looking door. The least the angels could have done was clean the place up somewhat, it's beyond her how they haven't gotten tinnitus at least once... Maybe they have. \nShe shouldn't mention it lest she make an enemy of these people too. She puts a hand on the door and with a grunt she pushes the door open, it creaks with it's movement and it makes Amelie wince. The inside was dark, it was at night but they did dare even put on a light... Maybe their halos did that for them. \n\nAmelie looks to the stares. They look precarious looking to cave at the slightest weight. Shame if any of them were to fall. She looks around the claustrophobic room with an almost disgusted look, then she notices an elevator.\n\n\"How ze fuck is that still in operation..\" \nAmelie mumbles as she moves towards it, her steps echoing upwards where the spiral staircase may have led her.\n\n.\nA dimly lit elevator call button pulsates weakly in front of her, and without a care. She presses it and silently hopes that the embarrassing thought of an angel appearing in the elevator she just called does not prove to be real. She has had enough of that.\n\nAmelie proved herself to be overthinking again, and again. The elevator was empty and nobody was in it, it too was dark and it probably looked to be in utter shambles from the pressure it felt like the floor was chipping away. \n\nShe opened her phone and turned on the flashlight to look at the floor buttons. She presses the button that would take her to the uppermost floor without shooting her onto the roof. A can getting knocked over outside the door alarms her and she moves her hand to the button to close the doors, she starts spamming the button. The elevator heaves and creaks with Amelies adamant rushing. She steps back and shines the phones flashlight outside the room, a figure moves and Amelie grips her crutch harder as she feels a bone-deep sense of vertigo press against her. \n\nGods, she hates meeting others.\nThe elevator doors shut and the thing itself heaved upwards. The dim light of the button grows brighter as she closes in on the top floor. Amelie can't sleep, she hears laughter. Why is she this nervous. \n\nThere's an obtuse croak of a ding letting her know that she's arrived. The doors open, Amelie takes a step out and looks around. \n\n\"Mein gott. This place looks... Rather-\"\nAmelie dosent finish as she makes a noise of disgust. She moves fully out. \n\"Hello?\" \nShe asks and her voice speaks no echo here, obviously there's something here."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Clouds of dust puff up under Amelie's feet. There's something here, but... Nothing resembling maintenance. Or cleaning.\n\n\"...Hello?\" A mild, shaky voice reverberates from around the corner. \"Who's there?\"\n\nWhoever it is, she doesn't sound afraid, but there's something to her voice that isn't entirely calm."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie steps back in a motion to side step something, dread? The knowledge that she is not allowed and the- whatever is here has not moved alone slightly confused her. \n\n\"Amelie, A newtons cradle resident.\" \nHer voice lands sharp and leads the obvious that Amelie wishes to immediately get to the point.\n\"I understand if you do not wish to speak because of that.\" \nShe brushes off some dust that had perhaps accumulated on her jacket. Amelie wasn't going to feel pity for the person's shambling tone.\n\nShe squints in the darkness to look for some light to at least help her not trip over something. Who knows what kind of things have been left here. She grimaces for a second at the thought, that is before she refocused on where the voice came from and steady her crutch."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The voice takes a while to respond. Small, careful footsteps echo through the hall, and a tall girl turns the corner, a halo wrapped around her head and giving off a gentle glow. Apart from the bits of natural light seeping into the central stairwell, her halo is the only source of light. Her posture is unsteady, and she's tracing her hand along the wall.\n\n\"Why are you here?\" She queries, in clearly accented English."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelies stares wide eyed for a moment, the spectacle of seeing a halo was if only a little unthought of. She wanted to think of something else immediately but she had better things to do. \nHer eyes caught the motion of the angel feeling the wall somewhat, possibly blind? It'd be rude to ask. \n\n\"I'm just here to ask some things, what I ask is between you and me only. I do not devulge secrets willingly.\"\nAmelie hummed. \n\"You may ask any questions you'd like ask long as I am allowed to ask any of my own. I am not here to do some brash and unsightly thing.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Okay.\" She doesn't really seem to acknowledge what Amelie is actually saying, but rather, she seems to be just nodding along. She carefully turns around and traces her way back into the space she came from, away from the stairwell."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"I... Alright.\"\nShe says, slightly deflated about the casual response but it is better she didn't accidentally escalate it. She didn't have anything to be embarrassed about, this was far better than talking to anybody at the cradle so far. \n\nAmelie steps forward, one foot after the other, looking at the walls and how they're slightly worn along with the floor. What do they even do here? Play games and party? Not as different from the cradle if so.\nShe stops in the middle of the hall, unwanting to move forward Incase she was not invited therefore intruding upon them."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The interior, slowly coming into view, suggests a bit more than games and partying. It probably *Used to be* An office space, but it's clearly not anymore — tables and chairs are spread haphazardly throughout the room, with some of the tables being turned upside-down and covered with sleeping bags and others being left upright to accommodate all sorts of trinkets, tools and trash. As far as Amelie can see, though, there's only the one person here.\n\nThe girl with the halo continues tracing along the wall until she finds a chair, where she was presumably sitting when Amelie arrived, and sits down again. She folds her hands in her lap and occasionally leans forward and back slightly, but otherwise she's motionless."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "It looked... Quite destroyed, shame that this came of something that was feared some time ago. Amelie was sure there was more than just one angle, or did they leave this one behind due to liability? Out of order and disheveled was how she perceived this place.\n\nAmelie looks at the girl for a moment before speaking again.\n\"May I enter?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"The others will be back soon,\" She responds. \"I do not mind, but they might be upset that you are here.\" \n\nThe elevator creaks behind Amelie, and begins descending again."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie says nothing afterwards. She turns from the doorway and stares at a wall instead, content to just stand stock still against a wall and wait for the rest of them.\n\nThe elevator descends and with it her train of thought as if focuses on the slight noise it makes. Amelie wouldn't be surprised if they instantly started threatening her life, at least she'll get a second.\n\nAmelies fingers twitch as staring at the wall has now been slightly warped, or has it always been peeling against some sort of rust or rot. She doesn't really want to know what happens here but there was this persistent curiosity that begged to ask if there was more hidden behind their pale wings. She waits and waits and the walls look worse, she loathes it here. \n\n\"Have you been well? Despite everything I think it would be cruel if you're struggling.\"\n\nShe hasn't gotten the person's name yet. \n\n\"Am I allowed to know your name?\"\n\nShe dosent look at her but just lets her voice be a tad louder so in it's rasped glory would reach the girl, she dosent know if the halo made some sort of noise... If it did anything other than blind the girl. The ironic wording of 'justice is blind' creeping in speckled laughter of another woman makes Amelie frown as she waits for an answer."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Johanna,\" She answers bluntly. She doesn't say if she's well — a look around her lodgings, or at her, would suggest it's probably at least a little complicated.\n\n\"You wanted to ask me something.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie says nothing for a moment. Should she wait for the supposed leader or just speak to this one? This company is better than none after all. \n\n\"Do you harbour any unspoken hatred for the cradle? If so... Why?\"\n\nConfusion laces her tone. It is a government funded area and well it certainly makes sense for them to take people with paranormality from their homes. It certainly does quite a bit of damage and because of that they harbour hatred to it. Though there are others who have nowhere to go. It's confusing albeit little stupid in amelies mind, though she could be part of the latter, she is in a middle ground. It's strange."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Johanna shifts in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. She doesn't seem to get anywhere.\n\n\"I don't know,\" She says. \"Big Sister does, I think. Lots of bad things happened to her. The only thing I know is...\"\n\nShe pauses, and her head hangs forward. The memory is clearly unpleasant for her.\n\n\"No one comes back when they get taken there. We have lost sisters that way.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie sits in her freshly made silence for a moment. She can hear the creaking of that chair as Johanna writhes uncomfortably in an effort to be comfortable. \n\n\"Right...\"\n\nWith prolonged silence after that word she only seems to think for a second more. \n\n\"Losing things has not been left untouched there. I'd say it has only gotten worse now, which isn't soothing I know. Your sister?\"\n\nAnother second. \n\n\"That girl... I assume she left behind her halo... What has come of it? I am unsure. I am sorry.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"She is gone,\" Johanna sighed. She'd lost a sister, and thinking about that upset her. She missed Annika, and had for quite a while. \"I do not know where she is. None of us know.\"\n\nShe paused for a long, drawn-out second.\n\n\"We miss her.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"I can understand feeling if only somewhat.\"\nAmelie frowned at the fact they'd lost somebody they cared for, not truly but it was still loss nonetheless. It can take may different forms because folk feel differently. Amelie has lost many a connection but has she truly cared? Not really. Not right now.\n\n\"Understood.\"\n\nAmelie does not understand their grief does she. She does not understand about what happened to that girl that ran, the only person who did is possibly long gone. \n\nAmelie feels like she needed to do something rather than stand like a punching bag."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Without warning, Johanna stood. She walked slowly, tracing her hand along the wall the same way as before, but this time, she walked surely and purposefully. She made it to the hallway where Amelie stood, and placed herself squarely in front of — and very close to — Amelie. Though her halo blocked her eyes, she seemed to be glaring directly at Amelie.\n\n\"You have come to my home and asked me questions about my family,\" She said sternly. \"You are a stranger, and I do not know your name. Why are you here?\" The feathers on her wings bristled. Something was different about her."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "She didn't turn to look at Johanna, she can obviously see enough that the girl is here considering her halo is bright enough to blind. There was quite enough pressure that was definitely not needed. \n\n\"Amelie.\" \nShe says curtly. \n\"I have just come to ask for the reason you all gravely dislike the cradle, I just desire this answer for myself.\"\nShe raises a hand up in surrender even though the girl cannot see it. \n\"I've been almost killed too many times, I've grown tired of it.\"\n\nShe dosent back away, she wishes this girl would do so for her."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Johanna doesn't back down. Something is pushing her to act. \"Why do you think we do? Do you know why yet? Why do you even care?\" The questions keep coming. She isn't really expecting answers to any of them, nor are they particularly well-formulated — for several of them, she already knows the answer. Whatever is pushing her to act is not telling her *How* To act, only that she must.\n\n\"Why should I not assume you are working for them? What are you going to do when you know?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie frowns. \n\"I do not know. And, should I care for something you so obviously wish to keep between you and your family? You don't need my help or care nor do you want it.\"\nShe inquires, staying calm to the awkward quick brutish speed at which the questions are being asked. It was odd but she answered nonetheless.\n\nTo the next two questions Amelie snorts. \n\"Why should I work for people people whom barley care if I die, I'm a liability and a waste of money to them.\"\nShe sneers. \n\"I'm not going to tell them *Shit*. You're asking as if they deserve to know.\"\nAmelie grounds out the words with a venomous sinew attached to every Syllable. She quickly steadies herself after. \n\"Not that I've given them a reason to care at all.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Johanna stares into Amelie's eyes, silent and unblinking, for several seconds. She's only interrupted when a metallic thud sounds through the building, and the elevator begins to move.\n\nThe sound flips a switch again, almost. She's less aggressive than before, and her eyes dart to the elevator, but nothing about her seems outright friendly. She still stands unnervingly close to Amelie. \n\n\"If you want to leave,\" She says suddenly, \"Take the stairs *Now.*\" Her voice is sharp, but not malicious. \"If you stay now, maybe you will not leave for a long time.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie stares back with what eye she can, she ends up squinting and looking slightly irritated. She flinches at the noise and quickly looks in the direction it came from. \n\nJohanna's warning came through clear, but unfortunately Amelie is not a coward despite her ailments. As sharp as the girls voice sounded so much so it cut through her thought process she stood in the hallway strong. \n\n\"I do not think anybody is waiting for me to return. I'll play my cards and stay, Madame.\"\nShe steadies herself again and turns back to staring at the wall in front of her, unmoved and almost unfazed. There was an inkling of anxiety that seemed to take it's time in slithering down Amelies spine with daunting realization.\n\n*She'll be fine.*"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The moment Amelie says she intends to stay, Johanna grabs Amelie by the collar and brandishes a softly glowing knife at her throat. \"Do not move,\" She hisses. \"No noise.\" She looks calm, but determined.\n\nThe elevator creaks and groans, and as the doors begin to open, a cacophony of voices sounds out, all talking over one another.\n\nThe others are back.\n\nThey flood out of the elevator, and a few make their way through the corridor and into the office space, but most of them surround Johanna and Amelie and murmur curiously among themselves.\n\n\"*Jag har fångat någon,*\" She announces. \"*Jag vet inte vem det är.*\" The murmuring continues unabated, but a few of the Angels approach Amelie and try to restrain her further."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Suddenly there was pressure at her collar a hand seeking purchase within a bundle of clothing, then a knife just touching the skin of her thin neck. Then here she was struggling yet again. \n\nThere was an insistent push at where Johanna's hand was, of bone of something so volatile in it's desperate attempt to protect. Amelie pursed her lips and stared at the now crowed floor, her eye dilated to something one could not see the end of. Bone slowly moved through her skin of where that hand was, through bandages and soon just touching against the bundled fabric. There was a snapping in her ear as the bone groaned in it's forced movement against the bundled, soon more joined it. Amelies nose was bleeding and it's blood was slowly moving and creating red rivers against the glowing blade. Bone against her skull against her jaw. She just had to make sure it didn't hurt the angel. The bones split and twisted like a flower in open view. \n\nShe should have said something about it yet she thought it would be obvious considering she's more bandages and medical equipment than person. To the angels that tro to restrain Amelie further there is bone to be met where there hands could have been, outstretched and wanting. Yet the one on her collar just moved so slowly, the blood slipping down the blade was staining the floor."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "At the sight of blood, the entire crowd pounces on Amelie, frantically rushing to drag and corral and carry her away from the corridor and into the relative comfort and security of a sleeping bag on an inflatable sleeping pad. Johanna is left behind, unsure of what's happening, but a short, vigorous Angel splits from the crowd and runs to talk to her.\n\nAmelie, meanwhile, is practically forced to lie down. The Angels are crowding around her and frantically whispering to each other. One produces gauze, another a suture needle and thread, and what little Amelie can make out would suggest they're arguing about how to treat her wounds, but just as it gets heated, a weary, authoritative voice from out of sight says \"*Gasbinda,*\" And without complaint or further argument, they all do their best to wrap Amelie's wounds in gauze. They remain crowded around her after that, but they don't do anything to her or touch her at all."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie was reeling and suddenly there was too many hands at once, so many forcing her down and reeling back when bone tried to chase after them. Her face was shattered in a look of terrified surprise. \n\nWhen put on the sleeping bag Amelie waved her arms in front of her, she was frantic if not sluggish in her movements. \n\"Fassen Sie mich nicht a- *Rör mig inte!*\" \nThe German switched to swedish and Amelie's voice was rasped and if only a little loud. Just enough to be heard. What was bandages the angels saw she was frail and it looked as though it was just skin pulled gaunt against bone. \n\nHer eye was wide. \n\"Du kommer att bli sårad.\"\nShe rasped out. She uncovered her face and lifted herself up with surprisingly still arms. She didn't dare look up at them, she only just languishes beside the blood which is forming itself into a puddle below her head.\n\"*Jag är ledsen.*\"\nThe quiet tone returns to apologize as she wollows in her wounds."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Slowly, as the situation gets less tense and Amelie apologizes, the swarm of Angels around her begins to disperse, sufficiently satisfied that they don't need to do anything more to stabilize Amelie. \n\nEventually, only one remains. She sits beside Amelie, on the floor. Her body's barely visible, mostly wrapped in her wings, but if Amelie looks, she'll be able to just about make out a little bit of her face, including her crown-like halo.\n\n\"Johanna told me everything,\" She says softly. \"It must have taken a lot out of you to get here.\" She shifts, just a little, but the movement of her wings makes the motion look a lot more impressive and grand than it really is. \"I'm sorry about the injuries. We wouldn't have handled you like that if we knew.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie is still wearing her leather jacket and when she realizes it she seems to curl further into it. She breathes almost too shallow for a moment, it takes a second for her to finally steady. There's a bone that peaked out just above her eye, the angel can see red bleed into the bandages. Amelie can see her just fine even if her eyelid feels hard to open. \n\nShe frowns and her hands clench in the sleeping bag. \n\"I am not that frail.\" \nShe whispers out as she moves further to push herself up. \n\"I do not tell everyone, though I do not blame you for taking such an action considering... Everything.\"\n\nAmelie grunts as she slides herself into a sitting position with her legs below her and blood smears as she moves. \n\"I'm sorry for the mess I've made, this would have gone better if I didn't have this.\"\nAmelie looks at the feathers that move around the figure, how they shine brightly pale even in a dark room. \n\"I assume you are the leader?\" \nShe asks with that air of regal politeness running back into her tone."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"... I guess,\" The Angel mutters. \"I don't really like to think of it like that. I'm not... I'm not their boss.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Oh.\" \nAmelie is hunched over as she hears what the Angel is saying. \nShe looks confused for a moment, thinking about all that Margo and somebody else said about the angels; How they were all bastards with no care. She didn't really take it to heart anyway. \n\n\"Then you're a sort of... Older family member I assume.\" \nAmelie sighs and wipes around her eye with a hand. The new bandages sinking into her skin, they did a rather good job. She assumes it wasn't their first time doing this, it most likely won't be their last. \n\n\"Do you have any questions for me?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I... I'd thought you'd want to ask *Me* The questions, but since you're asking, I, um. I think there is something I'd like to know.\" The Angel's voice is uncertain and yielding, unusually so for someone in a position of authority, but not frightened — just a little bit socially anxious, maybe. \"You can ask whatever you want to ask after.\"\n\n\"It's just...\" The question had been weighing on her. It meant something. Depending on the answer, a lot might have to change. It was nerve-wracking asking it, but she needed an answer — as soon as possible. \n\n\"How'd you know we'd be here?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "She waited in silence for a second, a minute too long. Her thin hands together in the cradle of her legs as she listened to the angel. She must be aiming to find out if she is in danger. \n\n\"I was there when one of your... Sisters had decided to post a picture of your tower, it has long since then been deleted but I have remembered.\" She speaks cautiously and then another second before she speaks again.\n\"Out of my own killing curiosity that is.\"\n\nShe purses her lips. \n\"Are you alright?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The Angel responds with a brief \"Oh.\" She seems mollified by the explanation.\n\nAt Amelie's question, she chuckles the kind of brief, self-pitying chuckle that people do when they're in pain and the mere possibility of being \"Fine\" Is ridiculous. It says more than she could say herself, almost.\n\n\"No one got hurt, if that's what you're asking,\" She replies curtly. \"No one but you, anyway.\" The rest, she leaves unsaid, more out of a desire not to be vulnerable than anything else. She lets her wings loosen a bit, and more of her face becomes visible, her dull blue eyes and her flowing blonde hair and her strange smile illuminated by the glow of the crown of thorns floating around her head.\n\nShe turns to face Amelie. \"Did you have questions you wanted to ask?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie frowns and gives a tired look that states it's been heard and she isn't buying it. She lets it leave for the wind for the wind quickly for she has no word to say against it. \n\n\"Course.\" The way she says it is dry and leaves room for more emotion that is not given. She squints at the horn for a second before giving eye contact with the angel again. \n\nAmelie breathes and weighs her non existent options for a moment before speaking. \n\"Could you give me an answer as to why you loathe the facility?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The Angel pauses for a few moments, deep in thought. The question seems to bother her a little bit.\n\n\"We don't,\" She finally says, but she quickly cuts herself off after. \"Well, I don't.\" She has more to say, but she leaves a small pause before she does, just to get the words straight with herself. She frowns a little.\n\n\"We, um... We fight, sometimes. Us, and the Newton's Cradle people. But it's not because we hate them. They have things they want, and we have things we want, and sometimes we, uh... We get in each other's way.\" She doesn't elaborate on how, or what either the Angels or Newton's Cradle want. She answers what she's asked and little more."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie looks slightly perturbed then angry for a second looking as though she cursed the very ground her walked upon. She hated being vaugley told some folks were monstrosities, why she dared even listen to Oliver on this matter was beyond her thoughts at this current time. \n\nOf course she dosent hate ye cradle she hasn't attacked it nor does it seem she would want to after everything, after that boy morales decided to make do with his anger towards that one angel. She dosent like the cradle residents, that much is true. \n\n\"What do you want? Also it has some to my attention you may have come from a place similar to... This one? If I am allowed to intrude on such a matter.\" Amelie was known for pushing aside the cat that so curiously died for her own matters, death can wait if she has questions unanswered."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"It was a long time ago,\" She remarks, and leaves it at that. \n\n\"I just want the world to be better.\" The way she says it makes it sound obvious. \"What do you think the Newton's Cradle people want?\" The smile has returned to her lips, just a little more self-assured. It's a question she's asked herself, and perhaps others, before, and she hasn't ever really come across a good answer. She herself doesn't know what they want — and she suspects no one else really does either."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"What they want?\" \nAmelie speaks with confusion lacing her ever step through her own words. Her fingers lace over eachother in a twitchy movement of thought again and again, she stops immediately when she finds her hands doing so. \n\n\"They want to mostly destroy the cradle itself. That is what the residents want, that's what this forgone distortion wants. Some others just wish to leave or maybe just want to find another, love another. I am unsure.\" The bandages of her hands ripple with the sharp incisors of bone that threat to shred through skin. \n\"What the teachers themselves want? I only assume they just wish to see us gone. All the while hopefully not have to go court on a kids death. If you have no family? I only assume it's fair game.\" \n\nShe frowns at a memory of agony, writhing on the ground with no pain but knowing and watching your body shred itself thinking it still has something attacking it. The feeling of stars and warped faces flashing across her mind in heated righteousness. She should have died that day, how she survived was beyond her and beyond the trials and tribulations of what her roommate is capable of.\nShe finds her hands littered with small holes produced by bone and she just sighs and twists her hands further together in an act to not see. \n\"They will do anything to see it through, both resident and staff. If that is what you want.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"You think so?\" The thought actually seemed to worry the Angel a little. She'd met many people from Newton's Cradle over the years, but none of them had been so hostile or alienated from the institution. Had this one been unlucky — or had the others been lucky?\n\nShe turned her whole body to face Amelie, her wings lying flat against the floor behind her and her face contorted in an expression of concern. Amelie still looked worse for wear.\n\n\"It... It sounds worse than I thought. Are you planning to go back?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie frowns as her hands twist, she can feel bone moving and scraping eachoh in it's movement making her grimace. \n\"I feel it's moreso that I know they're like that. There was a thing there that killed me basically, I was told it had been close to an hour before anybody found me a mess of flesh and bone in the hallway.\" \n\nAmelie looks solem, like the one grace she has ever had was staring at the sun that would come up each morning. She felt like some old hag waiting for the day that she couldn't open her eye again. Was she supposed to feel like that? \n\"Maybe. The cradle nor is residents have even noticed my absence and if they had, they most likely think I'm off getting by lungs pumped back full of air in a hospital.\"\nShe hunches over and places her head on her hands still looking at the angel with some keen indifference. \n\"I am little more than a medical liability, I've been told multiple times. But, somebody needs to be injured when they are there. It must be me, it seems.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The Angel pauses. This curious intruder — Amelie, her name was — seems more upset by her experiences at Newton's Cradle than anything.\n\n\"I'm sorry they treat you like that,\" She hesitantly begins, \"But... You're not there right now. They don't get to decide that. What do *You* Want?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie pursed her lips and looks to the ground around her instantly, she shouldn't have to think so hard. What does she want? She dosent know she hasn't known for years and what is definitive upsets everyone and everything. She hasn't been given a reason even though she desperately needs one. \n\n\"I don't know. I'm a twitchy selfless fool, I haven't decided what is mine other than what is beyond the light of...\" \nShe cuts herself off, her eye shakes and her hands clench. She didn't get to be a child did she."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Nothing's wrong with being selfless,\" The Angel assured, \"As long as it's purposeful. If you're not doing anything for yourself, and you're not doing anything for anyone else, you'll just end up lying around feeling sorry for yourself.\" She probably sounds a little condescending, but she doesn't really seem to notice. Or care.\n\n\"I did that for a while. It, uh... Kinda sucked. So you should find something that matters to you. Or at least something you like.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie grunts in some form of affirmation, she looks perturbed for the most part. \n\"I will not feel sorry for myself when there are others whom are going through worse.\"\nAlas that is what Amelie has always every day told herself. \n\n\"Do not think I haven't tried, Ma'am. I try every single day and yet nothing has happened, I am still as confused and scattered as when-\"\nAmelie cuts herself off and just stares at the feathers that lay across the floor. Everything, when everything. There has not been a second where she has not felt like a haggard soul. There may be others going through the worst and here she was acting like faulty wiring.\n\"I do not really know what I am supposed to be.\"\nShe speaks her mind turning itself upsidedown for an answer when every turn she looks to is filled with images she has never seen before."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "The Angel sighs. \"I... I understand.\" She looks at Amelie sympathetically. \"Did you have any more questions? If not, I'll let you rest.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "She squints at the angel.\n\"What is your name, Ma'am.\"\nShe raises a hand out and makes a motion of encompassing the angels whole body. \n\"Why and how did you end up as you are. An angel. I will not speak to anyone else about this so... Please? \"\n\nAmelie stops and her arm goes back on the sleeping bag as she lifts herself up from her hunched position. \n\"Also, I need my crutches. I cannot walk without them ma'am.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Oh,\" She mutters, \"I haven't even... Rude of me.\" She looks away and frowns, slightly embarrassed. \"It's... Alva. Nice to meet you.\"\n\nAt the question about her Angel-hood, she tenses up a little. \"That's not something I tell just anyone. It's kind of... Personal. But if you have a good reason, I guess I could...\" She trailed off.\n\nAt Amelie's need for crutches, Alva simply nodded."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"It's nice to meet you as well, Madame Alva. I wish it were under better circumstance.\"\n\nAmelie watches the feathers flinch slightly, pretty things. She needed a reason... What is a good reason to an angel? \n\"I just would like to know if you got what you desired, I am unsure what is a good enough reason to say.\" \n\nAmelie didn't look like she was going to be resting anytime soon, she didn't want nor need to rest despite her condition."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Mhm.\" Alva wished for the same thing.\n\n\"What I desired...?\" She looked contemplative for a moment, then shook her head. \"I think you should have that conversation with one of the girls, not me. It... Wasn't that kind of situation for me.\" She felt she perhaps had some kind of idea of what Amelie wanted out of the question, but as long as Amelie wasn't telling her, she didn't really want to assume she knew.\n\n\"I can flag one of them down, and you can talk to her, if you'd like.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Confusion washed over her. \n\"What do you mean it was not the same situation? I'm sorry if I am intruding, though I may vaugley understand the strife.\"\n\nWhat Amelie wanted was not the girls own main concern she just wanted to know. Simple, yet very hard to obtain. \n\n\"No, you don't have to get them. I know I've overstayed, I can't give you money to get a new sleeping back for I've ruined this one.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"It wasn't the kind of thing where... It wasn't about what I wanted. But it was for the girls — that's why I think you would get more out of talking to them about it. But if you don't want to, that's... That's fine too.\" \n\nThe feathers on Alva's wings bristled as she lifted herself to her feet, but the wings were still dragging along the floor behind her. It looked like they were too heavy to lift willy-nilly. She made her way to the door, where Amelie had stood as the Angels arrived, and grabbed Amelie's crutches, then walked back and left them within reach of Amelie.\n\n\"You can go whenever, um... Whenever you feel like it.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"I'll... Try.\"\n\nAmelie watched the rather small woman stand up to leave. The crutches in front of her, she already had a hand on them. Ready to get up, she looked at the sleeping bag and grimaced at it. She rolled up the bag and placed it somewhere away from the inflated pad before looking to the angel. \n\n\"Can I have your number? Or anything to really communicate with you? To try and help of course.\"\nAmelie made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded like a cough as she stood up with the help of her crutches. \n\"I feel like I've done more harm than help and I'd like to rectify that, please.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Alva had a look like she was about to say something, but shut herself up before she did. Then she got that look again, before finally nodding wordlessly, grabbed her phone from a pocket, typed a phone number into the Notes app, and showed Amelie. She seemed conflicted about it, but she still tried her best.\n\n\"I... Okay. Thank you. Please don't share the number.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie took her phone from her pocket, she noticed a couple new notifications but ignored them for a second before typing in the angels number. \n\"Thank you, Ms. Alva. You have done me a great service that I must repay tenfold.\"\n\nAmelie turns, she finally checks the notifications and her face twitches with something akin to horror. She breathes in and out before speaking again. \n\"Till we meet again under better circumstance. Also...\"\nShe paused while inching away. \n\"Please tell Johanna she did nothing wrong. And your sisters are all wonderful people.\"\n\nAmelie then turns to leave, moving down the hall and in front of the elevator."
}
] | 127 | 8,141 |
126.181818 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Maxwell tries to wring some fun out of his shitty body whenever he can. And this week, there's apparently a festival in town, so even though he had no one to go with, he decided to go just to have *Something* To do.\n\nNone of the souvenir stalls caught his eye (not quite true; he'd noticed some replica swords at a stall but paid them little mind until he was far away and had forgotten where,) but the food stalls certainly did. The selection reminded him of county fairs back home: candied apples, popcorn, cotton candy and fried foods galore. He decided to go for a hot dog; it seemed filling and it reminded him of home.\n\nHe got in line, behind a couple of strangers, and waited his turn while contemplating what he would want on a hot dog in Sweden. Definitely not Surstromming. Did they even have that? Probably not."
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir Dragovich \n\nVizhkir was making more attempts to leave his comfort zone. This rocket project had certainly netted intresting interactions with different people. But, at least for the next few hours, he was taking a brake from the near endless low altitude detonations that seemed to plague his rocket design.\n\nThe town had some sort of festival, and that seemed like it could be fun. He was a bit hesitant, he didn't really know what was in store and what would be expected of him. But he figured if he was on his best behavior (he normally was) and minded his own business he would be fine. The tall boy attempted to carefully pass through the gathered crowd of people, and for the most part he was sucessfull though there were a few instances of him bumping into people. \n\nAs the smell of food invaded his nose, his stomach growled violently. It seems that the last of the potato soup wasn't enough for his stomach. Eyeing the stands individually, he decided on a hot dog. He had never tried one before and figured the worst possible outcome was him not liking it. And so, he filed in line behind someone he vaugly recognized."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Even though the line looked short, it apparently wasn't quite so short, and both of them ended up waiting there for quite a while — long enough for Maxwell to turn around and notice someone standing behind him whom he vaguely recognized.\n\nFrom the Cradle, presumably. But... Who is it? \n\n\"Excuse me, do I know you?\""
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir looked down a bit at the shorter person in front of him, his face scrunched up in an inquisitive expression as he attempted to remember where he may have seen him. \n\n\"You look familiar.\" His said, scratching his chin. \"Where from?\" He murmered. He couldn't tell if he had interacted with this particular individual at the school or elsewhere. But for now, it vexed him."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Maxwell paused, looking up and down the stranger in front of him. He felt a little bit towered over. He listened to the voice, too; he's learned to do that since arriving at Newton's Cradle, distinguishing between Swedish people and foreigners based on their English.\n\nThis one sounded Russian.\n\n\"Newton's Cradle?\""
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "The Russian's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, before he nodded. \"Да\" He said, \"I am Vizhkir Valentinovich Dragovich.\" His hand extended outwards, \"And you are?\"\n\nHe hadn't really spent time guessing where people were from based on how they spoke English. He knew his own probably wasn't the best, and his accent was rather thick."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Maxwell shook his hand a little gingerly. \"Max. Hodgins. Nice to meet you.\" He wasn't even going to *Try* To pronounce *Vizhkir* With his American-ass vocal cords.\n\nSomeone left the queue in front, and Maxwell stepped forward to match. \"Do you know what you're getting on yours?\""
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir, \"Pleased to meet you Maxiumus.\" He said shaking his hand. He slowly moved forward, keeping a respectable few feet between the two. \n\n\"I.. Have never had a hot dog.\" He answered. \"I don't know what goes on them. Mayonnaise?\" He asked. It was a safe option, after all it was a staple in his diet."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"... Maxwell.\" Awkwardddddd.\n\nBut he'd live. His turn in the queue came by the time Vizhkir admitted that he'd never had a hot dog before, but Maxwell reacted instantly, even though he knew he was holding up the line. \n\n\"You've never had a hot dog before? Huh.\" He took stock over the options as the hot dog guy impatiently grunted at him to order, but he quickly realized that he'd be kicked out of the line and rushed to order:\n\n\"Uh— Two hot dogs, one with ketchup and mustard, the other with... Ketchup, mustard, and the pickled cabbage.\"\n\nHe paid the man, turned around on a dime, and offered the one with ketchup and mustard to Vizhkir. \"Here. First one's on me. If you like it, you owe me next time.\""
},
{
"author": "m18_hellcat_gmc",
"message": "Vizhkir nodded in acknowledgement, \"Apologies Maxwell.\" He replied, a bit sheepishly. Maximus seemed like the most appropriate guess to him, but he stood corrected. \n\n\"No. We have something similar, sosiki but it's a breakfast food. I've never had an American Hot Dog.\" He said in explanation. In the times of the Soviet Union it was said they could be made of newspaper and rat meat, but in large that was speculation. \n\nHe was surprised when the other boy offered him one of the hot dogs and gently accepted it. He stepped out of the line and nodded, \"Thank you, I will be sure to repay you.\" He said before taking a bite. He chewed for a moment, letting himself taste it. He nodded in approval, \"Is not bad.\" The hot dog wasn't that foreign to him, it tasted similar to the sosiki back home but it had its own unique taste. He wolfed the rest down, he was never one for eating slow after all, and took a hand full of napkins from the stand. He offered a few to Maxwell and used the rest to wipe his face."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Maxwell looked on with quiet amazement as Vizhkir wolfed down the hot dog in record time. Maxwell couldn't even hope to match it himself; he wasn't even halfway done. He graciously accepted the napkins and shoved them in his pocket as he spoke.\n\n\"Woah. That was fast, man. You should join a hot dog eating competition, you'd crush it.\""
}
] | 82 | 1,388 |
178.571429 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "After a time, he slipped a book back into the shelf after glancing through the contents of its pages, then moved onto the next book. The library was one of the quietest places at the school where he could relax. After hearing so much talk about a kid going on a rampage, Malus felt even so much smaller being among other parahumans. There were so many unique students it was scaring him more about what kind of crazy abilities they all have. \n\nAs he was picking through the books filed in the shelf, there was a sudden pause in his steps that forced him to stop. There was a shuddering breath when his pale gray eyes glanced down at his foot: it was sinking into the bookshelf's shadow. The lower extremity of his leg is transparent in a dark hue as it's trying to melt. Nervously, looking over at the window, the sun is beginning to slip away behind the thick clouds. It led him to discover that he is now two ankles deep into the shadow. The strength of the darkness reeling inside felt like a foreboding welcome as it kept pulling him in. Now that he's half-ways down the dark void, he feels his own legs kicking frantically like he's hanging from a cliff. It was at this point, he let out a rattled breath from nearing a panic attack. His hands clawing at anything to keep him submerged from sinking further into the shadow. Desperately searching for anyone for help, half-thinking he could do this on his own, Mal was tied between his pride and desperation."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "*Mark was slowly getting used to this area. He walks through the library, smiling and picking up a book. He liked fantasy, and even made an oc for dnd! Heh... The oc of an oc. Nice. He hums as he walks around, and that is until he finds a part of someone in a hole. Why was he in a hole!? Why is there a hole!? Mark runs over to Malus*\n\n\"Huh!? Oh shoot...\"\n\n*Mark grabs Malus' arm and activates one of his powers. This made Malus lighter and start to float. Using that, he pulled Malus out*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "He most definitely knew what was about to happen next after he sinks into the abyss. It wasn't quite a hole he's falling in but more of his body melting into the darkness. To him, it really did feel like he was sliding off a cliff. \n\nAs soon as he is about to accept his fate, Mal closes his eyes while his nails scrape against the floor. And he heard a voice before quick steps approaching him. Unsure of why his body felt lighter, there wasn't a second for him to mull on it as he felt hands grabbing his arms. He couldn't help it when his eyes widened with a desperate look at the kid in front of him. \n\nThen he was pulled out of the shadow where he scrambled away from it. Frantically backing up into the tables of chairs, staring at where he almost melted into the darkness. His chest rising and falling as he let out rattled breaths as air. Across his throat there is a gruesome scar slashed across the front of his neck."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "He most definitely knew what was about to happen next after he sinks into the abyss. It wasn't quite a hole he's falling in but more of his body melting into the darkness. To him, it really did feel like he was sliding off a cliff. As soon as he is about to accept his fate, Mal closes his eyes while his nails scrape against the floor. And he heard a voice before quick steps approaching him. Unsure of why his body felt lighter, there wasn't a second for him to mull on it as he felt hands grabbing his arms. He couldn't help it when his eyes widened with a desperate look at the kid in front of him. Then he was pulled out of the shadow where he scrambled away from it. Frantically backing up into the tables of chairs, staring at where he almost melted into the darkness. His chest rising and falling as he let out rattled breaths as air. Across his throat there is a gruesome scar slashed across the front of his neck.\n\n*Mark falls on his butt after throwing Mal out. He gasps heavily, fearing possibilities of what could have happened to this guy. Okay... Breathe in... Breathe out. Mark sighs in relief and turns to Mal. He didn't notice it, but Mark was crying! He cried very easily, but he seemed calm enough despite the large teary eyes*\n\n\"Are you okay!? What happened!? I'm glad you're okay...\"\n\n*Mark finally noticed his tears and wipes them off. He then smiles softly, oblivious to Mal's scar. Mark was a short boy with fluffy brown hair, tan skin, and green eyes he had a Squishy face and the demeanor of babyface. One could confuse him for a boy younger than he is*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Mal may be terrible at having an insight about other people's perspective, but it was clear that this other kid was crying? Crying about what? He couldn't understand what the boy's tears were all about. Right now, he is rather glad that he isn't the one crying since he was close to being swallowed up by the shadow. \n\nIt was difficult for him to answer all the questions as he tries to think of an answer after failing in vain to get a read on the kid's emotions. His mouth made a nervous squiggle as he reached up to his throat to show the scar. Then he begins to use the linguistic sign language with his hands, wondering if the boy would understand."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "Mal may be terrible at having an insight about other people's perspective, but it was clear that this other kid was crying? Crying about what? He couldn't understand what the boy's tears were all about. Right now, he is rather glad that he isn't the one crying since he was close to being swallowed up by the shadow. It was difficult for him to answer all the questions as he tries to think of an answer after failing in vain to get a read on the kid's emotions. His mouth made a nervous squiggle as he reached up to his throat to show the scar. Then he begins to use the linguistic sign language with his hands, wondering if the boy would understand.\n\n*Once he saw, he noticed. And yeah, Mark is weird... He cries too easily. After he wiped his tears, Mark gets a paper out of his sketchbook*\n\n\"I'm sorry! I don't understand sign language... Uhm... I'm Mark!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "He gingerly takes the notepad and pencil as he begins to write on the paper in neat writing. \n\n*\"Thank you for helping me, my name is Malus. What happened not too long ago is a bad condition I have, is why I am here in Newton Cradle. I am sorry about that.\"*\n||"
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "He gingerly takes the notepad and pencil as he begins to write on the paper in neat writing. *\"Thank you for helping me, my name is Malus. What happened not too long ago is a bad condition I have, is why I am here in Newton Cradle. I am sorry about that.\"* || \n\n\"Oh! It's okay! Nice to meet you, Malus!\"\n\n*Mark smiles dearly. He could tell Malus could hear him based off of the fact Mark got his name. Mark remembers when once he almost flew to the stratosphere by putting his gravity to zero. That was a funny story...*\n\n\"Its okay! I'm just glad you're okay! No need to worry...\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus gave a small, sheepish smile. He was uncertain what to do next since he never interacted with people all that much. So far, Mark seems like a nice kid? He didn't appear to be a bully? Then again, he could be wrong? And glancing back at Mark it was decided that this guy is just too soft. \n\nHe begins to write in neat letters on the notepad again. *\"Okay. Just try not to make direct contact with me again. I could have accidentally hurt you when you grabbed me. How much do you know about X-men? My ability is similar to Rogue but I drain energy to keep myself fed.\"*"
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "Malus gave a small, sheepish smile. He was uncertain what to do next since he never interacted with people all that much. So far, Mark seems like a nice kid? He didn't appear to be a bully? Then again, he could be wrong? And glancing back at Mark it was decided that this guy is just too soft. He begins to write in neat letters on the notepad again. *\"Okay. Just try not to make direct contact with me again. I could have accidentally hurt you when you grabbed me. How much do you know about X-men? My ability is similar to Rogue but I drain energy to keep myself fed.\"*\n\n*Mark was your average soft boy. It was very cliche, yes, but... Yep. Lol. Mark watches intentively as Malus wrote on the paper. He had amazing handwriting! Mark only had good handwriting when it was calligraphy. Unfortunately, Mark didn't know much of X Men, so he shook his head*\n\n\"Okay... So no touchy, got it. I don't know who Rouge is sorry... I never knew much about X-Men. Could you explain it to me please?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Rogue's mutant ability requires skin-to-skin contact to absorb memories, powers, personality traits, physical talents, and strength. For most of her heroic career, Rogue was unable to control her power, and anyone she touched would almost immediately fall unconscious.\" Mal actually got this from the internet from using his phone to show Mark who she is and what her power is. If Mark is busy reading, Mal would write on the notepad again. *\"I only take life and nutrients from touching. Unfortunately, I wish I didn't have this ability its a burden.\"*"
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Rogue's mutant ability requires skin-to-skin contact to absorb memories, powers, personality traits, physical talents, and strength. For most of her heroic career, Rogue was unable to control her power, and anyone she touched would almost immediately fall unconscious.\" Mal actually got this from the internet from using his phone to show Mark who she is and what her power is. If Mark is busy reading, Mal would write on the notepad again. *\"I only take life and nutrients from touching. Unfortunately, I wish I didn't have this ability its a burden.\"*\n\n\"Oh... Okay! I'm sorry to hear that. My power is to shift Gravity! That's how I pulled you out...\"\n\n*Mark smiles softly, seeing the new comic character along with Malus. He nods intentively*\n\n\"I won't touch you then... Sorry!\"\n\n*Mark didn't exactly know where to go from here. Was Malus a potential friend? He didnt know. Maybe he just wanted to be left alone, and who was Mark to not grant him that personal space?*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus gave a sheepish smile as he turns his phone off before pocketing it. When he slowly gets back up, he felt a little wobbly from both his legs being swallowed by the shadow earlier. He writes on the notebook saying,\"Thank you again. Hopefully you won't find me getting eaten by a shadow next time we meet. Have a good afternoon.\" And he give the pencil and notebook back as he wave bye to Mark."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "Malus gave a sheepish smile as he turns his phone off before pocketing it. When he slowly gets back up, he felt a little wobbly from both his legs being swallowed by the shadow earlier. He writes on the notebook saying,\"Thank you again. Hopefully you won't find me getting eaten by a shadow next time we meet. Have a good afternoon.\" And he give the pencil and notebook back as he wave bye to Mark.\n\n\"Yeah! Don't worry about it! But... Yea. Goodbye!\"\n\n*Mark takes the pencil and sketchbook back, and sighs. I guess he did just want to br left alone. Mark walks back to find the book he had been looking for*"
}
] | 145 | 2,500 |
196 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "A few ragged crows with dark beady eyes sat on a branch in a budding oak tree, where they stared out at the leaving visitors. Today it seems as though there are not as many people paying the cemetery any attention. Perhaps it was the dreary clouds overhanging the gravesite that drizzled light showers of soft rain. It made the funeral flowers smell ever so much sweeter under this type of weather.\n\nFurthest away amongst the trees sat a lone stranger, dressed in dark clothes with a \"Grave Crew\" Hat and a white mask worn over his face. It was only Malus in the woods playing his violin with music that sounded hauntingly beautiful. \n\nIt was called The Ghost Song by Max Alblitzer.\n\nThe scene felt so mysterious and creepy as the character himself standing amidst the fog snaking across the wet grass. All the trees nearby seem to slightly sway in rhythm in soft creaks. When the cool breeze swept by, it carried along the dead leaves with it."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "The raggedy crows with their raggedy eyes would behold the sight of a young woman in a heavy coat and holding a black case longer lengthwise, trudging down the dew soaked grass with boots. Her face was placid, seemingly unmindful of the odd place and its odd scents, with the odd sounds in the odd air.\n\nThough that odd figure, she was not unmindful of.\n\nThere she stood in the far corner of that far corner where Malus was, not quite hidden, but not so obvious either, watching the performance. She juggled in her mind how she might compliment him when the time came, for it was surely a good performance.\n\nNot that she held much affection for such things.\n\nWhen his set came to a close, Lynn announced her presence with a slow clapping of her hands. \"Wonderful.\" She said, her voice even, though it carried across the distance. \"Might I ask what your name is?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "His light gray eyes opened to a clapping sound to where he spotted a girl. It appeared that she may have been watching his performance. For how long was not determined nor did it mattered all this much. \n\nHe displayed an elegant bow to the one audience before giving her a friendly wave. Looking directly at the girl, his neck exposed a nasty scar slashed across his throat. It looks like a type of injury that any normal creature would have died from. \n\nMalus quickly fumbled with his instrument as he nimbly put it away into its old casing, then slinging the strap over his arm. He gave the girl a gesture as if to say,*\"One moment, please!\"* As he fished out his notepad from his pocket.\n\nWhile he walked to her direction, he wrote on the paper with perfect writing that is easy to read. When he got close, he turned the book around for her to get the message.\n\n*\"Name's Malus. It is nice to meet you miss, may I get your name?\"*"
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Her eyes linger on the scarring on his neck, and only a glance at the writing. \"Lynn. Lynn Laurent.\"\n\n\"And,\" She said, \"A shame about your voice. Maybe you had a talent in singing as well?\"\n\nShe looked around. \"Is this your usual place? I can't imagine getting attached to a cemetery of all places myself, but...\"\n\n\"Well, I'm curious what you think.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with his free hand before he returns back to writing another message. Malus was used to this by now writing notes in perfect letters, ensuring that the reader can understand it. Then he switched the booklet around for her once again.\n\n*\"I'm afraid that I am unable to find out for myself. Unfortunately, I got this when I was born from an accident.\"*\n\nThen he paused a bit before glancing at the scenery before returning to writing another message for Lynn. *\"I find it to be a rather peaceful place that needs care and protection. It feels right at home for me, so I sometimes come here to keep the dead company.\"*\n\nThere's the obvious letters on the front panel of his cap that says,*\"Grave Crew,\"* That stood boldly. A special item from his former job that he kept since he had no choice but to quit."
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"A shame. A shame indeed.\" She repeats.\n\n\"And you do not find the living agreeable companions?\" She asks. \"Just joking.\"\n\n\"Certainly, the dead keeps companionable silence. And they do not offend anybody. Perhaps I might learn to appreciate this place as you do, one day.\"\n\n\"Though unfortunately, they are of no use to anyone, either.\"\n\nShe lets the silence hang for a moment. \"Say, you come from the Cradle too, don't you? I do feel like you look a bit familiar.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Something about what she just said was off putting.\n\n**\"Though unfortunately, they are of no use to anyone, either.\"**\n\nWith her saying that had rubbed him the wrong way that made him feel an itch. Something inside him just didn't like what she said. He won't show anything while he listens, writing in the notepad to respond.\n\n*\"Not quite useless I must say. Even though they take up space, corpses are beneficial toward nature providing nutritional resources. I was kind of thinking about burial trees to help make up for the loss of trees that humans use for lumber.\"* \n\nThen there was the awkward silence which left Malus flipping to the next clean page. He wasn't sure how to feel about Lynn yet. The next question made him slightly confused since he barely ever leaves his dorm unless he sneaks out to do classes, hide away in shadows or just go out adventuring.\n\n*\"Yes? I believe that I haven't seen you around on campus. Are you from there as well?\"*"
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "Lynn raises a brow at his comment. \"Then should we perhaps call for arborists and lumberjacks over cemetery keepers?\"\n\n\"Haha,\" She laughs, a very dry, very unamused, but very polite laugh. \"You don't have to mind my comments. I have no desire to hurt this cemetery or anything like that. That's not why I'm here.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" She confirms. \"Ahhh, Cradle is a very fitting word, isn't it? They say we have to learn about our... Eccentricities before we can be let back into society.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know about others, but I for one need the help of others to figure out mine. It is fortunate, then, that I find myself in the company of many parahumans who might understand me. Won't you help me, Malus?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Sketchy.\n\nVery sketchy.\n\nMalus takes a cautious step back as he writes in the notepad before turning it around for Lynn to read. *\"Help? What kind? We only have met and already you ask of me?\"*\n\nThis was starting to make him uneasy. A single bead of sweat slid down his temple, beginning to get the stranger danger vibe from the girl. Sure they are from the same school, similar age, but different powers. \n\n*\"Out of many other parahumans, why choose me in particular...?\"*"
},
{
"author": "goodideasareoverrated",
"message": "\"As people from the same facility, we should be acquainted, yes?\" She suggests. \"Of course, I'd be willing to help you in a matter of your own as well.\"\n\n\"Hmm, it's not quite right, but for the sake of simplicity, call it a large scale project of mine. A lot of help needed.\" She said. \"It's simple. I seek the chosen one. To that end, might you lay hands upon mine sword?\"\n\nShe shuffles the case around her arms, before pulling it open to reveal an unadorned katana. She carefully lifts it up, holding from both ends."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Eh...!?\" Malus let out a confused grunt that was static. It hurt the inside of his throat which caused him to cough into the crook of his arm. \n\nThis was a weird experimentation that this weird girl is asking of him. It was making him take another step back, his light gray eyes watching her cautiously. \n\nIt looks like an old Kanata when she is displayed in front of him. He texted Pernilla to let her know what was going on, making sure to send a picture of said girl without the flash or sound to be alerted. This is to take precaution in case something bad is going to happen.\n\nThis is the weirdest and dumbest thing that he would have ever done.\n\n*\"I'm going to die. I am literally going to die by this stupid thing that I am about to do,\"* Malus thought, finding this girl to be incredibly weird. \n\nA part of him sort of gets a sense that there was some sort of life that he can feel from the blade itself. He removed his glove from his hand, wanting to at least get a taste of what sort of essence this thing provides. The kid was sure damn hungry right now, this sword would do for now.\n\nAs his hand touches the hilt, there is a choir of ghostly screams escaping from the object as it begins to reshape itself in the form of a shadow. A gust of freezing wind envelopes them both that stirred up the dead leaves and twigs. Malus wasn't sure but he could have sworn that he felt the earth slightly shaking beneath them like the dead themselves are waking up. Perhaps it was just the power of the blade itself showing its own strength?\n\nThe shape of the katana was no more.\n\nIn its place is a dark sword with a blue/purple hue glowing in the center of the blade with some sort of gun attached to it? What surprised him the most was the solid, shadow form of a monstrous maw moving around the crossguard? Was it a crossguard? Malus isn't sure but that part looks like a living, organic creature made out of nightmares.It looks like if he'd stab someone with this blade, the maw would grow large to bite them like a Piranha Plant. When he felt the black tendrils squirming up his arm in forms of veins, this is when he quickly let go of the blade.\n\nNope!\n\nThis is the dumbest thing he'd done!\n\nHe rubs his hand over his jacket like he'd just touched something that he should have. This crazy girl had come across someone who is akin to being a child of some reaper or nightmare of sorts."
}
] | 184 | 2,156 |
128.064516 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Giannis is alive. Emaciated, worse for wear, but alive.\n\nHe's been lying in a hospital bed, connected to all manner of tubes and machines, for a few hours now. He hasn't spoken much through all of it, except for a few curt, exhausted words to the EMTs while he was in the ambulance.\n\nOnly now, the doctors are deciding to disconnect him from the worst of it. They sound surprised when they explain to Akvile and Dae-hyun that in spite of Giannis' emaciated condition, he doesn't need any kind of feeding tube attached. Giannis himself looks a little surprised too.\n\nThe doctors depart from the room shortly, leaving Akvile and Dae-hyun alone with Giannis.\n\nGiannis stares at Dae-hyun. He doesn't say anything."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looked at Akvilė, then Giannis, and then the floor. \nHe felt sick, conflicted. It was clear on his face. \n*What do you even say in a situation like this.* \n\nHospitals put Dae-hyun on edge. The overly clean sterile environment, the death, the pain. It all made him feel fuzzy, and did nothing to ease the tension that pinched his nerves. \n\nHe kept his hands folded on his lap, he sat in a nearby chair. \n\nThe boy wanted to say something but didn't know what."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė sits in a low chair upholstered in plasticky red pleather, ribcage and shoulderblade pressed into the intersection between back and armrest. It's uncomfortable; only a psychopath could find comfort in such a space. Seemingly Dae-Hyun felt the same, given a glance.\n\nIt'd been a couple of hours since the ambulance raced into the hospital's emergency department loading dock, and the hours had passed quietly. Tense still, given what had transpired, but a quiet sort of tense, not unlike the sight of a police vehicle in traffic. Akvilė had been in and out, rolling cigarettes in her lap to pass the time, and she'd come back in a few minutes before the doctors made the decision to unhook the feeding tube from the emaciated boy's stomach. The doctors left and she glanced at Dae-Hyun, expression slightly confused.\n\n\"Uhm... Is it only me or does it seem hasty? What they are doing, I mean.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looked up at Akvilė once she spoke. \n\nHe gave a light sort of shrug, attempting to display a more relaxed expression on his face despite what he was feeling. \n\n\"I'm sure they know what they're doing.\" He spoke softly and slowly."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"It's fine,\" Giannis rasps, speaking for the first time in several hours. \"It's not like I *Like* Being fed through a tube.\" He sounds *Horrible,* But he looks even worse. One of his eyes is covered by a patch, not because of any inherent medical risk, but simply because the machine parts embedded within were too grisly (or perhaps too paranormal) to show off. And he was blind on that eye anyway.\n\nHe again turns his other eye to Dae-hyun.\n\n\"Why did you do this?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looks at Giannis as he speaks, and more guilt twists in his stomach. \nIt takes a minute of silence before he even opens his mouth. \n\n\"Nothing else was working...\"\n\n*What other option was there?*\nAt the time, it surely didn't feel like there was any other option. Other than leave him to Oliver. Which sounded worse. \n\nRegardless, Dae-hyun knew there wasn't any justification for this. \n\n\"I'm sorry.\" He stood up.\nThere was more he wanted to say but he didn't know how."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Hoarse as a dying man, Giannis sounds about as well as he looks, and seems to be feeling the same considering his question he posits. *Why?*\n\nAkvilė thinks for a moment, letting Dae-Hyun take center stage for a moment while everything rattles about her head once more. The wires, the smell, the liquid on the floor, the parallels between the hidden laboratory and the hidden space between the Cradle's walls. It had been much to take in, and even as she sat slouched in one of the hospital room's chairs she couldn't quite form a sensible string of words in her mouth.\n\n\"We were uncertain what else could help. If you–... If you wished to die y-you should have said thusly. It was what seemed our option.\" She manages to get out after a few moments, barely able to look at Giannis out of some sense of shame. \n\n*Maybe death would've been preferable to this.*"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"You could have done nothing.\" Giannis pauses to cough. \"I would have had something like a life.\" He coughs again and shifts whatever minimal amount he's capable of in his weakened state. He doesn't look any more comfortable.\n\n\"Whatever. Can't fix it anymore. Just gotta deal with it now.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"I-I guess.\" Akvilė looks towards a random poster on the wall, something in Swedish that barely makes any sense to her. \"But then life would have stayed unstable at Cradle, maybe, and–... And we knew not how to fix. So we followed Oliver. Mistake, it seems.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun sat down in his chair again, his eyes back on the floor. \n\nHe didn't know everything and it was aggravating. He didn't know what Oliver would've done with Giannis— or why he asked for their help in the first place if he wanted them to do nothing. Every single possible outcome seemed like it would've ended poorly. \n\nAkvile spoke in his silence. \nThe boy gave a soft nod in agreement. \n\n\"Oliver's only priority seemed to be getting you out of our heads— we didn't know—\" He sighed. \n\nNothing he said made him feel like he was helping the conversation. \nThe lines on the floor seemed to move slightly. \n\n\"Why did you send out a distress call if you... Wanted us to do nothing? All this started because you set off a flare to your location and... We followed.\"\nHis voice was curious, mostly confused. He wasn't blaming Giannis. He just didn't know. \n\n\"You're right though, I suppose it doesn't matter anymore.\" \nSpeculating won't change the past.\n\n\"What can we do now?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"And you got me out and I ended up somewhere half decent and you just couldn't stop trying to fix it. Well, I'm here now.\" Giannis sighs the largest sigh his breath-deprived husk is capable of.\n\n\"Nothing. You've done everything you can do. I'm stuck like this. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll get one of those mobility scooters fat people get because they're too fat to walk. If not someone's gonna have to push me.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun's brow tensed further. \n\n\"... You're right.\"\nThe sickness in his stomach grew further. \nThe fact he should've done nothing pained him. \n\n\"Im sure you'd be able to recover fully, past that point— or, at least, I hope so.\"\n\nHe had the smallest amount of faith. \nPerhaps it was wishful thinking to cope with the consequences of his actions— that they wouldn't hold such a dire outcome."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė takes in what Giannis says, and her heart aches for him. He's right; they fucked up. *Bad.* But how would they have known otherwise?\n\nAkvilė swallows a lump, and it seems to drag along her esophagus on the way down given the twisting expression on her face. It's not disgust or anger or hurt she feels, but instead the indescribable pain of knowing well-intentioned actions wound up causing more harm than doing nothing at all. It sucked. But the damage had already been done, and now it left Akvilė and her compatriots footing the bill of guilt left at their feet by Giannis' sorry state.\n\nBut there was no sense in stewing on it. She shakes her head briefly.\n\n\"I-I. I'm sorry...? I was only roped in so I knew not how bad it would be for you. But uhm... If you were hooked as such before would it not be possible to produce you a, uhm... New enclosure? Maybe it would help not. I dunno.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Giannis' gaze shifts to Akvilė. \"Not your fault. I roped you in. Sorry.\" He then shifts back to Dae-hyun, briefly.\n\n\"Don't bet on it.\"\n\nWhen he shifts back to Akvilė, his eye is a bit red and he seems to be tearing up, but he still answers. \"No. I can't build anything like this. And you probably can't build it either.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun doesn't say anything. He continues to stare at the floor. \n\nNo matter what he tried to say, he just seemed to be digging a deeper hole. Once again, there didn't seem to be a right option. \nIt was impossible not to feel horrible about the entire situation. \nIt was his fault. He didn't know how to atone for it, fix it— he knew he shouldn't even try. \n\nHe wasn't entirely listening to what Akvilė was saying.\nHe felt sorry she got involved. Her, Sigrún and Danica alike."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"Don't count me out as easily.\" Akvilė retorts, soft but certain. \"I-I-I understand little of the technology I have witnessed but I already know it will follow me into the earth. I still have, uhm... Maskelynophone. Perhaps it will be base.\"\n\nAkvilė herself doesn't entirely know if she's being true to her abilities as she speaks, but she knows herself well enough to know how intense her curiosity could become if given enough to latch onto. The mere heart of the Maskelynophone had kept her up three nights after first seeing it; its time a trade secret was limited. She hoped.\n\nShe looks over at Dae-Hyun, and sees him slumped against the wall with a clear look of powerlessness coursing through his blood. She frowns without thinking, and rises out of her chair towards him. She kneels and begins to rub his shoulder, unsure of how else to assuage the pain of months of effort and trauma ending in years more of trauma. The world just wasn't fair."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Giannis looks doubtful for a moment. Maybe a little uncomfortable. Then his eyes suddenly light up. It's maybe the first sign of optimism or life either Dae-hyun or Akvilė has ever seen from him. He looks up at Akvilė.\n\n\"I don't know if it'll work, but. I can't move, but maybe I can tell you what to do and still keep working that way? If... If you wanna help, of course—\"\n\nHe interrupts himself with a coughing fit and never finishes his sentence."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun gives Akvilė a soft smile in response to her gesture of reassurance. \n\nHe listens to what Giannis says, and waits to see what Akvilė says in response. \n\nOf course they want to help, but he wasn't sure if he was apart of the offer, so he stays silent."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė sees the light of life re-enter Giannis' eyes, and her heart skips a beat. She winces as her body autonomously wraps a tendon around her heart– an otherwise alien sensation normalized by way of being born a Šiauriniai. Quickly she shakes that bit of worry out, and continues to knead Dae's shoulder.\n\n\"Th-that is good idea! Maybe. You look as though a gust of wind could overpower you... But I– I can try to help. From outside of course.\" She nods, waiting for his coughing fit to end for at *Least* 45 seconds– an awkward 45 seconds to be sure. Eventually discomfort takes the wheel; \"What would it entail?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Giannis clears his throat as much as he can. \"Bringing the parts I ask for and sticking them together the way I want. I have the inventions and plans, but I can't build them alone.\"\n\nHe looks down at his hospital bed.\n\n\"I can't really do it here either, though.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"Simply say what I will need to collect and I will.\" Akvilė looks at Giannis. She didn't trust him in the least when he'd first appeared as a chatbot in the Cradle's Intranet, and now here she was agreeing to piece together a new home for the crippled mangled lad. The irony, for lack of better words, was not lost on her; she'd grown.\n\nShe takes her hand off Dae-Hyun's shoulder and wanders back to her chair, taking a seat and producing a notepad from her coat. A pack of tobacco falls out first though, and she cusses softly in her mother tongue while stretching down to pick it off the floor."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looks up at Giannis for a moment. \nAlthough the idea being pitched makes him uneasy, he knew it wasn't his choice. \n\n\"...What would this... Invention do? To you, that is?\"\nHe once again, just sounds curious."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Dunno.\" Giannis moves like he's trying to shrug, but doesn't get very far. \"I haven't decided what to make yet.\" He looks expectantly at Akvilė, hoping not to scare her off with the uncertainty of it all.\n\n\"I need to keep making things. It doesn't really matter what. I just can't stop. It's...\" He coughs, once. He's starting to sound a little bit more himself. \"It's the price I pay for being able to build all this. I can't *Stop* Building it. I don't want to, either. I have to keep working. Always. I don't know what would happen if I couldn't.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun looks at Giannis, it clicks in his mind that what Giannis is talking about probably has to do with some paranormal ability; something he can't control. \n\n\"... Okay, we can help you do that then.\" \nIt's refreshing to hear Giannis start to sound a bit more energetic, and that alone is enough to convince Dae-hyun to at least attempt to assist in this project that *He* Wants to complete. \nPerhaps he should leave it, remove himself from the situation entirely, but something inside him told him he had to at least *Try* To make up for the damage he had done. \nThis time he wouldn't have to make the choice— simply follow what Giannis says. \n\nHe hoped this wouldn't turn out as another mistake."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"Wh-what to make? I thought–\"\n\nCut off by Giannis, Akvilė's mouth clamps shut and she sinks into her chair a little. She listens, watching Giannis' face shift from emotion to expression as he laments his lot in life as a doomed creative. It goes a long way, then, to explain to Akvilė how all of the paranormal tech she's laid her hands upon came into being, and why she was never able to make much sense of it. Things made just a little more sense now; not like they'd made a ton before.\n\n\"I-I think I understand. It is simply price you pay for such... Uhm. Tech-wizardry. Like a technomancer, you are.\" Akvilė says, looking at Giannis with an expression split between resolute readiness to help build him a better body or a better enclosure and absolute nervousness. \"And such I will help. I-I-I already know how to source many odds and ends, I will help as I can.\" She smiles. \"But it seems your work is what keeps you tethered, maybe? Like your soul wishes to leave but action keeps it here. Like chains.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"You could say that. I guess.\"\n\nGiannis' eye shifts to Dae-hyun. \"Hey, Hyundai. Or whatever. Leave us alone for a sec?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "\"It's. Dae-hyun.\"\nThe mispronunciation of his name stung slightly, but he could understand if Giannis wasn't in the proper state to remember such details. \n\n\"And sure, yes.\"\nHe stood up, giving a sort of blank expression in return to Giannis. \nHe looked at Akvilė.\n\n\"Call me if you need anything, okay?\" \nHe gave her a smile and walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. \n\nHe sat down in one of the chairs lining the walls, and waited. Given enough time, he'd leave, but for now, he'd wait."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I just—\" Giannis coughed loudly. \"I wanted to say thanks.\" He closed his eye calmly, as if he was preparing to sleep, or he simply didn't to look at Akvilė. \"For, like. Being interested. You asked about the plugs on the Maskelynophone while everyone else just wanted to turn it off. That meant something to me.\"\n\nHe took a moment to breathe. A heart monitor beeped in the background.\n\n\"I'll be here for a while, probably. Come talk sometimes? I'll try explaining how it works if you want.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė is unable to stifle a chuckle at his butchering of Dae-Hyun's name. She promptly apologizes, and looks back at Giannis, curious as to why he's asked for privacy.\n\nAdmittedly the atmosphere of the one-on-one chat makes Akvilė nervous at first. She knows not what Giannis intends to tell her, but something in her gut screams *It can't be good.* Thankfully her gut is wrong, and she's relieved – if a little flustered and caught off-guard – by his honest thanks, the lack of eye contact, the genuineness in what he says. Despite her social ineptitude she's always been good at reading people, and Giannis is either true or perfectly veiling his true feelings behind his appreciative tone.\n\n\"I-I– um.\" She briefly sputters before finding the right words in English. \"You are welcome. I understand somewhat why they were suchly hasty to be... Done, with it. That place. It was unsettling.\" Akvilė admits. \"B-but your technology fascinates me, yes. I will be in touch. Promise. Hospitals are muchly boring; I can perhaps bring books if you are reader?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Giannis chuckles a little. \"I think I'll have to stick with audio books if I wanna read. I probably don't have the strength to hold a book up to read it. But thanks.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė smiles gently, and makes a mental note. *No hardcovers.*\n\n\"It is no worry. I-I should have remembered your arms are boiled spaghetti.\" She jokes, lightly."
}
] | 118 | 3,970 |
464.714286 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "**If you stare at the abyss for long enough, __it shall stare back__.**\n**Should the abyss speak, the burning silence shall __madden__ those __unwilling to embrace it__.**\n\nA dark room, it was featureless but seemed to have no walls, an endless void. In the darkness, eyes formed and dissipated, akin to an AI-generated image. The darkness shifted and pulsated, reached and grasped at the girl's legs as she laid still on the floor, splayed out. They didn't even attempt to fight the darkness, only tears fell, but the darkness did not pull or try to take her into it, the darkness only embraced her in a chilly hug, which she did not return. Just as she cried her inky tears, the darkness did as well soon after embracing her. It brought her up close to its figure and the abyss began to tremble and pulse. The voices of two screaming adults, loud and overbearing, began to create a potent emotion, powerful enough to permeate the outside world. A red, yet tattered string. It shook vigorously, vibrating with enraged intensity."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Where am I?* \n\nWhite eyelashes open to dark eyes, looking around the landscape with confused yet cautious eyes. It had been an sudden transition— one instant walking down the stairs, heading to the kitchen to fill their kettle with tap water, the next feeling something in their head *Snap* And being pulled somewhere, far, far, away, limp body falling down the staircase landing. \n\n\"Hello?\" Uriel called out, into the darkness. A speck of white against the abyss, looking around the strange, foreign yet familiar world they found themselves in. \n\n\"Is anyone here?\" \n\nTheir voice reverberated in the darkness, echoing against the shadowy walls. Would anyone answer?"
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "Nothing...\nA small voice in the distance called out quietly, \"I just want to be normal...\"\nA sudden slam echoed all around, and the scenery changed to rolling hills of grass filled with flowering plants, surrounded by a forest and a mountain range, A figure frolicked far away in the grass, flailing about wildly, but emanating a feeling of happiness, despite being overshadowed by the sea of negativity underneath this fake landscape. \nIf Uriel decided to get closer, they'd notice the figure was small, pale, but had no facial features, and looked very simple. They wore a white sun dress, the large mass of curls on the figure's head looking more like an animated scribble than actual curls. The whole place was like a kid's crayon drawing come to reality. Suddenly, after a lapse in attention, a large black figure was dancing and flailing around with the small figure, standing at least twice Uriel's height. The black mass held the pale child's hands with its own. But as the black mass danced, it began to slowly corrupt the area with darkness. The sun gave off no heat, despite it being directly overhead. It was cold, actually. Unbearably cold. There was no life here, the image being produced was all a thin shell to alleviate its creator's urges and wishes.\nCalm, ambient music played under everything, but despite the calmness, it had hints of that same melancholy and grief that could be sensed under this cold, crude mask."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel shivered, and approached the child dancing with her partner. As they approached, they brought the sun with them— an unconscious need to *Bring the sun* Brought to life, the warmth of dawn following them as they walked through the grassy plain. \n\n\"*It's alright, now.*\" They didn't say it, but the soft smile Uriel put on conveyed the sentiment well enough. \n\n*You're safe. The bad things can't hurt you.* \n\nUriel starkly contrasted with the rest of the background— perfectly vivid and normal compared to the watercolor scenery of the dream. It was obvious, simply from taking a look at them. They were a foreign intruder— an entity that didn't belong in this world, jarring and life-like in all the ways they shouldn't be."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "The calm music would descend into string-based violinic chaos and ascend in volume as Uriel made his presence known, but as it reached its peak, it quickly faded away, an echo of it remaining for a few moments. The dark figure would back away from the sun, slowly letting the girl's hands go. The girl, however, was not as calm, it put its hand out towards the figure, which looked back as she grasped ine of the many hands that came from it, but the hand and arm melted away, with the figure doing so afterwards. The corruption remained, but the violinic chaos came back as an air-thickening whisper of sound as all others faded away into a burning silence as the girl fell to her knees, making no noise but clearly feeling an intense grief as she clutched her hair and began to claw away at the earth and tear away the grass around it in a silent frenzy. As Uriel slowly got closer, the violinic chaos grew louder and the faceless girl's frenzy grew more agitated, her chest rising and faing visibly as if to breathe, but nothing, no facial features to make noise with, not even a muffled voice. \nThe girl would then stop and fall to her knees again, facing away from Uriel again, the musical chaos died down..."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel tentatively puts a hand on the girl's shoulder, crouching down to her level to appear less intimidating to the younger, smaller figure. \n\n*Appearing less intimidating...* It was a good idea, and as Uriel toyed with the idea in their mind, they transformed into... A sheep. A tiny, yet fluffy sheep, with thick wool soft and wispy like a cloud. \n\nThe tiny, baby sheep looked over at the girl, nudging her side gently as their soft, downy fur tickled against her side. Children loved animals, didn't they? It was certainly more approachable than their human form, which... Well, they'd been told was a bit uncanny. \n\nThe sheep's legs buckled as it gently laid next to the girl, its content eyes closing in small satisfaction. \n\n*There's no need to worry,* The sheep seemed to murmur. *My fur is soft like yarn, and soft things can't hurt you.*\n\nWas it spoken outloud? It didn't matter, even if it was— the sentiment seemed to ricochet through the dream realm, molding the surrounding area to accept the new statement as a fact. The laws of this world were at Uriel's fingertips, and solidifying their presence as a peaceful one took top precedent. \n\nLaw number one: *I will not hurt you.*"
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "The girl turned around to face the sheep, and slowly accepted its company, letting it under her arms and onto her lap. Even as the realm became peaceful, this dream was, at its base, one of remorse, but alas, the sheep seemed to distract the girl from it temporarily. For a while, the small figure did nothing but caress the sheep and rub her face into its fur, having begun to cry partway through the process. The tears felt heavy whenever they fell onto Uriel. For the moment that he was looking away, the small figure had gained eyes, or rather, eye sockets, just two gaping holes that looked like endless, non-euclidean tunnels from the outside. From these, the heavy, inky tears leaked. Even at peace, the figure found it hard to feel true joy, as despite the whole realm now appearing to be photorealistic, the sadness still persevered, coming directly from the girl. \n\nShe hugged the sheep tight and more of the black liquid streamed from the eyes. \n\nThe small, yet disembodied voice of the dreamer spoke again. \"Come.\"\n\nThey stood up, and the eyes were gone, now having let go of the sheep, as they began to walk. It seemed like the figure was subconsciously aware of this outside element, as they had realized that they were not in control of this... Thing. Whatever it was, it stood out too much, it was too *Different*.\n\nThe scenery, with an electronic stuttering and a brief moment of pure darkness, had shifted to a giant hall with enormous metal bars at the end, pipelines and cracks running along the walls, with even more hanging pipes and ducts making up the visible ceiling. This was no sheer change in scenery, the dream itself had become aware, it had become *Lucid*.\n\n\"You wish to alleviate pain.\n\nIf so...\n\nThen talk to *It*.\"\n\nThe figure pointed to the giant gated cage, sealed with chains thicker than a man and a lock big enough to house someone inside it, the inside of the cage remaining a pure black, a solid shadow, even with the bright yet muddled lights of the giant hall. The air suddenly became thicker, the figure only stared at Uriel, it pointed to the cage. Even if addressed, it did not speak any more, it only stared directly at Uriel and kept her hand pointed to the cage.\n\n`Note: in the other direction (eg. Away from the cage) is nothing, it simply fades into darkness.`\n\n`Note 2: By 'This was no mere change of scenery', I meant that Uriel was literally taken to a visual representation of the true Yari, the one she's *Afraid* To show, repressed, hence the cage.`"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "A cage.\n\nThe metaphorical representation of what *That* Could mean was a bit... On the nose. Something hidden deep inside, not meant to be seen by prying eyes. Something *Dangerous*, a monster that warranted the thick, oppressive chains that hung from the cage doors. \n\nIt didn't matter that it was a dangerous, feral beast. Uriel wanted only to help the girl's pain, and they wouldn't leave such a creature to hurt as it pleased. It couldn't hurt Uriel— after all, it was just a dream. Nothing more, and nothing less. \n\n*You can't hurt me in any way that matters,* Uriel repeated in their head. From the dark, murky ground, Uriel began to weave, and the strings holding together the chassis of the dream began to knit themselves into shapes. The landscape distorts, vision momentarily blurring, and outside of the cage sits two new objects: a table, with two piping hot cups of tea on both sides, and a chair facing the cage. \n\nUriel transforms back into their human form, each step they take closer to the table and its seat echoing through the hallway walls. The clack, clack, clack of their heels provide a steady rhythm until Uriel sits down on the chair, and looks at the monster expectedly. \n\nWhat else to say? Uriel might be in a dream, sitting one on side of a tiny table pressed next to a cage containing a feral monster, but they hadn't forgotten their *Manners*. They scoot the other cup of tea closer to the opposite edge, now able to be properly held by the monster if the other snaked an arm through the gap.\n\n\"Sugar? Milk?\" Uriel asked, taking a sip of the drink. It tasted... Exactly how they wanted it to taste, a fresh blend of drink that reminded them of home. \n\n\"How are you?\" They followed up, looking over at the monster with uncanny, unflinching-yet-kind eyes."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "The entity faded away as Uriel walked closer to the table, all it said were concise words that served as advice.\n\n\"She can be... Difficult. She is hard to contain.\"\n\nShe chuckled to herself, then said a few more words.\n\n\"Sometimes I wonder if these chains are purely cosmetic...\"\n\nAs Uriel sat down, the searing silence permeated the air again for about twelve seconds before a thin, pure black hand snaked out from the bars, twitchy and uncoordinated, the arm belonging to this hand was about the same size as the other figures', but as mentioned, pure black. The arm looked like it had joints all along it, zigzagging in odd directions at slight angles. The hand was large and had massively elongated fingers. It grabbed the teacup shakily, then retracted quickly back in between the bars, somehow not spilling a drop.\n\nTwo uncanny eyes stared back at Uriel, only two small eyes, distant in the void behind the bars. \n\nThe Abyss Stares Back.\n\nOnce the eyes had pierced through Uriel with this half-squinted stare, a booming voice yelled out from the bars, as if a female giant had yelled them at the top of its lungs, shaking the\n\n\"***WHAT- DO- YOU- WAAAAAANT***!?\"\n\nThe voice sounded anguished, in pain, as if going through severe mental torture. The eyes remained stationary, and the teacup had been returned to Uriel, but as it was done so, via throwing it at very high speed, an overbearing rage came from the cage, as if the rage of an entire crowd had been condensed into one being. The teacup flew right past Uriel's ear and shattered on the hard stone floor some twenty feet away. Notably, the cup was empty, so the tea had been presumably drunk. \n\n\"***WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, WHY DID YOU COME, GET THE FUCK __OUT__***!!!\"\n\nThe first time Uriel tried to speak after it was done yelling, they were interrupted by another scream.\n\n\"__***NOOOOOOOWWW!!!***__\"\n\nAfter this though, Uriel could speak without interruptions."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "<3 fank you my darling dearest\n\nThe tea shatters with a crack, and another filled cup instantly takes its place on the cage side of the table. It was a courtesy, one that cost Uriel nothing in this strange world— not the time needed to boil another kettle of water nor the leaves needed to add to the drink. \n\nUriel says nothing as the monster continues to rage, taking a long, drawn, sip of their drink while they wait out the raging storm. Nothing could hurt them, here— maybe mentally, yes, but nothing permanent, nothing that would ache in the morning besides the shaking of their hands, the vague tingling sensation in their head, and the guilt of unwanted voyeurism weighing on their shoulders. \n\n\"I was told to talk to you. Therefore, I'm here.\"\n\nThey turn over to the girl for a split second, looking at her with a quick glance. If they weren't welcome here... She wouldn't have escorted them to see *This*. Surely, some part of whoever's consciousness this dream belonged to wanted them to witness the monster and the cage, in some shape and form. \n\n\"What's your name?\" Uriel asks, maintaining an even tone of voice despite the multiple prior interruptions."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "The creature inside the cage would simply close its eyes, making its presence disappear within the darkness, but soon enough, the music playing faintly in some vague location seemed to calm it down, as the eyes would soon reappear at the edge of the cage, now wide instead of squinted. The air lifts, the mood of aggression lifts to a degree. It grabbed the cage's immense bars, ones wide enough to fit a person, but a cage the monster decided to stay in despite the clear yet vague ability it showed to escape. \"Are you... Not scared?\" \n\nOne had crept out again, then another, then suddenly, many arms trailed by many-jointed limbs began to spill over the edges of the cage,, over the walls and onto the table, one of the hands grabbing the tea again. \"My name...? What do you mean...\" It looked around for a bit, trying to think, but as soon as it did, it put down the teapot again and the hands began to twitch and flail wildly as the feeling of aggression spiked drastically again, the hands retracting back into the cage. \"My name. Yarimiel.\" From inside the bars, many voices whisper, and a cacophony of the yelling adults from earlier came from it, and after a few seconds of it getting to unbearable volumes, it stopped as the monster let out a screech, to which the sudden feeling of aggression went down, but persisted, yet much more than a few moments ago."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You're concerned about whether or not I'm scared? You're rather kind.\" It's hard to properly offer the creature a smile; with the darkness of the cage and the many limbs erupting from the... Thing, trying to distinguish its dark form from the edges of the cage proves to be difficult at best. Still, Uriel tries their hardest to offer a small, quiet smile at the other— no teeth, only the barest hint of gratitude for the unexpected concern visible by a soft flutter of snow-white eyelashes.\n\n\"As to that... No, I'm not scared. I apologize, but you can't hurt me in any way that matters. *Should* I be scared?\" \n\nEven if that was technically the case, Uriel was still glad for the change in mood, giving a small sigh to no one in particular. Angry, out of control beasts were difficult and often exhausting to handle, and not having to tip-toe around this creature sparked a small feeling of gratitude within them.\n\n\"Besides, this is far from my first rodeo.\" A small glean of amusement at the phrase, an idiom Uriel learned from the pages of a novel they'd read when they were first learning English, confusedly trying to put the phrase together piece-by-piece in their head. \n\nLanguage, like most things, didn't make sense by ripping apart individual words and analyzing the broken pieces. Only by looking at the whole picture allowed one to make sense of the *True* Meaning behind something."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "The creature did not know how to respond to this compliment, it was called kind. These were simple, yet powerful words, clean and precise like a surgeon's scalpel, but this is not a normal human being, more accurately, like a bullet to the chest, chaotic, devastating, and painful. The creature recoiled back, then got closer to the bars, grabbing onto them, and one hand appeared from the bars again, but it wasn't odd or uncanny, it looked more normal, proportional, not uncanny, and large, befitting the size of the cage. Silence, it was processing.\n\nAfter a few seconds of the eyes' bottoms going up, a quiet sobbing could be heard, then suddenly, the quiet sobbing broke into a screaming ugly-cry, complete with the coughing and hiccups, the bars of the cage began to scurry off to the side, and the darkness receded with the bars, creating a clearing big enough for Uriel to creep closer to the figure. \n\nAs the darkness had receded away though, dark arms tried to cling to it, but the small figure, looking close in shape to the one that brought Uriel here except with all of its features being pure darkness, no lightning, no darker shadows, swatted them away as if it did not wish to have them grab it, it would keep doing this until they stopped trying. It was simply as if a piece of reality had been snipped out, except for the two eyes, and a heavy amount of an inky, dark liquid, the same color as the small entity, began to spill on the floor as it began to bawl violently like a child. Once the last of these arms had been swatted away, the dark child would run to Uriel, presumably to take solace in their company. Amidst the sobbing, hiccups and coughs, Uriel could make out a few words, put together between the heavy stuttering, nasal voice and other noises. \"*Get me... Get me out of here!*\" They began to scream into their body, hugging them tightly, this was a sharp change in emotion, their sheer aggression seemed to turn into grief... *Perhaps that might be the origin?*\n\nThe mourning of what never was, the loss of what could've been. \n\nTheir sobbing and crying only got more intense and stuttery as they embraced Uriel. They even grabbed onto their clohes, their shoulder, they just wanted to not be alone. \"PLEASE DON'T- DON'T GO!\" She yelled into Uriel's ches, hugging him tightly. They continued to quietly plead with him over and over, \"Don't go...\" \"No, no, no, no, no...\" \"Don't leave me here... Please...\" Among others. It was a harrowing sight, the entire mood of this realm turned into an intoxicating grief, an overbearing sadness and depression, even stronger than the highest spike of aggression. \n\n\"Don't let go of me, please...\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I won't leave you until morning, I promise.\" Their voice is low and comforting, a steady mumble providing constant noise like the babbling of a brook, soothing water attempting to cleanse the deep, scarred, angry wounds that permeated the girl's fragile mind. \n\n\"Why don't we... Go somewhere happier? This world can be anything, after all. Let's leave this prison behind, hm?\" \n\nThe dark, nightmarish world dissolves around the two. From the ashes, a new dream is born; scratches of shadow clawing at the ground replaced with a green meadow, orange hues bouncing off of individual strands of grass as the fiery rising sun envelops the scene in warmth. With dawn comes light— not the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent bulbs of an artificial too-clean clinic, but the soft, tender caress of sun. \n\n*You're alright. You're safe, now.*\n\nIt's not a sentiment told from a sound leaving their lips, but expressed via the slow meandering breeze and the soft rustling of grass as the meadow all-but-literally whispers its gentle platitudes, breathing the essence of comfort and security."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "For context, this. That is all.]]\n\nThe girl continues to grip at Uriel and hug herself ever closer to them, somehow being even weaker than Uriel, perhaps a projection of their real world self, or their weak will and lack of control over their violence, their mistrust, the scars that they have acquired over their life, never closing, never healing, never drying out.\n\nThe girl takes in all of their well-meant emotions and dispenses ten times as much misery, grief and agony, the way they shifted in odd ways alluding to their possible *Physical* Agony.\n\nThe scars begin to bleed, they never closed, they grew, they grew and began to cover and taint flesh untreaded by any body or thing. The scars infected their insides, their very emotions, thoughts and their most fundamental aspects as a living, sentient, reasoning creature. The girl only wishes to live these moments under a real, warm sun, even if they were to be her last, even if she had left no mark on anyone, even if she had lived a short life full of nothing but pain and rage. Even if these were her last moments, she would only wish to live them in the warm embrace of another.\n\nAfter a few more minutes of this quiet hugging, four slow, silent, blood-chilling notes begin to play over the environment, the warm feeling once again turns to a chill, the stubborn, boiling emotions, the scars overflowing, their very nature to lash out and destroy any threats to their wellbeing begin to corrupt and tear this dimension apart once again. \n\nThe girl goes quiet.\n\n.\n.\n.\n\nFour. The sky begins to darken to a moody gray, reminiscent to a storm without the rain.\n\n.\n.\n.\n\nThree, the fabricated nature goes dark and gray, the distant mountains begin to grow spikes, and the trees crumble to dust, leaving jagged trunks and piles of sharp, rough sticks, branches and leaves.\n\n.\n.\n.\n\nTwo. The wind picks up and the sun turns dark with a ring of shimmering white light, bit even this light seems ominous and aggressive, filled only with hate and malice.\n\nOne, the girl began to shift, and she began to step back from Uriel.\n\n.\n.\n.\n\nThe violinic chaos began to set in again as the small figure put two hands to their head as a mass of malicious, evil and low whispers began to emanate from her, the ring of menacing light shimmering and shifting wildly around the dark sun would then begin to grow more intense as the girl began to point at Uriel and shout, seemingly having filled her own mind with affirmations, their beliefs that this was too good to be real setting in, *Despite this being what they were looking for.* The dark sun, or what now seemed to be a hole, would manifest an eye within it, and it would look at the abyssal apparition of the girl, then at Uriel, and the pupil in the middle of it shrank. The violinic chaos would rise in tone and volume, and then everything went dark once again. The girl's form would shift with odd, wet, organic sounds and the popping of bones, their fingers, arms, legs, just about everything elongated until the figure that once was the girl stopped to be about fifteen feet tall, estimatedly.\n\nThe violinic chaos reached higher and higher, but then...\n\nSilence... Everything went completely dark again.\n\nA piercing, dramatic melody began to blare over everything as the elongated form of the girl, now having reappeared as a gargantuan, bone-chilling visage of teeth, eyes, and limbs, but the legs seemed to now be gone, the form now reaching a length so far that the setting they were now in seemed to block the sheer length. They were now placed in a gray, dark forest, full of gray, charred trees with flailing branches, razor-sharp leaves flying about, and arms that snaked along the ground and attempted to catch Uriel, as well as the beast that chased him now, having officially announced it's full presence with a deep, guttural, hellish roar befitting the monster it came from. The chase ensued, as the arms, which appeared to be the only kind of limb it had, thumped into the ground with the full\n\nWeight, rage and power of the creature.\n\n[covers everything from beginning to the sudden start of the song after the short silence]"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel watches with awe as the girl and the scene transform in front of their eyes, shedding their prior weaving and turning into a perverse, distorted scene. The grey, desaturated scenery whispers faintly to Uriel, attempting to call out to them and cling onto their poncho, their braid, any bit of *Light* The sentient trees and grass and shadows could grasp onto for even the briefest of moments before they escaped its clutches once again. \n\n\n\"I'm not running from you.\" Uriel announces, standing stalwart and still in the midst of the chaos. \n\nIt was pointless, anyway. They couldn't run— this forest would stretch on forever, or a tree branch or root would appear from the ether and materialize just to trip them. This forest was *Alive*, a fact Uriel was aware of deep down, and they were subject to its whims. \n\n\"I'm not turning away from you, or looking away from who you are, or denying the reality that's staring me in the face. This... This is you, too, and I'm not running from this.\" \n\nUriel takes a step closer to the creature. It was a horrible, horrible idea, one that they were prepared to suffer in blood for— but blood was only dye in the land of string, and their wounds always healed in the realm of the unconscious."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "Each of the jabbing notes of the melody playing amongst the chaos would continue, and the monster would swipe a hand at Uriel. Fury was not the emotion, though, the fury and grief turned into a feeling of defense, it was defending itself from being found out, it had to eliminate this intruder before the true nature of the girl escapes. The monster would swipe, stomp and tear at Uriel, every time they came back, it would dart over and brutally tear them apart, but as it was revealed before, it was scared, it was defending itself, the emotional shock from this sudden kindness reopened the dry, flaky scars of abandonment, dug out by a white-hot knife, amputating all ambitions, desires, all hope, all joy, all emotion except for the ones on display. \n\nThe monster was simply a scar in and of itself, the forest did not seem to pick a favorite over the monster or him, as wear could be seen on the hands of the monster, scratches of pure darkness, bleeding out onto the floor and onto Uriel's ethereal yet earthlike form. The creature made pained wails as it kept being lashed, cut, stabbed and torn, like a thousand papercuts, by the forest itself. \n\nThe monster did this for a good while, the wind becoming harsher, the dark hands, the trees, the leaves, all becoming more aggressive over time, before the monster tried to crawl towards Uriel one again, but now, the forest wasn't harming Uriel, or even targeting Uriel at all, the leaves naturally passed by them, as if probability were to be on their side. \n\nThe forest began to attack the monster. Each scaly pike that erupted from the ground, each golden, glowing blade, each dark, rusty chain, a jab in the music. They kept attacking it, it wriggled and fought back, managed to break some of the smaller chains, but they simply came back stronger, thicker, the shackles spiked and jagged, meant not to clamp around it, but rather *Into* It. At the very end of this struggle, the monster reared back only to have its back pierced by two\n\nImmense golden blades, to which it let out a powerful, earth-shaking screech that echoed around this mind realm, shaking the forests into stillness, the blades no longer glowing, the chains now limp, the pikes now retracting into the earth, leaving large perforations and bone fragments all over, the restraint and submission of the self, repressing one's true feelings and intentions, the scared monster just wanted an escape, it was simply looking for a was out, attacking the intruder, Uriel, in its own blind terror, in a fit of terrified chaos.\n\nThe music silenced itself, perhaps the lucid dream had become self-aware in a sense, and began to freely manipulate itself to its own whims, beyond even the reach of this monster.\n\nThe creature still tried to force itself to stand up, but its arms only managed to weakly get themselves into position before cracked bones shattered, torn muscles did nothing, or shattered hands squished disgustingly in its final struggle. Only weakened, slow breathing came from it, the creature no longer attempting to attack Uriel.\n\n[covers the frantic melody, ends at the violin/piano jabs, the music fades out after this, and will remain silent until further specification]\n\n```Aftermath: A large area of forest is now trashed, in every sense of the word, uprooted trees, gashes, holes and shattered wood all over, dark grayish undergrowth and black inky fluid pooled all over, like a scene straight out of a war, but grayscaled, caused entirely by this one thing. At the very end, The monster's untouched but clearly exhausted visage lay about three meters away from Uriel. A full moon revealed itself, and the giant golden swords, giant golden pins, pointed auric bones, rusty chains, exposed, black flesh and pools of inky blood all glimmered in the moonlight. The trees were now calm, the wind would calm to a near-halt, and the leaves no longer flew about or seemed razor-sharp to the touch, gently flowing over Uriel's shoes along the weakened breeze.```"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "It tore them into ribbons. Literally. \n\nEvery time the creature's claws would slice through their torso, or grab them in its massive hands and chew them to pieces, or slowly rip their limbs off of their body, it revealed their body's true form— not a vessel made of flesh and blood, but of stuffing and string. Claws would tear through their body, and they'd close their eyes momentarily, willing the world of the dream to sew up their gaping wounds before being torn to shreds again. \n\nIt was painful, horribly so. But it was just *Pain*, and pain was something Uriel did not fear. Pain was easy, pain was temporary— they'd take the physical sensations of being ripped apart over and over than have the weight of not being there for someone who needed them press against their chest and squeeze the breath from their lungs. \n\nPain was an old friend of theirs, and they did not fear it. Heartbreak, however, was *Terrifying*— far more so than the familiar sensations of sharp edges digging into their body and blunt objects slamming against their skin. \n\nIt didn't last forever. \n\nUriel approached the monster, now collapsed in a heap at their feet, the soft crunch of leaves under their boots punctuating every step they took. \n\n\"It's alright,\" They said, kneeling down on one knee in front of the monstrosity. A gloved hand reaches out, stroking the monster's head with a soft touch. \n\n\"I'm not going to hurt you. You don't have to worry.\" \n\nIt was afraid, and hurt others because of it. How often did Uriel see other humans do that exact thing? Lashing out, fear turning into anger at perceived threats— every time, Uriel would forgive them, trying to understand that they didn't *Mean* It, the much older people of their town only doing so because they were afraid of the quiet child too-often seen inside people's heads.\n\nUriel forgave them, every time. And so, as they looked down at the creature, they forgave it, too. \n\n\"Please, allow your weary soul to rest.\" They spoke."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "`Music for the following post.`\n\nHe music continued.\n\nThe creature would try to continue moving something, an arm, a solid faceplate, jaws, anything out of instinct, but it knew that this was its eventual recapture and subduing, but this time was different... It felt like it had nothing else to look forward to once the ethereal arts-and-crafts project allowed it to rest... Forever.\n\nThe beast would continue breathing, but they kept getting slower, and Uriel could see the muscles under its thin, pale skin relax, the head as well, the jaw clamping shut slowly. \n\nThe beast would then begin to bleed from the mouth, moving its head towards Uriel, almost as if it wanted an embrace, a final rest before it was all over. This was something it did not think about, but for once it's mind was clear. Despite its want for freedom, it knew that nothing awaited it on the outside, and this show of subduing, it has endured it many times, the mind never giving this manifestation of the true self the permission to rest.\n\nBut now, it had been given the permission that it was looking for all these weary, painful years. It could finally rest. Forever. It took in one more lungful of air, and then let out its final breath, it could finally rest, and with that final breath, the same inky black fluid began to leak from what were supposed to be eyeholes on the side of its head. As the final breath ended, a faint whisper of a voice could be heard in the distance. It was barely recognizable when just listening, but Uriel could probably figure out what this meant. \n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nThe beast would slowly turn black all over, and it slowly began to disintegrate, the soft breeze picking up, yet it was not aggressive, it was more calm and serene. The final send-off. The flesh withered away into dust, then the muscles, organs and other flesh. Finally, as the music began to pick up in a more final manner, and the bones remained, pale and perfect, entirely inert and lifeless, but they too, would wither with time as the mind healed.\n.\n\nThe environment began to shake and crumble apart, the ground fell first, but Uriel did not, they would simply remain in an invisible surface as they watched the ream crumble.\n\nThe trees fell away with the ground, noiselessly into the abyss below, and not too long after, the sky began to crack and crumble away like glass, but the individual shards would appear to simply fall away and disappear, away from Uriel, none of them even coming close to him in the slightest as the colossal panes of ethereal, cloudy night skies were annihilated.\n\nThe moon remained, still and eerie in the now pure-black environment, but soon, it would slowly be overtaken by the void, slowly absorbed into it, the music once again reachin a high point before ceasing and echoing into a burning silence. (1) Once everything was gone, even the noise, nothing remained around Uriel except the skeleton of the creature and a single leaf, all three of those lit up as if illuminated, but with nothing to do so.\n\nUriel would see images of past memories pop up around him, like sets of a show, singular rooms or small spotlights of an open area, all of them being the papercuts, the invisible overhead light disappearing as Uriel and the bones now receive light from these memories, some faded, some clear as day, but all of them centered around the host, the mind, they all looked like the faceless little girl from the fields, but no, they had a face, this was... This was the host of the dream. Whether Uriel recognized her after hearing her name earlier was something else.\n.\n\nIn a good number of them, two adult figures, blurry and with heads that simply appeared to be chaotic scribbles were yelling at her, locking her in the room, or performing any number of abusive acts, but one of them seemed particular.\n\nOne of the brightest and clearest ones was when an object, what seemed to be a steel cooking pot, was thrown at her head, hitting her square in the eye, to which she bled and wailed wildly after falling over, remaining curled up on the floor.\n\nAnother, the girl was wrestling both of her parents, to which she seemed to be failing, as they tried to wrangle a stuffed toy from her. She continued pulling on it until the tearing of stitches could be heard, to which she reacted by biting the hand of the one who tried to pull it away. Their gender was not clear, as their bodies were very similar, and their voices were corrupted and low, but extremely aggressive.\n\nBetween those two core memories, more began to play, and they never got better,they kept playing en masse, but they were so silent, barely audible, no noise present in them, as if the girl's adrenaline blocked out the sounds in these memories.\n\nIn the end, he could see a memory that would play, with him present in it, but unable to interact with its contents, the bones of the monster would be overwritten by the scene. \n.\n\nIt began in a modest-looking house with very nice decorations, but a door in the far end of the hallway could be seen open, but nothing inside could be seen. The girl was getting yelled at, but Uriel could barely hear it, the sounds were muffled and echoing below the music as it unwound. The girl yelled back at them, with those same inky tears streaming down her face, as one of the parents was about to put their hand on her, her hand shot out to push their head away, but to little effect, this only achieved making them fall over, and the other brandished a knife, the girl's other arm extending into a long black tendril to swat it away. The parents would then recover immediately and try to just wrestle her to the ground again, but the girl would just run away beforehand, her limbs lengthening in panic as she scampered away from the two scribble-headed entities and out of the house. Uriel was not forcibly changed in position around the scene, it was up to him to watch the end of this. The two scriblle-headed entities would shift into scribbly monsters and barrel through the house, but ultimately stopping at the front yard, the girl able to be seen sprinting dow n the sidewalk and past a corner."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*A nightmare.*\n\nAs they watch the memories unravel and unfold around them, standing in the eye of a storm as scenes of heartbreak echoed against each other. There was nothing to be gained from this— nothing good would come out of witnessing years of abuse at their fingertips, nothing the girl would want Uriel to see and nothing they wanted to witness. \n\nThey didn't deserve to see this, and they doubted their presence here would be welcome come morning. It was *Torture*, dangling old memoires just outside of the girl's reach, replaying and rewinding like a horrible, sordid never-ending dance forever receiving an encore. No one deserved to go through this, to have their heart revealed to a stranger without knowledge nor consent. \n\n\"Listen,\" Uriel approaches the girl, crouching down to her level. \"Looking at this... Replaying all of these memories... It's your brain hurting itself, hurting *You*. You have to wake up, alright? Wake up, and don't dwell on these old scars and past trauma. Please, move on— being here is only going to drive you mad, do you understand?\"\n\nThey drop onto their knees in front of her, meeting her eyes and wrapping her into another hug. \n\n\"I'm so sorry— I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this, that you have to relive these memories every night. You don't— you did nothing wrong to deserve this treatment. Please... Wake up, and forget about all of this. I'm— I'm sorry I can't do more for you, that the band-aid fixes and dreams I can provide only last so long before darkness seeps in once again. I'm sorry I can't give you the happy dream you deserve, so... Please, wake up.\" \n\nThat was only half of the story— the longer she was asleep, the more parts of *Herself* Would bleed into the dream. More memories, more trauma would inevitably taint the scene. It was a darkness Uriel wasn't entitled to *See*, and the only way they could look away was if she woke up.\n\nReliving trauma is horrible, in and of itself. Having a stranger witness the parts of yourself even you didn't feel comfortable acknowledging was even *Worse.*"
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "As Uriel approached the girl, the host of the nightmare's consciousness had butted into the fray again, the dream no longer influenced by the whim of the subconscious as it was for those few minutes before. The girl would once again look up at Uriel, then just cry again, even before they hugged her. Yarimiel cried, and the music had begun to reach its end, there was no more to show, no more to say, no more to fix. No words were needed. What could have been accomplished in one conversation had instead been achieved in a mental self-torture, this time with an outside spectator, one who could change the course of these events.\n\nOnce addressed, she looked up at them with tattered clothes, wild, unclean hair, and a face that had massive, inky smears all over it. She would just continue crying, but the fact that she had looked up towards him meant that she was listening, she heard them. She did not say any words, she only nodded into their chest softly, the sobbing continuing to get louder and louder, an ugly cry. She would keep crying into Uriel's chest, and the scene did not change, it just began to rain in sheer silence, there was no noise, the environment grew blurry and dark, and the only actual sounds were Yarimiel's violent bawling and Uriel's smooth, reassuring voice. Once he told her to wake up, it seemed to have done the effect. The girl stopped crying suddenly, looked up at Uriel with a surprised look in her eyes, then in the matter of a few moments, the whole thing unraveled like threads, Uriel was kicked out from the girl's mind, and the last thing they would see just before waking up would be two pinpricks of white in sheer darkness.\n\nHer consciousness was kicked back into action, her body would spring into action, fueled by shock and adrenaline, and for the first time in years, she had woken up in a cold sweat, tears already having run down her face, and her pillow had a giant black stain on the side her head rested on.\n.\n\nHer consciousness was kicked back into action, her body would spring into action, fueled by shock and adrenaline, and for the first time in years, she had woken up in a cold sweat, tears already having run down her face, and her pillow had a giant black stain on the side her head rested on.\n\nShe began to internalize and absorb the situation but was fully incapable of comprehending it, so as an automatic response, she could only scream and wail. Her body, filled with adrenaline, would begin to try and access the instinct to fight, but she no longer felt the need to fight, she now began to ask herself why she even wanted to fight, what was the source of this madness, why was she so angry all the time, what made her act this way? \n\n*What hurt her*?\n\nAfter these questions flooded her mind, she could only collapse into a crying fit, using one of her arms, and launching her hand out lazily towards the wall in the general area of the light switch. Her light was now on, and she could fully ground herself into reality after denying it for so long, after escaping it for what was essentially all she knew. It fully came to herself as to why she felt all of this anger, but now instead of rage, she only felt the need to cry and let it all out. She would slam her head into a pillow and scream, the same one that the monster made as to its final retaliation. The volume of it was enough to echo throughout the entire dorm section the same way the monster's wail did. What was now anger had been slowly replaced by fear. Fear of the world, fear of others, fear of what may hurt her, fear of what they would do to her, fear of the possibilities, but most of all, fear of *Herself*. She would then get up and look around again through blurry, stained vision and look to the door, but she was afraid of what might happen if he got out, what would people do once they realized that the monster she was trying to hide was really just herself, once they realized the reality, *She was a monster*..."
}
] | 307 | 9,759 |
425.965517 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "For a couple days Malus remained hidden in his room to regain his energy after the cow incident. He completed his homework online while he stayed bedridden. His asthma wasn't happy about him inhaling pollen in the forest that day.\n\nIt was already approaching 6:30 p.M when he decided that he'll pay the Swedish cemetery a visit. Staying cooped up indoors was beginning to feel stifling. So he put on his usual outside clothes; Grave Crew hat, dark jacket, white T-shirt, jeans and new steel toed boots. This time he won't be taking his shovel with him due to not wanting to look like a graverobber.\n\nLuckily, he didn't tell Barric where his dorm is located or else he might get dragged out into the boonies to see the cow. He meekly stuck his head out from his door to glance to the left and right before he quickly stepped out to lock his door.\n\nNext he walks briskly down the hallway straightening his jacket like a confident punk. It looks like he is going out doing something at this approaching late hour. The school is aware that it's just in his blood to be near graves or sites enveloped with death."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric had been trying to track down Malus ever since the cow incident. He felt as if the other boy had been avoiding him for a while, which seemed understandable. After lying to the boy and scaring him half to death with his new pet, he honestly felt really bad. He sat on it for a day and now spent most of his time hunting down the kid. But based on his apparent absence from the entire building, Barric just had a feeling that the boy was hiding out in his dorm room. Which just made him feel worse that the kid felt like he had to hide in his dorm room just to get away from him. He'd tried to find his dorm room, but with what felt like thousands that felt next to impossible. So Barric just resorted to wondering the halls at night a sorry gift clutched in his hand. \n\nHe wasn't sure all of what Malus liked, so he just wandered store to store one day while picking up feed for the cow trying to find things he liked. It came to a small cluster of items: some weird crystals, a bunch of honey sticks, a water bottle that he thought looked cool, a small mouse plushie and a small apology letter. All stuffed into a tiny gift bag. Okay, he wasn't the best at gift giving, but he tried. He wasn't used to upset people and after upsetting his only friend, he couldn't help but hang onto it for a while and try to mend it. \n\nSo here he was, the third night in a row, wandering the halls, trying to find Malus. He ran his fingers along the walls, listening to the vibrations that bounced off the walls throughout the building. There were so many people here, but knowing Malus' general size kind of helped, it seemed. Barric pulled his hand off the wall after finding someone who was at least a similar size to Malus. He sped walked through the halls, not so silently, his boots pounding against the ground. As he turned the corner, he spotted a darkly dressed figure locking a door to the dorm. He stood still for a moment in the middle of the hall, completely still staring at the figure.\n\nBarric didn't want to randomly approach someone he didn't know.\n\nAs soon as the figure turned and he caught a sight that it was Malus, he called out. \"Malus!\" He hollered out and brought up his hand, waving at him. Barric quickly sprinted up to the boy, stopping right in front of him. Without letting Malus get a word in, he began speaking. \"Hi so.\" He stated, staring at Malus dead in the face. \"I felt bad for scaring you so bad with the cow thing and lying to you and bringing you along to commit a crime and..\" Was there anything else he was meant to be sorry for? \"I don't remember if there's anything else, honestly. But I'm sorry and I got you this.\" He held out the bag, waiting for Malus to take it from him."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "It happened fast.\n\nThe first reaction from Malus was to erratically flail his arms in front of himself as he steps backwards by a few feet. He was already shielding his head with his arms as he was going to get ambushed. Upon hearing Barric's voice descend over him, Malus pry one eye open to see that it's the same farmer kid. While listening over his own hammering heart, he understood that this was a way for Barric to apologize to him.\n\nWhat happened made him upset through the whole day but half of it just drained a lot of his energy. Half way through the woods dealing with the cow had made him exhausted. He just needed a lot of time to recover due to his health difficulties.\n\nHis arms lowers from his face as he fetches his cellphone to begin texting. Same old bot from before begins to speak on his behalf. *\"I would like to apologize, too. I haven't felt well after spending that much exertion that day. It really made me feel sick and exhausted so I mainly spent my time recovering.\"*\n\nMalus didn't assume that the gifts were for him since he thought they were Barric's belongings. Then now seeing it being held out in front of him, he was very taken back by the gesture.\n\n\"Uh...?\" His voice sounded like a questionable grunt. \n\nHis hand reached out sheepishly before hesitating and finally taking the gift bag. \"O-oh... Thank you..\" Malus said, his voice sounded as velvet and smooth as silk. It was difficult to hear him in the hallway full of kids passing by."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric held his hand out for a moment longer, listening to the bot. \"No, no, it's okay. I shouldn't have scared you like that. So I got you all that. I don't know what you like, so I just got things that seemed like they would interest you or, I guess, just reminded me of you, sorta?\" The last part was said more like a question. \n\nThe rocks mostly reminded him of Malus with the dark purple, blue and black each of them were, respectively. The mouse just felt nice, and he figured Malus would like the texture. The other two he really didn't have an explanation for, he just figured Malus seemed like the type to like. \n\n\"I guess it's also a kind of I'm glad you're feeling better gift!\" Barric exclaimed excitedly. \"Go ahead, open it.\" He urged, hoping Malus would like the items he had gotten him. \n\nHe was kind of glad that he had caught Malus outside of his dorm room, so after he opened the gift, he could leave the items in his room. \"Your welcome.\" He murmured, a grin growing on his face."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"You... R-really didn't have to..\" Malus says softly, checking the contents inside the small gift bag. It placed a shade of pink on his cheeks, unsure how to describe what he's feeling. It took him a few seconds to realize that he appreciates the gifts very much. He was glad that he wore the white mask to hide his blush from Barric. \n\nIt felt pretty spot on how the farmer kid seemed to have guessed what he liked. The crystals gave him a sense of home when he looked at them. The mouse had a nice texture but it gave him a memory of how he just sucked the life out of these poor creatures. Even the water bottle was an interesting gift because he always carries one in person.\n\nThose honey sticks though...\n\nHe gave Barric a gesture for him to wait as he went back into his dark ,spooky room where he placed the gift bag beside the black cat and old teddy bear on his desk. Then he shifted up his white mask high enough for his mouth to be exposed. His hand dug in the little bag to pull out the honey stick to take one big hungry bite.\n\nCrunch!\n\nAs he is leaving his room, Malus has his cellphone in his hands while typing with the screen's glow on his white mask. Sticking from his mouth was the honey stick. \n\n*\"Thank you for the gifts, they're lovely.\"* The bot read his text message. *\"How did you know that I like honey?\"*\n\nAnd he shuts the door behind himself as he continues to text with his free hand. *\"I'm going to be heading to the cemetery to visit there. Might be back late so I let the staff know where I am going and when I should be back. I'm kind of nocturnal but I had to force myself to stay up during the day back home. Kind of trying to fix my sleep schedule.\"*"
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "He watched closely, trying to gage the thoughts about the gifts. Of course, he couldn't tell if Malus liked any of them or not. Probably wouldn't be able to without the mask either. It was a little bit annoying. He silently hoped they weren't a waste of money and he actually hated every single one. He nodded quietly, watching the kid unlock the door and enter the room. He leaned against the wall, staring at the partially opened door. He closed his eyes, humming a bit and tapping to the rhythm of the tune on his arm. His eyes shot open as Malus exited the room a few moments after. Barric smiled a little, seeing the honey stick hang out of the younger boy's mouth. He listened to the bot, letting out a hum in acknowledgment before answering. \"I didn't. Just seemed like something you'd like.\" He admitted sheepishly. \"I hope you do actually enjoy all those things. I wasn't sure what you'd want, so I just got a range of things.\"\n\nHoney was never something he found super interesting, but seeing it in the store, he just figured it wouldn't hurt to try to give it to Malus. If he didn't like it, he didn't like it. \"Is honey actually that good?\" Barric asked with a tilted head. \"I honestly haven't eaten it much now that I think about it.\" He placed his hand on the wall, pushing himself off of it while listening to the second message. \"You want company or something? I don't think they'll really notice if I'm gone. I'm usually just sitting in my room at this point doing nothing and even if a cemetery is a bit creepy, it's better than just sitting by myself all night.\" Barric murmured the last part, trying to make it so Malus couldn't fully hear him. He didn't want to accidentally guilt the kid into taking him."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "*\"I actually love honey, it's so sweet and natural,\"* Malus murmured, his voice still unnaturally soft. He could speak a little more from the treat to help his throat from becoming irritated.\n\nThe last bit of what Barric said... Guilt tripped Malus into bringing the goober along with him. Of course, he let the others know in case the farmer boy went missing. In a way, the young kid feared that the staff would assume that he took Barric out to get his life drained dry.\n\n**Time skip.**\n\n*If there were a background song playing, it would have been a playlist of Tim Burton Music.*\n\nNow standing outside the cemetery gate was the odd duo. Malus looked at the padlocks and chains as he approached them. Pulling out makeshift picks made from clips and a needle, he begins unlocking them so Barric doesn't impale himself from climbing the fence. It's one of those iron wrought barricades with pointed arrowheads jotting upward from it. \n\nThe padlock snapped open as its binding chains loosened from the gate. \"After you..\" Malus said in a hushed tone. He waits for Barric to pass through the threshold before he closes the gate behind them.\n\nThe Swedish cemetery was oddly cleaned up, organized with little candles lit by some tombstones with a lot of flower arrangement. Standing amongst the graves are towering trees reaching out toward the approaching moon. \n\nOccasionally there are a few hoots from owls, crows cawing and crickets chirping in the background of the large cemetery. Malus was already feeling right at home being in this location."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric nodded, making a mental note of the little comment from the other boy. He could use it if he ever got the date of the boy's birthday. It'd be good information about what to get him. \n\n**Time Skip** \n\nBarric stared at the tall gate in front of them. It looked like something out of some cheesy horror movie. The gate looking as if they were about to enter Dracula's tower. The gate was trapped closed by a mix of different chains and padlocks. \"How do we..\" The question was cut off by Malus pulling out a lock pick. \"Do you just carry that around?\" It was a strange item to just have, and it made the farmer question if Malus was supposed to be here. If *They* Were supposed to be here. But really, at the moment, Barric couldn't say anything because of what he had looped Malus into a few days ago. He guessed he owed Malus his own night of breaking and entering. Even if Malus seemed a lot stranger than him. \n\nBarric watched as the padlock fall under Malus's fingers. The gate swung open with a soft push from the darkly dressed kid. The after you were said in such a hushed scratchy tone, Barric almost missed it. \"Uh okay.\" He muttered, stepping into the cemetery. It wasn't as creepy as most would assume. Just very quiet. It was almost nice. He listened to the hoots from the owls before attempting to mimic one. Barric turned around, looking at Malus with a grin on his face. \"You think it will think I'm one of them?\" He joked, beginning to walk backwards in the cemetery. He chuckled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. \n\nHe seemed severely underdressed for the event. Wearing a white tank top, flannel and jeans. The only park of his outfit that seemed to fit the event was his boots. Barric kept walking backwards, only taking a glance back to make sure he didn't trip over a grave watching for whenever Malus decided to stop."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus neatly set the chains looped around the metal bar with the padlock partially hanging from the link. He'll lock it right back up later after visiting the cemetery for an hour or two before going back to Newton's Cradle.\n\nHe looked out at the rest of the cemetery with appreciation that it is well kept. The care put into this place was in far better conditions than most other countries. The attempted hoots from Barric drew his attention away from the scenery.\n\n\"Perhaps..?\" Malus said, his voice slightly cracked. \n\nOn his way down the cobbled path there was a sight of him doing volunteer work. Picking up a fallen vase and placing its flowers back inside of it. Then he sets the flower vase next to the headstone before brushing the dead leaves from it. \n\nHe seems to be putting in a lot of care as he looks over the rest of the headstones, not paying too much attention to Barric skimping off. \n\nWhen he did turn to see where his friend went off to, Malus raised his hand for the other to pause with his hand raised up in a \"Stop\" Motion. Then he gestures for the farmer kid to approach him. *\"You... N-need to watch out... For grave pits..*\" Malus said, his voice making a static sound. It was soft but it sounded like a glitch. His steps were a bit quick as he gently took Barric's arm to lead him away from the dark hole.\n\nThe pit appeared camouflage by the shadows which made it look like it's not a hole in the ground. *\"There's supposed to be... Cones and tape closing this off...\" Malus whispered, his tone gave a static sound. Now digging into his backpack to fish out a flashlight, he flicked it on to shine it into the dark hole. It appeared to have been dug out yesterday. There were a few orange cones scattered inside with a warning sign. \n\n-\n\n*\"Please hold this...\"* Malus said, handing the torch into Barric's hands. Then he hops right in to land perfectly on his feet with a loud *\"Thrumpth\"* Sound. He toss up the orange cones out of the hole, making sure not to hit the farmer kid.\n\nIt looks easy how Malus just scrambled out of the hole by lifting himself out. Then he begins setting the orange cones before placing the warning sign. After taking a look over his quick work, he gestured for Barric to follow him. \n\n*\"You know... Sometimes... I...Wished... That... I can talk normally... Like others..\"* Malus said quietly, his voice glitching. It was almost close to that of a radio when it was static. He placed his hand over the nasty scar slashed across his throat.* \"There's... G-good days... When I can... Speak... A little..\"* The young kid pushed his mask around in an angle where it sits on the side of his hat. His light gray eyes are half closed, giving him a sleepy look. Half his face is mostly masked by the collar of his jacket, only revealing the upper half of his face. He was most definitely looking up at the twinkling stars above in admiration, not paying attention to Barric for that moment."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "\"I am.\" Barric didn't fight as the kid dragged him away from the pit. Looking back at the pit, he took note of the missing cones and stuff that Malus had mentioned. Barric peered into the hole, spotting the items. \"Those look important.\" He murmured as he took the flashlight from Malus, continuing to shine it into the hole. The boy side stepped slightly to avoid the cones and such being thrown out of the hole. Malus' care for the graves was kind of admirable, especially considering he knew none of these people. He shone the light slightly towards the items as Malus began making his way out of the hole. Finally, once the kid pulled himself up, Barric moved the light away from the dugout grave. He flashed it across the graveyard, looking for anything of interest. It helped expand his vision further than usual in such a dark light, but not by much. \n\nHe flashed the light back towards Malus as he heard the scratchy voice begin to speak again. \"I wish I could too sometimes. I sound a little dumb with my accent, don't I?\" He chuckled quietly. It wasn't on the same level as Malus, but he understood sorta what the kid meant. \"Not the same thing you're going through, but everyone wishes they could change something about themselves.\" Barric murmured, scratching his nose with the handle of the flashlight. It was his way of trying to comfort Malus, even if he didn't fully know what he was going through. \"I don't know what it's like to not fully speak your mind. Well, I kinda do. Let me rephrase.\" He paused his talking, trying to think. \"I don't know what it's like to not fully be able to speak.\" He subconsciously made a gesture towards his throat. \"But I get wanting to be like everyone else or sharing a trait you don't have with them.\" Barric drops his hand after realizing what he's subconsciously doing.\n\nHe glances up to see what Malus is staring up. Barric stops for a moment in his tracks, staring up at the stars. It was a lot clearer than the past few nights, allowing for the stars to be pretty much fully visible. The stars littered the sky like bright pieces of glitter and seemed like someone had decorated the sky with thousands more than normally. \"It's very bright tonight.\" He murmured, staring at the moon a bit. Barric looked back over to Malus, waiting for the boy to move on."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "He listened as Barric rambled on as he did his best to comfort. No one in this whole world is made equal, that's as much Malus understood and came to acceptance that he's born flawed. As Barric is rambled on, Malus had his phone out to text up a reply. *\"You don't sound dumb.\"*\n\nThat's the reply that Mal could give him. His throat was itching after using his voice so much, it was beginning to hurt. Popping a cough drop into his mouth, Mal continue forward ignoring a few bats fluttering above them. He grown use to the nocturnal creatures that lurked in the cemetery.\n\nMalus wandered over to a wooden bench where he takes a seat. Rummaging in his backpack for a thermos containing hot cocoa. Then he took out two cups he borrowed from the kitchen. And he begin making a quick text for Barric. *\"Do you want some cocoa? It's going to be getting colder soon. Sooo, got anything that you would want to talk about?\"*"
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric grinned, another chuckle being drawn from his chest. \"I do. Just a little.\" He swiped at the bottom of his nose. He watched as the boy found his way to a wooden bench Barric followed, taking the spot right next to Malus. He sat the flashlight down between him, slinging his arm over the back of the bench. \n\n\"Hm?\" Barric asked, not fully hearing the boy. After spotting the cups in Malus's hands, he made an oh face. \"Uh yeah sure.\" He murmured, taking the cup from Malus. He didn't have much to talk about. \n\n\"I don't know, honestly. You wanna have a little therapy session or something? I'm sure the ghosts would appreciate it.\" He joked, letting a little laugh. Barric took a sip of the coco before continuing to speak.\n\n\"I mean, you wanna talk about what happened at IKEA or whatever? I don't fully understand what happened myself honestly thinking about it. It all happened kinda fast.\" He murmured, taking a sip again. \"Like, why the hell do you have fucking wood hounds in a furniture store?\" He tapped his fingers against the wood, leaning his head back. \n\n\"Also, it was kind of stupid. I had to go to the infirmary for such a small injury.\" He huffed, rolling his neck over to stare at Malus. \"What do you think about the whole situation?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The sweet chocolate aroma spilled out into the air in the form of a pale mist from their cups. Malus was enjoying the warm drink, listening to Barric rambling on about the Ikea store. \n\nIt made him think on it for a bit before he used his one hand to nimbly text out a reply about his thoughts on it. *\"I think there is some propaganda happening there by someone puppeteering the hounds behind a curtain. It wouldn't be surprising that there are other parahumans running business in an underground, supernatural world. All hidden from the normal human eye. Why they let the dogs out to chase their customers could have been a hunting ground. Maybe a place of some game show or sick bet? Our teacher, Pernilla, did say that we shouldn't have been involved in it. So I am not sure about the details since it wasn't investigated. Even if we were to say that we did go back to look, I am not sure if the mystery there will stay in one place. For all I know, it could have moved on to the next Ikea store.\"*\n\nThose were Mal's speculation about the Ikea Store. Only theories that he sprung up during a short time while recovering from the incident. \n\nHe takes some sips from his hot cocoa while the bot reads his text. It was a calm, pleasant moment where he could just sit down and not worry so much. \n\nRight now, Malus is surely feeling ravenous for something. Unsure whether it's for solid food or a life force, he is starting to see Barric like a meal. Then he shakes off the hunger before downing a bit more of his drink to try keep his mind busy."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "He watched Malus type out some sort of response on his phone. Barric peeked over his shoulder a bit, trying to see what he was typing, but reeled back after a moment, deciding it was easier to just wait for the message. He hummed along to the message, agreeing. \"Well, it's a shitty thing to do, no matter what it is. I don't like how these teachers are acting either, honestly.\" Barric continued placing down the cup to crack his neck a bit. \n\n\"They keep acting like they're guilty of something. As if they're always lying to us.\" He picked up the cup, taking another drink of the coco. \"I may not be the best socially or that smart, but I've seen how people act when they haven't committed some type of sin against another person. Those teachers act like they're hiding something and I really don't like it.\" He murmured, scratching the side of his face. \"Or maybe that's just my dislike for all of them speaking. They all just seem strange to me.\" He laughed at the joke, continuing to scratch at his face. \n\n\"You like any of them? Pernilla's okay to me. But I just don't like her cause of that meeting I had to have when I get here.\" He just felt as if they were all hiding something from them. Maybe that was just something the teacher had to do, but he didn't like having things hidden from him. Even if it might be for his own safety or some bullshit. \"It might just be me. But everyone I've met refers to Newton's as a prison or something with that type of descriptor, so it could also just be a common thought with everyone and I'm just late to the party or something.\" He placed the now empty cup next to Malus' leg so he could take it whenever he wanted."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus listened while he typed quietly on his cellphone to prep to reply back to Barric. Occasionally taking sips of his drink, fighting back the need to drain his friend's life essence. Those little bugs at school felt like it wasn't enough. It was like eating one rice grain at a time. Sitting next to him felt like being next to a neon-light that spelled,\"Dinner,\" That is radiating so much life. \n\nHe poured himself a second cup of hot cocoa, trying to distract himself from wanting to drain Barric's life essence. This hunger can be felt everywhere. It wasn't just his stomach that felt crunched into a ball, his entire being felt dry.\n\n*\"It's no surprise that the facility is designed to handle kids that are showing supernatural abilities. The government is no doubt in this to keep some control over its more \"Unique\" Citizens. It's for the safety of its people and the person who needs special help. Many of the students have to go to court before being transferred into Newton Cradle. It's a rehabilitation to help the youth pave a path for themselves on how to cope with their problems and how to control themselves better. The school is like a prison with its curfew, cameras and security guards keeping an eye on the place. There's a hundred or more students with powers that need to be in check.*\"\n\nHe had to take another drink before he made another text message for the bot to read out loud for Barric. *\"If there's Newton Cradle that exists. I fear that there are other evil organizations out there collecting parahumans to be used as tools. We're in their protection to try to steer clear from other trouble. I am well aware that there is secrecy at the school. There are always going to be other kids trying to theorize, uncover those said secrets and get into trouble\"* \n\nMalus was typing before he paused for a minute and then suddenly deleted the message. And he quickly types up a new text before having the bot reading it.\n\n*\"Newton Cradle would place a dangerous parahuman in a true prison where they keep them locked up, especially displaying powers that are too destructive. A person that even the school itself can't handle would put them in a more restrictive lock-down. The kids would think the school is a prison? Wait until one of them makes a terrible mistake and get themselves in a real slammer.\"*"
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric listened to the messages quietly. He didn't fully have an opinion on it. \"I don't like being watched.\" He finally said out of the blue. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. \"The cameras and all that jazz. It just weirds me out. Feel like I'm being watched no matter where I am.\" \n\nHe wasn't used to be surrounded by so much security. Barric never had anywhere to go back home, so he never had a curfew. He'd always just come back inside before it got too dark. But now, with such a strict curfew, he struggled. It was like going from an open field to being tied down with a restrictive leash. \"The curfew too don't get me started on it.\" He scoffed, furrowing his brows. Barric finally pushed himself back up, straightening his back. \"I think it was just because of how I got to live back home, but everything feels a lot more restrictive now. Like I can't do a lot of the things I did back home and I kinda get it. This isn't home, but you know.\" He murmured.\n\n\"Yeah. I guess I wouldn't go as far as calling it a prison. Cause like you said, there are probably places doing much worse. But Newton's has its issues too. I can feel it. Just from everything that's happened. The fake world, the AI person, the Ikea hounds, everything. All of it just irks me.\" Malus wasn't around for most of those and it seemed like Barric wouldn't offer an explanation on most of the events mentioned, choosing to instead continue talking.\n\nBarric tapped his fingers, trying to figure out something else to talk about. He had quickly grown bored with sharing conspiracy theories with Malus about Newton's. Barric honestly was more curious about Malus right now. \"You know, you never fully told me what ended you up at Newton's. Your powers and stuff, I mean. I haven't told you everything yet.\" Barric grinned, staring at Malus. \"But you can probably guess what the third thing is if you know anything about scorpions.\" He continued on, practically skipping over the weird hint like comment. \"I assume it has something to do with the shadows from what happened at IKEA. But also it seems pretty limiting on what it could be if it's just involving shadows and not something else. So what is it?\" He tilted his head further towards Malus, his toothy grin much more obvious now. Barric coughed a little out before adding on a quick, \"Of course you don't have to talk about it.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus looked up at the stars again in thought, now half-listening to Barric about the typical teen angst about Newton's Cradle.\n\nTo him it was almost a breath of fresh air away from his abusive household. The only person that he'd miss there is his dad, who would often work hard far from home but always come back happy to see him. \n\nHis hands worked on their own typing on the screen to answer Barric. *\"Scorpions rub their legs together to communicate like crickets? Aaaand some species of scorpions get eaten by females for reproductive energy after they do the promenade a' deux dance? Yeah, it was a weird biology topic in class.\"*\n\nMalus was mostly teasing Barric with this information that he did learn.\n\nHe was chugging down a cup of warm cocoa at this point, still trying to sate his thirst for draining life from a living creature. Then when he goes to pour himself another cup, he notices it is empty.\n\n*\"Dang...\"* Malus thought, turning the thermos upside down to shake it to get only nothing from it. This was time for him to put stuff away before he goes back to texting.\n\n*\"It does a little more than just hiding in shadows. Most of it has to do with my anatomy that makes me transform into a small creature, which can do shadow surfing or just hide in it. It's nothing too flashy or amazing.\"* The bot explained it to him. It was a little difficult to know where he should start explaining how he got into Newton Cradle. He doesn't know Barric all well yet to be giving him anything too juicy. So he is going to do his best with the basics. His arms are wrapped around his backpack for comfort and help sustain warmth while he texts.\n\n*\"Well, I'll start with my grandfather not being able to help train me. I have similar shadow abilities but the other stuff was... Not in his field. My dad didn't want to let me go but I kept sinking in the shadows. It was so scary at first when I disappeared. It happened fast. I felt a flash of pain before falling into a shadow in front of my dad. It was like falling into deep, dark water. My grandfather had to reach in and pull me out. This is when the old man told my dad about Newton Cradle where I could get special help. Since there was a lot going on with me to a point that another parahuman in my family... Just couldn't help me.\"*\n\nMalus felt heat building up in his cheeks as he sort of hid half his face behind his backpack. The glow of the screen made his eyes seem to glow silver. *\"It's rather hard to talk about my other ability that is health related. Pernilla was surprised that it wasn't listed in my records, I don't think what they're doing is helping much. And I'm afraid they'll put me away if they find out that it's not helping. The other one I am not sure about, yet. Think my abilities may still be developing.\"* \n\nHe looks much smaller, frailer and insecure when he talks a bit about himself."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric snorted at the teasing. \"Yeah, I rub my legs together and a bunch of scorpions appear.\" He joked. To drive the point home, he wrapped one leg over top the other and began rubbing the back of his calf against his shin. After a moment, he stops and looks at Malus. \"They don't like me anymore.\" He snorted before unwrapping his legs. \n\n\"Would you prefer I get consumed by a bunch of female scorpions?\" At this point, he couldn't help but shoot a ton of jokes about Malus' unserious guesses. \"Seriously, though, I have essentially little teeth all over my hands and feet. I sense vibrations and I can feel like the size of the thing I'm sensing, how far it is and a few other things. It's how I found you outside your dorm room.\" He adjusted himself, pulling his legs up onto the bench. He sat cris cross, looking over at Malus. \"It's usually what I rely on to find certain things I can't really see,\" Barric murmured to himself. \n\nBarric listened intently to the message as it began ringing out through the graveyard. It wasn't a lot of information but enough to work off of for a conversation. \"Yeah, but sometimes not having something super flashy can help you.\" The comment was dropped about it before moving on to the next two messages. \n\nBarric didn't say anything else between the messages, waiting till the end of the second one to say anything else. The message seemed way too heartfelt for the joke Barric wanted to make about his reason for being at Newton's, so he held back for now. \"Well, they apparently need to know *Everything, so it was bound to get put on there, eventually. Even if you don't want it to be.\" The words came out in a slightly bitter tone. Like he wasn't just referring to Malus' comment about his file. \"Yeah, well, maybe you just haven't been here long enough. No one's ended up dead, right? They must be doing something right. Maybe that right will help you eventually.\"\n\nBarric's hand grabbed Malus' shoulder again suddenly. \"They aren't going to lock you away or some shit. I'll blow a gasket if they try to.\" It was said in such a joking tone that the slight threat in his voice was almost completely unnoticeable. Almost. Barric stood up, stretching a bit. \"I'm assuming we didn't come here to just talk, so let's do whatever you came here for.\" He offered a hand to Malus to help the boy up."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus stared at the tanned paw that Barric offered; taking it as he got up. It was a good thing that he always had gloves on. One touch would be as easy as squeezing water from a bundle of yellow, Cellulose sponges.\n\n*\"Well then, don't you be making Aries jealous now. He's meant to be the explosive kid at the school,\"* The bot said, reading out the text on the phone. *\"We're mainly here just to hang out at the cemetery. I don't mind walking to enjoy the quietness of this place.\"*\n\nMalus lets go of the kid's hand as he looks out into the darkness. *\"How far can you see with your blindsight?\"* \n\nHe was curious about Barric's scorpion ability since after he mentioned how he had similar ability to that creature. Malus can see very little in the darkness in his other form. It wasn't great but it helped him get around better in the shadows.\n\nThen there was that itch again when he felt a sudden pulse that made him feel a little dizzy. Malus quickly steeled himself to appear normal, not wanting to worry Barric. In a way, he felt like his backstory might be too gloomy for others to know or hear about. He's trying to remain PG for the sake of others, especially his new friend, so that he doesn't frighten him away.\n\nWalking on the cobbled path helped him feel slightly better after feeling the cold wind blew past them. Hearing the dead leaves skittering across the man made road, the hoot of an owl and crickets chirping in the grass.\n\n*\"I sort of want to show you the spot where I would hang out away from the public. It's located in the woods where there's not many graves. It's a nice spot where I just want to be alone with my thoughts.\"* The bot said, reading out his text message. *\"Do you see the two angels over there with the rose bushes? You cut through there where you would find a hidden path that isn't too noticeable.\"* Malus flicks on the flashlight to show where it is. *\"It's okay if you don't want to go there.\"*"
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "He pulled Malus up to his feet, letting go once the kid seemed to have his balance. \"Good.\" He chuckled. He wasn't going to expose his dislike for the kid to Malus yet. Malus didn't need to know about all the shit he did on his first day at Newtown's. Barric gave him a look when he said this. \"Barric, do you wanna go to a restaurant or something? Oh yeah, Malus, I would love to be so glad we aren't going to a cemetery for bonding time.\" He mocked Malus' voice in a joking tone, making gestures with his hand the entire time. \"Is this what you do in your free time? I've never heard of anyone who hangs out at a cemetery in their free time?\" He paused, staring at Malus for a moment. \"Actually, you seem like the type to do this.\" With that, he turned on his heel, continuing into the cemetery. \n\n\"How far? I honestly don't know. Never really tested it. I don't use it often since I know where everything is.\" He hadn't really pushed most of his powers to the limit yet. The only limit he knew so far was the limb limit, and he wasn't interested in trying to push past that. He was already so uncomfortable with having two extra limbs, he didn't need eight more.\n\nHe ran his hands through his hair, humming. \"I can feel sounds with it, too. Anything that causes vibrations essentially. It sucks though when there's loud music or something playing. It overwhelms me. I couldn't wear socks for a while when it first developed cause of how sensitive it was.\" He laughed, shaking his head at the memories of wandering around the farm sockless. It was a fun time in his life, if you could call it. It was a fun time for him. The most intresting time he's had in a while. He nodded, looking over to the area Malus' flashlight was pointed at. Barric took a few steps onto the path hesitantly before getting a bit more confidence and walking faster into the darkness.\n\nThe walk down the path was quiet besides the sound of Barric's boots pounding against the ground. As they approached the bigger cluster of graves. He turned around, walking backwards again, ignoring Malus' warning from earlier. \"What's so interesting about this place, anyway? Is it the quietness or something for you?\" Barric looked around a bit, trying to find anything he thought was super interesting, but everything seemed kind of just like a basic cemetery. Barric continued walking backwards, not paying attention to the world behind him. His luck slowly ran out, it seemed, as he approached an open grave. His foot took another step back, landing on nothing, sending the farmer boy tunneling back.\n\nHe let out a loud screech as he fell backwards into the open grave. His body seemed to react before he fully did the popping and cracking of bones echoed through the cemetery. Loud tears originating from the farmer's boy skin as limbs and a tail sprung from his body. The tail shot out of the grave, embedding itself into the cold dirt, nearly landing directly on Malus' foot. Arms sprouted from his hips and chest, digging the nails into the dirt of the open grave slowly him down so he wouldn't fully face plant into the skeleton below. \n\nBarric was hyper ventilating hanging slightly above the skeleton. His breath was breaking the layer of dust that seemed to cover the skeleton's skull. He couldn't speak or move. He was breathing loudly, his heart practically beating out of his chest. With shaky hands, his body slowly began pulling itself out of the grave, away from the skeleton that sat below him."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus showed a concerned look in the dimness of the light, shining its glow onto the path while he watched Barric walk backwards.\n\nThen he notices the farmer kid dipping backwards quickly where he just disappears into the darkness. It happened so fast, all Malus could do is let out a shocked gasp with his hand reached out. \n\nThe sound of Barric's screech mixed with the macabre snap, crackle and pop filled the cemetery air. It caused Malus to quickly, cautiously, move over to the lip of the hole.\n\nDown below in the pit there was Barric having his scorpion appendages clinging to the side of the dirt walls. Malus reflectively moved his foot back in time to see the huge scorpion stinger embed itself into the ground. \n\nHe wasn't sure what to do with Barric right now after realizing that he may be putting himself in danger if he tried to help. It felt like the best thing he could do is let out a worried grunt.\n\nWhen looking back at the tail it somehow was making him feel a little squeamish.\n\n*\"NOW ISN'T THE TIME TO BE NAUSEATED!\"* Malus mentally scolded himself as he did at a panic pace. When he shined his flashlight over to the dirt pile, there was a shovel poking out by its handle. Then he plants the flashlight in an angel where it shines out onto the old grave. He grabs the shovel to carefully peer back into the pit.\n\n\"Bar! Grab... Hold!\" Malus let out a strained voice, hurting his throat in the process. He had to force himself to speak louder. The boy made sure he lowered the spade down close enough for Barric to at least grab hold of it. It was odd how this grave was dug out further by a few feet deeper, assuming that this person in life could have been rich. From the pit there was a strong scent mixed with old decay, wood and earth that leaked out into the cold air.\n\nA painful squeeze spiked his shoulder when Malus felt a hand squeezing it. The smell of strong cigarette, dirt and sweat had stung his nose. A dark, tall silhouette of a man towered over the masked kid holding a crowbar in one hand while the other held the boy's shoulder.\n\n\"What the fuck are you doing out here?\" A gravelly voice said, sounding rather annoyed than surprised. \"It looks like you both must pay the fee for trespassing.\" \n\nThis wasn't the usual night watchman that Malus is familiar with. He got permission to have access here to be a volunteer to do mild-clean up if he visited at this hour. The school would have at least set it up so the workers know that he would be here. \n\nThe man squeezed Mal's shoulder so hard that it caused him to let out a pained gasp. He didn't mean to let go of the handle when he felt himself get pulled back.\n\n\"I'll deal with you first, kid.\" The man had a birdish complexion with greasy, mousy brown hair that hung from his head like a mop. His nose was almost like a crooked break peeking out from a face with patchy stubble. Deep set of eyes in a dull blue shade with bags under them, almost giving him a raccoon appearance.He had a lanky build set in well-worn clothes; a thick dark jacket dressed over a red shirt, jeans and tacky oxford shoes. For his age, Malus could guess that the man must be pushing into his thirties.\n\nThe first thing that comes to mind for Malus; it's dinner time."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "A hand wrapped around the handle of the shovel. He held onto it as he dragged himself out of the grave. Barric heard the man in at the last second, his eyes peering over the side of the gate as three of the arms slammed into the dirt surrounding the grave. His boots dug into the side as he pulled himself fully out. It took him a moment to stand up fully, the extra limbs that had sprouted out of his back dragging him down a bit. His body contorted in such a strange way he was almost unrecognizable in the moonlight. The stinger yanked out of the dirt it had situated itself in moments before. As he stood up fully, he finally took notice of the man that stood behind his friend with a grip on his shoulder.\n\nHe straightened himself, rolling one of his shoulders back, staring at the man. Barric's eyes flickered between Malus and the man who had a grab on his friend. He hadn't seen the man when they came in here and the way he had grabbed onto Malus so suddenly sneaking up on both of them had already put him on edge. An arm on the back of his neck wrapped around, pushing the sweat drenched hair out of his face. He squinted his eyes, trying to see the man's face. It wasn't one he recognized, so it definitely wasn't school staff coming to hunt the two of them down for being out after curfew. He took a few steps forward, his stinger swiping near Malus's legs but not stinging the other boy.\n\n\"Hey.\" He murmured, his breath louder than his actual voice at the moment. \"Who the hell are you?\" His tail swiped around Malus's leg, debating grabbing the kid to yank away from the man. If he did that, the kid would no doubt get whiplash. Barric was leaning forward slightly, his chest heaving as he debated what to do in the situation. There was no way this man had good intentions. He eyed Malus through some hairs that had fallen back into his face. Did he have a plan?"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The man's name was Tim Nissen, who was about to harass Malus to go give him whatever valuables he had. Just as he is about to threaten the rusted crowbar, he scrunches his nose to stare at the other kid. This time he looked more confused than disguised at Barric who was now standing out from the hole.\n\n\"Don't you be getting close if you don't want your fish hot,\" He said, his tone threatening. \"Whatcha cosplaying as Tryannish from Krapopolish? You ought to be bloody stupid to be dressed up early for Halloween this spring!\" He still held onto Mal's shoulder as he used his free hand to swing the rusted bar at Barric's direction.\n\nMalus already took note of the scorpion tail, seeing it debating what to do next in the darkness. He was already growing more frustrated by the circumstances and the hunger gnawing at him. His neck suddenly cracked aside in agitation, then a death rattle rasp from his mouth when he let out a sigh. It took him seconds to suddenly turn into ribbons of shadows.\n\nIt took on a quick visage of an arachnid with clusters of glowing white eyes, multiple of spindly legs kicking widely where a white mask hung from the abdomen. The pedipalps and chelicerae spread apart to reveal a faint pale light illuminated from a maw loaded in rows of bristling teeth.\n\nBristling needle-like teeth.\n\nAnd there was a predatory clicking that came out of Malus as he twisted his spidery body in an unnatural position, almost wrapping itself on the man's hand. The many hairy legs look almost wiry, thick and wild.\n\nTim the grave robber let out a shrill panic scream that split the once quiet night. He failed to try to get the creepy monstrosity off from his hand. He screamed even more when the \"Actual\" Spider fangs jolted out from the mouth to bite down into the bone of his hand.\n\nIn the light Tim's face begins to show signs of losing vitality in his health when his eyes slightly push back and his cheeks sunken in. The man felt tired as he swayed where he stood, now raising the crowbar to show a sign that he is going to use it to hit the black spider."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "He moved back as the rusted crowbar swiped at him. No where near him, thankfully. \"You should let him go.\" He swiped his tail, wrapping the stinger around Malus' ankle, trying to time when to pull the kid back to him. The confused look on his face sparked a thought in his mind. People don't know about Newton. He doesn't know what's going on. Barric looked back at Malus, his eyes slightly panicked. \"No.\" He muttered, taking another step forward. The pop and cracks of bones were heard throughout the cemetery as the limbs growing out of Barric's back were retracted back into his body. He let out a groan as the arms were placed back into his body. Barric stood up fully, his breath finally entering his lungs normally. Then the noises that Malus had been making met his ears. The tail reeled back, suddenly releasing Malus from its grasp and allowing him to fully move.\n\nHis brain wasn't fully processing what was happening to him. The clicking coming from Malus connected faster in his brain than the rest of the changes to him. The spider-like legs connected next. Was Malus shape shifting? Barric moved slightly, his body getting dragged down by the memory of the heavy limbs. The unexpected shrill panic noise that left the man's mouth made him wince slightly. Barric watched as large fangs punctured the man's hand and he winced for the dude. His brain didn't seem to fully be processing what was going on. Only really seeing a man and a spider, even with Barric's friend being in place of the spider moments before. Should he be panicking? The grave fall had ripped all of his energy to have any reaction out of him, so the boy just stood there with a slight shocked look on his face, watching as Malus did something. He wasn't quite sure what the kid was doing.\n\nHis tail whipped around again, still wanting to go for Malus and yank the boy back. Then there was also his brain telling him to sprint and hide. Get away from the dangerous man that looked as if his life was being torn out of his hands by the darkly dressed kid."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus sort of forgot about Barric when he focused on his prey. It was helping him rejuvenate as it quenched his hunger. He was in a small shadow visage of a spider the size of a basketball. Since Barric already revealed himself, Malus gave up his facade looking normal in front of the grave robber.\n\nHe hear Barric making cracking sounds with body in the background. It sound so faint to him while he was drawing the man's life slowly. When he see the man going in for a swing at him, Malus vanishes into the darkness.\n\n\"What... The duck did... He go!?\" The man wheezed in panic breaths. He turned to look frantically before turning to Barric with his crowbar. \"Y-You stay away from me you f-freak!\"\n\nMalus begin to manifest into the material plane by having his spider legs form from the man's head in the darkness. It look like fingers gripping his head, but tightly squeezing it. The man let you a sharp gasp as he swings his crow bar toward his head. Malus quickly disappears in time to dodge it. There was a thunk sound from the crowbar that connected to the frontal lobe of the man's head. A pain grunt and his eyes rolled back before he collapsed to the ground. He let out a pained groan, feeling like his soul barely clinging to his body.\n\nMalus popped up from the shadows this time turning back to normal. He look a lot healthier with a pleased look on his face. He has a small smile on his face as he dragged the man toward the pit. Then taking out his phone to see a text message from the night watchmen. So he had to reply as he push the grave digger rolling into the hole."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric watched the entire scene unfold in front of him with confusion etched on his face. He was still trying to figure out what was happening with his friend. The kid had been transformed into essentially was giant spider. Not one of human size, but still a considerable size. Barric's eyes shot up to the strange man as Malus seemed to disappear into thin air. \"You grabbed him.\" He muttered he didn't want to attack the man. Barric had already been testing his luck with the cow, but he didn't want Malus to get hurt. Barric watched silently as long spider-like legs snaked their way out of the darkness, grabbing ahold of the man's head. \n\nThe crowbar was swung at Malus's head, and a spike of panic rose in his chest. Barric debated just intervening there. But his body seemed to pause for a moment, keeping him from making his way towards the strange man. Malus seemed to have held his own somewhat surprisingly. The boy disappeared into the darkness once again, just to appear in another spot. Barric's eyes frantically moved back and forth between the two. His heart dropped as the man fell to the ground with no warning. The groan was the only sign that the man may still be alive.\n\nHad it been a death rattle? His brain was not fully there. It seemed to still processing the man laying on the ground. The man was thrown into the hole like he was dead. Had Malus killed him? Barric swallowed, taking a few steps back towards the hole. \"Is he dead? Did you kill him, Malus?\" He asked, a slight shaking tone in his voice. He wasn't willing to crawl back into the hole to test the man's pulse. \"Should we call someone? Like a paramedic or a doctor?\" He scratched his arm, not looking at Malus, his eyes glued to the man in the hole."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "There was a pained groan from. The hole where the man was rolled in. Malus shakes his head to reply to Barric. He really needs to teach his friend how to do sign language. The worried expression on Barrics face made him show the message on his phone.\n\nIt showed that he was communicating with the night watchman. It looks like Mal explained the situation, there would be cops coming to pick up the infamous grave robber. They're going to be escorted back by an officer.\n\nThen Malus types on the phone for the bot to speak for him. *\"Sorry for the scare, I was just hungry and this man was being a threat. Don't worry, I do volunteer work at the cemetery sometimes. The grave robber is still alive so don't worry.\"*"
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric peered back in the hole just to hear the man groan. It was still concerning seeing the man face first in the grave but Barric chose not to comment further. He glanced back to seeing the boy holding the phone close to his face trying to get him to read the message on the phone. Barric squinted at the phone silently sounding out the words he didn't instantly get. It took him a minute before he nodded at Malus indicating he had finished reading it. \"So will they call someone?\" \n\nMalus began typing away at the phone again as Barric continued to look down at the man, who was still laying face to the ground in the hole. \"It's okay.\" He didn't offer much more of a response, scratching at his face. Barric nodded slightly before turning on his heel and moving away from the hole. He had nearly forgotten about his tail, he now realized. A few feet away from the grave, he paused, retracting it back into his body. Barric turned back to ask Malus a question. \"Is that all you wanted here? Are we leaving now?\"\n\nHis face was mostly blank. The panic and shock previously present completely disappeared. He didn't really know how to react to the things Malus had just done in front of him. The man wasn't dead, but from the way he looked, he might as well have been. But he wasn't. That was the thing Barric needed to nail into his skull. Barric stared at Malus, waiting for his answer."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "*\"It would be safer to get back to Newton Cradle, in case this creep got friends. I\"M sorry that this experience turn out this way, usually it's quiet out here.\" Malus gave an apologetic smile as he wave for Barric to follow. The grave keeper would talk to them about what happened before the police arrived, one would take them back to their school.\"\"*"
}
] | 397 | 12,353 |
217.333333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"Snakes? No, no - *Beetles.* No - *Birds?* Not birds! Nothing rational, no, that would be too much senses. Instead? Instead! The ugliest fucking bugs in the universe - who invented them? Why the hell does Owen insist on putting imagery of them in the album art? I don't fucking get it! I don't! My feet are *Numb*, and my hands are shaking, and good Lord, none of it even matters! What the hell!\"\n\nFinley's ranting took place out in the trees, throwing their head back and yelling at the dying light of the evening, shaking their hands at the sky. Owen had dragged their recording *Way* Longer than need be, and, as Hysteria's loyal percussionist, Fin stayed true till the end. However, it did not mean that fiery, fiery rage surely wouldn't reign on the nearest, poor metal trash bin. It had become a bit of a habit, setting the few bins outside ablaze whenever he got a pinch too stressed. \n\n\"What in the *Fuck* Am I supposed to with *Seventy-eight* Four counts? I don't get it. I don't! I'm so fucking lost! God.\"\n\nHe threw a handful of dead leaves into the fire, watching them crackle and crumble up with some kind of fanatical rapture. A long, low sigh that turned into a pitch of laughter brushed the evergreens around them. Silence followed, a moment too long, and they resumed a tense, focused stare on the blaze. Arson had gotten him into this shithole, and it seemed, for now, it was helping them through it. Or, something like that."
},
{
"author": "Chesil F. Keres",
"message": "He was... Lost. How was he supposed to know how to get around?? No map, no guide, and as far as he knows no signs showing him where to go either. And now he has ended up in some weird forested area??? \n\n\"How does this even... Get here???\" \n\nChesil whispers to himself, trying to calm himself down. He saw the smoke rising and was hoping that if he follows it he will find someone who can show him the way to the workshop instead of... Wherever this is. \n\nUpon coming closer, he hides, listening to the talking. This person sounded insane! He didn't know if this was the right person to ask for a way out. What if they got lost like him and just ended up living here? \n\nEvery single bad situation floods his mind. He hates when he thinks like it but also he is grateful. It keeps him alive. So instead of trying to engage, he tries going right around it. Though his wheel gets caught on a tree root, his chair bucks him right out and onto the ground with a thud. \n\nWhoops. Crap. Hopefully the other somehow doesn't notice the short guy in the bright orange jacket that just got thrown out of his chair???? Yeah right."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Finley pauses, all at once, looking up to see an admonished Chesil (who they did not presently know the name of), sprawled out on the decaying pine needles, cloaked in bright orange, and overall, looking discontented.\n\nThey took two, three paces towards him, standing over the stranger with a raised, fair brow, their blond hair loose and spread out around their narrow face, blinking blue gaze unimpressed. The previous restlessness hadn't completely left their deposition, but had paused, in favour of whatever this new person was up to.\n\n\"You're lost,\" He said, in a flat tone. \"Do you need help, or can you right yourself?\""
},
{
"author": "Chesil F. Keres",
"message": "Uh oh. He was spotted. This was not good and sent him into a tiny panic. Quickly he starts trying to roll himself back up to the chair, grabbing at the wheel and tugging on it until it gets launched right over the root and hits him in the hip. \n\nChesil grunts and pulls himself back into his chair as fast as he can adjusting himself into a comfortable spot, avoiding eye contact at all costs. \n\n\"Lost? Nooo I'm not lost- I mean I am lost- but I'm sure I'll find a way out - I'm not lost—\" \n\nLaughing nervously, he fidgets with his fingers, the ends of his fingertips and the palms of his hands sparking. He was nervous and he made it way too obvious. Just his body language. It spoke for him. \n\nHe holds his hands up in front of him, shaking them lightly, looking the complete opposite direction to Finley. Basically running off of 'if I can't see em, they'll go away'. He was scared. But he's scared of a lot of things. But especially people."
},
{
"author": "frckitweball",
"message": "Sorry im a slow typer"
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Fin stared at Chesil. They did not suppose he was particularly scary - they're 5'8, built like a twig, *French* - but, as Fin reflected, they were an arsonist. That didn't help his reputation any.\n\n\"You're lost,\" They said. \"You're *Lost*, buddy, and my bandmate is driving me *Fucking* Insane.\" Fin jabbed at their temple with their index finger. \"Do I look like I have time for this? Come on. Let's go. I can get you out of here - there's enough wrong with the Cradle without more people getting killed in Sweden. You know, I really don't get the whole lack of security but somehow too much security. They don't care about us but they'll keep us under lock and key! I don't get it. I feel like a criminal.\"\n\nA little humorless laugh pulled on his face.\n\n\"Well, I guess I *Am* A criminal - what are you looking at?\"\n\nFinley crossed their arms in Chesil's direction. \"Do you need help out of here or not?\""
},
{
"author": "Chesil F. Keres",
"message": "Chesil was the complete opposite of the other. Small. Taking up as little space as he possibly can. And he wasn't every string either. \n\nAt first, the beginning of the others' blabbering seemed alright. Like they were just trying to help, Chesil gives a small smile which quickly drops as they continue speaking. \n\n\"Sweden?\" \n\nHis voice was quivery and shaken, putting his fear right on the sleeve of his bright orange jacket. Criminal??? They were a criminal??? That made Chesil feel far from safe. If he gets on the wrong side of them, he could be done for. \n\n\"Nothing! Nothing!\" \n\nAverting his eyes quickly and putting his hands over his head, holding his head down with his arms, attempting to keep his eyes away from them. \n\n\"Yes! Yes, I do need help-\" \n\nCompletely stricken in fear, his body shakes. It wasn't anything too intense but it was still visible. He didn't want to move. He was terrified and felt like a scared deer being stared at through the sight of a gun, knowing well that something bad was about to happen."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"My god. Are you that dense?\"\n\nFinley stared incredulously at Chesil, who struck them as a sniveling, wobbly mess, completely and utterly lost. It was horrific, to Fin, who had been at the Cradle much longer than they would have ever first imagined they would. They put out their fire by slapping a lid on top of the bin, trusting the lack of oxygen would suffocate it.\n\n\"You're in fucking Sweden, dipshit - all of us are criminals. That's why we're *Here*. We have something wrong with our funky little bodies that makes us do something we're not supposed to be able to do, and we got rounded up and sent out here. I don't know how you got here without understanding you're a literal menace to society.\"\n\nThe entire situation made Fin consider smoking a cigarette. \n\n\"Stop whimpering. You're in the fucking woods, not Slenderman. Let's go.\"\n\nThey turned and stalked off back towards campus, somehow *More* Irritated than when they'd first gotten outside. And they had to put out their fire! Awful."
},
{
"author": "Chesil F. Keres",
"message": "His arms were crossed in front of his face at this point, forearms facing Fin. If he were a turtle he'd be going further and further into that shell of his. But for now it's a metaphorical shell. And after this it's going to take a while for him to come back out of it. \n\n\"I'm not a criminal- it was an accident! I didn't do anything wrong. \" \n\nChesil chose to ignore Fin calling him dense. He didn't like that word. He's not dense. He's not slow. He's a smart guy just.. Not socially. It definitely hurt to get called dense though. He just wouldn't say it. \n\nFor a minute, he falls silent, listening to the rest of Fins little frustration fest. He did not like them. They said mean things and in a mean way. It wasn't sugar coated or anything. And Chesil wasn't a fan. But again, he would never say that. \n\n\"You-\" \n\nWell maybe he was going to say it this time around? But that would be a good step in the wrong direction. So he stops himself. \n\n\"Nevermind\" \n\nHe mumbles underneath his breath, moving his hands to his wheels and hanging his head low as he begins to follow Fin. He tried to stay as low as he could"
}
] | 231 | 1,956 |
308.2 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Sunlight followed no law of physics in the meadow. It drifted through open air in the same ribbons as it did through distant tree branches, far up in the canopied sky. When Owen dreamed of trees, they were always oaks, casting gauzy shadows over his face in the soft light.\n\nThe trunks of the great trees and their shadows were nowhere to be seen along the meadow, though; the earth was soft and mossy, dug into by the bare feet of a smear of red the shade of faded bricks. The flowers he gathered weren't quite daisies, buttercups, or lions' teeth, but he seemed to call them such anyhow, minding no alien curl of a leaf or whisper of confusion from a brightly-coloured stamen. \n\nOwen just wove them together all the same, determined to cover the smiling marble figure at the centre of the garden (was it a garden, now, with high pillars, and terraced layers of strange flowers? Did it bloom around the centrepiece?) with the brightest blooms like jewels. They clutched petals in their own hands, misty fingers tangled in stems; he wove his next crown slower upon noticing, holding it closer.\n\nGold painted them both through the oaken ceiling."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Owen's mind was always a beautiful sight to take in. It felt like being enveloped in his shield, from that one time so long ago— warm, friendly, unexpectedly raw. Here, Uriel felt more at peace than they did many places. Owen was comfortable and known— they did not fear his mind, or whatever things could possibly lurk in the dark corners. \n\nAfter all, they had noticed a peculiar fact; the shadows creeping at the edges of his consciousness all seemed to ebb away when they appeared. \n\n\"Ah, Owen,\" Their dream figure spoke. Flowers bloomed from between their fingers, still pressed against the light green lawn. Some were possible, others not so; daisies and orchids bloomed alongside flowers composed of silk and gold leaf. \"Try using some of these. I made them with you in mind.\" \n\nThe scene seemed idyllic, but there was a feeling Owen couldn't shake from him. Something else foreign, watching, like the same time Uriel first entered his brain. The cold and misplaced edges of something *Else* Only seemed to grow more tangible as Owen continued to think about it. \n\nWas there something out there?"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*\"Oooohwow,\"* The warm red face cooed, golden orange brushstrokes blooming from his chest. The sounds he made curled in the air in similar shades, hazy images of strings vibrating, the chords of the dream.\n\n*\"Thankyou...\"*\n\nThose painted red fingers slipped delicately under the cool heads of the flowers pushing cleanly through the green, admiring them as though the time he took to do so was thick and sweet as cream. *\"You... Youalways make themso...\"*\n\nHis sentiment was finished by the warm breeze through the pillars, the leaves beyond the sky; with it came a gold softer yet, blurring the edges of their forms for a moment. Those hands, red as hearts, blended so softly with the marble of their collarbones as he wreathed them in what the back of his mind knew to be their own splendour.\n\nThe edges of him, that sun-warmed red, blurred with something else for a moment, giving him pause—the light through the oak leaves cast a shadow on a form that wasn't there, that didn't soften the same as the grass. Owen wasn't sure if it frightened him, but instinct had him close his hand around his love's, pressing more wispy petals safe into their palms."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "The sunflowers turned to face Sophie Melançon as she walked. The very fabric of the human mind subconsciously recognized the shrewd woman with every step she took. The sound of feet against grass echoed through Owen's skull— it was clearer than even the twinkle of grey inside Uriel's eyes. \n\nA shadow loomed over Owen's sitting figured. It expressed little, just like Uriel— but while Uriel's lack of expression stemmed from amicability, this coldness was *Pointed*, and stern. \n\n\"You are Owen.\" Thick, feminine French rusted with decades of cigarette usage rung out from around Owen. \"My little angel's description was accurate, if over-zealous and flowery.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The sharp spot of the garden turned clearer and clearer, the carpet of oil-pastel moss glistening with drops of crisp, cold dew around her feet. The reality of *Her*, exactly who he thought she was, with no barriers of flickering human faces or heavy-handed niceties, ran down his spine like the sight of a monument much more colossal than the woman standing over him must have been. \n\nFor all the sweet words the little red poet could weave for her child *(his stomach twisted with vines)*, none bubbled up that could make him seem half as strong and charismatic as Uriel made him feel.\n\nThankfully, though, he still held their hands in his own. He took them with him when he stumbled to rise, the rest of the scene struggling to solidify beneath his feet as he moved up, and... Back a little bit. Anxious little blooms wound around his ankles, sparking with gold.\n\n\"*I, ohhh-* I'd hate to disappoint,\" His dream-mouth hummed, those strings under everything rumbling back to meet Sophie. The childlike urge to know everything they had ever said about him and how much of it she believed needed to be kicked down a well in order for that meeting to go smoothly, but it stubbornly latched itself to the digits clutching his lover's.\n\n\"*Www*Welcome,\" He managed to release. Was she welcome? It was polite, wasn't it? Despite it being his unconscious brain she had slunk into? Could she hear all of his thoughts? *If he wet himself in a dream, would it carry over to the waking world?*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Sophie says nothing at the welcome, simply giving a hum of acknowledgment. Uriel, meanwhile, looks ecstatic— their corners of their face soften at the sight of their mother, and their body (since when did they move?) envelopes the tired women in a strong embrace. \n\n\"Mother,\" Uriel whispers into her shoulder, clutching the woman tightly. \"I— I didn't know you'd be visiting today. Ah, this is... Owen, as you know.\"\n\nThere's the smallest undercurrent of nervousness, as expected, but the full confidence and trust Uriel has in the two people they love the most helps to steel their mind. Their dream-like visage does not waver in meekness— instead, the edges of their form solidify. \n\nSophie, on the other hand, does not let her emotions influence her appearance. There are no hints as to what is going on inside of her mind; her practiced weaving has made separating her own mind from her ~~victims~~ guests into an art form.\n\n\"This is your mind.\" The stern woman says, her steeled eyes taking sweeping glances around the putty of the dream. \"It's... Pleasant enough. Make us a place to sit, Uriel.\" \n\nHer dutiful child does so, and a set of table and chairs materializes from invisible seams. \n\n\"You did not forget your manners. It is good, for them to be with someone raised well. I have heard many good things about your mothers.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen blinked in confusion, the furniture's appearance shifting the nature of the dream before his mind would otherwise have. Uriel's giddy hand drew little memories out of the woven grain of his mind—briefly, before the dream righted itself, the footsteps of a small child pattered around the old wooden chairs as he remembered them, the figures of said mothers flickering through the atmosphere on long-concluded missions to set the table for guests.\n\nThe shade of a lean, shorter, muscular blonde set her favourite vase down in the centre, a much taller shadow with short brushstrokes of his own red hair dropping freshly clipped flowers into it. They were present and melted out of the scene in the blink of a silvery eye, as though they had just gone to the hallway to speak about something.\n\nOwen himself, who had assigned himself the seat he always took, found himself reaching for the same patch of peeling paint on the underside of the table that he hadn't picked at in close to two years. Despite the sharpening of the two weavers' faces, his head felt thick, as though there were fingers pushing his brain into the sides of his skull, eons away in his sleeping body.\n\nThe softly-shaped form of the boy took a little too long to answer Sophie's addressing him, despite how cleanly her words bore into his consciousness.\n\n\"*Thheyyy*-they, um, it was a *Ff*Feat, yeah,\" Those strings behind his face plucked, rippling like nervous laughter. Trying to put said manners back together when he had no body to compose or regulate was proving to be difficult. \"Uriel's told me so *Much too*But um I wasn't expecting the... Pleasure so—*Inmybrain.*\"\n\nThe hazy forms of his eyebrows knit in focus, trying to command himself in a realm that, though made from himself, was not his domain. Lucidity was a veil that wrapped like shifting silk around his attempts to push his way into it, but refused still to let him through."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"....\" \n\nSophie stands still, and the dream tenses as she does. The living, breathing walls of the dream come to a halt, the metaphorical diaphragm freezing at its highest point. \n\n\"Hm.\" The woman says, the dream slowly rousing back to life. \"You make a good point. I am not intruding here, am I?\" She doesn't even wait for herself to finish before cutting herself off once again. \"What am I talking about. Of course I am intruding. Do you care, is what I should ask?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen considered it, eyebrows knitting together in the blur of a thinking expression. It was as though all of her words came through two mouths—the one that formed sounds he could make sense of, and the one that bore sense and meaning straight under his skull, Sophie Melançon's grip on his dream like two icy fingers hooked behind his eye sockets. Accordingly, it almost felt like his eyes were in fact being pushed aside, so that she might get a better look at what ran behind them.\n\n*So, did he mind?*\n\n\"A*Aah*Um, a little?\"\n\nHis not-quite-voice was palpably nervous; the part of his mind that was under the dream-weaver's fingertip could tell her no lies, but the (very bewildered) line of thought that was, for better or worse his own, was *Very* Anxious to be welcoming to his partner's mother. In a moment of deliberation, the hesitant admission seemed the better option over screaming in terror and tearing the dream down with his bare hands. Shaken though he was, the strings of dream-stuff were strung stubbornly taut under the pressing fingertips.\n\nQuickly, he looked to Uriel for help—the flowers in the jar turned their heads toward their familiar face, the grass around their feet nervously twitching around their ankles."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Oh.\" Sophie says, in much the same way Uriel tended to do upon receiving an answer they hadn't accounted for. \n\nUriel steps in front of Owen, facing their mother— while his feet were rooted into the ground, theirs danced upon the meadow like the gentlest breeze. It almost seemed as if they floated above the grass instead of touching it.\n\n\"...Oh, indeed.\" They say, looking at their mother. They stare at each other, the only sign of silent communication between the two being how the dream warps around their heads. Sophie clears her throat, and the distortion stops. \n\n\"Well, if you had just *Called* Me—\" She says, grumbling in the manner French housewives often do.\n\"But you do not have your phone on you during work. It is easiest to see you here.\"\n\"And? What if I wanted to see my poor child's face every once in a while? I still haven't met that roommate of yours— Margaret, you said— and I cannot exactly do that here. Is she treating you well? Tell me you do not clean up after her.\"\n\"It is Margo, and...\" Uriel shifts. \"The way I divvy up chores is... A system that works for the both of us. But I am on a...\" They look towards Owen, \"*Date*, and...\"\n\nSophie mutters something in French at Uriel's lukewarm defense of their chore load. Owen can't understand the words, but the sentiment is obvious enough— *Jesus Christ*, she says. She clears her throat as Uriel points their head towards Owen. And suddenly looks very, *Very* Sheepish. \n\n\"I will...\" Her voice, despite the embarrasement running thick in her voice, still remains cold and harsh. There's nothing malicious behind her tone, though, and that's the closest there is for warmth in her voice. \"Leave you two to it, then. It is nice to meet you... Owen.\"\n\nTheir air changes as she leans over towards Owen. Uriel senses the shift immediately, and their eyes widen in surprise. \"Mom—\" They exclaim, rushing over towards her before disappearing in a watercolor blur. \n\nIt's just Owen and Sophie, now in a white room."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen's dream-eyes glowed softly like embers, the captured sparks in his irises when he was awake making themselves familiar features on his otherwise line-less sleeping face. The orange glow pinned itself to Uriel's shoulder as they glided through the stuff of his mind, which curled protectively around his ankles. Whatever it was they were saying made him sweat a little, he remembered, but what it was exactly eluded him.\n\n*Sophie was leaving already?* She wasn't going anywhere, though. *Why say goodbye, then?*\n\nThose fingers dug into the all-too vulnerable sockets into his skull twisted, and with a tremor like a string vibrating on a sour note he realized too late. Reddish-orange hands scratched at where his ears were supposed to be; a sound, it was to him, a wrong chord reverberating through his bones, that he wanted to scratch from his ear canals and hollow throat and chest with his bitten nails.\n\nAlas, those were in a different body—far, far away, now.\n\nHe stood in a void with sharp corners and sharp eyes and sharp light; the thrum of a heartbeat and a mind that had run through the scene before hummed now from beneath his un-skin, still stubbornly tinted like a lantern rendered in oil paint. Hanging from his thumb still was one last flower crown, wrought with Uriel's blooms.\n\n\"*Aeugh*,\" He tried, to see how his voice worked in the new air.\n\nDoe eyes, squinted a little against the weaver's strains, stared anywhere but into grey.\n\n\"Did-I-offend... You-meet-you-it's niceto.\"\n\nGrammar rules from two languages smeared together in a filter riddled with knots, but Owen could think in a mostly-straight line now. *Like riding a bike.*\n\nHe cleared his throat and blinked before whipping his head suddenly to his side.\n\n\"*Uriel?*\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Not here,\" Sophie says in response. It's *Her* Voice speaking— it's not like Uriel's dreams, where the environment seems to speak their words and the boundary between their mind and the dream's blurs. \n\nSophie is clinical, precise; She is lucid, and with her dream brings a clarity to both Owen's form and his mind. His arms have pores on them, now— pores and freckles and acne scars dot his previously nebulous skin, and the texture is a jarring thing to suddenly remember. \n\n\"I wanted... To *Ta*— to, ahem, chat with you.\" The crows feet crowing her eyes crunch as Sophie winces at her attempts to communicate.\n\n \"Of course I want to chat with you,\" She mutters. \"You are *Entangled* With my child. You are all they ever dream about anymore, and—\", Sophie sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with sturdy, calloused hands. \"And they are *Vulnerable.* They do not know it, but Uriel is not used to kinship, and especially with their...\" \n\nShe stalls for a bit, scrunching her face to think of a suitable word. *Doormat nature,* She wants to say. \n\n\"Demeanor,\" She settles for instead. \n\n\"They are not as mature as you and others are with love. Uriel has—\" Sophie's voice cracks with emotion, yet the dream stays impeccably stiff. \"They have been through too much already, and I... Failed to shield them from the worst of it. But this... *Young love.* That is something I have been through myself. That is something I can protect them from.\" \n\nHer hair is the same shade of white as Uriel's, and yet there's a dusting of grey by her scalp. Her tired eyes have a different intensity compared to that of their child's— one is the spacey, detached gaze of a person stuck in a waking dream, while the elder's eyes contain the exhausted stare of anxieties worn to a dull throb. \n\n\"I want to know you will not prey on their naïveté.\" Sophie's voice is firm, and it seems as if she's slipped into the carefully cultivated interrogation tone, until... \n\n\"Please. Give me that,\" And it almost sounds desperate."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Sophie hooked an ice-cold finger through an impossible space behind the bridge of his nose that connected his eyes, invisibly jerking him forward with such a shock and a sudden sharpening of the world that for a moment he understood in reverse how Uriel saw no real difference between waking and dreaming—at once he was sweaty flesh and loudly rushing blood and feet with nothing real beneath them, no substance but silently howling space until he might hit the wet cushion inside his skull. How they must have gone mad, and were madder still with exhaustion each time they took a step.\n\nThe woman tracing every invisible seam in his face, itching to peel it away, could do so in one practiced move; Owen thought of prehistoric surgeons boring holes in skulls clean enough to drill six more if they couldn't find the ache; he remembered that the word *Quick* Once meant *Alive*, and understood exactly then how it still did.\n\nThe way she bore into him, the boy's reflexes threatened to bend him like such a weak sapling against a windstorm: \nHe should cry, his eye sockets screamed—like a child whose body couldn't contain the fear and shame that threatened to splinter his trunk, bits of him coming off in soft earthen shards, broken along his grain. He should apologize, for making her worry like this, for pressing his rough, uncareful, *Unthinking* Hands so deeply and so fast into where they didn't belong; he should bare his teeth like a cornered dog, tail pried from between his legs, his breath so suffocatingly hot and his fangs so unreasonable that the dream weakened and melted off his mind like meat from bone.\n\nThe dream was silent as he recalled quietly how to tie them all together again, to discern what he was from what his fear made of him and what it made of her, lifting his eye from hers like a palm from a hot stove. The burning lessened, enough for him to think; he mustn't eat himself like this, not when all she asked for was peace.\n\n*Quickly, now.*\n\n\"Never.\"\n\n_ _\nIt came out of Owen like the first inhale after holding his breath beneath the flood, desperate, imminently necessary to his continuing to exist. A whisper of a chord, smaller a sound than he'd have liked, but no less sure a truth.\n\n\"I—I wouldn't, ever,\" He tried, fearing how false he must sound, even within his own mind. How the tremble under his words must incriminate him, revealing the true face of some grimy, villainous user that dwelled behind his whole personhood, the one Sophie came looking for. Owen banished that face as soon as it was born, dreading to misuse the lucidity she had thrust into his hands. Some newly bold part of him wanted to laugh in the face of her accusation, but he was much more practiced in reining it back.\n\nBehind his eyes replayed for the thousandth time a chasing: his footsteps pounded the earth after forgotten figures with moss and splinters beneath their fingernails, sap on their lips. His sides and chest and face bare, soft bark stripped off and carried away, exposed layers raw and green and sticky like a person's, a *Person's*.\n\n\"They—*Cachu*, I'm not worthy. But I—I'm trying to be. Honest.\" The boy traced the petals of the woven crown still clutched in his hands, tenderly despite his nerves. He willed the imaginary heat from his fingers, loathing for Uriel's handiwork to wilt."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "The flowers growing alongside the path Sophie trotted along were warm under her fingers; they burned with the same heat *She* Once burned with towards Alexander, long ago. *Alexander*, a man who possessed none of the qualities present in the boy she was tethered to. Owen had neither his eloquence nor his cold feet. Owen, unlike Alexander, surely knew by now who he was falling for, a person with far less baggage than the born-and-bred villain currently creeping inside his mind. A *Good* Person, one Sophie still hadn't a clue how she managed to raise to be so kind in all the ways that were still second nature to her. \n\n *Oh, what a fool I was for harboring that old love.* Her longing voice echoed as the familiar petals curl away from her palm. *I wish I still had that foolish nature,* She thought, and no sooner did that long-buried wish of hers bubble to the surface of her mind than the blossom sleeping on her hand wilt. \n\n\"I believe you.\" \n\nDespite her own reminiscing, Sophie smiled. It made her seem younger. \n\n\"I am happy for you both.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Y-you are?\"\n\nThe dreamweaver's easy smile unnerved Owen almost more than her hostility; the boy wasn't sure, in his sleeping heart, whether he had worked harder to deserve her approval or her ire; one certainly felt stronger than the other regardless. The gesture made him bolder, though, his fingertips touching the curled stamens of the hazy flowers Sophie left in her wake as he followed her through the landscape that she unmade as quickly as she wove. Even dreaming, the palms of his hands were warm, as though embers fell from the hearth in his chest and down his arms to gather around his knuckles when he breathed. \n\nOld, old sunlight leached out of the dry petals before they dissolved back into the strange sleeping stuff of his mind. He regarded them carefully, but without understanding. It wasn't his place.\n\nHe pressed one of Uriel's silken flowers in the little garland he still held to his nose, and breathed—it didn't *Smell,* Not like a real flower would, but the pollen settled on his nose and brought forth the feeling of raindrops on his faraway skin, cool fingertips on his cheeks. The world seemed to sigh as he did, the earth filling with the impossibly light sweetness his love had planted there, exhaling a lush carpet of soft green moss beneath the dreamer's feet. Their handiwork was beautiful, as always. It gave him more strength than he knew what to do with, sometimes.\n\n\"I figured that I'd never be able to hold something like this in me.\" Owen's voice was soft. Perhaps he'd give her something of himself. \"I dreamed, night after night, of my chest filling with grave dirt, and here they've gone and planted things like this in it, all over where I think I ought to still be...\"\n\nHis sentence trailed off, blown from the tip of his tongue like dandelion fluff in the wind. He pressed his lips to a petal, as though willing it to seal them.\n\n\"I'm a fool, m-miss, but one who's got the world in his hands, with them trusting me to keep theirs warm.\"\n\nPLEASE SIR, IT'S BEEN SO LONG <//3"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "I have nothing else to do while I'm bedridden :D"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "YIPPEEE but also W H AT"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Sophie chuckles at the young boy (at least in demeanor— when she was this boy's age, she was far more jaded and pointed than he was. It was sweet, Sophie realized, to see someone act their age for once, and not eons of years older) and toys with his love-sick soliloquies. They float off of his tongue and dance in the air, carried by the same wind blowing imaginary pollen into her face. A *Fool* Dances with a *Them,* And a *Warm* Grabs the hand of a *Grave.* \n\n\"How polite of you to wait for my word on things.\" Owen's pleading demeanor made her a tad squeamish, if not bemused. Sophie almost imagines that if she said *Sit* Or *Give paw,* The poor sap would do so. *They could do worse, that is for sure.* \n\nShe waves her hand aside, and the fabric backdrop of the dream ruffles with the gesture. Owen was a kind boy, and it almost made Sophie feel guilty about how her protective hands longed to crack open his skull and pick apart the pieces, to examine every wrinkle of his brain for negative tendencies or dangerous family members. \n\n*Ah,* Sophie thought, sighing. *But my little angel has grown up. If this is a mistake, it is one they will have to make on their own, just as I did.* \n\nSomehow, though, she doubted the boy in front of her could ever be so cruel to Uriel as men have been to her. *Perhaps Uriel will break that cycle, then,* She mused, *Alongside all the others they've sworn to end.* \n\nSophie might have been the better dream weaver, but she was the only one aware of the truth— that Uriel's conviction was far stronger than her own. \n\n*Let's hope their taste in men is better, too.* She giggled. It was wildly uncomfortable for a grown, morally ambiguous woman to giggle at her own thoughts, *Especially* If you couldn't hear them. \n\n\"Well, you have my blessing.\" A pause. \"But if you ever visit France, you *Will* Be taking the guest room.\" The tonal shift from giggling to serious was dangerous, and it was impossible to tell how strongly she meant her words.\n\n...Still, there was amusement in her eyes, just one buried by the bite of her French accent."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen lagged behind Sophie through the unnerving shifts in tone and temper, his dreamy form nonconforming to her chosen theme of thinly-veiled woven threats. Normally, Owen thought he communicated better in some ways, dreaming with Uriel; he liked the exchange of pure feeling, the difference between viscera as described in poetry versus notes from the scene of a crime. But where Sophie wrote, she did so with an exact purpose, her tool a scalpel dipped in ink, always poised to cut away the edges and reveal his true shape in language no more exquisite than a death warrant needed to be.\n\nThe forefront of his mind knew that she was giggling at him, and the back of it wanted to climb out of his skull. *That's not what I meant at* ***All***, that impudent part of him wanted to scream. Perhaps it wrote itself on the petal of a flower, promptly burning so fast that it was hardly even flame before ashes.\n\nHis face blurred, as though his very being were vibrating like a chord, the strange sky the hollow body of an instrument. Owen bit his tongue, humming. It wasn't as effective here as it would have been in his body, but grounding was grounding. He stared at her, wavering as little as possible—he would not feel ashamed, not like he used to. \n\n\"O... Kay,\" He managed. \"That or... Under a Lavender bush, I figure.\" If she thought he was just so amusing, the least he could do was crack a joke (instead of screaming. He could always just start screaming instead. He could.) (*No. No screaming. Scream about this later, B flat minor.*).\n\n\"I'm not a... Seer, like the others.\" Owen yearned for his flames again, to curl protectively over his stomach, but he pressed on without. \"So it's just... Up to me. I *Know* That.\"\n_ _\n\nA half nonsensical statement aboveground, but one Sophie would understand just fine here, where it mattered. Owen was no fool—the first unable to see behind any of the veils, time or dreams—and though he didn't carry his curse the same way the others did, he knew it well. How long he intended to live with it in mind, and more importantly, how happily. Surely, that was something in him the dream-weaver could find to respect."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "I won't! I'll reply tmrw >:]"
}
] | 289.5 | 6,164 |
262.1 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Ah yes, the bar.\nA place that Hatzume never really found much charm or enjoyment in- unsurprisingly, it wasnt something she had bad memories of or whatever, it just... Wasn't really her scene\nOutside of karaoke of course!! But those sort of bars were different to the daunting nature of an actual bar.\n\nEither way, Hatzume was thirsty, her dry mouth and dried out stomach craved a splash of anything (that and something sugary, if she had the audacity to be specific.) The tall girl perched at the bar with wide, curious eyes.\nSo many taps, she wondered what could possibly plague them- probably some gross alcoholic shit... She gagged at the notion, shaking her head to herself frantically.\n\nThere was no one to frustrate yet that she could see, which outside of being annoying, also meant that there was no one to beg for apple juice with her small amount of money."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "It's ight beobehehe\n\nValio was sorting out ciders in the back, spinning the bottles halfway to see their labels and where they should be put. I mean at least her hair was out of the way so she could actually see with what vision she had. They either said apple cider or some other unholy concoction. Valio wasn't one for alcohol, more of a bland water kind of woman in the first place. \n\nShe was working the late shift working with drunkards and folk ready to forget things that made them sad. Valio was always the person to just hear their life stories when the only thing she was giving them was 2 shots of tequila and a worried stare. She's heard everything but at least the pay is good. \n\nShe heard somebody take a seat at the bar which Valio answered with a stop of her current work and looking outside the small liquor room. She hunched below the frame of the door to not hit her head. Well that and she forgot she held apple cider in her gloved hand. \n\nHatzume?? Of all people why is she at a bar. Did something happen? Were the angels back?? Did somebody die?? Shit was Esme dead??? Was Ares?? Panic laced her features slightly with a narrowed eye. It was like pebbles in a rotating ball with how was going inside her head. \n\nThe large woman slid over to where hatzume lay deflated against the counter. She sets the cider on the counter and speaks.\n\n\"You need anything?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "She began humming and clicking to herself with a bored smile upon her face. She had never properly been in a bar before- and she wondered if in a couple days this was to become a habit, or if this was just a one off, and she wouldn't find such places to be a regular haunt.\nWhatever, alcohol was gross anyways- she had music to cope with her issues, even LOOKING at the gin was enough to leave that repulsively bitter aftertaste in her mouth and throat.\n\nHer leg bounced on the stool with a bout of energy, awaiting someone to come out and appease her carnal need for juice.\nAnd she was ready to impatiently leave until Valio turned the corner, her face contorting into panic at seeing Hatzume. 'Now thats no way to greet a customer!' Hatzume teased in her head, mock offended internally.\n\nOn the other hand, Hatzume perked up with glee to see Valio- her features uplifted and her goofy, crooked grin returning to it's place\n\"Forgot you worked here!\" She noted in surprise, arms crossed on the counter as her curly ringlets poured over them messily.\n\n\"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuhh uh\" She drawled out, blinking profusely\n\"D'ya have apple juice??\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio was busy Rolling questions as of why Hatzume of all people, was in a damn bar. She's... Actually Valio didn't know how old hatzume was, this was odd. She knows barely anything about anybody other than herself harbouring an angel. Funny stuff! \n\nValio raised her brow at Hatzumes comical look, the other patrons possibly casting just a glance before solemnly getting back to their frankly nasty drinks. The stood made sound against Hatzumes movement, it was like the girl was straight up from a cartoon. And if Valio didn't know any better, she'd say hatzume was. \n\n\"I say it frequently, or do you have short term memory loss from all those mcflurries?\" Valio jests as she opens the bottle of cider. She gets a glass from below the bar and places it in front of hatzume, pouring the cider into the glass. Not forgetting to at least have some ice in the glass, that's forbidden. \n\"No. I can make a virgin drink or you can have this cider.\" \n\nValio pushes the glass towards hatzume, just slightly. Just to give a hint."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Hatzume definitely LOOKED old enough to be in a bar, but that was the sort of notion that went for most 17 year olds- well, most 17 year olds that are 18 in 2 days anyways. \nHer cartoon like exaggerations were her own way of saying 'i'm glad to see you!', something that many at the cradle have had to grow accustomed to in the past couple months. A tall girl with an ego and a dopamine level too high for her body.\n\n\"Uhhh that and the tism probably! I hope mflurries arent rottin' my brain but... I doubt it.\" Theres many a other things to rot away at her brain, like dumb daytime tv or rock music as those sort of elderly folk may say. She glanced at Valio with raised eyebrows as she looked at the glass.\n\"Virgin drink? Im not- huh?\"\n\nHer eyebrows furrowed in thought as she stared at the glass pushed in front of her, calculations flooding her thoughts and you could practically see the cogs turning in her head.\nUntil something clicked and she let out a quiet 'ohhhh'\n\n\"But I'm only seventeen!- well, im eighteen in like two days but!\" She examined the cider with slight concern and critique, before taking the glass into her hands.\nAh! At least it was cold, a goofy smile came across her face at the sudden chill."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Hatzume looked like a blurry pompom to Valio, her vision is lacking considerably. Hatzume was always a bundle of something, much like Ares but much less contained? If that makes any sense, but hell it made sense to Valio and that's enough. She has grown used to Hatzume and her antics but she'd usually go to McDonald's or some other place, *Not a fucking bar*. \n\n\"They probably have considering you order them non-stop.\" \nValio looks at hatzume grabbing a glass a patron had left empty and started to clean it. Valio's face scrunched and then it eases to a soft smile. \n\"They don't have alcohol. I could give you a virgin Shirley temple. It's what Esme orders, I'm familiar with it.\" \n\nValio tries not to snort but it's quite hard considering Hatzume is looking at the glass of cider like it ran over her dog. It's just a drink, it's not going to kill Hatzume... Valio hoped. \n\n\"Don't worry about it. You're fine, consider it an early celebration really. It's non alcoholic.\"\nThe cold condensation dropped down Hatzumes fingers. Valio hummed looking at the bottle of cider before looking at hatzume. \n\"I'll make sure it's on the house, don't worry.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "She moved the locks of bright purple ringlets out from her eyes, as to look at Valio better with those bright red eyes of intrigue and wonder, the expression that somehow showed that everything on this earth was exciting to her, one way or another.\nEven the barstool seemed to get her buzzing, she questioned quietly whether or not it spun, and with a jolt of her body and a look of pure betrayal, she realised they didn't in fact spin.\n\n\"Shame... They're the cheapest ice cream aside from the stuff in the kitchen though so!-\"\nShe tapped her hands against the counter rapidly, seemingly not caring about any sticky residue off the bottom of people's drinks over time\n\n\"Esme!! I like Esme, she's my friend!- i trust her judgement\"\n\nA free drink, is a great drink, in Hatzume's eyes anyways- she let out a fervent 'woo!' of excitement at the notion. Her leg bounced as she eyed up the beverage"
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "It's funny how Hatzume looks more like she belongs to being parahuman compared to others. It was certainly an insanity to Valio. She didn't know how much more her vision could take of the bright colours that stained her sight. \nShe looked at hatzume with a questioning stare as the girl in question looked disgusted by the fact the stools didn't spin. They literally couldn't spin, or there'd be multiple drunkards plastered on the floor like paint. \n\n\"I know Hatzume, they're like crack to you. But how many you have of em is rather insane.\"\nValio would hope there wasn't any sticky residue, she cleans this place endlessly from folk to get so drunk they turn blind. \n\"Shirley temple, she's an actor. Dunno why there's a drink named after her...\" Valio mumbles the last part. \nThere are tons of people more worthy to have a drink named after them rather than actors. Like uhm... Okay Valio needed to give that some thought later. \n\"She certainly has good judgement to have you as a friend. I'll make one for you, considering you just like the cider because it's cold.\"\n\nValio begins bringing out a soda a tall glass, getting everything out for something she makes rather often. Is it weird that Valio finds it to be reflex now taking over?\n\nWell Valio isn't sure, why does Esme like this drink so much. Why does she come to visit Valio in the first place. She asks herself so many questions that her hands registered autopilot and the drink was already placed in front of hatzume. \n\nShe needed to get her head in the game. \n\"Why are you here Hatzume. Did something happen at the cradle?\"\nShe probes."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Hatzume struggled to wrap her head around the logic behind barstools that dont spin. They should spin, realistically speaking they are circular, circular meaning rotund and rotund possibly implying that it spins- but she jolted uncomfortably nonetheless, and would likely go to sleep sad about it.\n\n\"Well crack is expensive, mcflurries aren't\" She mused, head lying on the counter sideways now, she looked much more bored and unamused than she actually was- but hopefully Valio had realised at that point that she had a very serious resting face when thinking.\n\n\"Shirley Temple... Nice. I think I should have a drink named after me but it would be super sugary and uh... Hopefully blue and pink\"\nAnd all she needed for that was reputation, street cred if you're so inclined- she rolled her head a little on the counter with a newfound grin\n\"Uh huh, we paint eachother's nails-\"\n\nSlowly but surely, her head rose a short couple seconds after the drink was placed beside her.\n\n\"Uhh, nothin' that i know of- I'm here because i got boreddd and you're fun company! Plus i was thirsty\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio didn't know what to think of Hatzume. She looked distraught a misplaced in the bar. Is it because the stools don't move? Probably. She should close up anyway. \n\n\"People still buy crack anyway.\" \nHatzumes face looked as though she was aggravated, was she mad at the woman? Damn, she was just doing her job. \n\n\"If you had a drink it's be a small rainbow in a shot glass.\" \nShe left out the fact it'd probably get you drunk or hyper so fast you'd be seeing actual rainbows for two days but Hatzume didn't need to know that. \n\"You have cool designs or something?\" \n\nValio shifted to another patron taking their empty glass and giving them the bill of their drunken thoughts. \n\n\"I don't know about fun company... But, sure. And you were thirsty. Waters too boring for you, huh.\"\nValio eyes other patrons, making sure they don't cause a scene. She was still listening to Hatzume."
}
] | 259 | 2,621 |
289.636364 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "It was starting to get a little dark at the old town cemetery that any of the Newton kids barely visited. This was a pleasant spot for Malus to enjoy his time without encountering someone from the school. He sat up on a branch of an old oak tree where there were a flock of crows and ravens sharing different branches. They didn't care about his presence all that much since he was feeding them seeds or whatever snacks on hand. \n\nThe scorpion sting that he received days ago itched where the wound scabbed over beneath the bandage. He felt a little cranky since then without having a proper meal. The vitality that he craved was making his entire being just ache. \n\nHe was leaning against the trunk with his arms folded over his empty stomach. There was a sullen pout behind his white porcelain mask that sat snuggled on his youthful face. It was still trying to drizzle rain since this morning which got Mal to wear his yellow raincoat that was slightly bigger than his frame. He had his shovel leaning over his shoulder where he just perched silently. \n\nMalus is looking out ahead with his Kodama looking mask facing at the rest of the cemetery. He found the place to be very well-kept with the cleanliness and organization that left him impressed. Still, the silent welcome of the dead made him feel more at home than the living."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Taking care of the dead was not something you would see Gabriel Darius Trahan do on a normal day. \n\nWhy the New-Orleans born teenager would be walking around in a *Swedish* Graveyard was only know to the teenager himself— nevertheless, the out-of-place man strut around the graveyard, dressed in leather shoes, well-fitting grey plaid pants, and a white button up dress shirt. A worn rosary hung from his neck, alongside the spray bottle and towel in his hands. \n\n*This is stupid.* Gabe thought, his cheeks burning with shame. *Why do I think anything I do over here would help over there?* \n\nHis thoughts reek of too much emotion— a irrational, sappy attitude that would surely reflect poorly on anyone who would see him. However, it didn't seem like anyone was here to spot the teenager... \n\n...Until Gabe saw shoes dangling from the tree branch. He pauses, craning his head to look at the masked man and his shovel. \n\n*What the hell? What is wrong with you? Is this an honest-to-God grave robber?!? Man, and it's not even Sigrun. Color me shocked.* \n\nA million ADHD fueled thoughts race through Gabe's head as he stares at the other person, before he manages to croak out something to say: \n\n\"You're doing that *In the day?*\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus peered over the large branch that he sat on to see a very out of place character. It was a strong temptation to just fall on the strange in an Assassin Creed with his shovel. That wouldn't do him any good since he would be out-right committing murder. Another factor is that this weird man below would be too dead for him to drain vitality from.\n\nThe question itself from the person just said caused Malus to exchange glances with a nearby raven. Then he slowly turned his head to stare back down. That was on a healthy looking prey animal down there looking like an easy meal to drain life from.\n\nHe pulls out his notebook to scribble down a message in perfectly neat letters. This is what it says on the paper if Gabe bothers to open up the paper airplane that he threw down at him.\n\n*\"Hello, do you know sign language? I cannot really talk. Where are you from? What are you doing here at the cemetery? Usually I don't see kids creeping around here. Is there a dead relative that you're looking for?\"*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe *Glares* At the boy, but admittedly unfolds the paper airplane like an annoyed babysitter. He squints— *Shit, I should've taken my reading glasses with me*— before stuffing the paper in his pocket and resuming his glaring. A bit of evidence, if anyone thought he was simply exaggerating for attention. \n\n\"What *I'm* Doing here matters less than what *You're* Doing here,\" Gabe says, scoffing. \"You're a grave robber. I should be calling the cops on you instead of passing notes. And funny you're calling me the one creeping around.\" \n\nGabriel furrows his eyebrows at the kid's questioning. There was no doubt that Gabe was not the suspicious one here, after all— so why was he being asked questions?!?"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "He didn't like the stink glare that the boy was giving him. This place felt like it was his space where he at least got permission to spend his time at the cemetery doing volunteer work. \n\nNumbingly pulling out his cellphone he types on the screen to have the A.I bot to speak on his behalf. At least he picked an app that helps the bot sound less electronic. *\"You're quite the snob aren't you? Perhaps you're one of the Newton Kids?\"* He nonchalantly did a hand gesture like,\"Ugh, whatever\" Before returning back to texting.\n\n*\"I just finished doing volunteer work. If you have a problem with me being here on a break, you can go take it up with the groundskeeper.\"* As the bot continues to read out aloud, Malus shifts in his tree now staring directly down at the person. \n\nDepending what they're going to say might depend on his mood and what he's going to be doing to this person. A debating thought that gnawed on his brain deciding whether he should prey on this weirdo or play it nice."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Volunteer work.* \n\n\"Yeah, show me an ID or something. There's no way in Hell I believe someone would hire *You.*\" Gabe leers at the man, looking him up and down with grossed-out eyes. \"And there's no way you're not at the Cradle, either. You couldn't look less conspicuous. At least try to fit in if you're going to be pretending to be a normal kid.\" \n\n*Quite the snob, he said.* As if, and Gabe scoffs, tousling his curly hair with a strong, dexterous hand. *Someone needs to tell this scene kid you're not a snob for taking clothes from somewhere besides Hot Topic.*\n\nGabe debates doing anything to the tree, but decides against it. He'd rather not commit assault— in Sweden, he knows how *That* Would look— and the kid didn't seem like he was going to attack him with his shovel... Yet. \n\nGabe crosses his arms anyway, making sure to show off his muscles. He's worked hard for them, after all. \"Can you get down already?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "There was an unpleasant vibe leaking from the other below who looks old from Malus's perspective. Maybe they're at the edge of graduating in their young adult years, that is much that the masked kid could assume.\n\nThe way the older man crosses his women beater arms was a sign of intimidation with how he is showing off their muscular arms. Malus was a short, scrawny kid in comparison to the bigger and stronger looking male. He wore a Grave Crew cap, a big yellow jacket, jeans, steel-toed boots and work gloves. The only thing that would stand out would be his mask and shovel.\n\nNow he wondered if he asked Barric to beat this man up, would he do it? That would be rather concerning and funny at the same time. He wouldn't want the farmer kid to be getting involved with his fights.\n\nMalus felt stung by the look that the man gave him which brought back a lot of unpleasant memories. The stink glares he received from his mother and his siblings. Then recalling how other highschoolers would look at him like a freak without his mask on. \n\nHow could he not look less conspicuous with the ugly scar slashed across his throat? He has striking light gray eyes, light skin and dark hair that makes him naturally stick out. The clothes he got were mostly from second-hand stores or outfits that his grandmother and dad would buy him. \n\nMalus ran his tongue over his fang in thought, deciding that he should just take out his edge on this unlikeable stranger. He was only sitting up on this tree with his avian company until this prep-looking man approached him. Then started to accuse him of being a graverobber that left a sour taste that caused him to scrunch his nose behind his mask.\n\nMalus removed his work gloves to have them neatly folded into his raincoat pocket. With great defiance and disappointment, he shakes his head. Deep inside his DNA it screamed for him to chase this man out of the cemetery or drain his life force. The battle between the two instinctual factors is frustrating due to him being a mixture of two things in a human body. \n\n*Fuck it.*\n\nHe hurled the shovel like a javelin that pierced the rocky path that landed a few feet in front of the man for a distraction. The shovel stood upright still with the spade embedded in the ground. The crows and ravens let out annoyed caws when they fluttered away from Malus's sudden movements. He quickly morphs into a small black cat made of shadows that wore the same white mask. Since he is new with his powers he isn't quick enough to properly meld himself into the shadows until the next of his turn."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe is quick. He scoots his foot back from where the shovel would've landed, but otherwise doesn't dignify the show of defiance with a response. \n\n\"Not exactly something a person on the clock would do.\" He snarks, a bite present in his voice. It was becoming more apparent this mysterious character wasn't someone employed by the cemetery, but they didn't seem like a *Threat*, more an edgy kid from the Cradle who was acting out. \n\nSo... Well, Gabe did what he did best. \n\n\"Thanks for the shovel.\" Gabriel smiled. With one fluid motion of his muscled arm, he takes the shovel out the ground and swings it over his shoulder. *Let's hope no one starts thinking I'm suspicious now that I'm the one with the shovel,* Gabe thinks to himself. \n\nWith shovel leaned against his shoulder, Gabe turns to leave, whistling a Southern tune all the while... A tune only *Slightly* Hindered by the smirk on his face."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "In her more feline, shadowy form all Malus could do is just let out a fanged yawn. There was a nonchalant look in his glowing eyes. On the shovel there were writings on the handle written in a sharper that is stating that it belongs to the staff in this cemetery. \n\nWith the others turning their back to Malus had given him an opportunity to go behind the trunk of the tree to hide out of Gabe's sight. He melds his body into the shadow dimension where he swims through the darkness, moving through the laws of shadows.\n\nHe'll continue following Gabe until he walks under the shadow of the tree. His next plan is to quickly travel through the shadows to sneak into the man's pant leg. Then sneakily have himself be half-ways out from the shadow so he can make contact with the person's ankle. This is how he manages to steal life sustenance from his prey.\n\nEven if this doesn't go his way of how it should happen, Malus would have to improvise another way of obtaining food from this stranger. He's fed up with poshy preps like this guy had left Malus feeling moody. The wind blows the tree branches, causing the shadows to shift for momentarily. He miscalculated and it cost him to port suddenly on the shovel handle. Clinging to it in his blob form with his white mask felt very awkward. He dangle from the handle bouncing up and down like a yo-yo, realizing that he did a mistake. Slowly panicking, the best thing he thought of is making a little arm pointing at the address on the shovel. At least trying to get this posh to bring it back to the groundskeeper location."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Oh,\" Gabe says, looking at the shadow creature point at the address. \n...\n***....***\n**Wait, what the fuck?**\n\nGabe, after a sudden delay almost certainly brought by his naturally high tolerance for the oddities that occur at the Cradle, drops the shovel as if the handle started burning. \"What in the Sam *Hill*—\" Gabe yelps, his Southern accent no longer being masked at the surprise. \n\nThe man takes a moment to collect his breathe, re-tousling his hair to its prior position before he jumped in fright. \"I wasn't going to leave with the damn thing,\" He adds, grumbling a bit. \"Just don't throw *Dangerous shit* At people you don't want to hurt.\" \n\nGabe pauses slightly. \"And if you *Do* Want to hurt other people, then do it with your chest puffed out.\" He crosses his arms defensively, the musculature of his arms pronounced in the pose."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "His glowing pale eyes widen when he sees Gabe let go of the shovel's handle. The globs of his form developed into a snail's skirt that clung onto the object. He felt himself falling into the cobbled path where he turned into an inky blotch, making a rubber duck squeak from the impact.\n\nMalus recollected his jelleton form in shape of a blob with feline ears. He didn't mean to make a cartoon arm with four paws like fingers. He felt around until his appendages touched the cool porcelain mask. Quickly smacking it back onto his face, Malus develops a second arm as he pulls up his tiny fists. It looked comical seeing him this pathetic, small form that looked harmless.\n\nHe knows that he screwed up the chance to try to drain this man's life energy. If it weren't for the branches moving from the wind, he would have gotten him good if it weren't for the shadows shifting. This is why he usually prefers to hunt during the night than the day.\n\nSince there's no point trying to get a snack out of the person's life, Malus decided to try to reform back into his usual self. Instead, his shadowy form just flatten out into another inky puddle writhing in appendages, random maws filled with teeth before eventually falling flat again.\n\nIt took him another try until he finally developed into a normal looking 5 '4 foot lad wearing a white mask, a yellow raincoat and Grave Crew Hat. Being up close Malus was difficult to distinguish his gender due to being shorter with a androgynous skinny build. He is unaware of the fact that he is difficult to tell at first with his long hair tied in a messy ponytail with tufts of hair growing from the front of his ears. Some may assume that he could be female from his petite build. Across his neck is a horrible scar slashed across his throat, showing that he is indeed a mute. \n\nNo matter how he appeared, Malus looked very weak from not eating much and gaining enough life sustenance. He picked the shovel up by its handle, dusting it off where Gabe touched it with his sleeve to wipe away the cooties."
}
] | 232 | 3,186 |
337.944444 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "This isn't an insane idea.\n\nActually, this is crazy!\n\nMalus couldn't understand why he is taking part of this as Barric's accomplice. This could get them in so much trouble if they were to be caught. He had to do some investigating at the downtown library to borrow a computer. His paranoia about using a program at Newton Cradle felt sketchy with the deans keeping a watch on everyone. He paid a lousy 25 cents for the map of the area and wrote down bus schedule along with payment. \n\nHe had to get his bot to explain to Barric about this all to ensure that if they're going to do this, they're going to have to do it correctly. Of course, Malus is going to be dressed right for their misadventures.\n\nA good pair of old boots, gloves and a scarf to hide his nasty scar across his throat. \n\nWhile adjusting his coat collar, his A.I bot was speaking on his behalf. *\"You know it's going to be a long trek back to Newton's Cradle before the curfew, right? We may as well have to hoof it to get here before they start fussing over our absence.\"*"
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric was excited. \n\nNo, actually, he was absolutely ecstatic. He couldn't sit still in the cold leather seat of the bus.\n\nThis hadn't been what he imagined his day to be. Well, he thought and said that a lot at Newton's, didn't he? Either way. This was an unexpected turn. Learning that there were actual farms near Newton's let alone someone had successfully stolen not one but multiple chickens from one just lit his brain on fire. There had to be one with a few cows. And he had just missed home so much he just wanted to *See* One.\n\nBut then that snowballed. Now he had a bunch of rope hidden in his bag. Malus had a map, and they were on their way to cure Barric's homesickness in the most extreme way possible. \n\nMost dairy farmers had dozens, if not hundreds, of cows. One missing wasn't a big deal. That's what he had been telling Malus since they'd gotten on the bus. \"Yeah, I know, but cows they can move fast with some *Encouragement*.\" Barric assured Malus, his leg bouncing up and down. That's why he had a brick in his bag. Well, not just any brick. A salt lick. The cows at home went crazy over those and he wanted to get his new pet something nice to welcome her to her new home. \n\nThe bus pulled to a stop and before Malus even had the chance to stand up, Barric had grabbed ahold of his arm, dragging him off the bus. He didn't really have any stealth trespassing clothes, so the best he could do was wear a hoodie he had *Borrowed* From someone. If that someone knew that he had, it was unimportant right now. \"Just stay calm. The more you panic, the more that could go wrong.\" He grinned, turning away from Malus and letting his wrist go walking into the woods of towards the nearest dairy farm they had found. \"Cows can sense your emotions! The more you panic, the more they will!\" Barric shouted over his shoulder in a singsong voice, practically skipping his way through the trees."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus had no idea what Barric was planning to do. He thought that they're just going to go visit some animals on a farm and hurry back to Newton's Cradle. \n\nOddly enough, he wasn't wearing his white porcelain mask. The kid had a young, handsome face with striking light gray eyes. On the left side of his cheek there are scars left behind by his former stalker back in Canada. Half his face was mostly hidden by the collar of his dark jacket that hid his mouth and nose.\n\nThe reason why he is doing this is to help cure Barric's home sickness. The other bit is just curiosity and adventure is what brought him out here in the middle of nowhere.\n\nWhen the bus had nearly halted, Malus let out a grunt when he felt himself being dragged along by the older boy. His boots barely touch the metal floor as he skedaddle along hastily. \n\nThe next thing he knew was that he was standing on the side of the road, watching the red bus pull off as it grew smaller in the distance.\n\nThen he turns to see Barric already making way into the forest ahead. In a slight panic, Malus hurried after the older boy. Nearly tripping, he flailed a bit as he ran across the small brushes before grasping onto a nearby tree to steady himself. \n\nHe couldn't really communicate as he just gave Barric a deadpan expression. Then the look on his face shifted to complete surprise.\n\n*'WAIT!? WHY DO I HAVE TO HOLD THE SALT LICK!? WHAT!?'* Mal's thoughts just exploded. He continued to hurry after Barric, almost looking half panicked. Now he's really unsure what Barric has in mind now."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric skipped ahead, humming happily to himself. \"You gotta walk faster, Malus. We wanna get this done as fast as possible.\" The farm was quickly approaching and he could barely contain himself. As they stood in front of the fence, Barric clapped his hands together, letting out a loud cackle. He turned to Malus, his grin ever present. \"You ready?\"\n\nBarric tossed his bookbag over the fence. It wasn't a very tall fence. Not that much was needed to keep cows in the field. But it made Barric and Malus' mission ever easier. Well, Barric's mission and the mission that Malus did not know he was taking part in. The boy clambered over the short fence, landing on the other side. He yanked his bag off the ground and wandered towards the herd. Barric's moves were slow and purposefully, trying not to spook any of the animals. \"Hello...\" He murmured to the cows. He had to remain calm around these animals, unfortunately.\n\n\"Malus!\" He hushed whispered to the other boy who was still making his way over the fence. \"Get over here! Help me find one that doesn't have a calf.\" Barric wasn't interested in taking care of two of these animals and babies were a lot more work than their mothers. Even if they were so cute and Barric could easily, just carry a calf back to Newton's. He glanced around the grazing and laying cows, checking for a baby underneath or near them. He pointed at one that stood not too far from the group of laying cattle grazing on the grass. No calf in sight.\n\n\"That one.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "He just made it by a tall skinny tree where he rested his gloved hand on its trunk. The frail looking kid was huffing for air, trying to regain his breath after a hurried trek. \n\n*\"Wait... Barric, what are-\"* Malus's thoughts paused as he then saw the farmer kid climb over the fence. *\"Really!? I thought we're just going to see the animals and go back!?\"* Even though no one could hear his interior voice in his head, Malus was sure loud with his thoughts.\n\nHe mouthed,*\"What!?\" With a confused expression at Barric who was calling him over. There was hesitation before he reluctantly climbed the fence. It felt like a bad thing to be crossing over into the threshold now. \n\nWhen seeing all these cows just minding their business was just enough to make him feel more uneasy. He walked over by Barric wondering what's the point with the cow not having a calf? \n\nMalus was walking until he suddenly felt his boot step on something large and squishy. His gray eyes looked down to see that cow shit had wrapped around his foot. \n\nA sour bile rose from behind his throat where he just clapped his hand over his mouth. \n\nGag!\n\nHe just walked away from the doo-doo on the ground trying to scrape it off on the grass. Malus kept gagging as he weakly walked away from Barric. Still gagging, he was wandering off until he had to stop where he rested his hand on something for support.\n\n\"Bleeeaarghhh!\" And he just doubles over vomiting plain water that he drank on the bus. He doesn't realize that he has his hand resting on a cow while he is getting sick next to it. The animal doesn't respond to his presence like it doesn't care."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric smiled at the creature that stood in front of him. \"Hello girl.\" The grin on his face grew sickling large. He just wanted to scream and jump for joy. This was just what he wanted. This animal was going to be his place of home while he was so far from it. Barric turned to Malus to tell him to come help, just to see him stumbling away. He watches as the kid leans over on a cow in the distance and hears the faint sound of vomiting. Putting two and two together wasn't hard at the moment. Had the kid never seen manure? \n\n\"Malus, have you never seen manure or something?\" He called out, staring at the kid part way across the field. \"We do it! You should know the animal has to do it somewhere too!\" There was a light, teasing tone in his voice. He smiled, turning back to the cow. \"I don't think he's ever been around one of you.\" Barric murmured, pulling the backpack to the front of his body. The rope was pulled out in no time and Barric began working it into a lead like shape. \"Malus! Can you go open the gate?\" The farm seemed large enough that he didn't have to whisper, but he would not test his luck by screaming at Malus. \n\nBarric lifted his hand, running it through the cow's fur. \"Aren't you a sweet girl?\" He cooed, letting it lick the tips of his fingers. Likely tasting the remits of the salt lick on it. \"If you work with me, you'll get the whole salt lick.\" He promised quietly. Barric looped the final knot on the rope and held it up towards the cow's snot. He slowly pulled it around the snout, tugging the hanging rope to tighten it enough to not hurt the cow, but also not allow for the rope to slip from its face. \n\nHis hands reached up behind the cow's ears, scratching them. This would be his little item of home so far away from it. He just had to get it back to Newton's. Barric stood tugging on the rope slightly. The cow took a moment to follow but slowly began its trek towards the hopefully open gate."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Oh no. \n\nOh no, no.\n\nMal had seen manure before. The fact is that he stepped on a huge cow shit that just happened to wrap around his whole foot. It made him feel sick to his stomach; reminding him of dog crap. \n\nWhen he noticed where his hand was placed, the young kid quickly pulled it away. Even though, hands are all gloved, it felt as though the beast's hide burned through its covering. He meekly walked away from the large animal. Making sure to carefully walk away without stepping on any more cow turds.\n\nUnlike Barric who is having a cloud-nine moment, Malus is very close to just running off from the field to go cower in the woods. \n\nAnimals were never his thing.\n\nAs of now, all he could do is timidly walk past the cows as he now stood by the gate. Now staring at the metal latch, the young kid is now contemplating his morality. \n\n*'Why am I doing this? It's just going to get us in a whole heap of trouble if the feds knows of this,'* Malus thought, still staring at the latch. *'It's nice to see Barric being this happy. But is his happiness worth all this trouble?\"*\n\nHis gloved hand began to move closer toward the latch and it paused for a second.\n\n*\"I'm not getting anything from this after spending my time persevering through this ordeal. I am not even qualified to be caring for such a creature like a cow. I'm not even sure if Barric could afford looking after one?\"* \n\nWhile his thoughts are being spoken internally, Malus's hands just move on their own by unlatching the gate.\n\nHe blinked before using his cleaned hand to facepalm hard in regret at what he just did."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric appeared behind Malus the cow following closely behind on his heel. He slapped his hand onto Malus's shoulder his grin softening. \"You okay?\" He asked glancing down at the kid's shoe. Barric felt a bit bad for the ruined shoe biting his lip he continued to speak. \"I'll get you new shoes or something.\" He murmured walking past. The cow followed closely behind as he made his way out the gate. Barric waited for Malus to follow before closing it and latching it. He may have just stolen one of this farmer's cows but he didn't want the whole herd roaming the streets. \"So.\"\n\nBarric stood in silence for a moment, looking between the cow and Malus. He went to say something but closed his mouth the last second, continuing to look between the two. Finally, he seemed to find his voice again. \"I know this isn't what I said I was going to do. But I didn't really lie to you.\" Okay, that was another lie to start over. \"Okay nevermind I did lie about what I planned to do. But I didn't lie about being homesick.\" How could he make this any better? \"I just kind of downplayed how homesick I am. BUT I have a plan.\" He made a gesture towards the cow before continuing.\n\n\"I can take care of it and there's a set of abandoned buildings outside of Newton's that I'm sure would make a fine place to hide the cow.\" He let out a loud breath before continuing. \"So please don't be mad and I really need your help getting her back to Newton's.\" He practically begged Malus."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus seized up from the sudden hand impacting his shoulder. His arms pulled up against himself, feeling his dark hair bristling. Then after realizing it was just Barric and not an angry farmer, he relaxed a little as he held his hand to his chest. His heart was thumping still even though he knew that they hadn't been caught yet.\n\nHis mouth slightly stretched into a grimace as he held his hand up to keep the cow's snout from invading his space. He did a long sidestep to put space between him and the massive animal beside Barric.\n\nHe followed along already getting a feeling that this is going to be a long walk back to Newton's Cradle. When the older kid paused to glance at him and the cow, Malus would fold his arms with an unamused look.\n\nHe didn't look convinced by Barric saying that he didn't lie at first. It was dead obvious with what he recalled what they planned. The lie stunk as bad as the cow shit beneath his boot. When they get to Newton Cradle, Malus is planning on throwing them away in a bin to burn. \n\"Nyuuughhh...\" Malus grunted, turning his head away with a displeased look. \n\nThe inside of his throat still stung after straining it from upchucking his water. Today it really sucks to be him to be going out on this misadventure.\n\nIt's never too late to turn this cow around and put it back where it came from. The thing was never theirs to take from the beginning.\n\nThe more begging from the puppy-eyed Barric was enough convincing.\n\nHe then gave in with a tired sigh as he waved them to come along as he starts his trek through the woods."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "\"Don't shake your head at me. I didn't do anything *Too* Wrong!\" He shouted after Malus as the kid began to walk away. Barric tugged at the cow's rope, following closely behind Malus as they entered the woods. Once catching up to Malus, he started talking again. \"How long do you think I can keep her before they notice? I mean, I know the deans will notice but everyone else. Do you think they'll remove the cow? It's not like they can return her. There are thousands of farms around here and she isn't even tagged.\" He rambled his hand, traveling to the cow's head again, petting it. The cow didn't have an ear tag from what Barric could see and that was the only real way of keeping track of livestock, at least in his mind. \n\n\"Did you know cows can live to be 20 years old? The oldest ever was almost 49 years old. Most don't live past five though due to becoming too expensive and at that point they can be harvested for meat. She's a dairy cow, so I doubt her life would've been any different. She seems pretty young, though.\" Barric wasn't really paying attention to if Malus was listening or not. \"They were probably trying to breed her. All the other heifers out there had calves. Did you know heifers are what they call female cattle? The boys are the bulls. Those ones are the ones that usually die first in the production process cause they can't produce anything else besides meat and calves.\" Barric grinned as he spouted off more and more facts about the animal. \n\n\"Heifers about to give birth actually have a term for them. They're called springing heifers. Which is what like 99% of those cows in that field probably were a few weeks ago. Those calves didn't seem super old. I saw a few that probably only were born a few days ago.\" He murmured, looking back in the direction of the field. The field is now being gone from both their vision lines as they continue through the forest."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus seem to be half listening at first when he focused more on scrubbing his boot clean against the ground. At least getting most of the manure off the bottom of his foot. He still hasn't changed his mind about burning them later. The large access fat of information was starting to give him a mild headache. As Barric continue rambling on, Mal fished out his cellphone to have the bot speak out his text.\n\n*\"The students in Newton Cradle are curious and adventurous creatures, considering by their age. They will get bored and would want entertainment. It depends where you will hide the cow. Make sure not to have it anywhere near or directly on school property. Don't be telling anyone about the cow or how I got involved in this. Never brag about it on the intranet. If you want to keep her safe and hidden, make sure that no one is following you to her location.\"*\n\nHe didn't stop walking as he kept the same pace. What the deans would do to the cow is questionable. The most that he can think of is calling animal control or turning her into hamburger. Considering by his situation, they might give her to him to drain her life dry. The thought of murdering Barric's one joy relating to his home made him uneasy. The more he thought about his deathly powers, Malus realize how much of a monster he really is. A kid who turns into a shadow that can drain life by a single touch.\n\n*\"Make sure that the cow gets fed and plenty of clean water... And shelter. That's as much help that I can offer.\"* He was mainly saying this to keep his mind away from his problems. The pollen in the air was beginning to make his throat feel sore. A few times he had to clear his throat. Removing the glove, he fished out a package of honey flavoured cough drops. He unwrap the yellow cough candy and pluck it into his mouth. Then he pockets the wrapper to properly discard it later. He notices that his nails had grown pointed like claws as he slip the glove back on. He had trimmed them a few days ago and they're already growing in."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric hummed, practically skipping through the woods, the cow trailing behind. \"I don't plan to. Only one who knows right now is you. I might tell Akvile later on when I get her more settled in.\" He hummed a random tune, continuing to skip through the woods. \"I don't expect any help to take care of her. I've taken care of cows my whole life. I think I can manage one. Honestly, figured you would've bolted as soon as you seen what I'd been up to.\" He honestly figured Malus would see what was happening and just leave Barric alone in his plan. I mean, they had just trespassed and stolen a cow from some poor unsuspecting farmer, but it was for a good cause. At least in Barric's mind it was. \n\nThe next few minutes were filled with nothing but the crunching of leaves and sticks underneath the boy's boots. Barric paused as the cow began to slow. He yanked on the rope a bit, trying to encourage her to move forward. The cow seemed stubborn in the moment and had chosen to sniff and nipping at the ground instead of moving. Barric sighed, pinching his nose. He had accounted this but not for this to happen this early. Barric silently stared at Malus, the cow standing still close behind him. He let out a loud sigh, moving the backpack to the front of his body. Barric searched through the bag for the salt-lick. \n\n\"I didn't want to bribe her to move so early on our journey. Can you hold this?\" Barric didn't listen to Malus' answer before placing the rope in his hand. The salt lick was pulled out of the bag soon after the grin reappearing on his face."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Malus walked silently with mostly quiet steps when he traverse through the forest. He kept his eyes ahead to avoid having to look at the massive beast behind them. Conflicting thoughts nipped at his brain as he remain silent. Brewing in disappointment and annoyance that they had just stolen a cow. Malus didn't appear to show any signs of emotions other than a resting dead pan face.\n\nWhen he heard the clumping hooves stop, Malus glanced over his shoulder at Barric and the creature. It stood there nibbling on some grass as Barric tugged at it move. It didn't budge a cow muscle. Before he could protest against holding the rope; it's already in his gloved hands. He knows well if it decides to make a bolt, the power of this beast could easily drag him behind.\n\n\".......................\" Malus's mind finally fell silent as he gave Barric a tired look. They still had a long trek ahead of them. Mal knows they will break curfew by arriving late at this point with the cow lollygagging behind them. Malus tug the rope on the creature to try attempt it to move as Barric takes out the salt lick."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric ignores the look Malus gives him and offers the salt lick to the cow silently. The cow lifted its head, staring at the salt lick being offered to it. The cow took a few steps forward, reaching its snout out to the brick. It slowly licked the long side of it before pulling back and licking its lips. It took a few moments for it to go into another lick. Barric took a few steps back, trying to see if she would follow him. The cow tentatively took a few steps with him licking the salt lick all the way. \"Yeah, just keep following me, girl.\" He murmured, beginning to walk again. He shot a grin in Malus' direction at the sight of his plan working. \n\nThe walk back was quiet. Every once in a while Barric would spout off a fact or point out a behavior in the cow and explain it, but it seemed mostly silence between the two. Barric figured Malus was kind of upset with him after Barric had lied to him about his plan. He understood why. He couldn't blame the kid for being upset with him. He would be too if he was in Malus's shoes, but that didn't stop him from talking the kid's ear off every dozen or so minutes.\n\nAs they approached Newton's campus, Barric turned to Malus, another grin on his face. \"We still have an hour before curfew! Come on.\" He pulled Malus' free hand with him, pulling him into the woods. \"I don't know if you've been out here. I found these a few weeks ago when I got here.\" As they exited the forest into a clearing, they found a small set of abandoned wooden buildings. There were maybe five of them still standing, the rest falling victim to the elements. \"This one has a fenced-in backyard. Come on.\" He pointed at one directly to their left, continuing to drag Malus along with him."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The thick, long pink cow of the cow trying to stretch out for the salt lick had caused Malus to mostly semi-run through the woods. There were a few times that he had to ninja his way over shrubs without causing himself to fall. He still held the rope that was still tied to the massive animal's neck.\n\nHe felt like he got a good trivia of cows when they reached this part where he would gladly ditch the beast somewhere here. Now his gloved hand being gripped by the older boy, he was stumbling on his feet trying to keep up with him. By the time that they made it to a bunch of abandoned homes, Malus was feeling pretty exhausted from the trek from the farm. \n\nStill being dragged along with the roped sin in hand, the cow stomped along with them with its heavy hooves. **\"Moooooooooooo,\"** It let out a cowish sound.\n\n*\"I can't wait for this to end so I can go hide away and forget about all this,\"* Malus thought, his eyes half closing. He was still trying to keep up with Barric while the cow hurried behind them. His lungs felt freshly cold and sore, making it slightly hard for him to breathe through his scarred throat.\n\nWhen finally stopping wherever they are, Malus would slip his white porcelain mask back on. Since its an hour to get back to Newton's Cradle, he felt that necessary to have the veil on."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric grinned, pulling open the gate. He reached out for the rope, taking it out of Malus' hands. \"I think I can keep her here. At least for a little while.\" The here being the backyard of one of the buildings that Barric had led Malus to. The building looked as if it was standing on its last leg, but it was enough to keep the cow in the area without any worry of the creature escaping. He dropped the rope on the ground, slowly leading the cow in with the salt lick. \"Come on, girl.\" He murmured, leading her further into the fenced off area. \n\nOnce she took her final steps into the area, Barric dropped the salt lick gently onto the ground, distracting the cow for a moment. Once she went for it, happily licking at it, Barric stepped around the animal, leaving the area and closing the gate around him. \"SEE!\" He practically screamed, looking back at Malus. \"We have an hour to get back to Newton's and the cow is secure.\" He clapped his hands together, grinning at Malus. \"AND! We weren't caught!\" He added excitedly. There was no sign of anyone noticing the duo's crime yet. In Barric's mind, at least if there had, the two would've been arrested already. \n\nHe leaned against the fence, staring at the creature inside. \"When I wake up tomorrow, I'll come feed her and stuff.\" He looked back over at Malus, a hopeful look in his eyes. \"You wanna come with?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "A crime that Malus never wanted to take part of but ended up doing anyways. He watched Barric do most of the work luring the huge beast into the abandoned building. He was so done with this unexpected turn of events. He waited outside not wanting to be under the same roof with the cow. When he was alone, Malus pull the collar of his jacket to sniff it; it smell like cow. His nose scrunched up in disgust behind his mask.\n\nThen Barric arrived screaming out from the building, causing Mal to get jump. When being asked to come with him to see the cow tomorrow made his shake his head. It was a loud \"No Way!\" Gesture.\n\nMalus was already going walking backwards like he wanted to escape. He wants to drop all it to go wash his hands clean from this incident. The young kid was already making his way back toward the direction of the school grounds."
},
{
"author": "c1nderz",
"message": "Barric watched as Malus practically sprinted away from him and the building. He let out a little chuckle. \"I'll take that as a no.\" Barric took one last look back at the cow sniffing away at the grass. \"I'll be back tomorrow.\" He gave the cow a little wave and turned to follow Malus back towards Newton's."
}
] | 353.5 | 6,083 |
101.576923 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*\"It's odd...\" The 14 year old thinks as she looks around her hospital room, just a few hours after she was taken in and hooked up for recovery*\n\n*She's conscious and **Barely** Able to move, using her vines to try to help get her some water to help her recover along, fueling her plants that are throughout her body*"
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "[tiff] She's surprisingly quiet. Easy to miss. Who would've thought?\n\nHer arms and torso are covered in bandages, and she's leaning forward so her elbows are on her knees. Think of it like the sticker included in this message.\n\nShe jolts up hearing Penelope's voice, wincing and bringing a hand to her side as she does so. Looks like she's staying sitting. She drags the chair across the floor to be next to the bed, though.\n\n\"Er- hey! You're- up! Good. That's good.\" This is awkward already. She's been here for the past half hour, waiting. Feeling guilty, mostly."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She looks over and notices tiff finally, but she quickly looks away in shame, but not from seeing her injuries, but from looking the winner in the eyes and having the knowledge that she would've been made fun of for trying to fight this brute while she's still so scrawny*\n\n\"Hello...\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "Tiff frowns. \"You- did *Really* Good. You should be proud of yourself. And I...\" She grimaces. \n\n\nShe's not going to make fun of Penelope. Penelope... She feels a sense of protectiveness, almost. She didn't give up. Ever. \n\nAnd that's good.\n\n\"..Went too far. I'm-\" *Sorry.*\n\n\"I went way too far. You're *Really* Strong, actually. I bet you could take down another one of the students *Easy.* Just... One closer to your level. Like- a lot of promise. You have, I mean. A *Lot.* Potential. Yeah.\" She's trying her best.\n\n\"I mean, c'mon, I was on the verge of passing out! That was awesome! You gotta train more so we can do that again.\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"On the verge isn't enough though... You were just able to keep tanking my hits like they were nothing, only towards the end where I used my vines a lot were where you started going down...\"\n*She sighs, but then immediately winces with the inhale. Doesn't change the fact that she's still disappointed in herself.*\n\n\"I guess I should've chosen someone on my level... But it just goes to show how useless I am in combat... My hits must have felt like you were getting hit by twigs...\"\n\n\"And, before you try to say you're sorry again, there's nothing to be sorry for. I'm a Twink, you're like a 2 ton truck. I shouldn't have even thought about it...\"\n\n\"It's more my fault than anything.\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "\"Yeah, cause I'm *Trained.*\" She laughs. \"That's why I tanked em! I'm *Trained*.\" \n\nShe doesn't like Penelope's talking bad about herself. Her hands ball into fists as her knee starts bobbing. It's not right. Penny did really good! \n\n\"And seriously! You did serious damage! That wall? Bro. That was *Awful* To scale. I only did it cause the adrenaline.\" \n\n*2 ton truck.* Not entirely inaccurate. \n\n\"Look. In a way, you still kinda won, I mean.. I could take out a normal person in one well placed hit- probably. Maybe. Yeah, no, yeah I could.\" Patting herself a little on the back there."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She thinks over being trained by her while she talks about it... It would've been a better idea in the first place, but obviously I do need it just so my body doesn't snap over the tiniest hits*\n\n*Even while she's turned away, you could see that smile creep across her face as she just listens to you try to figure out if you could one shot someone*\n\"I guess that wall idea was pretty good, are you okay from that, by the way? From any of that?\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "The smile makes her grin as well, if a bit nervously. Her knee bobbing slows to a stop. \n\n\"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. I mean- serious damage- but we're all good now. *All* Good.\"She tries to reassure.\n\n\"And you'll be all good too. Soon. I hope. Uh. Yeah, yeah, you'll be all good.\" She really hopes that's not a bluff. Or untruthful. That would be unfortunate."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"I um... I always recover. I... I should be used to losing at this point, but it always stings... I know I would've lost, I had that overwhelming chance I would've lost, but I kept going anyway...\" *She seems to be starting to just talk to nobody in particular. She seems like she won't care if you don't listen*\n\"At least you were able to get another win under your belt, even if it's just against a child who... W-Who really needs training...\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "Aaaand her grin is gone. She can't feel good about this. There's no way she could. Sure, she can have mean qualities, but she's not *Cruel.* She just... Saw the weakness and... Lost it. She didn't want to.\n\n\"We both kinda need to learn our limits, I guess. Stubbornness. It's like accepting defeat is gonna make you worse but it... Eh. I dunno. I see defeats as opportunities to improve, but I still uh.. Struggle with knowing when to stop and... Stuff.\" Man emotions are hard. She's trying.\n\n\"You'll do better next time. And we'll do something smaller than an all out brawl. You'll be better in no time! I've been doin' physical training since I was like... 8? No- 8 was when I did karate. Well- does that count? Yeah? *The point is-*\" She forces herself back on track. \n\n\"I'm 17, you're 14, I've been doin' this for a while, you haven't. But I bet you could get as good as me by the time you're my age. Just gotta work for it!\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She looks back to Tiff, a small smile on her face from hearing her words and hearing her trying to be so something other than the tough bull girl*\n\n\"If you'd like, when I recover, we can try to do some actual training next time instead of *Just* Sparing. I have a feeling that you feel really bad about putting me into this state...\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "She grins widely. Woooo!!!!\n\n\"Yeah! That's great! We'll start small, build your muscle! And if you're really serious, I can help with like- diets n' stuff. It'll take some work but you'll be great in no time!\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She'd chuckle a bit from seeing that smile, knowing that would've made her happy before responding*\n\"I don't think anything dietary will be necessary, photosynthesis always feeds me well enough, haha. But, I'm totally down to build some muscle!\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "\"Huh? How does it feed you- Nevermind.\" She's just pulling a blank. Being dumb. You know. The usual. She's glad Penelope doesn't hate her or anything. That would SUCK.\n\n\"Do you eat meat? Protein is really helpful and stuff.\" She eats meat! A lot! It's... Probably nearing unhealthy but it's fine-"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*I move my shirt from my shoulder to show the thick vine, maybe even root that is very much piercing my body and making itself at home there*\n\n\"This, this is what's photosynthesizing and feeding me. And I do eat meat on occasion, not too often though\"\n\n*It's definitely unhealthy how little meat I eat, but it might just be that I'm not a fan of meat in general*"
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "Tiff jolts a little at that. \"Oh shhhhh...\" She stops herself before cussing, clearing her throat. \"..Wicked.\" \n\nShe has so many questions.\nDoes it hurt?\nIs it normal?\nIs it dangerous?\nBut she can't really ask them. She scratches the back of her neck and looks away. \n\n\"That's- *Cool.*\" She can't stop herself from asking at least one question. \"Does it- you know- *Hurt*?\" \n\nDoes it move? Does it, like, have a brain of it's own? So many questions..."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*In her (off screen) interactions with others who've seen it, she knows the pattern all too well, something along the lines of \"Does it hurt? Are they able to be removed? What does it feel like?\" Etc etc.\n\nHer expression says it all though, the same expression that Tiff would most likely give to someone else if they asked about her features. Or about her parents*\n\n\"No, it doesn't hurt, no, I can't feel them anymore, they've basically just become another part of my body, if they get removed they would just grow back, they haven't been dangerous to me for years, and it's just a concequence of my powers. Does that answer all your questions?'"
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "\"Uh-\" She looks at her, then away, embarrassed. She should have known that would be the answer. Good. Good. Cool. Fun.\n\n\"That's- cool. So you weren't like, born with your parah... Para...\" She can't remember the word, and waves it off because clearly it's not a big deal anyways. \"Your powers.\" \n\nShe was born with her abilities, not in their full forms but were *There.* She never considered that some people weren't born with theirs. That they had to encounter them over time."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"I was not, quite literally just showed up one day crashing through the window. Although that would've been a doubly painful birth if I was, hehe. I'm assuming you were? You seem like the type to have been born with yours.\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "\"Yeah, I was! My horns grew in and stuff, obviously, but it wasn't something that changed like- more than... Dunno.. *Puberty?*\" Is that right? Maybe her ox traits were just- weird puberty?\n\nYeah, seems accurate. She's probably right. She's usually right.\n\n\n\nShe chews the side of her cheek for a moment. \n\n\"D'ya think it tried to find you? Like- from the beginning?\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She thinks for a minute... She's never really considered that to be an option...*\n\n\"I... Don't think so? I have no clue what it's deal was... I know it's sentient at the least, or at least partly so.\"\n\n*Her vines happen to move a bit on their own as she says this, slowly seeming to continue on their path that they've already set*\n\n\"Stuff like that will occasionally happen, I've been known to grow a rose randomly from the vines from time to time...\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "\"That's cool!\" It is cool, but... She's not really able to process the information that well. \n\n\"Uh- hey. Want anything? Like- candy or something? I have some cash on me, I could pick something up for us.\" She stands, but do to her slouch she's 6' and not 6'2 like normal. Still very tall. \n\n\"Plus I need to make it up to you annnd what better way than chocolate?\" She grins."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*To basically nobody's surprise, the child can't help but smile and accept the offer*\n\n\"Sure! I-I might still be stuck here in bed for a while still though...\" *She adds, a bit sad*\n\n*She can tell that she is starting to overload tiff with information and words, kinda toning it down for now*"
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "Tiff ruffles Penelope's hair, mostly gently. It won't do any damage, but it also may not be entirely pleasant.\n\n\"You'll be fiiine. You heal fast. Hey. I'll be back. I'll get us some uhhh... Hersheys..? Cookies and cream?\" That's her favorite flavor and she will fight for it."
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She'd giggle a bit and shrink down a bit when you'd ruffle her hair but she does flinch a bit and hold her ribs*\n\n\"Cookies and cream, all day cookies and cream. Especially with ice cream. Best flavor hands down next to vanilla ice cream.\""
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "[[wanna end interration or time skip to after candy grabbing?]]\n\n[[immm gonna end it for now i think this is a good spot wooo they share candy!]]"
}
] | 95.5 | 2,641 |
648.277778 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*[DISCLAIMER: little of this is healthy/well-adjusted. Mboy is Going Through It and his ridiculousness is not to be romanticized. Drink your therapy, go to water, take a nice walk maybe <3]*\n\nThe night is dark and stifling in the mess of covers and sweat and nauseating heat that Owen found himself wide awake in. The noise in his head, slurred and chaotic, hadn't stopped. Of course it hadn't. His skull was a radio losing its signal, the music and chatter stretching and clashing together, the volume only growing in contempt for the dying batteries. \n\nHe let a strangled groan escape him freely in the dry darkness, trying despite himself to not think of why he was untangling his limbs from the heavy blankets, why he was feeling around for the shirt he had tossed across the room a few hours prior, why he was grabbing the keycard that most certainly wasn't his. \n\nThe channels switched rapidly and spewed static into his vision and his chest- he knew that no tapping or humming or the like would mellow it out. Laying still at least gave the illusion of calm; pulling the tank top over his head, climbing the stairs in the dark, fiddling with the handle, those all called attention to the molten rivers hitting whitewater in his exhausted body. \n\nAnd there lay Uriel. \n\nThere, nestled deep in their sheets, soft white curls framing their face like a sleeping fae in a storybook. Their arm had shifted since the last time he had done this, since the last time he had sworn off of it. No one to hold him to it now.\n\nOn their desk sat their water bottle, still full to the top, not quite as cold. On their bedside table lay their phone; he carefully unplugged it, wincing a little at the stack of messages that flashed across the screen. His. He was explaining where their keycard was, what had happened in the days they'd been gone. How much he missed them. *The last one was from a full day ago*. Another wave of needle-ridden nausea, and he placed it face-down once more.\n\n*Should he?*\n\n.\n\nReally, no. Really, he should go back to his room. Really, he should place a tablet of melatonin under his tongue and wait for his consciousness to dissolve along with the minty dust, into another day without them waiting for him. It was pitiful, how quickly he had crumbled. Pitiful how easy it was to sink into the static flooding his limbs, pitiful how dramatically his world had tilted under him the moment they had removed themselves from it.\n\nOwen was thinking things he shouldn't. The boy his mothers were so proud of wasn't this lost, this angry- the friend Uriel had waiting for them wasn't this exhausted, this scraped raw. He just couldn't be.\n\nThe familiar hot pressure gripped his face once again, pinching his red features, running down the back of his throat; the feeling ran its fingers along his scalp and over his shuddering shoulders when nothing else would as he desperately counted his virtues, gripping the back of the all-but-empty shirt that hadn't moved in far too long.\n\n*Pitiful, weak stray thing, curled up next to dead air. How many times have you done this, love? What good has it done you?*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "In a completely white void sat three things. \n\nTwo were red strings, nearly an inch apart, cutting across the empty room like a horizon. They didn't have name tags on them, but the resident sitting criss-cross on the ground could tell which was which simply by running a hand against their surface. One, *Mattias Gates,* The other, *Margo Killjoy*. \n\nThey laid still, at peace for now. No disturbances, no vibrations— nothing that would suggest an external influence had colored the beings who pranced around in the waking world. Perfectly still, just like Uriel, hands still stained in soot and lighter present in their hand. \n\nThey watched, and time passed. \n\nAs they watched, unblinking and unwavering, the edges of the dream solely began to denature. Uriel's tightly woven world began to unravel at the seams, as the ringing static and loud whispers began to creep closer and closer to where the teenager sat. *Leave*, the whispers said. *You can't continue this for long— it's already been four days. The lack of water has already weakened your strength and lessened your control.*\n\n*Do you want to die here, Uriel Melançon?* \n\nIt was a simple question, and yet they paused, sitting still, manually sucking down a breathe in a world with no oxygen. Uriel was about to answer, when... \n\n*A tug.*\n\nSomething tugged against their back, and their weakened control *Snapped* Like a shoestring, unravelling the remaining bits of their handiwork around them, tumbling and tumbling like a ball of yarn falling into a deep, unforgiving abyss.\n\n—\n\nGrey, tired eyes blinked open for the first time in four days to the sound of muffled sobs. Snow-white eyelashes were heavy with sleep and *Fatigue*, the strength in their body completely sapped from their weakened, unused muscles. \n\nSlowly, Uriel's neck cranes to look over at the familiar, warm presence pressed against their back, catching a glimpse of red hair. \n\n\"Why... Are you here?\" It's curious, *Confused.* Their voice crackled, barely choking out more than a whisper as the rust on their unmoving body made itself known. A cough, than two, sounding like harsh gears grinding against one another, or nails on a chalkboard. The sound of *Rust*, of dried vocal chords and harsh re-awakenings.\n\n\"You're crying.\" Uriel said, pausing. \"Why? Margo and Matti... They're not dead, or controlled. Did— did something else happen?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"I-I don't know about- I don't know! Y-yyou. *You-*\"\n\nA handful of sentences, strangled milliseconds after conception, fought their way out of Owen's mouth. The chatter grew louder still, all reason without the necessary rhyme; another sob shook his frame, and he lowered his disoriented and heavy body to the carpet from its already precarious position. It would be a little ridiculous to stay there, now that they were awake.\n\n\"Why- why'm I-\" He choked, eyes squeezed shut. \"Four days. *Four days*, you *Left*, y-you left me-\"\n\nThe radio static coalesced into words, haphazard and shaky. It spilled out fast, but it had been ramming against its cage of nonexistence for far too long to stop now.\n\n\"Without a w-word, Uri. I c-couldn't even *Read the note*, had to ge-get F-Fin-Finley! Have you- did-did you even- you didn't even text me!\"\n\nHe was a stammering mess now, the childhood speech impediment working itself too well into the heavy spasms wracking his chest. The next piece had to be torn from him, coming out in barely more than an agonized gasp.\n\n\"Y-you sw- you said we would stick together, you said-\"\n\n*Gulp.*\n\n\"*You left me here and I was so worried and you didn't eat or drink or *Move* Or ff-feed the animals or-\"\n\nA pathetic kick at the ground.\n\n\"You jus-just left me.\"\n\nOwen curled further into himself, fingers tipped in chipped black polish digging into his scalp and his arms on the level just below pain. His power, reacting to the distress, pushed insistently at his skin; another wave of frantic nausea rolled through his belly, the ever-latent fear of it rushing out to cause its pain joining in the horrible rush of white-hot chatter.\n\n.\n\n*Selfish, pathetic, out of control*, he screamed into his own head, stinging with the realization of how hopelessly stupid this was. He could've fallen asleep if he had lain there for another few minutes. He didn't have to come here and break down, in this room that he was (suddenly, and vividly) aware was *Not* His own, over what was probably a routine occurrence for them. *Did he know anything at all? Did he think, even once, throughout his entire life?*\n\nOwen pulled himself together (the best he could, at least) and fixed his eyes on Uriel's tear-blurred form once again. His face, or what was purposely visible of it from behind his dishevelled hair and raw, sensitive hands, was red and hot and streaked in salt water. The dark smudges under his eyes were darker than Uriel would remember, made more dramatic by the low light. \n\nStifling a whimper and a remark he would most certainly regret, he waited for them to explain themselves."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You're—\" \n\nUriel sits up, propping themselves on their arms to some difficulty. They turn to face Owen, shaven legs dangling off the side of the bed. \n\n\"I... I left you?\" Uriel's head begins to swim as they echo Owen's sentiment back at him, the foreign, unexpected words rolling off their tongue and taking seconds to process fully. Whatever they were expecting Owen to say, it wasn't *That*— but as they ponder what else he could have said, nothing else seemed more uniquely Owen than what was unfolding in front of them. \n\n\"No, I— I kept you safe, I quarantined myself away, I made sure not to hurt anyone with my feelings or be a distraction or lash out or—\" The justifications they had for locking themselves away in that bright-red cage seemed to break and crumble apart while repeating them to the grief-stricken, damaged Owen. The words left their lips, and Uriel's ears grew hot with shame as they realize, suddenly, how *Foolish* They were. \n\nWhat did they think, all those days ago? *Fall asleep, and they'll breathe a sigh of relief to deal with one less wrench in the machine.* A voice had whispered to them. *Slumber, and relieve yourself of those evil, twisted feelings.*\n\n*Fall asleep as an uncontrollable, afraid beast, and wake up an enlightened man.* Foolishness. Weakness. Cowardice.\n\n\"No, I... I left you.\" They barely croak out, a horrified expression growing on their face with the realization. \"I left you, and I promised I wouldn't.\"\n\nUriel took a good look at Owen, opening weary eyes to properly *See* The boy in front of them. He was shaking, wet tears pouring out of his eyes and tracing the contours of his red face. He looked... Miserable, the bags under his eyes making Uriel let out a pained noise in sympathy.\n\n\"I'm so sorry.\" They exhale, and— \"I... I can't believe I thought something so foolish. I— I am *So, so sorry*, I—\" Uriel stifles all the instincts they have to hold the other close to their heart and relieve Owen's heart with a hug— their usual strategy when Owen was upset, thrown completely out the window now that *They* Were the source of his pain. \n\nGod, they *Hurt Owen,* And the panic accompanying that fact made Uriel freeze in place. Panic, adrenaline seeping into their bones and making their hands shake and snaking its way into every vein, every artery, every cell that made up the fleshy *Thing* Uriel piloted in their waking hours.\n\nA silence, as Uriel's wide eyes watch with horror at the damage they caused. *Do something, don't leave him again,* Something says, and they shakily grab the (suspiciously full) bottle of water on their nightstand. \n\n\"You're—um, you should... Your throat.\" Uriel timidly offers the bottle of water to the emotional, crumbling mess of a *Friend* They abandoned."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "For a moment, Owen stopped his sobbing to look at Uriel with the most incredulous look his face could muster. And then, a *Very* Slow blink.\n\n\"Y-you. Haven't drank any water. In *FOUR DAYS.*\"\n\nHe raised a hand to shove the bottle back toward them, a little harder than he usually would. A piece of him wanted to rattle them a little further, but that thought was swallowed up by the chatter like a tiny boat in a storm. He could hear their voice, rusty from disuse and dehydration; upset though he was with them, all the months of care he had built up for them ached when he heard it. *It sounded like it hurt..*\n\nThe mess of a boy sat back as he let their waterfall of apologies run through his head. Did it feel pleasant, like cool water running down the back of his neck? Or was it an insult, half-formed reassurances meant to keep him and everything he gave to them close by for a little longer after the inevitable? A cat and a dog fought in his chest; one physically ached to lean into them, to bury his face in their arms and sink into safety, and the other, skittish and wounded, wanted to pull into a dark alley and lick its wounds in solitude.\n\nAnother pitiful sniffle clamoured its way out of him, one overwhelming wave crashing over his tiny raft giving way to another.\n\nHe felt something around the soft part of his torso, just below his ribs where all the squishy feelings were, harden. For once, he didn't focus so much on his shield acting of its own will- he felt naked, feverish skin exposing his nerves clawed to ribbons, and a shell didn't feel half bad.\n\nIn his shell, he shut his heavy eyelids and again reached for the knobs on the radio.\n\n*The other times he had felt like this.. They didn't usually apologize. Not sincerely, anyway. He hadn't minded, not really, had he?*\n\n...\n\nThe rest of their words sank in, bit by bit. *Selfish, wallowing in salt, how could he ignore the rest?* They thought themselves a monster, a coiled serpent, an accident waiting to happen again and again and *Again.* That was something he knew. Through his shirt, he touched the crystal around his torso, and through his tired yet startlingly bright eyes, he saw the look of sheer terror painted across Uriel's face and he knew it *More.*\n\nThere it was again, the vision of soft pillow down trailing along in the breeze, caught up in the whispers. It made him want to scream, to put his fist through the window, to ||crack open his skull and relieve the pressure.|| \n\n*That thought wasn't really his, was it?*\n\n\"W-we could've, *Fuck*, Uri, I was s-so worried,\" He coughed up, unable to bear the silence. \"Icouldntevenreadthenote, I,\" He tried again, tuned to a channel that did little other than repeat and repeat and repeat. *They could have worked this out together, they could have been supports, they could have leaned on him, of course they could have, they could have cried and screamed and torn everything apart if only to catch each other in the end..*\n\nOwen again lifted his head, and did something unexpected- as he scanned their wavering face, his eyes found their deep grey pools and stayed there. He wasn't aware, but the tiny veins in his scleras had become flooded with ether, glowing a low golden orange; his deep brown irises turned almost crimson due to the light, his pupils pinpricks.\n\n**They revealed a deep sadness, locked in a chest beneath the roiling sea, anger that slept fitfully as it fought for breath below his heart, and a scared child holding together a wound that had been open for far too long.**"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "They meet Owen's faintly glowing eyes, and instantly feel the wind rush out of their lungs as the emotional equivalent of a frying pan clocks them in the jaw.\n\nUriel *Felt it*, the all-encompassing sadness, the torrent of emotions all vying for their turn at the wheel, whirling in a chaos that raged and screamed and begged to be known— the worst was the *Vulnerability*, old wounds that never quite healed correctly re-opening at Uriel's betrayal. *Betrayal*. A funny word, a horrible one, each syllable toying itself in the inside of their cheek making something in their stomach flip. \n\nTheir vision blurs. Uriel looks down at their hands, and watches silent tears slide against their clenched knuckles.\n\nAh. They were *Crying*— it certainly didn't feel as if they were, but the tears dripping like rain onto their legs proved otherwise. Besides the time with Margo, they couldn't remember the last time they wept so openly. It was long enough where the emotion spilling down their face felt strange, a shell feeling things it shouldn't.\n\n\"I...\" They take a moment to semi-collect their thoughts, only now noticing the feeling of wet against their cheek. \"I hurt you like this?\" Apprehensive, abject horror at what they've done fills their voice. Uriel covers their mouth to muffle a sob, breaking Owen's gaze to look down shamefully at their lap.\n\n\"It's no wonder you're crying. I... How do you manage to feel all of this and still stand...?\" Horror, once again; not towards themselves, but the realization of the magnitude of *Feelings* And scars that run down the length of Owen's spine and soul. \"I'm—I'm so sorry.\" It's barely a whisper, but the sudden empathy they feel for the teen constricts their windpipes, making the tiniest of noises into a chore to vocalize.\n\n\"These aren't my tears to cry, and yet...\" Uriel wipes at their face, brushing away the pinpricks at the corner of their eyes that always seemed to find a way to re-appear moments later, \"Why are they coming back?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Because it hurts, Uri,\" Owen assured with a strange clarity. *It hurts, it hurtsithurts*, chattered the static, currents pulling at his chest as his dear friend sobbed in their achingly quiet way because of.. *Oh no.*\n\n\"F-ffyc, I forgot ab-about your eye contact thing, I'm sorry for-\"\n\nHe shook as another wave crashed through his chest. They had seen it, and it brought them to tears- he understood, for a moment, why hiding away to process one's emotions for fear of hurting someone would be so appealing. Every sob sent the riptide jolting back, dragging him back under.\n\nSomehow commanding his body to move, Owen shifted closer to them, curling up in the space between the bedside table and their legs. A small space to fit himself into, close and comforting despite everything. He rested his head against the mattress, seeking to relieve himself of having to hold it up himself. Seeing his pain reflected on their sweet, cool features shook an important pillar holding him up. How *Did* He feel like this and still stand?\n\n\"Please, please don't.. It's not all you,\" He managed to squeeze from his trembling mouth. \n\nHe pressed his cheek into the sheet harder, and hugged his knees closer to his chest; as caterpillars spun themselves cocoons before their metamorphosis, and as cats found dark, quiet places to curl up when they knew it was their time, Owen sought comfort in feeling small, in being enclosed as he allowed something ugly and shadowed, thick and choking as coal smoke crawl up to his brain. \n\n\"I-I'm not,\" He started, the nausea becoming pain in his stomach. \"I'm not healing, am I?\" A too-quiet breath. \"It just keeps *Bleeding*, I-\"\n.\n\nA thousand things he could say, that would tear the rest of the blind stitches. Things that he refused to give form. Uriel had felt enough of his pain. They had *Blamed themselves* For enough of it, *Fuck*. He wanted to grab them by the shoulders and beg them not to, to look into their eyes again and drag up every bit of love that was just as intense as his sadness, all for them to bask in and never worry again. He could almost see himself doing that, in his mind's eye, his trembling body lifting from the floor like it weighed nothing and throwing its arms around them, carefree and content and stable. He admitted, in the swirling firestorm of his chest, that he loved them, he needed them, and would do just about anything to make them smile and laugh again in their odd little way that had become so dear to him.\n\nAll he could do, though, was sit in the crashing tide of static and noise, heavy and aching and so, *So* Tired.\n\n\"F-forgive this, you're a saint, you shouldn't have to deal with this- I missed you so much, I- I wound myself up, I don't know what to do when I worry this much. You were so st-still, and it scared me, I just..\" *Sigh.* He supposed his outburst here spoke for itself."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Please, look at me.\" \n\nUriel gently prods Owen's head up— the motion is gentle as they look to meet his gaze, a small, smile on their face. \n\n\"I'll take it—all of your emotions and feelings raging through your head, all the parts of you you're trying to say I don't deserve to deal with. I... I want to feel them alongside you, alright?\" Uriel whispers.\n\nTheir tears don't resume, even as Uriel looks into Owen's eyes. Like the waves of a tide, *Breathe in, breathe out*, one emotional swell granting brief reprieve before drowning their mental in the other teenager's feelings. The crest of a wave breaks against the shore, and despite foreign emotion wracking their body, Uriel remains stalwart. They let out a deep, steady inhale, anchoring themselves to the present despite the heavy tsunami of feelings threatening to whisk them away. \n\n\"Let yourself *Feel them*, without trying to bottle them up or excuse them away. You're— it doesn't matter whether or not you don't agree with their origin, you're still *Feeling emotion,* And you can't start the process to heal a wound if you pretend it doesn't exist, or shame yourself for getting injured.\"\n\nTidal waves crashing against their body. They suck down another shaky breath, and steel their resolve.\n\n\"I... I'm not a saint. I didn't think this whole thing through, did I? I— It's an old habit from my high school days, one I fell back into at the first sign of trouble. Back then. I'd—I counted down the minutes until I could be back in my own world and abandoned everything that was real. I nearly broke my relationship with my mother because of it. I— I lived in a world made up of reflections of myself, and I forgot to think about anyone else but myself. And I did it again, here.\"\n\nIt's not a pleasant admission, but one Uriel makes nonetheless. To properly heal, one must *Burn* Everything away first. A forest fire raging, devouring the landscape before new life springs from the dirt.\n\n.\n\n\"I just... I want to make you happy. I... I don't know what you want from me, now that I've gone back on your promise, but... I'll do whatever you need from me, even if you want me to never speak to you again, or—\" A shudder at that possibility, with no attempt to hide how horrible the thought of having their closest friend leave them because of their mistake. \"It's been about my emotions for far too long; my selfishness is what landed me here, so... I'll do anything to help you heal your aching scars.\"\n\nIf only Owen could feel their emotions, Uriel absentmindedly thought. Then he'd be able to see the extent to which Uriel cared about his happiness.\n\n\"Please, let yourself heal.\" Uriel begs the other."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Uriel's hand, cool as marble against the soft, fever-hot curve of his jaw, was a welcome interruption of the waves of hot pressure. He started to mumble a protest, but was pulled into a stupor almost comically quickly. Owen nodded slowly as his pinprick pupils traced down-feather eyelashes as he let them speak, letting the tremors come and go as they did.\n\nIt was bizarrely intimate, even more so than eye contact typically was for him- usually, it felt like prying fingers tickling his brain, a barrage of information flying at mach speeds in both directions; it was decidedly unpleasant, and he did his best to avoid it. This, though.. *\"I want to feel them alongside you, alright?\"* Alright. \n\nHe watched as they reacted to it, to *Him*, their breath hitching in time with the waves of nausea-inducing chatter.\n\nAnd he breathed, in and out, still unsteadily but much deeper now.\n\n*They were telling him something important.. This was difficult, wasn't it,* A gentler voice in his head murmured from its corner. A concerned hum rumbled in his throat when they turned in on themselves again, the curled-up boy still bristling at any hint of self-deprecation (the irony was not lost on him, but that didn't hinder all that much). Still, he followed the smoother currents of their voice as they reached their point.\n\nA heavy tired-dog sigh, to let them know he was still hanging off their every word, somehow everything he needed to hear. It twisted in his stomach for a moment, wondering when the other shoe would drop, when they wouldn't mean what they said anymore, but the last pang never came.\n.\n\nHe averted his gaze, a twinge of embarrassment not being something they needed to see. Besides- they had seen enough, hadn't they? It was *Intense*, that sort of embrace, the empathy that they offered him so calmly and freely.. It baffled him, how they could peer into what made him despise himself in the dead of night and still look upon his sniffling form with all their gentle sweetness in their eyes. \n\nThe voice that wondered if he deserved that was drowned out by the one that desperately craved it. \n\n\"Thank you,\" He croaked, wiping the slowing streams of salt from his eyes. Rising to his knees, Owen gave in to an impulse, wrapping his arms around their waist and pressing his face into the soft hollow below their ribcage. Something still yowled about weakness and pathetic clinging and sheer idiocy, but Uriel smelled like lavender and sleep and holy shit, *He was so happy they were back*. He couldn't help but snort a little, though, at their nervous backtracking. Yeah, this was Uri alright.\n\n\"This whole m-meltdown was cause-*Because* Of you not speaking to me,\" He grinned into their shirt. \"Haven't you *Just* Peered into my brain? Ah, what'll I do with you, Uri.\"\n.\n\nThe change in tone was a little jarring, but not unwelcome. His voice still wavered, his throat still slick with phlegm and crusted in failed sleep, the ripped stitches still littering the floor, but he had his dear friend back at long last. The smile pressed into them fell just a bit as he made himself hear the rest of what they had said.\n\n\"I.. I don't know what I need,\" He tentatively admitted. \"I ache, and, and *You* Ache too, and now we're both hurting. It's.. It's worse when we try to.. When we pull away, isn't it. Maybe, that's a feeling worth listening to?\"\n\nA dry gulp. It was another uncomfortable truth- they were both hurting, and they were hurting *Each other* Like this. In the clarity of his post-cry exhaustion, Owen thought he saw what might need to change.\n\n\"We-we'll do this together? *Really*, this time?\"\n\nHe wanted nothing more in that moment. They had something to prove to him, something tangible, and he swore not to let them slip away from it again. They were right, they weren't a saint- they were wounded too, aching and scabbed over wrong, and, *Damn it*, the stray puppy thing whimpering in the back of his mind was terrified of being alone.\n\n\"And please, um, drink some more water.\" A smaller voice, now, almost embarrassed. \"You're.. Probably hungry, and, um, haven't.. Gone to the can in four days, have you.\"\n\n...\n\nWhat was the point of even saying that if he made no move to let go of their torso?"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You... Ok, you have a point there. It was... A bit of a silly suggestion, hm?\" They laugh, relaxing into the touch now that the mood had lightened itself.\n\n\"Together... That sounds pleasant. I'll devote myself to you, then.\" *Devotion*. Uriel could do that, they think to themselves, toying with the fiery red locks of hair streaming from the teen's scalp. They were devoted to everyone, yes, but they could be devoted to him a bit more than usual, right? *Devotion*. Sticking by his side, no matter the events of the coming weeks, or the trials that plagued them both. A commitment to follow him where ever the world took the two. \n\nIt was a pleasant thought, one that made a contented hum sigh from their mouth. \n\n\"Would you like to pinky-promise on it, then?\" Uriel smiles at him. It was a gesture they used to do with their mother, whenever she'd leave the house to work one of her many jobs and had to leave them with chores to fulfill while she was away.\n\n*Never make a pinky promise you won't follow. If you break a pinky promise, you break your pinky too, my little lamb.* She'd tell them, gently cupping their face in her hands before leaving for the day. Uriel would nod, and dutifully carry out whatever tasks were asked of them with slight giddy— after all, it was a *Promise*, and their mom's look of joy when she'd come home to a clean house only made them smile wider.\n\nOwen brushes against their torso, and— a jolt of electricity running through raw skin, pressure brushing against the old wound that left an ugly, twisted dent running along the side of their stomach. Their shoulders hunch up, torso elongating to twist the still-sensitive scar tissue away from the redhead's cheek. \n\n.\n\n\"Ah—sorry,\" They murmur, \"There's, um, something there. \" Uriel gently moves Owen's head closer to their center, settling back into their relaxed position once the touch against their scar fades away. A small twinge of guilt— hopefully, Owen wouldn't take the motion as them turning away from him— and Uriel resumes running their hand through his soft, red hair.\n\n\"Oh, *Dieu merci*, you gave me the go-ahead.\" Uriel sighs in relief, hands grabbing the water bottle sitting on the nightstand before *Chugging* The damn thing for an excessive amount of time. *Surely, this wasn't polite,* The properly-hydrated part of Uriel's brain thinks, as the contents of the water bottle quickly disappear down their throat. They didn't particularly care, though, the sweet sensation of water dribbling down their parched throat too temping in its relief to care about restraint, and figured Owen wouldn't either. He wasn't their *Mom*, after all.\n\nThey wipe away the water at the corners of their mouth, and set the bottle down to where it belonged with a *Thunk*.\n\n\"I, ah, I can wait here a bit longer. It doesn't seem as if you're going to move.\" A soft chuckle. It was a... Bit of a white lie, the physical affects of being *Asleep for four days* Already catching up to them. Hunger clawed at their stomach, deep pangs of physical needs making nausea swim in their head.\n\n*Still*, Uriel mused, *Being here with him once again far outweighed that.*"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen was glad that it was dark, because the colour on his face when Uriel just.. *Said* Such fantastical things like river water pouring over smooth stones was one that burned at his skin from the inside. Flickers of muted red and gold ran beneath his skin as his head swam; that one word, devotion, *Devotion,* **Devotion**... He wondered if he was the comatose one, sinking into a state of saccharine reverie while the world passed on above him.\n\nMore hot tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as he let the sentiment fill him; dare he think it, everything he craved. As much as he shoved it down in favour of what was reasonable, even *Possible*, a wriggling need still nibbled at him, aggravated painfully by his separation from everything he knew and loved. \n\nBarely reacting as Uriel gently pried him away from a sore spot (something there? A mental note..), the befuddled boy squeezed his eyes shut as a dry sob shook his chest. \n\n*Fingers running through his hair and promises of devotion...* It scared him a little, how willing he was to cling to that, to them; he had been told many a time that all he saw were roses, that he was naïve, and reckless with his heart. Was that true?\n\nStill, though it scared him, didn't it feel so *Good*? Weren't things like this leaps of faith? The world needed love, he needed love, and Uriel needed love, so what was the good in tamping it down? Heartbreaks always healed, but the emptiness only gnawed. Was it about staying in the eye of the storms he weathered, if only to savour all he could from the bliss before it all crashed down on him?\n\nHe held them a little tighter.\n.\n\nDespite himself, Owen hoped that Uriel wasn't a storm. He knew by now that harsher winds and terrifying currents ran beneath their cool, gentle gaze than they would probably have liked him to know, but they held him so dearly (literally and otherwise), they had seen *So much* Of him and yet spoke of *Devotion* And *Apologies* And ~~*Playing with his hair*~~ as they murmured kind things into the stillness surrounding his trembling form. \n\nHis gut twisted with another pang of sea-urchin-bitterness. One more thing, before he leapt off the ledge completely. Carefully untangling himself from their torso as they (finally) chugged some water, Owen rose to sit next to them. His knees disagreed with being pressed into the floor for so long, and he sucked the air in between his teeth as he sank into the mattress next to them.\n\nSeconds wore on unbearably as they drank, the question that had returned to him becoming more pressing with every moment it beat against his chest. The shield protecting his torso from some unseen boogeyman crackled quietly, shifting over his ribs.\n\n\"Uri?\"\n\nA beat of silence as the built-up tenderness was tainted with an ugly, unwound feeling.\n\n\"W-why was your note in French?\" His voice shook, as though even his body itself didn't want to know the answer. \"Was-was it for Finley only? It was the only thing you left.. Why couldn't I read it?\"\n\nDeep brown eyes like black holes in the dark scanned sleep-dishevelled yet still otherworldly features for any hint at all. A small tapping noise filled the room, an errant foot venting the coiled nerves building up in the rest of him.\n\n*Please, Uriel, say something that won't sour this light guiding me through the tunnel..*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"My note...\" \n\nUriel takes the note they had written from where it laid on the bedside table, looking at the lined notepad sheet with newfound clarity. \n\n\"I don't really remember writing it, actually.\" They trace a thumb over the indents of the words, ones they'd written many times before. *I'm asleep,* They'd write in the past. *Don't wake me.* \n\n\"I... She left, and everything else was a blur, really. It was a familiar motion, one I've done many times before, so I just went into auto-pilot. I used to leave a lot of these notes for my mom. I suppose the French just came naturally to me, and I... Forgot.\"\n\nUriel lets out a tiny laugh— a laugh, and yet it's devoid of happiness. It's small and pathetic, and a bit self-deprecating. How could they respond to Owen's feelings? *I forgot about you.* It wasn't a good excuse, but it was the truth. They forgot about *Everything*, the world outside of their skin slowing to a crawl, the sphere of influence they had retreating until the only thing that existed was what happened in their head. The world was terrifying, and Uriel had turned a blind eye to it— and everyone in it.\n\n\"Isn't that a bit... Silly? I forgot how it might come across. For someone who can go into people's heads, I sometimes... Forget about how things might appear to others. It's... I'm sorry. For writing it in French, and for not giving you a warning. I should have done something else. I should have done *Many things* Different, it seems.\"\n\nThere was something else... Something else that was nagging at them, pinching and pulling at the front of their mind, stretching it like putty. Something important, something that Uriel was specifically told to remember...\n\n\"Forgot, forgot... *Merde*, Cosmo and Sadie! Are they alright!?\" Uriel's head *Snaps* To the side, eyes squinting (damn, albino vision, no they did *Not* Need glasses yet) towards the cage that contained the two reptiles."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*Ah.* Yeah, that sounded right, especially next to everything else they had said. Muscle memory was a hell of a thing, especially when distressed- he knew that well, his own body retracing the same ruts in the sand thousands upon thousands of times. There was comfort in routine, in knowing what came next.\n\nHe understood a lot of what they were saying, now that he was cooling off a little. Recalled how the time *He* Had done this had gone, how he had retreated and rotted away in his room, in his head for so long... He didn't feel the chill much anymore, but he retained the memory of the permeating cold.\n\nHe had sworn, sitting on the concrete floor with his fingers buried deep in the happy stray's fur, that he would never do it again.\n\nBut Uriel didn't see it that way. Granted, their internal world was very different from his, but.. They weren't as scared of it as he had been. They were apologetic, certainly, but the chill did something else to them, something he could almost understand but just *Didn't*. \n\n*Owen recalled hearing somewhere that when one's heart rate slowed too much while asleep, the brain sends a shock to the heart to jolt them awake. He would trip on a wire and awaken just before hitting the ground, rattled but safe and sound. Did Uri get that? Was there a failsafe in the realms they ventured into every night, or did they just keep falling through the floor?*\n\nWhen his own heart had stopped, it had been panicked and frantic, straining in the some 300 million volts that it was never built to handle. It had gone before he had, static in his chest, the last sensation of terror left before [...] with his ears ringing horribly and his eyes squeezed shut. \n.\n\nSince then, it had beat harder, he swore it did- and his veins ran hotter, his voice rang louder, the sweat prickled more insistently at the back of his neck. Life had been crushed back into Owen so hard that his ribs still ached, and the thought of tilting so far from it on *Purpose* Frightened him. *That was it.*\n\nA flutter of worry, irrational as those came, but alleviated by tuning back in to what Uriel was saying. A low hum in the middle of their sentence to say that he was still there- and then, despite the heaviness in his bones, the boy perched next to them laughed a little. It was about as honest as theirs was just then, but it felt a necessary sound to make. \n\n\"Yeah- ah, me and Amelie took care of them,\" He assured them. \"We found the instructions she left, but um, I'm glad we found them when we did. They're doing good, though. Just.. Lacking in mango.\"\n\nIn the dark, Owen could vaguely make out Cosmo's form, snoozing in his little spot. He seemed content enough. Sadie, who was less sure about him, was at least healthy. \n\nThe night wore long, and the boy sitting in the still mist that came after crying was again aware of how tired he was. Four days of fitful sleep, if sleep at all, was catching up to him. \n\n\"Uri?\"\n\nHe asked once more.\n\n\"Can I stay here tonight? You, y-you don't have to sleep i-if you don't want, you can go and, and stretch your legs for a bi-a bit but I just.\" A deep scratch along his scalp. \"I, um..\"\n\nTrailing off as he brought his legs up onto the bed, he watched the remnants of whatever that sentence was supposed to be dissolve in the hazy murk. He knew why he wanted to stay without putting words to it, and likely so did Uriel. \n\n*The sea must be heavy,* He thought, blinking slowly. *All that water. All those whales...*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You and... Amelie? I'd hate to have caused her so much trouble, considering how difficult it must have been to open the tank from a wheelchair. I'll have to apologize in the future, when I see her next.\" Their voice is a bit muffled, the sudden embarrassment creeping up their spine and making them talk into their shirt. \n\nAmelie... While Owen was not one to stay mad or hold a grudge, Amelie *Certainly* Was. A slight shudder— would they end up alongside Ares in the doghouse, forever doomed to angry German wrath delivered with the eloquence of Shakespeare?\n\n\"Now that you're not clinging onto my torso... Let me quickly, ah, use the bathroom, and get ready for bed. My morning breath must be awful, so I really should brush my teeth.\" Uriel's hands grip their fluffy comforter surface as they slowly slide off the edge of the bed, legs barely making contact with the ground before buckling under their weight.\n\n*Oh. Right, I weigh something here.*\n\n\n\n\"I'm alright, don't worry. That's, uh, that's why this is here.\" Uriel's fingers pluck at the soft, shaggy carpet, using the tendrils of wool tickling their face to emphasize the ~~safety net's~~ rug's use.\n\n.\n\nThey clutch onto the side of their bed, wooden bedpost acting as a temporary anchor as they slowly rise to their feet. Dusting off the aches of atrophy didn't take long; it was like riding a bike, you never truly *Forgot*, the rusted connections in their brain lighting up once the familiar motions took hold.\n\n\"Of course you can stay. It's been four days since I've talked to anyone else besides myself, so I would... Greatly appreciate your company.\" A large smile, barely visible in the darkness of the room, but present nonetheless.\n\n*Greatly appreciate* Wasn't nearly close to the true depths of how they felt. Owen's presence was like an *Anchor*, both literally and metaphorically. Existing in a house of mirrors, surrounded only by echoes of yourself bouncing around like sunbeams with no exit; rebounding faster and faster off of their own reflection, each refracturing of the echo losing *Something* In the process, the entropy undetectable in the moment but plainly obvious once Uriel took a step out their own head. \n\nIt was enough to drive someone *Mad*, seeing nothing but reflections of yourself in every wall, every floor, every sunrise, dusk, and dawn. And, they'd be hesitant to admit, it very nearly *Did*."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The soft, disgruntled *Thump* Of Uriel falling onto the carpet ruffled Owen a out of his growing cocoon of drowsiness a little. He'd seen them wipe out before, like a baby deer still learning where their legs were, but it didn't get much less jarring. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his mama's bugged him to help them up and putter about looking for injuries, but his brain and his reaction time were floating in a thick brew of molasses and melatonin.\n\nStill, he leaned closer as they got themselves back upright, outstretching a hand when they appeared to falter. Exhausted and unsteady and still a little hurt though he was, Owen did worry quite a bit.\n\n\"Yea-yeah, you go, I'll be, I'll be here,\" He murmured. Though he couldn't really see much, he could hear the smile in their voice. Something in his heart ached upon hearing it again, as though they were still gone and he was still missing them. *They're back, they're sorry, they're.. They're all sorts of things, aren't they...*\n\nIt seemed that his friend would have to back up their mind- swirling speak of devotion.\n\nIn the room by himself (well, and the reptiles), the hazy figure wrapped in a now-uncomfortable shell of faintly crackling ether flopped back onto the still-warm sheets. His legs hung off of the edge, but he habitually flung them up with the rest of him. He no longer feared the dark like he had when he was small, but he hadn't quite outgrown the age-old worry concerning monsters under the bed poised to nip at his heels; at least, not the muscle memory.\n\nHe spent his time alone in the dark breathing, counting, painting shapes on the ceiling with his eyes, attempting to untangle the lingering mess of nerves holding his shield outside of his body. It shifted, and made some *Interesting* Noises, but it didn't quite dissipate. A huff into the dark, as it became increasingly clear that focusing on it only made it stick around more insistently. He was far too tired for this.\n.\n\nSinking deep into the mattress, the boy let a quiet tune drift into the stillness. His voice was still shaking and streaked in mucus, but it was one path for his mind to follow, one melody to stand out in the cacophony. \n\nThe radio still chattered and changed frequencies fast enough to make his head ache, but the tense coils around his stomach loosened just enough to allow the dim red layer of glassy crystal to melt back through his skin. It still felt strange, if he focused on it; though he had adapted, the feeling of something warm and just.. *There* Working its way through his layers of muscle and fat to his veins was bizarre indeed.\n\nThe skin and soft matter below his ribs felt raw and delicate still, and so he let his arms flop back to his sides as he repeated the same verse into the night a few more times for good measure.\n\n*...Like a leaf that's fallen*\n*To the ground*\n*Carried by the flow of water to my dreams,*\n*And woken only by your sound..*\n\nMusic helped. It had always helped. With his stammer, with his restless hands, with the springs in his stomach, with making sense of anything and everything. It was a good feeling, a safe one, and he felt himself level out a little more with every familiar vibration in his throat.\n\nThe door clicked open again, and a smile crept across his face, delicate but genuine. A little lighter, now."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "./ sorry will respond soon!\n\nUriel had washed their face and brushed their teeth, taking longer than usual to do the tasks required of them— the swirl of water washing down the drain was a hypnotic allure to their tired eyes, as they attempted to will the water off for a solid minute and a half. \n\n*Ah, I forgot— it doesn't work like that, does it?* \n\nThey reached out with foreign, unfamiliar hands that didn't quite feel as if they were attached to their body, turning the faucet once again and shutting the water off. \n\nExiting the bathroom, walking down the hall— a familiar routine, something that would normally give Uriel pause. *Normally*, that is, the soft crooning coming from inside of their dorm room causing the hand hovering outside of the keycard to momentarily pause and retract itself back to their side. \n\n*Maybe I can wait until he's done*, Uriel thought, taking a seat at the foot of the door before waiting patiently until Owen finished his song. They shouldn't read into the lyrics, Uriel reminded themselves, but as the familiar (did he show them this song before?) words washed over their ears , muffled as they were, they couldn't help but cling onto the words coming from Owen's mouth like a lifeline, their breathing soft and quiet as the only thing they focused on became the teen's soft, sweet voice. \n\n*It really is a beautiful voice,* They idly think. \n\nIt stops, and Uriel remembers where they are. \n\nA shaky moment, their heart beating out of their chest— *He didn't notice them sitting outside, did he?*— before Uriel opens their door with unsteady hands and enters the dorm once again. \n\nWith barely a moment's hesitation, Uriel lifts the covers and climbs onto their bed, discarding several of their many duvets to accommodate the company that ran warm. A small noise, a pleasant contented hum as they went through motions they've done tens of times, and they settle in— wrapping an arm around Owen's torso, positioning their head on his shoulder and shifting the covers up to their chin.\n\n.\n\n\"Is this... Ok?\" Their voice was nervous, wavering slightly as they looked up at the other teen with large, pleading grey eyes. It was *Familiar*, yes, but was familiar appreciated after an incredibly *Unfamiliar* Set of events? \n\nIf Owen wanted to push them off, so be it— but in the moments between his response, they savored the warm, steady hum of the shield in his chest, and the soft rising and falling as he breathed in and out. The pleasant feeling of being held spurred a breathy sigh from them, digging their cheek further into the soft skin of his shoulder. \n\nIt was familiar in all the best ways. It was home, and Uriel surrendered into the feeling, letting the comfort consume them without a fight. \n\n*Did they deserve this?* Deep down, they knew the answer— but they were *Tired*, so tired, and questions about morality and karma and debt seemed to fade into the static buzz permeating their mind in the face of a prospect of a nice sleep. \n\n\"Your singing voice is beautiful, you know.\" They barely mumbled, the barrier between thought and words jumbled as sleep once again tempted Uriel. \n\nWas it odd, that after four days of unconsciousness, they only desired to fall asleep? Perhaps they were *Not awake*, yes, but they weren't sleeping, either— four days of consecutive power use had drained them of any energy they'd normally find by sleep, and the only thing on their lizard-brain was their warm friend's hauntingly beautiful voice and the overwhelming call of proper sleep."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen felt a murmur of heat bloom in his face when Uriel quietly puttered around, shedding the top few layers of their (frankly, impressive) blanket nest of a bed, and arranging themselves just so. His bones were heavy with all the sleep that he'd been chasing, finally *Relaxing* After being so restless.\n\nHe marvelled to himself, where no one could hear, how lovely it felt to fit together with another so nicely; their head curled into his arm, said arm around their shoulders, in just the right way that they'd figured out wouldn't cut off the circulation, the soft weight of their chest on his gently crushing the choppy, stressed riptides into smooth currents beneath his skin. \n\n*Was this really as 'gay' as the others had been teasing them for? Surely, at least, this couldn't be bad. Little else felt right; at least, righter than arms around his torso and blankets pulled over his tired body and soft breaths against his skin. That, he was certain, could be nothing but good.*\n\n\"Hm? Ah, yeah, y-yeah this is ok,\" Owen murmured. He could feel the rumbling in his chest as he spoke against their added pressure; it was neither here nor there, just something he noticed only in moments like these, on the edge of sleep and awareness where everything was quiet enough.\n\n\"A-a little closer, actually?\" \n\nHis turn now to be tentative, unsure. Owen knew he was always a little more enthusiastic about the physical affection, and tonight he just *Really* Needed to be held. He shifted slightly, his other arm wrapping around their back, pulling them closer just gently enough to allow them to wriggle away if they wanted to.\n\n\"Awh, y-you're a flatterer, you.\" The ghost of a chuckle, bubbly and childishly bashful.\n\n...\n.\n\n\"I'm s-sorry you had to s-see-wake up to that,\" He just barely whispered into their mane of white curls. He both wished they hadn't seen it, and was.. Glad that if someone had to, it was them. He had more to say to them, come morning, more to ask, more to work through, but in their quiet little pocket of nighttime, the only thing that reasonably mattered was them *Back again*, near-silent but alive, tucked safely into his side once again.\n\nAll sorts of pesky thoughts and complicated feelings and sore spots aside, the only thing left to do was sink into the blissful silvery haze waiting in the back of his brain. \n\n\"'Night, Uri.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "From the deepest echelons of sleep, Uriel curls in closer at the other's request, letting out a content hum at the arms around their chest. \n\n\"Don't apologize.\" They barely murmured into the other's shirt, the words coming out muffled from the fabric against their mouth. \n\n\"You do that too often. Apologize, when you don't have to, that is.\" Before those words could fully process themselves in Uriel's head, they turn the other cheek and let out a soft whine at the pleasant warmth. \n\n\"Goodnight, Owen.\" A small sigh, and they roll over, asleep.\n\nThis was nice. This was... *Nice*. As the thick blanket of warmth and comfort lulls them into a dreamless slumber (thank god for that. They hate to say it, but... They were a bit sick of dreaming, at least for a bit.) , an idle thought bubbles to the top of their mind, unobstructed by the filters of filters of colored glass that tinted their world view. \n\n*Why did I ever run from this?*"
}
] | 657.5 | 11,669 |
270.64 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel does not know what to do. \n\nIn their hand is a small gift. Their other is balling swaths of fabric in their fist, rubbing against the thick wool in an attempt at self soothing. \n\n*I must fix this. I cannot go on like this,* Is all that races through their mind. \n\nThey are frustrated. They are confused. A million emotions spill over Uriel like waves and taint their mind every which way, a cacophony of mismatching tastes and conflicting smells that clash at every moment yet coexist in an unstable harmony. \n\nUriel does not know what to do, so they have done what they do best. \n\nA gift lies in their hand. A small, woolen goat, the same color as Mimir's hair. \n\nThey knock on the door."
},
{
"author": "ewkaiju",
"message": "Mimir is tired. It's always tired. In one way or another, it's fed up with someone, something, somewhere, and it showed. It is not *Pleasant.* It is not *Kind.* It does not, and could not, care less. Everyone knows this. It is not a secret. The bags under its eyes are evidence enough.\n\nUriel cares too much. It has said this, surely, in one way or another. At this point, it has stopped wanting anything to do with them. They are a bad luck charm, attracting the ill will and ire of all around them, and Mimir was tired of them. It was a miracle in itself that Ares was around to tell it to stop talking to them earlier.\n\nIt is not her job to fix Uriel. They could cry and whine and politely text sympathy from others, but it wasn't going to work. She refuses to fall into the trap they set so carefully. \n\nA knock on the door... She wasn't expecting anyone. *Maybe it's Ares?*\n\nShe slides off her bed, feet fitting into her slippers before she hastily pulls on a pair of gloves, walking to the door and swinging it open, only to be greatly disappointed.\n\n\"Uriel, what do you wa—\" The goat. It's purple. *It's supposed to be me?*\n\nSilence fills the space between them, settling like a heavy fog that makes your lungs feel heavy. It stares at the goat, not giving Uriel themself any attention. What was this, a peace offering? Was this supposed to fix everything so easily? Anger starts to rise in its chest, heat filling its chest and hands. \n\n\"Are you kidding me?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"No.\" Uriel responds, equally as plainly and matter-of-fact. Their expression is a meaningless one, placid and empty in all the correct ways to avoid being seen as feeling anything in particular.\n\n\"It is a gift. I am showing my good will, and you do not have to accept it. I am just...\" Uriel drags their finger up their own chest, tapping above their heart once it is beneath their gloved fingertips. \"I am proving my good will is there.\" \n\nIf Mimir is tired, Uriel is equally so; It shows not in a bad mood like Mimir, but in the smaller, subtler things that litter their behavior. They move sluggishly, and look at Mimir with deep grey eyes framed by dark blue bags. Their reactions are stilted and muted; in fact, *Stilted* And *Muted* Are two words that could very easily describe Uriel in any possible mood they could find themselves in. \n\n\"I am...\" Their finger taps the spot bisecting their diaphragm once again, the rhythmic motions almost a steady heartbeat. \"I am giving you my best. Do not feel pressured to give yours in response.\"\n\nUriel knows she is angry. They do not care. Perhaps it is a godsend— it is much more familiar to them than Finley's camaraderie, or Owen's adoration. Anger is something they can handle, and so they do not fear."
},
{
"author": "ewkaiju",
"message": "Mimir likes to think she is in tune with her feelings. The she knows the inner workings of her brain, the compartmentalization of memories and expressions of emotion in them are like demonstrations for her to dissect and pick apart for the development of her own well-being. People are things to study, and while she wanted Uriel to serve as just that, they kept inserting themself into her life. Getting too close. Giving her their best. *Whatever that means.*\n\nShe wants nothing to do with them. It's something she's made so clear, or at least, she thought she had. Clearly, it wasn't working, because here they are, essentially groveling. Tired, sad, and pathetic. It makes her sick. \n\nThe silence creeps back into her lungs again, mixing with the heat making its way through her, the anger making her hands tingle under her gloves. Mimir inhales, slowly, eyes moving from the goat to Uriel themself. She didn't care if they could read her thoughts or whatever the fuck. She honestly hoped they would. It would make the words lands exactly how they should.\n\n\"My best?\" She sounds exasperated, offended. \"Uriel, I *Do not like you.*\" Surely, that's clear enough for them, but just in case, she continues.\n\n\"The way you talk about people makes me want to crawl out of my skin. The way you think changing nothing about yourself and giving me this item will make everything better makes me sick. I want ***Nothing*** To do with you. I thought maybe I had made this clear already, but if this is what it takes for you to finally understand that, so be it. You are a fool with no backbone, and watching you get walked over by everyone is exhausting. Your good will means nothing to me.\"\n\nThe words are venom, and she intends for them to sting. The anger only contorts her face more as she speaks, the normal, neutral-anger turning into something only a few steps away from rage. She's still, though, hands unmoving at her sides as she speaks to them. For the better."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Watching you get walked over by everyone is exhausting. You are a fool with no backbone.* \n\nDidn't Ares say the same thing? That changing themselves for others was what made them so insufferable?\n\n*Insufferable.* Their breath quickened as adrenaline surged in their veins. Uriel was once seen as a monster, and yet their attempts to combat that perception were deemed annoying and irritating by people who knew nothing about their life. *Insufferable,* Uriel's head echos. *Insufferable is not nearly the worst thing I could be.* \n\n\"You call me insufferable for being a doormat,\" The skin around their eyes crinkles in an emotion rarely seen on their face; it's anger, perhaps, or even disgust. It is hard to tell behind their steely irises. \n\n\"You could not handle me being anything but.\"\n\nIt is not a threat for Uriel. It is a fact, and they speak their truth plainly."
},
{
"author": "ewkaiju",
"message": "The expression molding itself on Uriel's face is new. If Mimir wasn't preoccupied with her own anger, she would be proud of herself for making the dream-weaver break their perfect little persona. It would be a thought for another time, surely, even if it was being drowned out but insults she could only dream of saying out loud. \n\nOf course, she does not think highly of Uriel, but she would not call her a monster. Why would she? They are the same in that way. Not a monster, but *Monstrous,* Capable of destruction like no other. The difference between them, though, was that Mimir was not scared of being so. She embraces it, uses it to her advantage. Uriel is a coward. Tries to hide it under pretty words. \n\n*You could not handle me being anything but.* She could laugh. In fact, she does, right in their face, hands balling up into fists. These gloves come off so easily, you know.\n\n\"And how would I know? How would *Any* Of us know? You spend so much time pretending to be this saint, someone who could do no wrong, Uriel. Being a doormat will get you nowhere. I figured you would know that better than anyone here.\" Her hands flex, fingers splayed as they come out of fists. \"You're *Scared.* Scared of what they think.\"\n\nThese gloves come off so easily. She could show them. Being monstrous was their fate. Don't they know that?"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Someone who could do no wrong...*\n\nBut they could. Uriel had the ability, if they so chose; they did not desire to be one incapable of harm, but a stalwart refusal of it. Uriel engraved their own commandments into the lining of their skull, and one stood at the top of it all: *This cycle ends with me.* \n\n\"You are wrong. I want to be someone who *Will* Do no wrong. I will not hurt others, not due to a lack of ability, but because of my own moral fortitude.\" Uriel felt a small smidgen of pride upon hearing their own unwavering voice. It seemed like Owen had rubbed off on them, in the best of ways— impassioned speech had became easier ever since they've been close to him, and the barrier between their mind and their heart that stubbornly blocked their feelings from bleeding into their words slowly shrunk with practice. \n\nUriel watches Mimir flex her fingers with their distant, grey gaze. They're less distant than usual, though— finally, for the first time in a while, it seems as if they're actually *Looking* At Mimir. \n\nIt's obvious as to what she is thinking. Uriel does not even need to meet the gaze of her bright, uncanny contacts to understand the dilemma in her mind. *To do it, or to not,* Mimir is pondering. *To use her power, or not.* \n\n\"You want me to choose violence. You want me to use my powers to prevent this, or in retaliation.\" Their soft voice, while delicately toned, lacks any inflection or visible emotion to make it sound less uncanny. \n\nThey blink, slowly moving their gaze from Mimir's hands to her face. An expression falls on their pallid face as they do so, their dark eyes searching for *Something*; it isn't in Mimir's eyes, nor the downward curve of her mouth, or the furrow of her eyebrow.\n\nIt is a fruitless search. They do not find what they are looking for, so Uriel opts to ask. \n\nHazy grey eyes look at Mimir, and the second emotion of the night falls upon Uriel's face— *Confusion.* \n\n\"Why are you so determined to bring me down to your level?\""
},
{
"author": "ewkaiju",
"message": "A backbone. Sprouted from where? It was a surprise, to hear Uriel advocate for themself like this, and for a moment, she wonders where it came from. But she knows. She is well aware by now. Does he know Uriel is doing this? Would he have liked the idea? Mimir leaves the questions, knowing damn well she will never get an answer. \n\nWhile Uriel's tone remained flat, their words methodically chosen, Mimir could not care. She had been working on herself. She had been trying to stay *Out* Of all of this. They don't get along. They weren't meant to, as far as she's concerned. *You want me to choose violence.* And what if she does? Life was easier that way, wasn't it? No man would have bothered to challenge her outside of physical action, retaliation with fists, grabbing motions, but she knew how to combat them. She knew the motions. This... This was a different beast. She never liked being spoken to like this. Not by Uriel, and not by anyone before them.\n\nGrey eyes meet pink, and Mimir knows exactly what they want. She doesn't care. She doesn't *Want* To care. The confusion on their face fires off a short feeling of satisfaction, only for it to be cut short.\n\n*Why are you so determined to bring me down to your level?*\n\nSomething shifts in the air. Her gaze becomes openly hostile now, and she takes a step forward, the space between them shrinking drastically. Bring them down? She scoffs.\n\n\"Uriel, believe me when I say I want you anywhere *But* On my level. I just get sick of seeing you get hit and then cry about it.\" Deflection at its finest, but what would she do otherwise? Start telling Uriel about her deep-seated issues? Dissect why she thinks what they said is factually incorrect? \n\n\"You,\" She raises a gloved hand up to prod into their chest, \"Make me sick.\" \n\nShe practically spits the words at them, eyes firey now. Maybe she *Should* Take a glove off. Make them feel her pain. See how they like it."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"If you do not want me on your level, where do you want me to be?\" \n\nThe sensation of Mimir's hand pressing into their chest is an odd one, and Uriel cranes their head down to stare at the foreign object touching them with an expression not unlike that of a fish out of water. Slowly, they reach out, loosely touching the sides of Mimir's gloved hand and flipping it palm-up. \n\n\"Is that where you want me? On the other side of your hand?\" Uriel asks, idly tracing the lines of Mimir's gloved palm with their other hand. There were palm lines under their finger, even if Uriel could not see them. Lines etched into Mimir's hand that could predict her fate, as mysticism had for-told. \n\nIf Mimir were to take her gloves off, would Uriel finally be able to see her fate? Would the underlying strings and knots of their lives be shown to intertwine again, or would they converge after this moment? \n\n\"Or should I be more than that? If you feel sick that I do nothing, would an action of mine be enough to appease you?\" \n\nThe words leave their mouth, and Uriel frowns. Their assumption is false, and the realization hits them. Mimir does not want them to be more violent, or less violent, or the same. The dreams and desires of the woman looming over them are nebulous, whimsical, and completely foreign to them. \n\n\"No. I am wrong.\" Uriel states softly, their eyebrows furrowing in thought. They let go of Mimir's hand, and stop tracing her palm. \"You want neither. You want something I could never hope to achieve. I am sorry for you.\""
},
{
"author": "ewkaiju",
"message": "*If you do not want me on your level, where do you want me to be?* The answer was easy. She wants Uriel to get the fuck away from her. She figures they would have known this by now. They *Should* Know this. Mimir is frustrated, angry, and confused, flinching when Uriel touches them. \n\nIf this had happened before, when Mimir first arrived, she would not have hesitated to rip her hand away in response, maybe even slap them, but something had changed since she settled into the Cradle. She'd gotten soft. Relaxed. Internally, she screams, trying to bring that part of herself back, step back into her dorm and slam the door on the dream weaver. She has no patience for this, so why was she entertaining it?\n\n\"I don't want you to *Appease* Me,\" She jerks her hand away, balling it into a fist, \"I don't want you to do anything for me-\" Mimir squints at them, watching them closely. \n\n*I am sorry for you.*\n\nAll at once, the screaming in her head reaches its climax, and a resounding SMACK echoes in the hallway as her gloved hand, now splayed, meets the skin of Uriel's cheek, Mimir's face bright read as the fury finally meets her eyes, contorting her face in ways Uriel had never seen. She doesn't wait a second before pushing them away from her, stepping back into her dorm.\n\n\"I am so sick and fucking *Tired,*\" She begins, volume in her voice raising, \"Of you and everyone here trying to pick me apart. I am *Tired* Of you trying to act like we're friends, that all it takes is a little sheep to make me like you. My brain is *Not* For you to pick apart. My motives are mine alone, and you have *Nothing-* ***NOTHING*** To do with them. Now get the ***FUCK*** Away from me.\"\n\nHer breathing has picked up in speed, her face red as she stares them down. Nothing was on her mind except getting them away from her. Hiding in her room for weeks. This needs to be over and done with."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Something familiar hits Uriel as Mimir does, their cheek stinging with a pain sweet and yet so terrifyingly numb at the same time. The sharp feeling does not bring any clarity to Uriel— instead, it drags their mind back into a thick, syrupy sludge, immersing their senses in a distorted not-quite reality. \n\nUriel does not hear as Mimir continues talking. They hear nothing but fog and sludge pour from her mouth. Instead, something deep inside Uriel's mind supplies their own voice in place of hers. It whispers of harm and blood, of Mimir's blow being only the first of many. *It is penance,* It tell them. *For not knowing better. The blood in your cheek will surely teach you something.*\n\nThat was the difference between the two, Uriel realized. Mimir needed no penance for her actions— despite the blood in their mouth, the Universe did not demand for justice to be delivered upon her. *But why?* Uriel thought, their mind souring. *But she knew it would hurt. She is like me, and she knows. She knows, and yet... She does it anyway.*\n\nFrom Mimir's point of view, Uriel's grey eyes cloud over. Their hazy expression goes slack, and there's the barest trace of their lip trembling. \n\n*It's not fair,* Something within Uriel whispers. *The Universe does not scorn her like it does you.* It continues to spiral, internal monologue speaking quicker and quicker. *She will do it again, and nothing will happen besides your suffering. Nothing will happen, and it will only continue, and it will only get worse, and it's not fair, is it? You bleed for nothing, and you'll die for nothing. You've done your best to not succumb to that feeling of hate, and what do you have to show for it? More blood. More hate. More pain.*\n\nUriel's face is a deathly white. Their breath shakes inside their chest, and they gasp for air; the hand grasping their chest claws at their poncho.\n\n*It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair its not fai—* \n\nTheir eyes swirl, and Mimir drops to the floor."
},
{
"author": "ewkaiju",
"message": "They weren't even listening to her, were they? They don't even fucking care. Mimir grabs her door, ready to slam it in their face. What was the point of this? To continue this loop? Hasn't she made herself clear enough to them? \n\nAnd moments too late, it clicks. She opens her mouth to say something, only to see their face. More pale that usual somehow, the gasping, and for a moment, Mimir is convinced they're having a seizure.\n\n\"Fuck, Uriel?\"\n\nAnd then everything is black. She crumples, her thin rug not doing much at all to soften her head's contact with the concrete. \n\nSilence."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel falls to the floor, gasping. They carefully move a stray lock of hair from Mimir's head, and their eyes widen when they see blood trickle from her forehead.\n\n\"I..\" They weakly say, voice wavering. Tears sting at their eyes; they bunch up around Uriel's eyes and fall in drops down their face. Uriel collapses onto the ground, and sobs. \n\n\"I'm sorry, I— I didn't mean, I—\" Their blue lips only turn paler as they hyperventilate alone in the hallway, and Uriel sobs into their hands. \"Why did I do that— I didn't mean to, I—\" White hair, astray from their braid, falls into their face and eyes as they weep for a destiny they've finally failed to fight against. For a sense of self now shattered, all the trust Uriel had in their own moral fortitude collapses in on itself like a house of cards. \n\nThey were scum, and they could no longer deny it. \n\nUriel sobs into their hands, and the loose reins they have on their powers *Snap.*\n\n—"
},
{
"author": "moonflies",
"message": "Three colors: Blue, yellow, and orange. Emerson's hair was pulled back into a ponytail, bangs pushed back with a headband, and she was painting only using blue, yellow, and orange. They were her favorite colors. While she painted delicate shapes and lines, loud music blared in the background— Destroy Boys; a stark contrast to the light scene in front of them.\n\nThere was a determined look on their face as they hunched over their desk and added small details— everything had a place and it was their job to put it in its place— and then suddenly, a wave of exhaustion swept over them. They barely had time to react with confusion before their head hit the desk with a thump. It barely missed the bottom of the painting."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Finley and Sig were just about to dye Sig's hair again - mixing the dye together, singing old sea shanties, giggling and half-shoving each other around. It was nice. Sigrun really was another older sister - a good friend, a solid presence, a guide to all things parahuman and strange. Fin wouldn't replace their company for anyones.\n\nHowever, it didn't last very long - Fin had snapped on the gloves, humming out the last lines to 'Wellerman'. \n\"This'll look great, Siggy - I'm sorry Mimir didn't sho-\"\n\nFin suddenly dropped the bowl of half-mixed dye in their hands, and looked up at Sigrun with a horrified expression as they'd lost control of their limbs. \n\n\"Sig, I can't-\"\n\nHis eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed backwards, knees buckling as his head slammed down against the cold, hard floor, a burst of static sending little twitches through the air."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "A rhythm vibrates steadily through the concrete floor from the sticker-laden amplifier on Owen's floor, the thick metal strings of a blue Rickenbacker singing well and practiced under callused fingertips. Owen paces as he plays, nodding his head, feeling the sounds in his mouth, his feet, his chest—\n\nHis limbs go weak, and the rhythm trails down into the dull *Thunk* Of a once-strong body crumpling to the carpet. The last thing Owen recalls, staring blearily at the amp still buzzing feedback into the floor, is that something is *Very wrong*."
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "He has not been doing too much as of late. Whether Maxwell has the violin, or it's destroyed, changes nothing. He's been in a rut again. It's so hard to get out. He's close to messaging Uriel again, but he feels terrible just messaging them when he needs something. But how does he strike the conversation otherwise? He's pathetic, he doesn't know what to do, nothing feels right anymore. When was the last time things felt right?\n\nCraig is busy, too, so there's very little to quiet the riot in his head. He and Craig did that for each other: they made it quieter. Bearable. \n\nHe trusted that getting rid of the violin would make him feel better without question. Of course he did. He's always just been looking for that quick fix, hasn't he? Pathetic. Because being in it for the long haul is too much work. \n\nHe just left his room. He was going to go do... Something, he resolved. Go get food, maybe. Actual *Real* Food, not just crackers or some other easy snack. He got dressed and everything. Shortly after he closes his door, not more than a few steps, his legs seem to fail him.\n\nHe knows his foot hit the ground so.. Why didn't it stop?\n\nHe doesn't recognize he's falling until he's out, in the middle of the hallway, head hitting the ground with a thud.\n\nThat could have gone better."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "The humidifier bottle settles into place with a comfortable tap against the concentrator. Good work Penny! And it only took you... 25 minutes to get around to set it up!\nThey sit back on their bed... Actually, it's quite comfortable right now.\nIt's not like they have *Much* Else to unpack right now.\nThe almost... Call of the bed seems... *Really strong.* They lay back, and, like a light. They're out."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie stands in the middle of her dorm room, her body almost looking deformed in shape. Her eye and mouth dry and shes unfocused. She stands against the chair in a moment, her hands tightly wrapped around the top. \n\nShe feels faint, she's something hot behind her face it feels excruciating. Her head feels like it splits open and she gasps, and then falls. Bones pierce like a crown out of amelies face and a collar for criminals around her neck, her head falls against the wooden edge of her desk and there's a sickening snap that would make one wince as she hits it. Her body this concrete so quickly and she looks almost inhuman at which how she fell. \nThere's red staining the floor around her. There's crimson across the paper she wrote on. It is red around her where it is black as night in her eyes.\n\nBlissfully horrific."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabriel has had a long, *Long* Day memorizing lines. \n\nHe's sitting at his desk, reciting the opening monologue to an obscure play, until consciousness is ripped from him and he collapses onto his arms.\n\nAt least Gabe needed it."
},
{
"author": "ewkaiju",
"message": "There is nothing quite like being out of the loop.\n\nAnja is distressed. And Ashton can pretty safely assume that she's distressed because Amelie is distressed. With everything happening with Owen, he could only assume things had gone poorly. \n\nShelly was hanging out with him. It liked him, he thinks. He was trying to figure out how ferrets *Work,* Examining the noodle carefully as he sat against the side of his bed, stereo softly playing some music. He wanted to know when Anja walked back into the dorm.\n\nExcept he wouldn't, would he? \n\nThe feeling washed over him so suddenly and so quickly, he didn't have time to react except to grab Shelly so it wouldn't run out the door if Anja walked in. His head rolled back, hitting the mattress behind it."
},
{
"author": "shrububbly",
"message": "He had a quiet day in, as were most days for Charlie. The past few hours had been spend on his bed with his blanket hugged around him, swaying back and forth lightly and watching the intranet chat go by. He didn't know who was speaking most of the time, save for a few key people that got named— even then it was hard to remember so many people, and so many similar colors in the pictures. \n\nA familiar fog passes over his brain, one that normally is only a *Suggestion* To sleep, but not this time. His head nods in a futile fight to stay awake, one he had fought and lost many times before. The phone slips through his fingers, his head drops, his body slumps aside— just like that, he's out cold."
},
{
"author": "hazythirdeye",
"message": "As she so often found herself, Heavenly was bored.\n\nSo far, Newton's Cradle hadn't been the upgrade she was expecting it to be when her mother told her this was where she'd be going. One hears *Switzerland* And imagines skiing, five-star resorts, and luxury accommodations - not... Whatever this place was. A boarding school for freaks and misfits. Though, Heavenly supposed she was just as much of a freak as the rest of them now, whether she liked it or not.\n\nThat wouldn't stop her from *Acting* Normal, though - and, honestly, she really wasn't anything like the people here. She didn't need help - she didn't want it. She wanted to have fun. It seemed, though, that fun was something this facility was sorely lacking in. Instead of spending the night out on the town, as she would normally, the girl was stuck in her dorm, alone, with nothing to keep her entertained except the bottle of mauve nail polish sitting on her bedside table.\n\nHaving just finished her nails, Heavenly huffed, and leaned her head back against her pillow, spreading her fingers and toes to let them dry. She wondered if this was how she'd spend the rest of her time here - sitting around doing nothing, waiting, once again, for the day she could leave - until a sudden rush of exhaustion washed over her. It was like nothing she had ever felt: immediate, and overpowering. She tried to sit up, but her body failed her, and in another moment, Heavenly felt her consciousness slip away - and thankfully, her boredom with it."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi trailed closely behind Mamoru, wearing her trusty coat and long jeans, along with the shoes that she wore with her uniform when she still lived in Japan. They were a little bit too small for Nakanishi now, but she figured she'd use them for a while longer until they'd become too uncomfortable to walk in. When Mamoru had notified Nakanishi of his leaving shortly before he opened the door to go, Nakanishi had asked him if she could come along. It was about time for her second meal of the day.\n\nAnd so, Nakanishi was going with her best friend and dormmate to get some food. What food? Nakanishi didn't know. Mamoru probably didn't know. Nakanishi thought of the cup noodles she'd buy from the Cradle's cafeteria, her staple food. Her only food, actually. She wasn't even sure why she had them so much anymore. They were plain noodles in a hot broth, and that was it. Perhaps it was the warmth that the food provided? Maybe it reminded her home? It could be both.\n\nHowever, Nakanishi had not the time to think thoroughly about what food Mamoru would get when she suddenly felt her eyelids grow heavy, and her muscles weak. Without warning, her green-haired friend collapsed in front of her. Nakanishi gasped and stopped in surprise. Her mouth moved to vocalize something, possibly along the lines of \"D-Daijoubu desu ka?!\" But by then, it was too late. The last thing Nakanishi saw was the floor quickly approaching as her body crumpled in a similar fashion to Mamoru's as her muscles stop working and her limbs become limp while her eyelids shut. Her head hits the floor, producing a thud before her body lays at rest. She is completely unconscious."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "```Akvilė is, somewhat inconveniently, out in the woods when it happens. \n\nShe's in a treehouse she's had under construction for weeks, about a quarter mile south of the Cradle. Smoking a cigarette and daydreaming about a man she saw at the market as she fiddles with one of her radios, she doesn't expect to suddenly be ripped from her body and thrust into a nightmare state. Really, all she expects are a couple of number station signals she's found her radio just barely snags from up in the canopy, and to her credit it is what she gets at first. Russian; American; Chinese. Unfortunately she doesn't have time to listen in on the transmissions she's waiting for, the intriguing ones, with good noise and strange codes. Instead, she's suddenly overcome with a peculiar sensation. It's an intensely intoxicating sensation for a few moments, until it isn't. Sedation. Fuzziness. Everything goes numb and dark.\n\nMELANÇON.```"
}
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202.333333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "It'll be funny cause moru just."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Movies.\n\nNakanishi was currently browsing Netflix on her Samsung phone, trying to find a movie that seemed good for her and Mamoru to watch. She didn't want to disappoint him by finding a bad movie, so she scoured whatever the front page presented her. Unfortunately for her, regional settings had caused the app to default to Swedish instead of her native Japanese, and she couldn't find the setting to change the language of the app, leaving her with only the visual art of the covers to go off of.\n\nIt wasn't ideal, but if she and Mamoru were going to watch a movie together, she wouldn't just give up there, would she? *'It will be like watching movies with Mom and Dad,'* She thought, continuing to browse until she happened upon a movie cover with what looked like a solar eclipse and a few glitchy effects. It made her a little nervous about recommending it to Mamoru since she had a feeling it would be some form of horror movie, but, what if he liked horror movies? Sure, they terrified her, but who knows? He was the one who brought forth the idea of watching a movie.\n\nShe tapped on the movie. The name and description of it were in Swedish, but that was to be expected. She slowly sat up from her bed, realizing just how much she'd been laying there these past few months at the Cradle during her free time. She swung her legs over the bed and put her feet on the ground, then she leaned forward and stood up. She raised her arms and stretched her muscles for a moment, then turned and began to look for Mamoru in the dorm. Thankfully, he wasn't hard to spot. She looked down to her phone and opened her translator before she began to think about how she was going to word her movie request."
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "He wouldn't be disappointed if he didn't enjoy the movie. He would just nicely suggest a different one. \n\nNeither of them know what the fuck the screen says. The movie will probably end up being in English with Japanese subtitles, or the other way around.\n\nHe enters the dorm with a thing of chocolate covered pretzels he bought in town. \n\n\"Uhhh..\" Translator app go. \"[I hope you like chocolate. I figured you would like something sweet.]\"\n\nIt is time."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi hears the door open and turns to the sound, immediately recognizing Mamoru's green hair. Her eyes widen, and she gasps in surprise. Wasn't he just in the dorm? She turns back to where she originally saw him, and realizes he wasn't there anymore, immediately uttering a startled squeak as she wonders what just happened.\n\nShe turns back to him and notices the bag of chocolate-covered pretzels and the translator app on his phone reading out a message in Japanese, which she reads. Realizing he probably just darted out of her vision to get the pretzels, she calmed down and pulled out her own phone, then she opened the translator and put a message into it, then she turns it around to show Mamoru the message. \"[Thank you very much, Koyama-San. Are you ready to begin the movie?]\"\n\nAfter getting his confirmation, she nods and puts her phone down before walking over to the pillow which she had set up for herself as a cushion, then she sat on her knees, using the pillow as a soft support. She wasn't sure about the kind of cushion he'd want, so she borrowed a beanbag chair from somewhere in the Cradle and allowed him to sit on it. It is time."
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "He laughs a bit at the squeak. \"[Sorry, I snuck out for a moment.]\" He didn't mean to startle her, but that was kind of funny. \n\nHe gives the confirmation with a nod. Yes. It is movie time. He plops down onto the bean bag chair. \n\n...Okay. Mamoru isn't 100% sure he recognizes that logo, but he thinks he does. And it's not a movie he expected Nishi to want to watch.. Well, it's not *That* Scary. And it's not *Too gorey*, which would be his main concern about a horror movie. He's sure Nishi intended to choose it, so he doesn't comment. \n\nIt's been years since he's seen it, so he doesn't remember it that well. \n\nHe's glad to overwrite what memory was there. \n\n\"Alright.\" He takes one of the pretzels from the bag, munching it."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "When Mamoru began to munch on his chocolate pretzels, Nakanishi began to play the movie. This was it, the movie they have been waiting for. Aannd..! A buffering circle. The red, spinning circle sat on the screen, dancing around and around in circles, as if taunting them. Nakanishi patiently waited for a few moments for the movie to load, sitting still on the pillow. Then, she began to worry that it would take too long to load, and there wouldn't be time to watch it.\n\nSo, wondering if it was an issue with the movie, she backed out of it and began to quickly scroll through the list of movies on the screen, until she noticed one with a cover depicting a child in a yellow raincoat, and a dimly lit clown holding a red balloon. The title didn't seem very long, but she couldn't read it. The cover of the movie made her a little nervous of what it would be, but it shouldn't be so bad, right? After all, Mamoru was with her. She turned to Mamoru and gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder to get his attention, then pointed to the movie, asking if he wanted to watch that instead."
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "He doesn't mind. He sighs, typing into the translator. \"[I hate it when that happens. But if we pick another movie, it may be fixed.]\"\n\nHe happened to glance at his phone the exact moment Nishi came across the new movie, and was working on silencing notifications as she tapped him. He looks at the movie.. *She must like horror.. That's okay. It's probably not* Too *Scary. I've read books by Stephen King before and they were fine.*\n\nMamoru nods in approval."
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "O K A Y\n\nI still have a response for this saved somewhere\n\nI just need to figure out how to word it out to fit the specific opening scene"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Once Mamoru gave her the go-ahead to play the movie, she nods and presses play. Fortunately, the movie plays without any issues this time, much to her relief. She wouldn't want to keep her friend waiting for the movie. Knowing what's been happening at the Cradle, there may come a time where she won't be able to spend any more time with Mamoru.\n\nThe movie begins with a boy running down a rainy street with a paper boat. The town didn't look like what she was used to in Japan, but this was a foreign movie since she couldn't understand it. The Swedish subtitles didn't help her understand what was being said, but she was hopeful she could still enjoy it despite the language barrier.\n\nThe movie went on. She kept watching it silently with Mamoru, watching the yellow raincoat child run down the street, chasing his boat until it sailed into the drain. Nakanishi flinched a little once Pennywise appeared, which provided the movie's first jumpscare(ish). As the clown talked with the raincoat child, Nakanishi began to grow nervous. The clown... Didn't sit right with her. The way he was talking, how he looked, she wasn't sure if he was as good as he seemed.\n|\n\nNakanishi watched the raincoat child slowly crawl towards the drain. The ambience suddenly became shrill and began to rise. The horror aspect of the movie was put into play. Nakanishi was frightened by the ambience and slowly scooted away from the TV. She was almost off of her pillow when the scene came to a climax. The clown's mouth grew wide and spurted rows upon rows of sharp teeth, then it bit the raincoat child's arm off. Watching the gore unfolding in front of her wide eyes terrified Nakanishi. The child screamed in agony and desperately tried to crawl away from the drain before being dragged down, never to be seen again.\n\nAs the movie went silent, Nakanishi couldn't help but shed a few tears. She was still afraid, but now she felt terrible for the raincoat child. She thought his fate was terrible, especially at such a young age. Quickly, she tried to wipe away her tears and scooted back onto her pillow to continue watching the movie with Mamoru. She didn't want to ruin this experience for him by crying."
}
] | 199 | 1,821 |
227.142857 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie had quickly pocketed her phone after finishing that conversation with sigrún. Amelie was being foolish and stumbling over herself like a toddler unknowing of how to walk. Amelie did know what she was doing, hardly, her foolish antics have done nothing but hurt others. She has felt nothing but scattered lately, it wasn't like this before what happened. \n\nFoolish girl who dosent know how to speak without hurt seeping into that delectable pool of hatred. She had been falling into it more often. Did those bullets take away a part of her mind as well, was she nothing more than a beast of pain that invoked woe upon others? Was she nothing more than this... Thing? \n\nEvery step with her crutches seemed heavier than the last, her ears felt like they were foaming over with insects curling in her mind and throat. She wished to spit them out and pull them out but she knows she couldn't, she never could, It only came with being alive. \n\nThe halls seemed long where Amelie's mind was short and shallow with a boiling threat. She made a mistake, one that was eating at her now with the rest of them. \n\nBefore she knew it, she was standing at Anja's door with a hand raised to knock. Should she? Would she make everything worse, probably. Finley would say it's the thought that counts, what thought. Amelie still has nothing even though she's digging through all she can. Amelie just knocked once, she stared ahead to the door. Looking at it's wood seem to distort slightly because of how hard she looked at it. Amelie looked and felt pathetic."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja's pacing.\nThe place looked. Fine. It was fine. She didn't want to move anything of Ashton's, so she just perfected everything in her own room.\nStraightened papers, organized closet, neatly tucked bedsheets.\nIt was fine.\n\nShe shouldn't come check up on her.\nIt wasn't fair to her! She might've been hurt by her and instead of justifiably wanting to distance herself she's coming to console her and coo her. It wasn't fair to her.\n\nShe shouldn't've pushed Ashton away. No. He didn't need this either.\nNobody should be focused on the sad little girl in the corner. It would've been easier to forget.\n\nShe's clenching her fist, shit. It stings like fire ants deciding to wage war against her flesh.\nShe runs her hand underneath a faucet. It felt like it helped.\n\nA knock. Dread settles in, unfortunately.\nIt wouldn't've been Ashton. He just enters in quietly and quickly. Always remembers his fob.\n\nShe shuts off the tap, wipes her still stinging hand. Does she open it? Does she let her face... This?\nA breath hitches.\nShe grabs the doorknob. Turn.\n\nFace the music, Leta.\n\n\"...Hello miss.\" It creaks out, like a floor being stepped on wrong at the worst times of night.\n\"I... I apologize. I should not have made you come here.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie just looked at Anja, a scoff painting the air between them. \n\"You didn't make me come here, I did it myself.\" \nHer hand which was left waiting in the air came to brush down some invisible dust on her jacket. \n\"I should've known to have said such things would have such an effect.\"\n\nAmelie should've known better than to have said those things at all, Anja deserved to know. She cannot take back what she said but she wishes she could've said it better. \n\nHands itch and minds waver in their thoughts, they're both at a crossroad. Amelie speaks from her heart, and it was an odd organ she never trusted. \n\"I just need to see you, simple.\" \n\nShe rests her hand back onto her crutch, there's something tense about this that dosent need to be said out in the hallway. \n\"Frau leta, may I enter. I feel as this conversation will be better without the prying eyes of others.\""
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Wordlessly, she gave Amelie space to enter the dorm.\nAshton had left for... Some reason. She didnt really know what he was up to lately.\nIt was a shame, ever since the formal they've been... Distant. Like two ghosts haunting the same halls that never seemed to be on the right floor.\nShe only hopes he forgives her.\n\nShe couldn't face Amelie.\nShe was afraid of seeing the disdain that she was so rightfully deserved. \nAmelie was in there. She tried making everything in there sick.\nShe didn't care about who would've been hurt.\nShe felt sick.\n\n\"You shouldn't want to see me.\"\nEvery word felt like they were being forced out. She didn't deserve to be forced to hear her. She shouldn't've said anything.\n\nAnja keeps her head tilted down, ashamed."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie silently thanked Ashton, she didn't know if she could handle the possible judge-like stare he could give. She didn't want him here in the first place though she hoped it didn't bring offense. \nShe barely sees the boy anymore anyway. Amelie should talk to him. \n\nAmelie didn't care about what Anja did that time, Anja didn't know and she cannot change that as much as Amelie is being hypocritical it is the truth. A sinners words that will provoke consequences. \n\n\"Yet I do anyway.\"\nAmelie hates how Anja is looking like a wet dog, she was a steely woman reduced to now this. \n\"Frau Leta, nothing will make me turn away from you.\"\n\nShe hopes Anja knows that."
},
{
"author": "charitableleech",
"message": "Anja's gaze stays towards the floor. She could've swept better. She always thought that.\nThere was always the stray patches of dust that came to light during her stress. Everything else had to look good before she could make her own appearances.\n\nHer guilt would stomp down anything reassuring to her. It's taken over her thoughts before. If it had ever left, that is. Instead, it was like a mold, spreading across her mind and plaguing her more and more.\n\n\"You are too kind.\" \nFar too kind to her. Especially for someone who was hurt by her.\nPerhaps she grabbed her hand. Perhaps she deserved it.\nShe did.\n\nWhy didn't she want to leave? What was keeping her here?"
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"You should know by now that I am not.\" \nShe speaks with a shattered mind, her voice collapsed into a pool of indescribable feeling but all never the same. \n\"I am only kind to those deserving, and you? Are more than deserving.\" \nIs it depraved to say that Anja was needing?\n\nShe dug into her jacket and brought out a pen, she waved it around like a wand of questionable sorts before she tapped Anja's collar with it. \n\"This is the closest I can get to physical reassurance so forgive me.\"\nAmelie slid the pen against Anja. It dug slightly into her skin. \n\n\"Anja Leta. You did not do it with the intent to hurt another person, you got hurt instead.\"\nAmelie hums, the pen trailing from her collar to the scarred hand. \n\"You've been hurting over something that truly isn't your fault for long enough.\"\n'They're still breathing' she wants to tell Anja. They would never be hurt by you, not in a way that to could leave a mark. Not like you did me. \n\n\"I personally think you deserve nothing but the best and I was the one in the coma, Ms. Leta.\""
}
] | 210 | 1,590 |
320.625 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Wait actually. You shoukd prolly start."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "AYE gimme a minute >:^]\n\nThere was a trail of water droplets along the floor of Newton's Cradle, from the storm outside the doors to the office to the elevator. The figure they dripped from, tall as a shadow stretching over the wall, flicked more from the sleeve of her spike-laden jacket as the doors opened for her to tote her thrown-together bag of everything ever through and into the hall. She was preceded only by the faint *Clink*Ing of metal on metal echoing through the halls of the Facility.\n\nThat was cool and all, but what was considerably *Less* Cool was the lack of a glowing path on the ground telling Sigrún where her next quest marker was. Something loosened around her stomach, and slipped out from her side. The arm traipsed behind her in the hallway, and tasted the wall, the ceiling, a light; dust, paint, off-white, grey. *This place is a lacklustre dungeon.* Maybe the dungeon music in her head wasn't turned up high enough. One earbud tapped against a silvery longsword, and the other a delicate fish skeleton, only a little bit ensnared in a damp bleach-blonde curl. \n\n*I wish it were raining indoors. I should have taken a longer nap. This colour tastes blechhy.* A smudge of it bloomed for a moment on her cheek, below one of the dark pits around her eyes. *None of these numbers look real. I should probably be focusing on them. Gross.*\n\nThere. That looked like the number they told her. Hopefully. Who really knew, anyhow? Maybe they'd let her sleep on the roof. Or in the garden. In a puddle somewhere. Could this place be nicer than a good puddle? Time to find out.\n\n*Taptap.*\n\n\"Hallo? Cuttlefish rental, here for the birthday party. Normally we don't take last-minute calls, but the office says it's important?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe was positively *Buzzing* With excitement. \n\nNo more single dorm, for better or worse. Here he was, lounging on his bed, waiting for an auspicious knock on the door to arrive at any moment. The room was immaculately clean; after all, he wouldn't want to make a bad first impression. Every poster of a shirtless bodybuilder, or an actor on stage, or a landscape photo of the New Orleans sights were crisp without a wrinkle in sight. The cream colored rug was vacuumed to hell and back, and the various photos and mementos from home that dotted the room were wiped clean. A vase of lilies sat on his desk, their blossoming scent filling the room with a pleasant aroma.\n\nGabe's hand grazed a dirt spot on the small, dark green vase, tenderly wiping a small speck of dust away. He was going to give them to his mom on the day he was taken— he didn't get a chance to say goodbye, but somehow, the flowers survived the trip to Sweden. It was unfortunate, then, that they had been cut off from their home plant and forced to endure a slow death. No matter how well Gabe tended to them, they were destined to die. \n\nA very, *Very* Cheerful voice knocks Gabe out of his depressive musings. *Female?* Is his first question. *Cuttlefish??????* Is his second. \n\nStill... She sounded amicable, despise some of the questions lingering in Gabe's head. He opens the door with barely a hesitation, and comes face to face with the cuttlefish girl. \n\nA tug of his collar back in place. A low, rumbling clear of his throat. A perfectly rehearsed winning smile. \"You're my new roommate, then? Come in, come in— need help with any bags?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*Ah! He's tall. Don't need to slouch.* The wavy dumbbell shapes cut across her silvery irises didn't dilate like people's tended to, but they took him in quite thoroughly. *Spiffy. Nice teeth. Burnt red, deep green, a nice challenge to render in that pen-that-better-not-have-exploded-in-my-pocket-*\n*Check the damned pen later. You've a man to spook about a living arrangement.*\n\nIn one disturbingly fluid motion, Sigrún straightened her back and cracked a grin as genuine as she dared for a first meeting across her handsome, angular face. The girl's dimples brightened her face considerably, but they could only do so much to counteract the ghostly pallor she had spread across her skin, and the weeping wells of inky black her strange eyes gazed down at this *Immaculately* Put-together boy from. She spoke, and it would be a little too easy to ignore the greenish stain just inside of her lip.\n\n\"No need, *Bror*, I have arms enough!\"\n\nThe limb hovering behind her followed her through the door, wrapped once around her waist, distorting the sneering goat printed onto her shirt. She passed the bag she had been holding to it, to drop on the mattress behind her, and extended her now-free, fingerless-gloved hand.\n\n\"Sigrún, loved by women, feared by fish, but sort of the opposite lately, the not-so-dead-as-I-may-at-first-seem!\" A note of annoyance, a bitter drop of brine, dissipated in her deep, faintly-accented voice as quickly as it made a ripple.\n\n\"Lovely weather we're having today.\"\n\nRainwater dripped onto the carpet as she shifted her weight onto one leg; it appeared that she had made no efforts to shield herself from said weather, glistening head to toe like some sort of rejected Cullen, tarred and.. Er... Spiked."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe stands there, mouth agape at the current scene in front of him. A girl, roughly his age— *Interesting looking*, he thought, deep brown eyes flickering over her appearance. \n\nShe was... *Unsettling*, from the oddly cheerful nature despite what *Should* Be shitty circumstances for anyone remotely sane. Her pupils made shivers run down the back of Gabe's spine— god, if his mother were here, she'd be throwing sage at this girl's face by now. \n\n*What a freak.* It was hard to deny that...\n\n...And then the tentacles came out. \n\n\"S-s-sigrun, huh?\" He stuttered out, eyes widening as rainwater got all over the carpet. A pained wince grew on his features as the sopping wet puddle grew larger on the floor. \n\n\"I'll clean that later.\" His voice was choked up. *And he made everything nice, just for his new roommate*. \n\n\"I'm Gabe. I, uh, take it you're...\" Gabe's brain momentarily freezes in place, as the mental equivalent of a Windows boot-up sound reverberates in his skull. *404: brain cells not found,* As his eyes traced the movement of her tentacles in the air. \n\n\"Squid.\" He manages, after a couple seconds' pause.\n\n*This is embarrassing. For the love of all things holy, please pick yourself up, Gabriel.*"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "A fast, raspy chuckle sounded from the odd girl-shaped creature. *Aw, he's delightful!* Her grin, somewhere to the left of comforting but genuine all the same, betrayed a glimpse of subdued sharpness.\n\n\"Ha! And krakens are noted for devouring entire boats of men whole. May the hungriest win, then, *Gabriel*,\" Said she, flopping backward onto what was *Her bed now she guessed*, another arm (had that always been out?) resting her skateboard against a bedpost a lot more gently. A horned black skull, screaming some sort of red light, flashed from the underside. \"Just messing with you. I don't have to stay all coiled up anymore now, so. That bit's nice, aside from the *Colossal mountain of steaming shitted brimstone that is literally everything else about this situation*.\" \n\nHe probably knew how it was. Ah, they would get along swell, if he wasn't the sort of early-game-encounter that would end up stabbing her later before the final battle or something. Sig wasn't special here, not yet at least- *That* Was thrilling. Would she have to stay up all night with a glob of ink locked beneath her tongue, watching out the window for shapeshifters and through the door for wailing spectres? Oh, if only she were so lucky. Best not aggravate this guy too much, though. He *Could* Be the stabby type. Or those muscles were real.\n\nKicking off her boots and setting them down someplace *Not* Carpeted (she was.. Only half an animal), the blonde winced a little.\n\n\"Ah, I'll get the floor. Whoops.\" She shrugged off her jacket, the most grievous offender, and began rummaging around in her(?) closet for a coat hanger. The deep red turtleneck she had on beneath her Venom shirt hinted at respectable muscles of her own. \"Nice posters! This room is going to look *Hilarious* Once I get mine put up. You like horror movies?\"\n\nSigrún was already becoming comfortable, expanding to fit her new space. Restlessly, a sucker-lined arm, always in motion, twisted behind her like a cat's tail."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "At *Colossal mountain of steaming shitted brimstone*, Gabe perked up, if only a tad. The faux, campus tour guide persona he so cheerfully donned in moments like these slipped, and he let out a weary sigh. \n\n\"Tell me about it.\" Gabe said, eyes trailing down to the design on her shirt. He fiddled with the simple metal cross necklace that peeked out from his button up, saying nothing as Sigrun mentioned her posters. \n\n\"Horror movies...? Well, I'm not *Not* Into them. Although, the best thing about them is watching other people's faces and laughing.\" He admitted. Old, distant memories of Blanche and him huddled under blankets, eating microwaveable popcorn by the handful while she pretended to not be scared by the movie... It was nice. He smiled fondly, and then... \n\n*Forgot. I'm here, aren't I.*\n\nBack to reality. \n\n\"Uh, you can decorate your side of the room however you want, but I'd rather you not touch my half. I think my dad would have a heart attack if he saw your posters.\" He punctuates his sentence with a laugh, if only to communicate that he was joking than an actual noise of amusement. \n\nGabe's body turns around the room, eyes scanning the points of interest to find anything else that would be worth talking about to his new roommate. \n\n\"Uh,\" He blabbed, \"You can share my mini-fridge, but don't touch my protein shakes. Also, everyone else here is fucking *Weird*. Like, *Really goddamn weird.*\" \n\nAnother cursory glance at Sigrun. \n\n\"I have a feeling you won't mind that last bit too much.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Sigrún cocked her head to the side, gnawing on her cheek again as Gabe ran down the assortment of things to be taken into consideration. *Yes, indeed, heart attack-worthy*, she mused to herself, finding the box with all the posters in it. The rolled-up faces of many familiar vampires and Vincent Prices (some overlap) stared back at her, ready to be configured in the exact way they were back on her wall at home. *Heheheh.*\n\n\"Oh, Gabriel, I don't have a sense of the word.\" She turned back from sticking her pink and orange flag to the wall to smile devilishly in his direction, for emphasis. \"In the meantime, if I don't put all of these up immediately, I simply will not, so. I was going somewhere with this. I don't remember. Keep talking anyway!\"\n\nA slam of her hand against the wall, and there was one more retro demon plastered onto it. \"We have much to discuss!\""
}
] | 377 | 2,565 |
397.25 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The sun had just began to rise when Ares had decided to follow through with his plan of snooping out more information on the angels. The curiosity between him and his new found friend, Dani, had led him deeper into the rabbit hole. Ares was willing to see how far it would go. \n\nSliding down the railing of the stairs, Ares made his way down from the third floor and onto the main floor. He collected his favour points, and ran back up the stairs to the second floor. Ares had not slept, but was hyped up on adrenaline and enough caffeine to kill a horse. It didn't take long for him to scale the concrete facility, and make it to his destination.\n\nHe stood outside the mentioned dorm, Mattias' room apparently. Ares knew they had gone missing alongside Margo, but was clearly more willing to talk than the latter. In his hands were stolen drinks. An orange soda, and an energy drink. Both silver cans, cold to the touch. A peace offering. \n\nAres didn't hesitate, not even for a moment. He raised his hand, and knocked with the back of his knuckles to avoid dropping the can. \n\n*Knock. Knock. Knock.*\n\nThree solid sounds echoed through the dorm. The tanned boy awaited any sign that someone was alive on the other side of the door."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "The knocks jolted Mattias out of whatever hazy stupor they'd spent the first part of the day in, mind scrambling for some sense of order as they hovered near the door. \"Who is it?\" They asked quietly, phone still in hand, before remembering their conversation with Ares. Right. The chance that someone had read their private messages and made it to Matti's dorm in time to not only beat Ares, but impersonate him, was slim. Existent, yes, but slim. They dragged the deadbolt to \"Unlocked\" And pulled the door open just enough for Ares to enter. \n\nMatti's room was chaotic. Less so that it probably had been— there were traces of cleaning from a few days ago, stacks of papers half-organized, bed neatly made, trashcan full, but not yet overflowing. But chaotic nonetheless. Papers were tacked on almost every surface: grids taped to the closet door, sticky notes scattered across the desk, index cards pinned up on the walls. Pens rolled across surfaces, and Matti hopped over errant pencaps as they made their way to sit on the bed. Days old coffee— the instant, one-cup kind— sat abandoned on essentially any horizontal surface where it wouldn't immediately fall or get kicked over. The only thing that saved the scene from being a full conspiracy-board was the lack of red thread. \n\nMattias themself was muttering, flipping pages between two notebooks. One a small, bright yellow, and the other a larger composition blue. If they hadn't let Ares in (and then immediately slammed and bolted the door afterwards), it might appear as if they'd forgotten about him.\n\n\"Right.\" They shut and latched the composition book, tying it closed with a complicated looking knot. \"This is a business transaction and not a conversation, so I'm allowed to skip small talk, correct?\" They came the closest they had yet come to looking Ares in the face (or looking at him at all), staring up from behind dark tinted glasses with narrowed, but unhostile eyes."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares heard the lock click from the other side after a whisper he couldn't make out. The heavy door opened and as soon as Ares was inside, it was shut with a loud thud. *Spooky,* He jokingly muttered in his mind. \n\nHe stepped inside and let his dark eyes scan the room. It was incredibly different from his own, but a part of him was enjoying whatever Mattias had going. The dimly lit furniture, covered haphazardly with papers and random sticky notes really gave Ares a one way ticket into understanding what kind of person they were. Each old cup of coffee reminded Ares of the unholy amount of empty energy drink cans he had in his room. Maybe they were more similar than he originally thought.\n\nThe multiple surfaces covered in papers, pictures and news articles was the main focus. There was no red thread, so it wasn't entirely predictable but it was still a sight to behold. Ares raised his brow in intrigue, he wondered what kind of connections they had made, and if they would tell him. He finally turned to look at Mattias.\n\nThey were muttering and tying a knot around a book, looking overall kind of crazed... Or tired. Ares couldn't tell the difference.\n\n\"I guess this kinda shit really can drive you insane.\" He muttered under his breath, before turning to look at Matti when they finally spoke. \n\n\"Of course, feel free. I hate small talk.\" His tone was gravely and obviously sleep deprived, but it was still confident and smooth. An accent weaved its way through his words, but it was hard to make out. It suited Ares well.\n\nAs Mattias moved towards him, Ares returned the narrow gaze. He looked down at the other, without malicious intent but more so curiosity. The height difference between the two was shocking now they were standing in front of each other. After a few moments of silence, Ares extended the orange soda out towards Mattias with a troublesome smirk. \n\n\"I brought a peace offering, Sherlock.\" The nickname almost made Ares snicker."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti pulled the soda from Ares' hands and scrambled to open it, an action reminiscent of a racoon trying to open the latch on a trashcan. They took a quick sip before pushing it to join several paper cups clustered on the corner of their desk. Nodded their thanks. With a quiet sigh they sat on the edge of their bed and rolled the desk chair towards Ares. \n\n\"This has to be a transaction,\" They started, voice unwavering. \"I will give you information on my experiences with the Tower but you'll have to provide something in return. Information, a favor, I don't particularly care what. So long as it's useful.\" It'd been a while since they'd been blunt like this, and they admitted it was refreshing. Something about walking roads long walked before, or the repetition of putting on a particular mask. \"What are you willing to offer?\" \n\nDespite their seemingly iron resolution not to speak until an agreement had been reached, Mattias' fingers were already flickering over the yellow journal, brushing past pages and pages of dark ink to settle on a section marked along the top as \"The Angels\". They pulled the journal closed, but kept their finger bookmarking the split."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares watched Matti with sharp eyes that followed them like a cruel examiner. He stared at the papers around the room, and then at the other. Making a feeble attempt to make sense of it all, before deciding he didn't care.\n\nWith a few quick steps, Ares followed Matti over and grabbed the chair with his free hand. He swung it around, and sat down with a single solid movement. A crack and a sizzle rang out as he opened his own drink, and took a sip.\n\n\"Right.\" Ares furrowed his brow in thought while he tapped his finger on his can. \"I can do something for you, or I can give you information on people. Whichever you want.\" He didn't sound annoyed at this fact, if anything relieved. Ares absolutely despised having debts, so the sooner they were paid off the better. \n\nMatti was straight to the point and blunt to a fault, boring at times but overall more interesting than Ares had given them credit for. Overall though, Ares felt nothing. He was here for information on the angels for his own personal gain, relations and opinions were irrelevant."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti tensed, clearly weighing the options in their mind. \"A favor,\" They decided. \"Sometime in the future. One reasonable request.\" With the matter of repayment settled, they crossed their legs and opened the yellow journal once more. \"I'm not sure how much you already know about the Angels, but I'll start at the tower.\" \n\n\"As you know, an Angel was, in some manner, able to get a phone with access to intranet. They posted an image of the tower in the general chat, before they were banned by moderators. Shortly after, I had the opportunity to have a conversation with that Angel, who instructed me to bring Margo to the location in the picture, alone. Naturally I had concerns, but the Angel did not intend to harm us. I informed Margo, and we left.\" They inhaled softly, gears in their mind churning to force the story into words. They hadn't even looked down at the journal once— it seemed to be more for reassurance than for reference. Anything Matti intended to say was already in their mind. \n\n\"Once inside, Margo and I attempted to access the 13th floor. However, there was a. Complication. Angels from a lower floor stopped the elevator we were in, requesting that I stay and Margo go on. I thought it was a bad idea. Separating in unknown territory is almost always a mistake, at least in movies. But Margo... Urged me with physical force to stay behind, and I couldn't exactly do anything against her. I conversed with the Angels there— three of them, for some unknown amount of time. An hour, maybe? I gained very little useful information, only that the Eldest Angel is apparently able to distinguish between good and evil people, and that the Angels themselves are a vigilante group focused primarily on eliminating targets doing large scale damage who have not or will not be convicted through typical means. The Angels were not physically hostile to me during our conversation, and allowed me to return to the upper floor to look for Margo. By that time—\"\n\n.\n\nThey clenched their jaw an almost imperceptible amount, voice pausing for only the briefest of moments before they continued.\n\n\"By that time Margo had left, already. According to the accounts of various witnesses, which were verified to be true, she had attacked some of their number after a conversation with the leader. I believe that is most of the information that would interest you about what occurred inside the Tower. If you wanted to know more, I'd advice going to Margo.\" Matti shut their journal with a quiet clack, doing their best to broadcast finality and closure. There was more— of course there was more, but not telling someone *Every detail* About an event didn't constitute as lying. Omission had to be done with the intent to deceive, and Matti had not misconstrued. Everything they had said was correct, in technical terms and spirit. *You know what he meant, though*, a cruel voice whispered in the back of their mind. *Information means information. Everything means everything.*\n\nThey shook the voice off and took another sip of soda, silently hoping Ares wouldn't notice the oddness of their intentional wordings."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares grumbled slightly at Mattias not specifying *What* Favour he would be required to complete, but he kept a mental note of this debt. He despised having debts, people always seemed to redeem such things at the most inconvenient times. The boy pushed his annoyance back with a sip from his drink, for now he had to listen. \n\nAs Mattias mentioned the towers, and angels, and in and outs, Ares kept keen attention on every word. Having earned the nickname *'the human tape recorder'* Back home, Ares' ability to remember details was incredibly impressive. He didn't need paper or pen, his mind simply summarized everything and kept it stored away for when its best needed. \n\nA part of him wasn't certain *Why* He was doing this. Was it curiosity? Or was he interested in how much money Danica would pay him for his words. He wasn't sure, and frankly didn't care. The latter was appealing enough for him to be sitting here in the first place. \n\nBetween speaking, Ares nodded intently. He was listening, alongside interested. \n\nThe intranet Angel. He had a screenshot of the message, he knew the tower. Mattias had been *Inside.* If Danica and Ares were going to go through with their harebrained plan of investigating for themselves, this information would be incredibly useful.\n\n\"So... The Angels are looking to *Eliminate* People? What kind of people?\" Ares questioned through a furrowed brow. \"And they, didn't hurt you. I see.\" He said under his breath. \n_ _\n\nThis analytical demeanour did not suit Ares well. He leaned back against the chair, and tilted his head up to the ceiling with a frustrated sigh. Whatever information he was gaining *Had* To be for Danica, because the rush and buzz of his brain was getting on his nerves. In no way would he ever do this on his own accord. \n\n\"Margo hates me. I doubt she'd tell me anything.\" He raised his head and gaze to look at Mattias. \"I appreciate what you told me though, I'll find my way around Margo. I have connections, I guess you could call them.\" He tapped his finger on his can. \n\n\"Do you know anything about their abilities? Like what the Angels are capable of?\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti understood the desire for information. They understood the drive to seek what was unknown, to arm oneself with every weapon available. Knowledge was the wall they built, what made the weight of the world easier to bear. But as Ares' questions continued, they thought for perhaps the first time in their life not if they *Could* Share information, but if they *Should*. The Angels had been tolerant, if not kind. Though Mattias did not trust them fully, it didn't mean they were willing to throw a proverbial lion into their den. \n\n\n\n\"They target corruption,\" They started half-hesitantly. \"Not people like you or like me. Those with status and power, who use what they have to harm others. Usually, figures who are beyond the reach of the law. When I spoke to them, they told me about a company head who poisoned his workers and used his influence to avoid consequences.\"\n\nReluctance crept in them again, the reminder that the angel's Purpose was a half-step to the left of their own. \n\n\"And no, they didn't hurt me. Even when I spoke in terms... To you they may classify as 'fighting words'.\"\n\nMatti sighed. For a brief moment they imagined acid crawling from their stomach and burning their throat so they couldn't speak. \n\n\"I wasn't told anything about strange powers the Angels have, nor did I directly observe any enhanced abilities of theirs.\" *Technically.* They quieted the rush of self-loathing. *Technically true. Technically not a lie.* They hadn't been told about strange powers. How could abilities be strange? Who was Matti to classify them as such? They hadn't witnessed enhanced abilities that the *Angels* Had. Just the leader, and the ability seemed to be wholly out of the realm of normality. Not enhanced. New. \n\nThe words were sand on their tongue. Half-truths. They'd have to be enough."
}
] | 414 | 3,178 |
151 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "It had been... A month? Two? Five? Annika lost track of time ages ago. It was hard not to. She had been stuck in a small dorm room, hiding away from the world, fearing for her safety every moment she dared to leave. It was hard not to feel trapped, to lose track of time, after a while. Barely anyone knew where she was, but... She was safe. Safe enough, anyway. No one would find her, cooped up in the dorm room of the toughest girl on campus.\n\nShe arrived, way back when, with nothing. She had the clothes on her bag, and a little plastic bag full of metal shards, and a burner phone. That was it. She'd spent what little money she had on food. She arrived at Newton's Cradle ragged, destitute, scared and alone.\n\nBut even though she'd gotten new clothes, and had been fed every day, and had even become quite good at English in the past few months, Newton's Cradle was beginning to become a prison to her.\n\nIt was dusk. Gentle orange light filtered in from the window. Annika was sat on the foot of the bed when Valio came back in, clutching the bag of metal shards in one hand and hugging a stuffed toy in the other. She looked distraught.\n\n\"I can't stay here.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio let the door close with a soft click. She stared at the girl with a knowing stare. It has been quite some time with pure silence on the angels end, it could all be a rouse. She doesn't know. \n\nValio had gotten her many things, she was a sharp contrast of how she looked when she first arrived but. The small girl still wears that far off look of fear. I mean who wouldn't. \n\nThe soft light moved up Valio's larger figure as she walked further into the room. The orange glow reflecting into the deep blue of her eye. \n\n\"Yeah, I know. Where do you think you should go?\"\n\nShe questions, her tone soft but inquisitive. She never questioned the girl but, maybe she could now. Maybe she can scrape a little more together on what's falling apart about what she knows."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I don't know.\"\n\nWhere could she go? She had run away from home to the Angels, only to then find herself running away from the Angels. What was she going to do? Go back home? What home?\n\nHow was she ever going to survive like this?\n\n\"I can't go back home. I don't have a home.\"\n\nShe hugs the stuffed animal a little tighter."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio purses her lips looking at Annika. \nThe girl has lost everything, without fail. A family a home, Valio wasn't sure what the girl could do. Valio dosent know what she could do. \n\n\"Didn't you have one with the lady at the cafe?\" \nValio moves to one side of the bed and sits on it creating an imbalance in the weight of it, lifting Annika from her curled position into the air by a centimeter. \n\n\"Sorry.\"\n Valio mumbles. \n\n\"I'm- what happened with the angels. If I'm allowed to ask and if you're ready to talk about them. It's okay if not.\" \n\nShe tries to soothe whatever wound she might've poked with poorly covered words so close to turning into more apologizing."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Annika barely even reacts to being bounced into the air. She just mopes a little, letting herself be jostled about by the sudden launch.\n\n\"Not anymore. She made me leave. She said it... It was not safe.\"\n\nAnnika let herself softly lean on Valio. Valio was safe. Even if she wasn't a substitute for a parent, Valio was still a comfort. Someone Annika knew she'd be safe around. Someone Annika didn't have to be scared of.\n\n...\n\nAnnika looked down at her hand, and the bag of metal shards. She lifted it up. \"This happened. I can't go back there. Not... Not anymore.\"\n\nShe looks down at the floor, away from Valio. An expression of... Shame?\n\n\"I gave up.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio's hands intertwine in front of her. A sigh it let out when Annika settles against her. One of relief or guilt, Valio dosent know. \n\n\"Yeah. I can understand it being that way.\" \n\nValio stares at the metal shards, probably piece's of the halo. And how they glint sadly against the light of the windows filtered rays. It was a sorry sight, to watch them slide against eachother haphazardly against eachother in the bag. \n\"Well those. Two other angels uhm- friede and another they were looking for you.-\"\n\nValio pauses. Looking at Annika's disgraceful stare.\n\n\"You gave up on what?\"\n\nValio inquires."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Annika shakes the bag again. The halo-shards rustle like dense rocks. \"I don't know how to say it in English. It's hard to say.\" The gears are turning in her head, crushing her thoughts. She's trying so hard to think that it actually feels a little uncomfortable.\n\n\"Complicated. It's complicated. Hard to explain.\"\n\nAnd she didn't even want to try. She had a lot of bad memories associated with the Angels - and some of them used to be good, too.\n\nShe didn't remember her first kill with fondness anymore.\n\n\"I'm scared.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio watches the girl shake and twist the bag as if it has done her wrong. \n\"That's okay. So... Complicated?-\" \nValio watches the girl blurt the word she was trying to find in the damned English lexicon. \n\n\"Yeah. After... I dunno I asked Margo sometime before she y'know left to the tower. She said she like saw something. She didn't give me full disclosure. I- wait wait.\" \n\nValio frowns her brow furrowing, in an instant there was a concerned stare for Annika. Gods what did they do to her? She shouldn't ask. \n\n\"It's okay to be scared. If you want I can get you out of here. I have the ability to make sure nobody really knows. You can leave, I can help.\"\n\nValio says and she feels the electric current thrum within her. Crawling at the singed flesh of her body."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Annika nods. She's appreciative, even if she's still kind of shaky. \"Thank you.\"\n\nBut she doesn't know where to go. She just knows she needs safety. She needs somewhere to call home - *Real* Home, not a hiding place or a shelter.\n\nOr a cult. The lady at the café had taught her that word. Cult. It seemed... Sort of fitting. But only sort of.\n\n\"But...\" She paused. It was hard to really get herself to say what she needed to say, no matter how hard she tried. \"Where do I go? I can't just... I need somewhere to go. I don't know where to go.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio nods. \"Sure.\" \nThe poor girl needed a lot more than what Valio could give. \n\nThis isn't the place for her, it's a damn Prison- rehab- whatever. It isn't the place for a scared child escaping from murders.\n \nThe angels seemed ruthless. They could do whatever they want their their damn glowing knives or something. \n\n\"I don't know, Annika.\" \nValio's voice borders a mix of guilt and sorrow as she stares at the girl in question. \n\"I'm due time to leave at least a month from now. You could go anywhere, I'm not the person you need. And you know this.\"\nValio says, doing little to comfort her. If she was doing that in the first place with what she said. \n\"We can find this out. Do you have to leave now?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I...\" Annika teared up. She nodded. \"Mhm. I... I need to leave soon.\" She felt tortured, like the entire world was conspiring to hurt her at every possible avenue. She felt alone, abandoned, desperate. She felt exactly the same way she felt when the Angels first took her in. Exactly the same way she felt when they gave her a home.\n\nExactly the same way she felt when they convinced her she needed to kill, to hit back at the world that had hurt her so.\n\n\"I don't know how long I have been here anymore. I feel alone here. I need to leave soon.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio stood and started shifting through her drawer. Pulling out money she has continuously saved from her job. \n\"Alright, Annika.\" \nShe says pulling money out.\nThis is awful, Valio didn't know what to do. She wasn't the person for this! She just she has to do something. \n\nValio didn't know what happened, she dosent need to know to say what happened was awful. Because, Annika simply looks... Broken. Her hands settle against polished wood. \n\n\"Alright Annika. I have money, and I will be giving it all to you. To leave. To catch a train and something to leave Sweden.\"\n\nValio looks to Annika.\n\n\"You don't deserve to be scared like this. You don't deserve to be alone.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Annika takes a moment to steel herself. Deeeeeeep breaths. Her face slowly morphs into something less miserable and more determined.\n\n\"No,\" She insists, \"Don't.\"\n\nWhat good would the money do her? Run away, go to Denmark or Norway, and then what? Where would she stay? She can't just run away. Being scared and alone somewhere else doesn't solve anything. The thought is... No. She's scared to even think of the journey, let alone what she'd do once she got there. What she might have to do.\n\n\"I need somewhere to go. I can't just run, Val. I need a place I can stay, someone I can talk to, anything. My fa- The... The Angels. They don't leave Isakstad. They stay together. I don't need to leave Sweden, I... I just need somewhere to go.\"\n\nShe sighed. It was going to be a long few days."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio stops looking guilty. Why is she the one falling apart and making rash decisions when she's literally 20 years old. \n\n\"Okay.\" \n\nValio settles against the drawer looking guilty. Gods she needs to get herself together. She's scaring a kid. She should do better than what she's doing now. \n\n\"Yeah. Problem is, I don't really know where you could go.\"\nThis was going to be very long for the both of them. \n\"Should I just ask around or something?\"\nBut to be honest Valio dosent know much because hell she was in prison for a hell of a long time. And that time was spent bloodying her hands for no damn good reason. She wants to help.\nShe just- she just dosent really know how."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Annika doesn't really say much more. She doesn't know any more than Valio does. All she knows is that she needs to get out. She curls up into the fetal position, resting at the foot of the bed, head buried in her knees.\n\n\"I don't know. I don't know.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Valio sighs and just goes back to sitting down right next to Annika. She feels bad that she can't give an answer instantly. Her hand slightly hovers over Annika's head, before it just settles there in the wisps of her fair white hair. Shes at least trying. As if that was ever enough. \n\n\"Okay.\""
}
] | 160.5 | 2,416 |
111.571429 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "wolveslament",
"message": "Anon wasn't quite sure what to make of Newton's Cradle just yet. Frankly, it wasn't something he even knew how to process just yet. As he looked around the dorm room, he found himself feeling more than a little small in the room. The concrete walls were certainly not helping. \n\nHe just wanted to go home, back to his aunt's little house where his room was simply painted light blue and had nice hardwood floors. Not... Whatever this was. Feebly, he pulled out his sticker sheet, and quietly stuck a small star sticker to the wall. The cartoonish yellow didn't do anything to soothe his nerves though. \n\nHe crawled up onto his bed, and wished that it would swallow him whole. It would be less stressful than dealing with a blank room. At least he knew his half sister was here too. He didn't know her much at all, but maybe she would be nice. Anything would be better than being alone in this silent cube."
},
{
"author": "noctispluvia",
"message": "*\"This was... Bothersome, to say the least. Accidentally stab somebody and now you're off at some rehabilitation center over something you didn't mean to do? Pretty wack, man.\"* Solani thought to herself as she slowly made her way to her room, stopping at the door and looking down at the floor. Knowing who her roommate was, she wasn't sure how to act with him now being in her life... Anon, right?\n\nShe let out a soft sigh and unlocks the door to let herself in, opening it and slipping in, taking a quick glance over at her half-brother's bunk, moving over to her own and dropping her bag down by it and slipping onto it."
},
{
"author": "wolveslament",
"message": "Anon glanced over, squinting at his half sister. He wasn't sure if he should wave at her, say hi, or continue to mope on the bed. He decided to go with the latter, and curled into an even smaller ball, huffing as he pulled the covers over his face, tugging at his snake stuffed animal, bringing it under the blanket and close to his chest. \n\nThe only things he had unpacked properly were Susie's belongings, most notably; her vivarium, and his framed picture of himself and his mom. Then again, that was really all he had, and he was wishing he had at least something else to spruce up his corner of the room. Maybe Solani had stuff? It would be nice if her half of the room was at least decorated."
},
{
"author": "noctispluvia",
"message": "Solani slips a hand into a pocket, turning onto her side and pulling out her phone and earbuds, slipping them in and starting some music, the corners of her mouth twitching in hint of a smile as it starts on *Paint It Black*, before her hand disappears back into her pocket to pull out her pocket journal and a pencil, flipping to an unfinished rough sketch of some sort of map.\n\nShe works on it for a little bit, maybe about 10-15 minutes before pulling an earbud out and asking Anon, \"So. What're you in for?\""
},
{
"author": "wolveslament",
"message": "He mumbled something that was barely intelligible, but sounded sort of like a muffled \"*Som f'll dm,*\" Or 'Someone fell down.' He didn't seem to elaborate further, but he did pull the covers of his blanket down to look at Solani. He seemed to try and gauge her expression, but that was tough when you were swaddled in blankets, squinting across the room at an awkward angle."
},
{
"author": "noctispluvia",
"message": "\"Well that doesn't sound like you'd deserve to go here.\" She replies, slightly confused, \"Surely you wouldn't get sent to a *Rehabilitation* Center for *Pushing* Someone or whatever happened. I accidentally stabbed a guy.\" Turning onto her other side to look at him, looking over to try and figure out how he was feeling. Might as well show *Some* Care, despite the fact that they had never really been in each other's lives."
},
{
"author": "wolveslament",
"message": "He openly continued to refuse to elaborate further on what had happened that had gotten him sent over. He didn't like thinking about it. But her mention of stabbing was a fantastic thing to focus on instead of thinking about the noise the kid had made when he'd fallen to the floor. \"You stabbed a guy?\" Anon said, voice raising an octave, \"What did they do to deserve it?\" Even Susie had moved out from her hide to look at Solani, her little snake tongue flicking out for a moment."
},
{
"author": "noctispluvia",
"message": "*\"Alright, fine, don't answer. Then again he's young, it makes sense.\"* She props herself up on an arm, a small smile forming as it seems he was interested in the story. \"On accident, mind you, I was only planning on decking him!\" She forms a small, jagged ice knife, before unforming it in case there was any cameras watching, she didn't want to break the 'no weapons' rule on her first day. \"He was getting a bit too handsy and before I knew it, he was stabbed instead of punched. Then I got sent here.\""
},
{
"author": "wolveslament",
"message": "Anon's eyes lit up briefly, flickering blue with excitement at the formation of the ice-shank-o'matic-2000. \"Can you make snowcones with that?\" He asked, not even intentionally meaning to derail the conversation, he was just entirely enthralled by the display of powers. He automatically reached out to poke at the knife before it was dissipated. \"Sounds like he deserved it then,\" He said, matter of fact. He had no qualms with her story, nope. That boy must have been a bully too."
},
{
"author": "noctispluvia",
"message": "She tilts her head in thought, her gaze shifting up to the ceiling. Could she? Good question, could be handy for a little snack. \"I don't know, I haven't tried, not sure *How* Really. I've really only made larger things, icicles, small sheets, stuff like that.\" Moving her eyes back to meet his, \"Maybe if this place is worth our time I'll figure out smaller scale stuff to make shaved ice.\""
},
{
"author": "wolveslament",
"message": "\"Well, I think you should try,\" He said, embodying the pinnacle of a teenage boy's energy and sass into that sentence before he immediately dissolved back into childish wonder. \"So you're also cold? Like me?\" He asked, looking at her hopefully. \"I'm cold too! I can't make ice though,\" He added."
},
{
"author": "noctispluvia",
"message": "She shakes her head, \"No, nobody's ever brought it up that I feel colder than the average person. Maybe if I used them more it'd do something?\" Gosh she wasn't sure if she should be bothered by his energy or not, she'd just have to see. \"What makes you cold?\""
},
{
"author": "wolveslament",
"message": "He shrugged, \"I have no idea! I'm just odd. Mom says I am perfectly okay, maybe a wee bit chilly but I'm not dead so it's okay!\" He ignored the nagging taunts he'd heard from other kids his age in favor of his mother's kinder words. He seemed perhaps a little too nonchalant about the whole situation, his calm(ish) demeanor for a younger teenager betrayed only by the way he fiddled with his hoodie strings."
},
{
"author": "noctispluvia",
"message": "\"I mean, I think to be here you have to be odd, it's more a question of *What* Makes you odd. You're cold, but not dead, I can make ice out of nothing.\" She shrugs, skipping a song that doesn't fit the current mood. \"So what are you interested in? Aren't you into drawing or something?\""
}
] | 102.5 | 1,562 |
336.6 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "The night dripped with something awful. \n\nUriel had not left Owen's side since they got back from tea and snacks with Elya. They had sat like a marble state besides his bed, a bottle of water and a fan on him at all times to protect him from overheating. They did not look him in the eyes, however— they were not deserving of it, they felt, and so they only stole glances when their resolve would weaken and their heart felt like it would shatter without confirming the presence of the boy, safe and sound in his bed. \n\nUriel was a mess. They had not changed out of last night's pajamas. Hair flew out of their braid and hung limply in front of their face, covering dull grey eyes like a curtain. Their eye bags were worse, somehow. Uriel looked like they were *Dead*, or at least that they wished they were. \n\nTheir hand holds Owen's in their own, and Uriel rests their head against the side of Owen's bed. The tears come, and this time, they do not stop. \n\n\"I- I can't be alone,\" Uriel whispers to no one. \"I should be alone. It would be better, but... I-I can't do this again. Anything but what it was like back home. I've— I don't want to lose it all.\" They bite their lip to stop the quivering, and their shoulders shake with effort as more tears follow suit down their cheeks. \"Please leave me,\" They whisper to themselves. \"Please don't.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen was running back to his body. His bones were a portal, on the other side of which lay something *Incredibly* Important—he fought to remember what it was, rounding white-painted corners, his feet sliding on sterile linoleum one step and hitting concrete hard the next. At his heels was a biting cold, and behind his eyes burned a wailing, stubborn heat.\n\nHis bed and his body lay down two different hallways, pale and fluorescent-lit, that oozed with the taste of tears. They were one and the same—along the Cradle's second-floor dorm well corridor were stretchers blocking his way, his hip clipping them as he stumbled; along the hospital corridor, people paced, faceless yet staring, unblinking.\n\nHe rounded the corner and threw open the door. The sight, whatever it was, formed before his eyes, ugly and red; sweat ran down his body as he careened toward it on legs that were suddenly out of his control, his voice stuck in his throat.\n\nOutside of his nightmare, Owen twitched fitfully. Curled around himself, red hair slicked to his forehead with salt water, and feverishly hot, he was elsewhere entirely. In Uriel's hands, his own were limp and sweaty—until they clenched, suddenly, as his sight and his body snapped back together like a taut bowstring back to its frame. The arrow fired, a solar flare, pierced his heart the moment his eyes snapped open.\n\nA distraught, frightened sound left his chest.\n\nUriel wept like he had never seen them do before, clutching his red, red hands, unable to look at his molten body. The tears that sprang to the corners of his eyes evaporated almost as soon as they glazed his cheeks as it hit him what he must have done. What he must *Never* Have done, especially not to them.\n\nThe sight of them crying like that tore him to his very core, ripping everything beneath his skin to helpless pieces.\n_ _\n\n\"No, no *No no no*\"—he cried, flames lashing at his very soul. The last torn edges of the nightmare still swam in his eyes, not fully awake as he shot upright and his breathing quickened.\n\n\"*Uriel*,\" He wailed, in a tone so miserable and primally despaired that it was a shock to hear it come from such a usually soft, loving mouth. Frantically he searched their hands, their sweet hands, for the ruin he had no doubt wrought upon their pale skin. He was saying something, it felt like, but words in their shared language refused to form. The white halls closed in on him still."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel moves on their own, wiggling into Owen's arms much like that of a cat. Their long, gangly limbs find their way around his chest, curled up on the spot where his heart beat the loudest. The thumping of his heart grounds the terrified Uriel, and they press their nose deep into his diaphragm. \n\n\"Owen,\" Uriel breathes. Their arms hug around him tightly, and they drape his arms over their them. \"I— I did something wrong. You and everyone in the Cradle passed out, and—.\" \n\nIt's too much for Uriel, and they stop speaking. Instead, they do their best to melt into his body, their thin frame shaking as they do so."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "A white-hot shock of terror briefly split Owen like a dead tree when Uriel dove into him; he tensed, but as the nightmare's detail faded, sense returned to him. They had wrapped his arms around them, those heavy blocks of firewood, and they were close enough to his heart to kiss it. That was not something, he managed to reason, that someone he had just hurt would do.\n\nAnd as always, he needed their embrace like breath.\n\n\"Is, is that what-\", he panted through his own lingering sobs, trying to retrace his steps. The amp on the floor. *His body giving out.* He knew their touch in his mind like he knew their touch on his skin, but never had it struck him like it did. He could guess at their fear, for it was his own—the revelation brought another heave from his chest, against their cheek.\n\nA long stretch of moments passed as he regained his breath, his lungs steadying beneath them. *Blissful, blessed pressure on his core.* His knees rose to press against their sides, holding them in place for a moment as he drenched the fire in his throat with cool, sweet water. \n\n\"*It's okay itsokayitsokay*,\" He panted , returning to cross his arms over their back, his head pressing into theirs. \n\nHis whole body cradled them, keeping them safe in their ache; the warmth in his bones and the humming in his chest arced over them, cooling his skin as it left him, his shell of warm red light crackling softly as it covered them. It was not the same bloody mass as his vision, he repeated internally, as the faintest sheen of turmeric kissed his love's skin.\n\nIt was a world all their own.\n\n\"*What happened, cyw?*\"\n\nHe whispered, and tried not to sound scared."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Their head hammered as Owen put the pieces together, internally bracing for backlash they know Owen would never give. And he doesn't give it— instead, his secure, strong arms lace over their back, and Uriel nuzzles their face into the soft parts of his neck. \n\n*It's ok,* Owen's voice says, and they ball up a fistful of his shirt. \n\n\"I messed up.\" Their voice is muffled by swaths of fabric and blanket and skin. \"I— I had one of t-those attacks my therapists talks about, and... When I came to everyone was asleep.\" \n\nA whine escapes their throat as they remember, and they futilely attempt to press themselves closer to Owen. Their hands find their way under his shirt, pressing their cool hands into the soft belly fat adorning his waist. \n\n\"Am I—\" Uriel croaks, sweat beading down their porcelain skin. \"Am I too far gone? W-was this my last chance? Is there hope for me, still?\" \n\nThey shiver as Owen kisses their skin, melting into a thick goo at the pleasant sensation. Right now, Owen was the only thing that existed to Uriel— not the asleep residents, not the bleeding Mimir, not the dying Amelie. Owen was their world, and their were his, and here they pretended everything was alright.\n\nThey cry, too, but it evaporates all the same."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Copper-thread eyelashes squeezed shut as Uriel whispered their plight, his heart sinking into his stomach, if only to be ever closer to them. A deep blush spread over his face as their hands slipped under his shirt, into his warm, dark, still-a-little-sweaty underbelly. They always found the softest parts of him to curl up in; Owen hummed softly, a sound of pure contentedness.\n\nBehind them, one of his own heavy, warm hands slid up the back of their shirt, rubbing circles into the small of their back. Whorls of a warm gold bloomed in his shell above them, a dragon's wing draped over his dear treasure.\n\n\"Oh, *Uriel*, my angel,\" He murmured into their hair, \"You were so scared...\"\n\nTerrified, they must have been, for something like that to happen—his voice broke on his last word, cursing his unconsciousness in their darkest hour. He recalled his own fear, laying on the floor while his body deserted him, and could only imagine their own. They sobbed, and he rocked them gently as they let out far more than such a frighteningly frail body should have held in the first place.\n\n\"Of course, of course you're not, *Cariad*.\" He squeezed. \"You're—You're so *Good*, Uri,\" He pleaded, \"You're so good and you're trying so hard and I'm so, *So* Proud of you, you know that?\" He fit his cheek over their head, tucking them into the hollow above his collarbone, surrounding them. His words were clear for them, clinging to a thousand reminders to remember his breathing.\n\n\"Y-you've come so far, and, and this doesn't mean you've undone it all, y-yeah? You're here, and, you're awake, and you're letting it out, and it breaks my heart to see you like this but I'm so relieved—\"\n\nHe sniffled, and protectively pulled their legs closer into his shield with his own.\n\n\"Uri? You haven't ||hurt yourself||, have you? Has anyone else?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Owen's words wash over Uriel's tense back like tides, and they shudder with relief as their breath slowly calms. \n\nOwen was a good angel on their shoulder. They were their own devil, spewing foul thoughts in their great monologue, but they quickly evaporated as the shield danced against their skin. *I am not a child anymore,* Uriel thought to themselves. *I cannot crash and burn every time I am kicked.* \n\n\n\"No,\" Uriel tentatively answers. \"I have not hurt myself. I— I would not do such a thing. I am grown now, and that does not help anyone.\" \n\nBetween breaths, Uriel peppers light kisses onto Owen's skin— some on his cheek, some on his neck, and some around the collarbone they desperately had buried themselves in. It was almost a rhythm for them, and the pleasant sensation of the shield humming just beneath his skin and their lips made their monologue quiet if only for a moment. \n\n\"I—\" Uriel croaks. \"I do not want to talk about this. I have been doing nothing but cleaning up my messes, today.\" They settle into his skin, pressing their cheek against his chest and rubbing small circles over his heart. \"Just give me one moment where I am not a mess.\"\n\nHis skin is rough, but it feels nice under their hands despite that— or even because of. Their thumb brushes against his chin, lightly tilting his face down towards them before pressing a shaky, chaste kiss on his lips."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The adrenaline from his jarring awakening drains from Owen's body a step further each time Uriel kisses him; he can't help but sink into the love of them, becoming in those moments outside of time a warm, soft presence purely for them to regain their peace in. His every angle and sweat-salted stretch of skin is theirs to find those invisible paths in, every tense muscle around his stomach a lock to be released upon their utterance of their magic words: that they will be alright, that they have grown.\n\nHe yearns to follow them, when they drop a final sweet taste on his lips, but he swallows his low groan, stretching it into a rumbling hum of acknowledgment deep in his chest. His second kiss lands instead on the tip of their nose, the third on the bridge, the fourth on their hairline, right where cream meets clouds.\n\n\"Okay,\" He murmurs into their hair. \"Everything's where it should be, *Fy ngalon bapur i*.\"\n\nHe shifts a little, adjusting the pillows behind him, and scooping their body closer into his with his legs; the horrible red thing fades a little more from his mind's eye.\n\n\"I'm sorry to have missed you.\" Owen's voice is gentle like a finger around a tender wound. \"I've just come from a dream of a similar dread.\"\n\nOne callused hand spreads over the small of their back, his fingertip tracing an invisible scar, a ridge behind their hip, and the other arm lays heavy and solid over the span of their shoulders; their braid has been in for a while, he sees, and he runs a hand over it, a small sound asking permission to relieve them of it."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel quietly nods as Owen brushes his calloused hand over their braid: they settle in at the motion, the corners of their mouth twitching up at every kiss he gifts them. \n\n\"I am filled with sorrow that you have awoken from a similar one.\" They mutter into Owen. \"You... You don't deserve to be plagued by such things.\" \n\n*Do I?* Months of therapy and kind words from other have slowly given way to the possibility of a previously unheard of answer: *No.* But Uriel was alone, again, and believing that they deserved to be treated with kindness just like everyone else made the rejection from the Cradle hurt even more, somehow. \n\nThe argument in their head only made Uriel furrow their eyebrows. They elect to focus on the buzzing underneath Owen's skin, and how lovely it feels pressed into their own colder body. \n\nIt was an odd feeling, to have someone suddenly touch old scars and wounds obtained so long ago they were buried in the fog of the past. Every touch to the sensitive skin made them more vulnerable, more unwound, melting further into Owen with all the strength they had."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Mmmm.\" An uneasy sound, weighted with sleep. \"Follows me, but won't catch me. Trust.\" He squeezed their sides with his legs.\n\nUriel's hair spilled like milk from Owen's hands as he unravelled it, carefully combing through little tangles, winding loose ringlets around his fingers and laying them out over their shoulders. Now perhaps wasn't the time to dwell on their beauty, but he did so love their hair. He relieved the last of the pulling on their scalp and slid a warm palm under their cheek, gently propping their chin up on his chest.\n\nHis voice was soft. \"Let's have a look at you.\"\n\nCallused hands pushed their bangs back, scratching slow, wide circles onto their head, as though he were breaking up the roots of a plant left too long in earth packed too tightly.\n\nOwen's groggy eyes drank in his dear friend's face: dark shadows under their eyes that seemed to run far behind them, a weight to their down-feather eyelashes that pressed heavier than usual over their deep grey eyes, the ghost of a smile on their lips. He chased the slightest flush in their cheeks with his soul. The boy's face felt heavy, but it warmed when he looked at them, sparks quietly glinting in his eyes.\n\nIt ached to see them so tired, though. Even by Uriel's standards. The hours that he'd been asleep... What rest had they had in that time? Any at all?\n\n\"Were you waiting long, love?\""
}
] | 318.5 | 3,366 |
407.416667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "★ [12:03am...]\n\n◇ Needless to say, tonight was a thundercrack of a doozy, and it was only natural that Margo had given up any chance of her night getting back on track.\n\n□ First off, she had failed to fall asleep within half an hour, so she went for a walk. That walk, however, had been interrupted by Friday intruding on Cradle grounds, then a debriefing and conspiratorial meeting with Matti, bugging Valio's room, and finding out the dead truth about what was really going on. As it turned out, her suspicions were right, and she now knew at least half of why Annika laying low in Val's room had been kept under such secrecy. The angels wanted to kill her, from what she now knew, and that was reason enough to safeguard her.\n\n▪︎ Of course, though, it didn't ease the pain of confirming that Uri, their closest friend at the Cradle aside from possibly Amelie, had been lying to her for over a month, in one form or another, so it was only natural that once she found them on the rooftop she found herself at once wracked with anger and also with sorrow.\n\n◆ \"Hey, Uri.\" She coolly announced her presence, if the telltale stink of tobacco didn't already give her away. Sitting down next to them, she had a can of OG Monster in her hand, and a cigarette balanced between her fingers, hand, and can, and while she seemed outwardly fine aside from being tired she bubbled inside with angry thoughts and the distinct dull stab of being hurt. \"Trying to get away from all the strings, or whatever your powers run off of while people sleep?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "For a summer night, it was rather chilly. Uriel was thankful they'd brought their usual poncho— they'd briefly contemplated going in just their button-up undershirt, but luckily decided against it. \n\nA thermos of piping hot tea, their knitting materials in hand, a beautiful night sky... Uriel couldn't ask for more. Or, well, they could ask for *One more thing...*\n\nRight on cue, the smell of tobacco hits them. They look up to see Margo's face, but— her expression is cloudy, the slightest pangs of *Something* Negative making her features tight. Taut, like a string under duress. \n\nShe needed company, then. They smile, and gesture to the seat next to them. \n\n\"Oh, Margo? I didn't expect you to be here. Come, sit next to me— it's a lovely night, after all. I'm simply here because it seemed nice from the window. I took quite a long nap through dinner, and so I don't believe I'll be able to sleep for a while.\" \n\nThere was one more thing they could ask for, one thing to make this scene perfect: the company of a friend."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Wordlessly, Margo took Uri's invitation, though she'd already planned on sitting down.\n\n■ \"Gotcha.\" She nodded, her face indeed tightened by stress and woe. Looking out over the edge, she let the cigarette dangle from lips cracked and plucked, its filter doing double duty as she thought about how best to bring it up. Ease into it? Or perhaps ask once more as if the solitude would finally loosen their lips? It was a matter of ripping the bandaid off, but somehow, as she glanced over at Uri, who had their knitting supplies in hand and a thermos of tea, she felt *Terrible* About having to confront them.\n\n▪︎ But then, the pain of being lied to was ever-present, and soon overpowered any moral qualms she had.\n\n◆ \"Uriel...\" She finally let out a sigh. \"Why the fuck did you lie to me about Annika? About Valio hiding her? About the Angels effectively having a death warrant out for her? About everything? I just found out the truth, and... Man.\" Margo's voice cracked a touch. \"Why wouldn't you just tell me the truth? Do you not trust me to keep my mouth shut? *Are we not as close as I keep on thinking we are?*\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Clack*. \n\nUriel's knitting needles, before moving with a slow yet steady rhythm, make one final noise before falling dead still in their gloved hands. She knew, *She knew*, and the realization made them freeze in fear. \n\n\"I...\"\n\nThey pause, their heavily accented voice dying in their throat. Uriel takes a shaky sip of their tea, the hot liquid providing much-needed nourishment from their suddenly dry throat.\n\nShe wasn't upset and looking for them for company. She was upset *Because* They were her company. \n\n\"What did you know? Who told you? How?\" A quiet mutter, barely above a whisper.\n\nThey can't bear to look her in the eyes, instead keeping their grey eyes steeled on the night sky above the two. Their gaze traces the bright pinpricks dotting the velvety black, the familiar motions a distraction from the pained expression Uriel knows Margo has, the expression *Directed at them*.\n\nIt's not an answer to her question. But... The thought of answering makes their stomach churn."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I...\" Valio's words echoed in her head, paraphrased by the shoddy scribe in her head: *Don't be mean to Uriel.* \"I'm not particularly mad at you, I'm just hurt.\"\n\n□ And, so she fell silent. At least, for a couple of moments. Uncertain hands toyed with the various straps and belts that hung off of her cargo pants, functionless yet aesthetic, and great for messing with when things were tense and she needed to vent it somewhat. Uri seemed to be at times surprised, upset, and worried, and while the rational part of her that won out much of the time said they were in the right to be so guarded, the emotional part of her that writhed in pain wanted answers.\n\n▪︎ So, she'd get them.\n\n◆ \"I'm hurt, and I'm not keen on just telling you yet. I want to know: why wouldn't you just tell me, man? I... I thought we were friends. *Close.* I've always been honest with you, even when it's hurt, so why couldn't you just *Recognize* That I'm on the same side as you and Valio and just *Tell* Me anything, no matter how vague or cryptic?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I...\" \n\nShe's *Sad*. Her voice cracks, and it felt like an iron vice squeezing their heart.\n\n\"I trust you. I do, I... I see you as a friend, a close one. You're important to me, and... That's why I didn't tell you.\" \n\nWhite-hot panic flushes itself against Uriel's skin, and they do their best to steady their breathing. *It's not alright,* The voice in their head whispers, invisible talons clawing at the inside of their head. *You'll tell her what you did, and she'll realize the truth.*\n\n*That you're a bad person, Uriel. That you're just like them.*\n\n\n\n*She'll get angry, you know. She tried to kill her father, I wonder what she'll do to you, a wolf in sheep's clothing? A betrayer, a liar? You know what people do when they get angry. Even here, it's the same motions. She's still human, at the end of the day.*\n\n\"I.. I trust you. I trust you.\" They let out a choked noise, wiping away beads of sweat forming at the edges of their brow. Shallow inhales gulp down the cool night air, and Uriel can't help but feel as if they're trying to convince themselves of that fact more than anything. \n\n\"I'll... I'll answer any questions. Truthfully and fully, so... Please, ask me anything. It's the least I can do, for the cruelty I've shown to you. You deserve the truth, the full truth...\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"What? Didn't tell me that two doors down we're harboring a fucking stowaway?\" Falling short of calling Annika what she truly was in case someone or something were lurking on the roof, her voice cracked and popped and whined with each word that left her mouth. \"If you'd just told me, we wouldn't be here right now, having this conversation. I had to employ Matti to bug Valio's room, for fuck sakes, just to get a single answer about this whole existential angel mess. I just...\"\n\n□ Dragging on her cigarette extra hard, it was less as if she was smoking for pleasure and more that she was chuffing a dart down simply to keep her nerves in check and to keep up her word to Valio, who she honestly didn't know what to make of. Clearly protective and guarding of Annika and her existence, but also notably pacifistic from what she could gather. As it turned out, Val was a very mysterious girl, and information on her beyond her height, job, and room number was scarce.\n\n▪︎ Then again, Margo didn't need that. She needed answers, from Uriel, and she had to approach it delicately despite her own heartache and the wrenching feeling of the knife being thrust into her ribs.\n\n◆ \"Moreso than anything else, I just want to know why you didn't trust me enough to tell me. You *Know* I'm airtight. The only place secrets leave me are into the pages of my journal, and even then it's hidden very well.\" She spoke, at once frazzled, pained, and utterly tired. \"I just... Fuck, Uri, I want to know why you kept on avoiding my questions when I could tell you weren't telling the truth, and honestly...? I want to know what *You* Know. After that... I'll answer any questions, okay?\"\n\n• Her stomach tumbled over itself a thousand times a second, nerves threatening to evict mouthfuls of Monster and the leftover shrimp fried rice she'd had for supper out of her gullet and up onto the tiled roof of the Cradle. What a messy night; she'd need a drink when she got back, was what she'd have said if she had any."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "What they know. From the beginning, tell the story about the angels. They could do that much. The beginning was the easy part, anyway. It was the middle where things became complicated.\n\n\"It started a couple of months ago. It was a cold night— I was with Owen, Finley, and Raizel when two angels broke into the Cradle with a dead deer. You've met Johanna and Frida, yes? Frida was wielding a knife, and they both claimed they were here to rescue their sister. Frida grew agitated, and I knocked her out before anything could happen. Then... Johanna talked to us, and said they were here to find their kidnapped sister, Annika.\" \n\nIt was a factual, easy recitation of events. Listing off points one-by-one, checking off items on their mental receipt of events. It was easy. It was *Safe.* It was almost relaxing.\n\n\"And... I, I didn't tell you because of this next part.\" \n\nFamiliar panic reignited in their lungs, and Uriel momentarily stuffed the feelings of sheer terror down to begin talking. It wasn't anything more than a patchwork job, their shattered composure a window taped back together and forced to withstand blow after blow, filthy word after word crawling out of their mouth.\n\n\"I... I did some investigating. I didn't— I shouldn't have, in hindsight— but I thought there was a *Young girl* On the line, and... I did something I shouldn't have.\" \n\nTheir voice breaks, and the taped-together window breaks with it. Uriel *Shudders*, leaning their arms against their thighs and bending their head down in... Shame, at what they'd done? Grief, for what they were about to lose? Fear, for how Margo would react, her knuckles turning bloody and bruised just like the first time they had met?\n\n.\n\nIt was funny, in an odd sort of way. With white hair cascading down their back, the moonlight barely illuminating their soft features, Uriel almost looked like they were praying. \n\n\"I went into his *Head*, Margo. I— I saw the angels *Meant* Something to him, that he knew things about them, and I... Pulled those strings, and watched what I dredged up.\" \n\nTheir voice is a little more than a whisper, not dissimilar to the cadence a sinner would have upon pouring their heart to a priest locked behind the tinted windows of a confessional.\n\n\"Horrible, ugly, awful things. Glowing stab wounds, angels cooing, bloodied mouths singing in front of a gutted, devoured corpse. Later, I'd meet him, and he'd tell me the context from those images— that it wasn't the first time something like this happened at the Cradle. Most of the things I told you from the briefing were from him, if you remember that.\" \n\nThe briefing. It seemed *So long ago*, yet so recent, too. Uriel could almost laugh, a small, wrung noise that barely passed as a chuckle escaping their lips.\n\n\"It was an awful thing to do— he made sure I paid for what I did to him, but... Still, I... I didn't speak about it because I *Did something bad and—*\" \n\nThey choke down another burst of emotion, using the pained suck of air as an excuse to reach for their thermos. Uriel's head pops out from where it hung, and Margo's extra-perceptive eye can barely spot the pinprick of tears on their face.\n\n\"It... It was embarrassing, being that weak. Being that *Pathetic*, being toyed with in someone else's head, the feeling of bugs crawling inside of my eyes and under my skin, threatened with talk about CCTV and tracking down my friends to make me talk. I... I didn't want to talk about it. I *Don't* Want to talk about it, but I'm doing it anyway, because I *Hurt him*, and now I've *Hurt you*.\"\n\n.\n\n*You hurt Margo.* Margo, who had always been there for them; who had never once hurt them, who did her best to be a good friend. A constant presence in Uriel's life, a steady rock they'd grown to appreciate every day when seeing her sitting on the couch with a book, or feeding the reptiles, or talking about her romantic life. All treasured memories, now tainted with the bitter knowledge of how they treated her.\n\n\"You gave me the benefit of the doubt, and look what I've done with it. I've acted like people I've always sworn to be better than. I— I did something awful, and that kind of hurt can't be solved by pleasantries. It's *Harm*, harm I caused, harm I'm owed; That's the currency this world runs on, and I—\" \n\n\"I'm sorry. You didn't ask for this. You can decide what to do with me now, alright? I'll— I'll accept any treatment for what I've done.\" \n\nFor the first time since they've been talking, Uriel turns their head and looks at Margo. Baleful eyes look into her mismatched ones, asking for one thing: *Please, use me for something.*"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ And so, Margo listened the entire time in silence.\n\n□ Silence, though, was not the same as inaction. Once Uriel began to spill everything as if their guts had been slashed with a knife, Margo looked over and observed them as they began to get into it, one night, one event, one string of atrocities at a time. The weird thing was that she already had pieced together a lot of the early stuff – the dead deer, Frida and Johanna being very proactive in trying to reclaim Annika for the cult, so on – but as things grew ever darker and tears dotted Uri's eyes Margo felt her entire demeanour shift from under her. No longer was she accusatory; she'd got what she wanted out of Uri, after all.\n\n▪︎ However, now she could tell they were barely holding together, and naturally she felt as if she had to help somehow.\n\n□ So, as the tears began to well she accepted that it'd be better to simply set all of the details aside into a folder of utmost importance in the filing cabinet that was her brain, and with the dossier thrown aside she wrapped an arm up Uri's back and began to massage their shoulder. Sure, she still ached a bit from having been kept in the dark, but the visions and dreams her roommate were telling me clearly unsettled her as well. Cannibalism, ritualistic murder, glowing stab wounds... The works. Every word that she hears solidified in her mind the truth she'd been mulling for weeks.\n\n▪︎ The angels were much worse than she had expected, and if she didn't get that damn gun then she'd have been better off simply unzipping her throat instead of letting the angels touch her.\n\n◆ \"Fuck, man...\" Able to feel Uri faintly crying, she continued to massage their shoulder, only stopping short of pulling them into an embrace because, admittedly, she had no idea what their comfort language *Was.* She knew quite a bit about them, or at least thought she did, but when it came to times like these, when trauma and guilt both split the body and mind apart at the seams she didn't know how to actually *Comfort* Them. \"My only question is... Who's this *Him?* It can't be the Big Sister, unless gender is kind of fluid for them... But that's nothing to worry about now. I'm... Sorry I forced you to dredge up all of those unpleasant memories, but it's also nice to know just how *Depraved* And wretched those nutjobs are, I guess.\" \n\n● \"Anyways, why would I do anything to you? Yes, you hurt me by keeping me in the dark, but it sounds like you had a damn good list of reasons to. I ain't holding it against you, either, so...\" She lit another cigarette and outed her previous one on the ground before tossing the whole thing over the edge. \"How about we just stop talking about this for now? I'm... Going to be fine, but you aren't; do you... Want a hug, or something?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"No, its alright. I'm— I'm fine. I can talk about this. Just...\" \n\nUriel takes a deep breath, and the panic once infiltrating their bones settles into the dirt. They were *Alright.* Their imagination had run off again and concocted a dark, twisted fantasy, one born from years of sleepless nights and righteous anger. \n\nThey were afraid of Margo's reaction, more than the old memories. Fear, that she'd realize they went into someone's head, that she'd deem them a threat and turn on them like the blade of a knife. \n\nUnfounded fear, Uriel realized. *Paranoia.*\n\n\"You're a... Good person, Margo. I'm sorry for forgetting that.\" \n\nUriel tentatively leaned against Margo's shoulder, eyes flickering up to meet hers in case the sudden motion is deemed unwelcome. The touch was... Nice, even if it wasn't something they usually favored— a solid, bedrock presence at their side, something there and *Dependable*. \n\n\"The science teacher, strangely enough. Mr. Rask. I didn't expect it, either, but... Apparently there's a history between him and the angels. He said he saw it first hand. Saw people— kids like us— die because of them. They're... They're not safe, and to be honest, I'm not so sure Valio should be harboring Annika.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Are you sure?\" Her voice hung heavy with concern. \"I've never really seen you break like this, and... Man. As much as being kept in the dark hurts, it hurts more seeing you completely crumple because of what you know. I just... Worry about you, I guess.\"\n\n□ Maybe it was a strange change of face, but she also couldn't bother herself with caring. Given what she knew now, the Angels were far more dangerous than her newspaper archive crawls had been able to ever convey to her, and if Uri knew all of these details as an outsider then what the hell did the Angels truly get up to behind the scenes? She grimaced. It all seemed so worrying, doubly so since the implication that Mr. Rask *Knew* And had butted heads with them before implied that this group were much older than she'd expected.\n\n▪︎ She took a drag, her face sunken into one of caution, curiosity, and the faintest tinge of fear.\n\n◆ \"It's okay, Uri.\" Margo quietly replied as she felt their head against her shoulder, following in tow with an arm around their upper body that culminated in a light hug. \"I don't think either of us are really *Prepared* To be dealing with this shit. You're... Already wracked with guilt. I'm effectively powerless to do anything to them except take the fall so nobody else has to be cannibalized and cooed over. We're barely even done being kids and there's already so much shit on our shoulders. Just... It's a lot, and you're not remiss to forget that at the end of the day, I'd kill for you. After all... I already tried to once. I don't think I'd shy away from killing one of those nutjobs if they had you in a halo hold or whatever.\"\n\n○ \"Anyways...\" A few tense, quiet moments passed. \"Do you have any idea how Annika managed to get out? Or if she's even being genuine? She seemed absolutely frightened when I was talking to her earlier; if it's a façade, then I think we all deserve to die for it, but it'd be hard to replicate that level of terror without being wracked with it...\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"It's... Flattering to know you'd kill for me, but I don't want anyone to die. Would you... Do the opposite? Show someone mercy for me?\" \n\nA cold, slender hand wraps around Margo's forearm, pulling the limb ever-so-slightly to empathize how serious they were. \n\nHm, yes, that seemed much more preferable. Uriel couldn't bear to see anyone be hurt for their sake— they already had enough weighing on their consciousness, and they'd rather not add a mangled corpse to join the skeletons in their closet. \n\n\"Annika... Valio told me that they found her in a cave, with a cracked halo. The next time she went to see Valio, her halo was completely gone. It's logical to conclude that the halo is what was responsible for the mind control, and something damaged it to allow her to escape. However... Without having talked to her, it might be hasty to assume such a thing.\" \n\nUriel lets go of Margo, moment of comfort gone in favor of sitting upright in deep contemplation. It was... Interesting— they knew nothing of the angel's structure, or how Annika even managed to join the cult to begin with. Was she a damsel, taken into the cult for the promise of a home and turned into a killer? Or a killer first, angel second, who joined the group knowing their violent methods? They couldn't know, not without talking to her. \n\n\"Although... I haven't had a chance to ask her what exactly led up to her escape. Or talk with her, at all— I suppose I've figured that with the curfew enacted that it wasn't my place anymore. God forbid I meddle, and I end up hurting someone else with my actions... It seems any further investigating would just be for my own curiosity, while putting people at risk.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Maybe.\" Margo hummed. \"But, you know me... I don't exactly favour pacifism. It'd all be on my own judgment in the moment, and my judgment is always fogged over with a thin yet persistent fog of war...\"\n\n□ In the pit of her stomach, she could feel the words crumpling her organs into a nervous mess that poked and ripped away at her insides. But, who was she to lie to Uriel, now that the pain of being kept in the dark had been balanced out by being told *Everything?* The truth may have been uncomfortable for them both, but deep down she knew that she was entirely capable of killing, and the will was certainly there, but mercy? Mercy was something she knew very little about. She hadn't been shown much mercy in her home life growing up, and this had molded her into an unmerciful teenager who, when it came down to it, would keep on punching and kicking until she was either pulled off or the other person stopped breathing.\n\n▪︎ After all, her father had only been spared because she'd been hauled off of him and held back by those pesky joggers. If she could kill her father in cold blood, or at least attempt to, then what was stopping her from doing it to some random person she knew nothing about?\n\n◆ \"I'd say those halos have *Got* To be the apparatus they use to break the wills of newcomers. It all makes sense, especially since, as you described it...\" Margo trailed off, looking over both of her shoulders. \"Annika was found with a cracked halo. I tried to talk to her when I was in Val's dorm earlier, but she could barely croak out a single word even when I was talking to her in Swedish, so... Maybe you should. You've been in this mystery longer than me, she might trust you a touch more. I know you're scared to hurt people with your meddling, but, man... Outside of Matti you're our best infiltrator by a long shot.\"\n\n▪︎ \"I guess what I'm saying is that, some day soon, you should try to talk to her again, and ask her how she managed to break free. If we learn how she did it, then our contingency plans would have more to work with, and we need all of the information we can get.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You... You make a good point. I'm already entrenched in this mess, yes? I don't know how I feel about others stepping in and potentially getting hurt, so... Perhaps you're right.\" \n\nUriel hums to themself, hands now idly tapping the railing alongside the roof. The nice, repetitive motion served as a good backdrop for their thoughts— loud, internal debates and now following a steady rhythm, able to be digested in the spaces between where Uriel's fingers impacted the cool metal surface.\n\n\"I'll tell you everything, once I do. Even if it's an unpleasant, awful truth. You deserve to know. You're not just my roommate, but... A partner, too.\" A soft smile. \n\nUriel could safely trust Margo. It was a freeing revelation, one that made the ever-present weight pressing down on their back and squeezing the air out of their lungs lighten just a bit. \n\nOf course they could trust Margo. How silly to think otherwise. \n\n\"Can you... Stay with me, though? I know it's late, and you like your sleep schedule, so feel free to leave whenever you want, but...\" The tapping on the railing stops as Uriel takes a moment to look at the sky once again, tracing the constellations not out of anxiety, but out of appreciation for the wonderful sight. \n\n\"The stars are nice, aren't they?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah.\" Margo hummed in agreement. \"Unlike the rest of us, you can do your job from the comfort of our couch. You can delve into this in a way not even Matti can; I get that you're scared, and you have moral qualms about it, but think about the bigger picture, man. I guess that's it.\"\n\n□ Falling quiet, Margo's lips pinched themselves against the butt of her cigarette, dragging out calm and peace of mind one puff at a time. Given how much shit was going on, and how much it felt like she was really in the depths of this angelic nightmare, she knew she needed anything she could get. A gun was still her top priority, but en lieu of that it was just her and the three other people here who knew the truth about this whole situation, and why the angels were still circling the prison like wolves at the doors.\n\n▪︎ It wasn't ideal, but things rarely were when so many lives were on the line.\n\n◆ \"I already grabbed an energy drink from June; I've given up on sleeping tonight.\" Margo plainly replied, raising her third-drank can of Monster up for extra effect. \"The stars are indeed nice. I never really got to see them back home in Brooklyn due to how much light pollution was overhead, so... I like being able to see them here. It's part of why I get up so early...\" She trailed off. \"It gives me time to look out of the window, at the stars, and *Think.* Who knows how many days of thought I have left...\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*I get that you're scared, and you have moral qualms about it, but think about the bigger picture, man.*\n\nUriel shifted uncomfortably under those words. It brought back unpleasant reminders of their mom's face contorted in her sleep, the nightmares that plagued her as punishment for leaving the family a constant staple in her nightly routine. The bigger picture, the greater good— those justifications could be used to explain away any behavior. How long before words like those became crutches for immortality?\n\n\"My powers... They're hereditary. I don't usually tell people about that, because then they ask questions.\" \n\nA hesitant, unsure voice breaks the silence between the two. It wasn't a pleasant topic, one Uriel attempted to avoid like the plague. The less they talked about it, the more it would fade into the deepest recesses of their mind— a naive, fruitless hope, but one Uriel clung onto desperately.\n\n*It's alright. Margo is... She's a friend. She'll understand. * An inner thought whispered, a voice oddly similar to their mother's. \n\n\"They work with the government, and use these abilities for... Exactly what you think the government would be interested in. The mind can't lie, not like people can, and being able to rummage around in people's head from afar is a valuable asset.\" \n\nUriel's eye twitched, and the hands resting against their legs tightened their grip. Anger... An uncommon, unfamiliar emotion, but one that always seemed to linger when talking about their family history. \n\n.\n\n\"I... They're horrible, utterly despicable.\" More hushed, quiet anger, the feeling tinging their tone in bitterness. \"The family thinks they're inherently better than other people, that their ability to comprehend the fourth dimension that connects us all is a difference comparable to the one between human and cattle. My mom... She was disowned after having me out of wedlock, so I've never met them, which is... A small relief, quite frankly.\"\n\nThe little information their mom told them about the intricate nitty-gritty surrounding the clan had only made the boogeyman of *Them* Grow larger in Uriel's head. Even talking about the clan made Uriel nervous, checking over their shoulder to see if anyone lingered around. Margo was to be trusted, that they knew— but the capabilities of their cousins were a big mystery, and whether or not they could *Tell* Uriel even existed, or was here, made talking about people who could be potentially watching force a quick intake of breath.\n\n\"It... Worries me, doing the same things they do. It's a Socratic belief— people aren't *Good* Or *Evil*, but their actions are. If I start doing the same type of interrogation my family has inflicted onto people for decades, will I start to become like them? Even if my intentions are good... Those can only carry you so far.\" Uriel's continued on contemplatively, their thoughtful gaze drifting off to who-knows-where.\n\n\"I don't want to become like them. I.. Try my best to be a good person and avoid committing those inherited sins, but if I slip up even once... Who knows? Will that... Inherent nature finally show itself? I... I don't know, truthfully.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh, really?\" A single eyebrow crooked up a semitone in surprise. \"Huh. Sorry, keep on talking, man, don't give yourself time to clam back up.\"\n\n□ Interjecting for a split-second, she excused herself and let Uri keep on talking. As they spoke, she listened, and what she heard confirmed some long-held suspicions about rumours she'd overhead in the rare letters or phone calls she'd shared with Mary. Not only was Uriel's dreamweaving not exclusive, but it was spread out over an entire family, and possibly had been for centuries. It was a lot to take in, but given how much shit was going on her mind was already in survival mode, so a lot of the darker implications were set off to the side automatically as she continued to rub her roommate's shoulders betwixt the blades.\n\n▪︎ It was a lot to take in, but what wasn't in a place like this?\n\n◆ \"Explains why my sister said she had another vision from God a few months before I got sent here.\" Margo hummed. \"Maybe it was one of your kin messing around with the nuns. Apparently most of the sisters there have regular angelic visions, but knowing what I know now, I doubt it's from God, just someone with a God complex. Not to insult your family, but the extended part sounds *Fucked.*\" She laughed, as if trying to defuse any building tensions. \"Interrogators traditionally can only break bodies and spirits, so with them being able to peek in unobstructed like that, well... No wonder they're all loose upstairs. It's a power trip, they get to meld and break minds at will, I doubt i'd be a good person with powers like that.\"\n\n● \"But, Uri. You're gonna be fine. I get that you're frightened of slipping and becoming the same sort of evil that your extended family are, but the fact that you're willfully fighting against the whims of fate means that you're doing way better than any of them. Maybe, then... Hm.\" She took a drag. \"I dunno. Deep breaths, man... You'll be fine. We'll be fine.\"\n\n° A damn white lie, but oh well. She needed to convince herself more than anything else that this would all be fine in the end."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"No, please, feel free to insult them. The God complex part is simply accurate. They're... Apparently, people with abilities like mine tend to be on the.. Unstable side. Having too much empathy for the emotions of others might drive you mad, and having too little turns you into a monster, like them. It's a bit of a tightrope walk— lose your humanity, or have it consume you?\" \n\nIt was an interesting thought, one that toyed with Uriel's mind. *To be human, or to be an angel, to forsake humanity, or have it devour you whole...*\n\n\"It'll be alright. There's— there's a bright, happy future waiting for you. I can tell. It... Might be rocky, and a bit clouded now, but... I truly do believe things will be alright in the end.\" Uriel gave a small, reassuring smile to Margo.\n\nIt was a motivating idea. A beautiful, fairy tale ending for everyone at the Cradle... It was a perfect idea, one they took solace in. They'd have to wait the darkness out, but dawn would come eventually. \n\nA happy ending was so, so close. They could almost feel it."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, I getcha.\" Margo nodded, letting out perhaps the world's longest sigh of the day. She was in survival mode, yes, but survival didn't mean she was operating off instinct and nothing else. \"It's a metaphorical shoestring above the Grand Canyon, so to speak, having abilities like yours. Heavy hangs the head that wears the crown, isn't that how the old adage goes? You're doing a fine job so far, I'd say.\"\n\n□ Retracting her hand, she let it loosely flop into her lap, her other hand naught but a holder for the remainder of her cigarette and its cherried cancerous end. Given what she mow knew about Uri's family, she almost felt as if she trusted them less, but at the same time it was clear to her that every fiber of their being was wracked with generational guilt and inherited moral quandaries rarely ever experienced by anyone else. The fact, then, that they were actively trying to strike a balance between wanton godhood and humble humanity was enough to remind her that they were trustworthy, even if her soul still ached from being kept in the dark so long.\n\n▪︎ She couldn't exactly blame them, but still, it *Hurt.*\n\n◆ \"I sure hope so.\" Margo replied in turn, her voice warbling and dipping towards the distance rather than the rooftop. \"Because right now, it feels like I've gotta watch over my shoulder all the time. Those freaks in the industrial park have my name – my scent, so to speak – and they're poking around here all the time. Did I tell you I'm...\" A cursory peek over her shoulder. \"It's so bad, I'm losing so much sleep over this, that I'm looking into buying a gun? Maybe it's the American in me,\" She chuckled, \"But I don't think I'm going to feel safe until either those angelic nuts leave us alone, or I have a heater in my waistband. I really just... Hope this is over with soon, man.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Me? A crown? It's a bit amusing coming from a potential multi-billionaire— it seems you're much closer to 'royalty' than anything I'd ever hope to achieve.\" Uriel lets out a small laugh, looking over at Margo with an amused smile.\n\nRoyalty... A warrior-princess, perhaps? It seemed straight out of a story— a well-off princess, running away from her kingdom to pick up her sword and fight with the common people. Not that Uriel would ever voice that comparison to the other— in fact, such a gesture would most likely be met with ridicule or anger at treating her life like a storybook. \n\nStill, the comparison made Uriel smile. \n\nThey didn't comment on Margo's desire to get a gun, instead humming noncommittally. It was an idea Uriel was *Staunchly* Against, an idea with a list of cons so large it could fill a phone book. Margo wasn't exactly someone who possessed an even temperament, to put it lightly, and escalating the levels of potential violence to lethality was an idea that filled Uriel with dread. \n\n\"I don't think you'll need a gun to be safe. We are in a prison, after all— a couple of frail women with wings were nothing to security staff who've been trained to deal with paranormal inmates. The ones I've met have been teenagers— if the staff are meant to stop people on the level of Valio, I doubt they'd fall prey the likes of *Them.*\"\n\nThe Angels, for a group of vigilante murders, didn't seem to be the most competent of forces. Especially with the likes of the people in their ranks... It was confusing how a group like them could be responsible for the horrors seen in Oliver's dreams."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh, right, maybe that's not a saying in French.\" She doubled back upon hearing Uri take her little saying literally rather than as the metaphor it was. \"You ever hear of that idea? That the heads of royalty always hang heavy because the Crown atop their heads are festooned in riches, and thus people look on enviously from all corners? It's a saying that's always stuck with me; it just makes sense. Anyways, I'd say I'm far from royalty; wealth doesn't exactly equal royal status, but... They're pretty closely intertwined most of the time. Threads of fate, I dunno.\"\n\n□ Shrugging lightly, she took another puff and exhaled, thin wisps of smoke making their way out and filling the air with that signature stench of tobacco and several hundred carcinogenic substances. Perhaps, a year prior, she'd have cared more, but with all of the angelic nonsense whipping around her head at the best of times she needed something, *Anything,* To keep her stable.\n\n▪︎ Sometimes self-destruction *Was* The best way to stay afloat, like amputating a gangrenous limb before the rot spread past the point of salvation.\n\n◆ \"But, you told me yourself the nightmares you saw in Oliver's head. There's something foul going on beneath the surface with them, and it's something that transcends the fact that they're malnourished, ratty, faux benevolent vigilantes.\" She trailed off for a moment. \"But you're right. If the staff here are trained to handle behemoths like Valio, I guess they could handle the angels. Then again... Oliver is a crank. He's not someone who seems like he'd be easily scared, so if those freaks and their cannibalistic rituals and glowing slash wounds unsettled him that much then... Man. Maybe there's a lot about them we don't know. Are their halos even the hard light objects we think they are? How does the brainwashing work? How the fuck have they been active for over a decade without the police cracking down on them? There's just... So much we don't know, and I think that's what unsettles me the most.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"It's... Odd, certainly. There's a lot of puzzle pieces we don't have.\"\n\n\"But.. Is it a puzzle we're meant to solve? Would solving the puzzle even be worth the potential sacrifices? We could solve it, yes, and look at the entire picture we managed to piece together, but is that feeling of satisfaction worth anything to anyone but ourselves?\" Uriel's eyebrows furrowed together in deep contemplation, and the grip they have around their currently-empty tea thermos tightens.\n\nIt would be self-serving to continue to meddle. Uriel had to see things through, yes, but that took the form of making sure no one would be hurt by the angels in the future, and doing their best to support Margo and Matti. *Not* By playing detective despite the potential risks. \n\nIt wasn't difficult to think, either. Uriel had no intention of exposing themself to any situation that could possibly lead to mind-control. Once that concept had come into play, they had silently vowed to distance themselves from the situation as best they could. \n\n\"Oliver... Isn't someone who's easily scared. It's a bit strange— I don't know too much about the man, aside from our... *Encounter*, which is an odd circumstance to meet someone in.\" There's a small sheepish hum upon elaborating on the complicated feelings they had towards the man.\n\n\"That, coupled with the classes I take with him, and the various times he sees me passed out on the floor while doing janitorial duties, and it's always a bit awkward and unpleasant. It's the one thing preventing me from asking about more information regarding the Angels, actually— I remember, the first class after we had detention, he gave me an entire unit regarding the ethics of invasion of privacy.\" \n\nUriel lets out a small snort. \"In a *Chemistry class.* It's a bit funny, looking back.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Maybe not.\" Margo hummed in light agreement. \"But at this point...? I'm not entirely sure it's answers I want.\"\n\n□ Silently, she contemptuously stewed on a concept she'd been mulling ever since she'd seen how freakishly terrified Annika had been. Clearly, whatever had happened while she was under the halo had scarred her deeply, in ways that she was perhaps just now consciously processing, and that sort of amnesiac brainwashing unsettled her so deeply that, combined with the dozens of victims she'd tentatively pinned to the cult, she knew that playing Murdoch wasn't enough. She had to bypass judge and jury, as they'd clearly been bribed to look the other way. Morality was fickle, and she knew her own held many different shades of grey, veritable television static crackling alongside the constant tea kettle whistle of anger that resided within her at all times.\n\n▪︎ *\"God, if you're listening...\"* She thought, *\"Give me a gun and one of those fucking freaks in an alleyway and you'll have another angel to sing your praises.\"*\n\n◆ \"Jesus, he gave you that in the middle of a *Chemistry* Lesson? Fuck, man, he must have really wanted to tell you to stop meddling.\" Margo reconnected to the channels of the living breathing, her previously glassy yet furious gaze softening as the heat of reality washed over it again. \"But, shit, he's both grumpy and weathered, so I don't blame him. Just... Remember, man. If those freaks get me, you know what to do. *Snap.*\" She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point. \"Death's preferable to becoming a tool for them to deploy, like I'm their Scarecrow waiting in the wings. I... Know it's hard for you to hear this, but I feel like we really do have to prepare for the worst with this shit, y'know?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel nods, understanding. \n\n\"It'll be alright, you know. I just... I can feel it.\" Their words are soft, and as they watch the darkness slowly turn to dawn in silence, Uriel couldn't help but feel as if things were only going to get better from here. \n\n—————"
}
] | 376.5 | 9,778 |
152.45 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "And so it begins. He had wondered when he'd be getting a roommate. He'd known this was a double room, but the other half had always been empty. It'll be odd sharing a room. It's not something he's had to do before. \n\nHe's putting an effort in to keep his side of the room as compact as possible, just to be polite. \n\nHe can't deny that he's *Nervous* About this. He's not sure about it. They'll have to use a translator to communicate, assuming she doesn't just use very basic phrases.\n\nHe wishes his mom had made time to teach him more, didn't just give up when he couldn't grasp the different alphabets. Basically, she branded him a failure and that was that. \n\nAs he's cleaning up, something catches his eye. His violin. He doesn't like looking at it, so it got buried under laundry. But now the case is sitting there, in plain sight. A pit forms in his stomach. *Why did I bring that.*\n\nIn a hurry, he plops the book he checked out recently onto the desk with a thunk and picks the case up with little care. He tosses it haphazardly onto the bed, opening the closet.\n\nIt sure would be funny if a certain someone entered the room right now-"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "You just write as much as you want.\n\nThere's no min or max, it's just \"What feels right\""
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "Would it be alright if I just kept my response as one big wall of text? That's what I usually do instead of breaking it into paragraphs."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "A 14 year old girl wandered the halls of the dorm rooms, watching the numbers indicating each room slowly increase. 103... 104... 105... Nakanishi was slightly hunched over, and her hands were close to her chest, balled up in fists.\n\nThe girl had a nervous expression on her face. She was anxious about meeting her new roommate, wondering what they would think about her, what she would say to them when they would first lock eyes with eachother. She had almost no knowledge of who they were, just a name to go off of.\n\nShe walked up to the wall at the very end of the hall, finding room 130; the room she was supposed to use as housing for her stay for the next 4, 5, maybe even 6 or more years. She walked up to the door and stood there silently, trying to muster the courage to knock.\n\nNakanishi couldn't help but fear what her new roommate would think of her. The anxious expression on her face, the leather gloves she was teased about during 8th grade, her unusual build. Nakanishi thought she was weird in many different ways, and she feared her roommate would think of her the same as all of her classmates; a weird girl who always wore leather gloves."
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "\"S[]t- *S[]t-*\" He's quickly making room for the violin in the top of his closet, cussing under his breath as is his bad habit.\n\nHe's getting worked up from this *Stupid* Instrument, and it's not even open. He pulls at his hair for a second, before hearing a timid knock. \n\nHe haphazardly throws a blanket over it so that no one will see it- so that *He* Doesn't have to see it- runs a hand through his hair, and goes to open the door. He knows who he's expecting before he opens it sort of. \n\nHe uses the voice feature of google translate to relay a message."
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "Can't reply atm though because of school :("
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi stepped back quickly once the door suddenly opened in front of her, which startled her slightly. She heard the translated message and looked down at the phone he was using.\n\nRealizing that they were using a translator app to communicate with her, she wanted to pull her phone out so she could communicate back, but she thought it would be weird to communicate using a translator application and decided against it. She really wanted to feel like she fit in, to not be ostracized because of something that was part of her everyday life.\n\nThe gloves she wore on her hands were made of a thick brown leather, loosely bound to her wrists with Velcro straps. They would allow her to touch things without freezing them, at the cost of never being able to truly feel objects. She opened her hands for a moment as faint, muffled cracks could be heard and small bits of ice fell and melted on the ground. If she kept her hands in one position for too long, she'd have to move them in order to break the ice and allow her to move her hands again.\n\nHer eyes grew wider and a soft gasp escaped her lips as, despite the fact she is now in Sweden and no longer has to follow Japanese customs, she realizes that she had forgotten to bow to him (she's too used to Japanese customs). She clasped her hands at thigh level and bent her torso at a 30 degree angle, then held the bow for 2 seconds before standing up straight again, locking eyes once more with Mamoru, the anxiety she is feeling clearly showing in her face."
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "PINGAPINGAPINGAPING"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "So now they're standing there, staring at each other. It's a little awkward, especially knowing that they won't be able to communicate without something else helping them.\n\nHe glances down at the gloves, but decides not to think too much about it. Then she *Moves* Her hands, and there's a weird cracking noise. He looks back down at the gloves. He can't help it. *Ice just fell out of her gloves.*\n\nThe bowing... He's heard of it, but was never raised to do it. The eye contact starts making the nervousness leak onto his face as well.\n\nHe pushes a strand of hair behind his ear, moving out of the way and typing on his phone into the translator.\n\n\"[Sorry, you can come in. I cleaned up a bit.]\""
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*Nakanishi watched Mamoru move out of the way to allow her inside the double dorm. She looked into the room and thought it looked pretty nice. She locked eyes with him again and spoke. Note that I'll be using romaji for what she is vocalizing since I'm not sure how to mark stutters in Japanese.*\n\n\"A... A-Ariga... Tou...\"\n\n\n*A soft, timid voice came from the girl as she slowly stepped into the room, examining her surroundings as she held a bag with her belongings inside, including Sazaki-chan, her blanket. When she set the bag down, she would have to open her hands to let go of the handle, causing the same thing with the ice breaking to happen again. Nakanishi held her arms up to let some chunks of ice fall down and make the glove more comfortable, kinda trying to do it discreetly so that Mamoru wouldn't see.*"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "Wow! A word he understands! No translator needed for the first time ever. It's a good sign, he hopes.\n\nShe's shy, that much is clear. Hopefully that means she's nice as well. They will probably be able to coexist. \n\nDespite her efforts, he does see the ice. If not as it falls, definitely when the ice is on the ground. He does the polite thing and doesn't mention it, though. \n\n\"[Do you need help?]\" May as well offer. Thanks translator."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*Nakanishi opens her bag as she hears the translator again and turns to Mamoru, who is again holding the phone. When he asks if she needs help, she declines, doing her best to vocalize it. Still using romaji.*\n\n\"K-Kekko... Desu... Wa-watashi wa... Dai-daijoubu... D-desu...\"\n\n\n*Her voice remained soft, Mamoru could hear the timidity in her voice. She was nervous about being roommates with him, she feared he'd think she's just as weird as everyone else thought in school. Her stutters, how her voice sounded, the gloves, her unusual height. She wasn't normal, she thought, and she feared they wouldn't be able to bond because of it. She is a kind and caring soul though, Mamoru will have to gain her trust.*"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "The translator picks up enough of that for him to get the gist. He nods. \n\n...She's definitely shy. She stammers worst than he does around Craig.\n\n\n\n\"[Alright.]\" \nIn that case... He looks over at his bed with dread, sighing and removing the cover from over the violin case, trying to shove it into his closet as fast as possible. It'll be very easy to avoid talking about it with Nakanishi, he figures."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*The girl checks for her items in the wheeled bag, small chunks of ice still falling out of the gloves. She redid the Velcro straps to ensure her gloves would be more secure (and keep ice chunks in so Mamoru wouldn't see them fall) and zipped her bag back up before bringing the bag over to her bed/side of the room/whatever and setting it down upright.*\n\n*Nakanishi then begins to stare out the window, watching the blue sky. It reminded her of the Swedish flag that she saw everywhere. The sky looked so familiar, yet felt alien at the same time, like there was something different about it. Might be because she's in Sweden.*\n\n*After a few minutes, the girl realizes that ice had formed in the insides of her gloves again and had to ball her hands into fists to break them, creating soft cracking sounds as the ice broke. She tried to hide what she was doing, but the cracking sounds easily gave it away.*"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "The ice catches his attention again. He looks over. He didn't want to ask before but.. He can feel things starting to get awkward. \n\n\"[Is the ice related to your power?]\" \n\nHe almost feels rude for asking. But what's Moru supposed to do? Sit there and pretend that there's not a whole other person in his room? Well- not just his anymore."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi's eyes widen a little as she is asked about the ice from her gloves being related to her power. She had been afraid of him finding out about it sooner or later, and it turned out to be sooner. \n\nNakanishi looked down at her gloved hands, then back up at Mamoru, pondering whether she should tell him or not.\n\nShe wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, fearing that he wouldn't want to speak to her, just like all of her classmates did when they heard of \"Glove Girl\".\n\nShe got flashbacks to the time when she tried to hang out with some of the least popular kids in school, and they did talk to her for a little bit then just kinda got up and walked away. Another flashback was to when a group of kids was avoiding her after she approached to talk. \n\nThe flashbacks immediately made tears well up in Nakanishi's eyes, and she fixed her gaze upon the ground, sniffling quietly as she reflected upon what could have been if she wasn't cursed with this *Stupid* Power. She hated it more than anything she had ever hated, and yet it was part of her daily life."
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "Oh no. Oh no she's sad. That much is clear. *S[]t.*\n\n\"Oh- uhm-\" He stammers a bit, feeling bad. Little does he know, they both relate to feeling like their power is a curse at times. \n\nHe's hurt people- normally small things like papercuts. Sometimes he desperately used his power to *Fix* Things. But it never worked that way, because transferring injuries *Doesn't* Heal them. It just *Moves* Them. \n\n*Quick type quick type-*\n\n\"[Sorry. Are you alright? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.]\"\n\nHe feels stupid now, even though there's no way he could have known."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The girl sniffles some more and she closes her eyes as a salty tear falls to the ground, splattering and becoming invisible to the human eye.\n\nShe opened her eyes back up and looked at the gloves covering her hands. She felt that her sobs had already told Mamoru what they possibly needed to know. She felt like she had to tell him since she could not hide it anymore.\n\n\n\n[I-I've... Hid my c-curse my... M-my whole life... T-the gloves I wear.. K-kept me from making f-friends...]\n\nThe girl then goes over to a wall and touches it, freezing a small area of the wall around her fingertips. She then takes her hands off of the wall and lets the ice sublimate into air. She thought that Mamoru was going to treat her the same way that her classmates always did now that he knew her secret. The girl turned to face Mamoru as more tears slid down her cheeks."
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "How does he help? He doesn't know. He wanted to get off on the right foot with his roommate- try and be more optimistic around them. \n\nHe doesn't understand just yet- about the gloves. Her hands seem like... You know.. Hands. \n\nHe catches less of her next phrase than he'd like. But he does hear one word. *Curse.*\n\nCurse.\nHer ability- she thinks it's a curse. Just like he feels sometimes.\n\nThe wall freezes over where she touches it. ...Okay he can kind of understand why she'd consider it a curse. But he's not *Afraid.* She wears gloves anyways, she won't hurt him.\n\n\"Er- one second.\" Typing, backspacing, thinking, typing...\n\n\"[It's okay. I feel similarly about my power.]\" \n\nHe doesn't know if he wants to explain further... He'll just say something quick as an explanation.\n\n\"[It's easy to misunderstand. I move injuries from one person to another, but I can't fix injury. I don't heal.]\""
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The girl listens to/reads the message on Mamoru's translator app and is surprised to find that he'd consider his power a curse as well.\n\n[Y-You do..?]\n\nShe looks up at Mamoru for a moment before looking down to her bare hands. She hadn't seen them in months and allowed them to breathe. It felt nice having her gloves off finally, but she wondered if it was going to deter Mamoru from speaking to her. As she clasped her hands together, she looked up and decided to ask.\n\n[D-Do you... S-still want.. To s-speak to me..?]\n\nHer voice became a little louder so that Mamoru could hear her question. She was anxious to hear his answer, hoping that he would still want to talk to her after he knew her secret."
}
] | 164.5 | 3,049 |
155.333333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ The tall girl's phone slipped back into her pocket with the final sending of a message, intranet user deviltown was soon to arrive, and Hatsume was just about excited- a new person onto her roster of shenaniganable npcs- those being sig, gabe, esme and on occasion, ares- if she's convincing enough, though it has been a while...\nShe parked on a sofa in the common room, swinging her legs up onto the coffee table; usually there was someone around to scold her, whether that be faculty or an overconcerned student.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Though the room was quiet, still and empty, completely unmoving in it's lazy slumber.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ No doubt, Hatsume Setsuko was the girl for the job, the peace was soon to end- all she needed now was the arrival of her new apprentice of mischief- her protégé of madness, if you will."
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "```There was no break in the silence as Leon entered the room, in fact, he doesn't make a sound until he yawns, waving over at Hatsume. He looks tired, with light eyebags showing and his hair a mess.\n\n\"Uh... Are you Hi- Hat?\" He asks, voice only playing into the sleepiness emulating from him. His entire demeanour seems nonchalant. \"I'm Leon. Deviltown, if you will. I like Cavetown.\"```"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Hatsume blinked at the boy, i think a part of her had actually forgotten that blonde people even existed. The tall girl waves enthusiastically.\n\"Indeed i am!- siddown weary traveller- your hair is a mess- i have a brush in my bag if you want to borrow it.\" Hatsume offered, shuffling along the sofa and patting the soft seating beside her\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Yyyeah you look like you like cavetown. Personally, i never got too into him.\" She shrugged, adjusting a loc of hair over her shoulder\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"888 slayed though i think!\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "```Leon just nods, a polite smile in the corners of his mouth. He walks over and sits next to Hatsume.\n\n\"I didn't catch your name. Mind throwing it?\" He asks, pulling one of his legs up and resting his ankle on his other leg. He leans forwards, crossing his wrists over the top leg and looking over at Hatsume.```"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ When Leon sits, she rummages through her small bag- more of a purse really- until retrieving a hairbrush; it was one of those detanglers.\nShe places it in his sandy blonde hair, then zipping her purse shut\n\"Kachow.\"\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Tis Hatzume, dont wear it out. Or do! I like the attention.\" She shrugs, watching as the boy leans over to sit in the world's most camp position\n\"Do you have a name? Or should i give you one...\" She questions, twiddling her thumbs.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Now. Shenanigans.\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "```It's almost as if he didn't even notice the brush, at least any more than a quick glance upwards.\n\n\"I mentioned before, my name is Leon. I suppose it does tend to change, though. You need not worry about that, however, it's more of a personal thing.\" He seems slightly annoyed for a short moment as he starts to speak, but it doesn't last long as he begins to ramble, words spilling over each other, sounds getting tangled in a mess.```"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Oh! So you did. Leon... There you go. I've said it back to myself, mr blondie, so now it's remembered forever\" She gives a thumbs up at the new friend- since she had decided that they were friends now- grinning like an idiot.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"We, my friend, are going to cause a ruckus. Not an evil ruckus, but enough of a ruckus for the faculty to roll their eyes in annoyance.\" She mused, leaning back in her seat like some kind of evil genius.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Problem issss... I cannot for the life of me figure out what to scheme! Vandalism is so yesterday...\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "```Leon looks down at his hands and starts picking at his nails as Hatsune speaks. He doesn't seem to be listening, which makes it quite out of the blue when he finally replies.\n\n\"I do have one idea but it relates to my power and I don't like telling people what it is. Especially when I don't even know what you do. It makes people trust me less and that... Feels not so great.\"```"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Oh worm? Hey man, what's your power like... Some people here do judge really stupidly but I don't. Unless you have lasers that could burn through my skin in seconds and leave me a melted puddle on the floor then shit, I'm mad curious.\" Hatsume rambles with an imagination that flies free in her speech- a wide grin framing her face.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Trust, no matter what your power is there's worse out there. Here, I can imitate voices...\"\nHatsume's head lulls to the side and she clears her throat before speaking up once more, the catch? She's speaking in Leon's voice for the next sentence\n\"Cool, right? You can only imagine how much this gets abused- even if it fucks up my throat sometimes.\"\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Returning her voice back to normal, Hatsume fiddles with her bridge piercing for a couple fleeting seconds\n\"Allow yourself to fuck shit up a little, dude.\""
}
] | 174 | 1,398 |
77.659574 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan wakes up from his sleep at approximately five in the morning, He wakes up being greeted with Adi his puppet bird companion and makes his way to his dorm room closet, and grabs a couple of his casual clothing and exits his dorm room, he makes his way to the showers in his nightwear still groggy after a good night sleep, the wooden puppet flies circling him following his footsteps. Once in the showers, he would take a quick rinse before changing to his usual slacks before leaving, after the shower Indra decides that since it's still early in the morning to take a nice breather among the halls of the dorm room, he wanders around the dorms with no discerning rhyme or pattern, simply walking for the sake of walking, passing through the many doors of the dormitory,with the bird puppet flying alongside him, a lot of things passes in his mind as he takes his walk, chief of which is about the new place that he has to call home, Newton's Cradle, an interesting place to be sure, but not one he has entirely settled in yet, sure he never really settled in anywhere before except in his grandfather's home, but he feels that this place would be different, he feels like he could make new friends here, with people that were like him*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "Taffy has been awake all night. Same as every night. I mean, when you only need three hours of sleep a day, mixed with mental health issues fucking up your sleep schedule, sleeping through the night seems almost ridiculous. No. Instead of sleeping, she's been spending the night in her room with a controller in her hands and not a thought in her head, just letting her mind slip away from her while the world moved on around her. Without her. The people in the Cradle going about their days like nothing is wrong. These people who wouldn't give into his bullshit. Asking him if he's improved but then refusing to listen when he says he has. Well, if they are a better person now, they're still not a good person. The loud gaming sounds blasting through the cracks in their door, the pile of snacks to their side, and the passage of time that they constantly feel the need to distract themself from. It's all white noise."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*As Indrawan walks through the halls of the dorms, he heard the ever familiar sounds of video games from the creek of a door as he pass, the ever curious Indrawan makes note of these noises and although it may be seen as a breach of privacy,peeks inside the dorm room, only to see a person deeply invested in front of a screen*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "It's not an awfully fun sight. The room is a mess. Empty Monster cans and chip packets lay scattered around the room, with the cans all missing their tabs. The tabs are strung together and hung on a hook on the wall next to an array of posters that cover the majority of it, from ceiling to floor. The floor itself is mostly covered by garbage and clothes, as well as some cords leading from the computer, which sits on a desk next to the bed, to the controller in Taffy's hands. Xe is sitting on the bed, attention directed at the computer screen, which shows their gameplay. Xe seems to be chasing somebody, barely ever using xir base attack over xir power. The speakers seem to be playing music under the game sounds; it sounds like some sort of soundtrack, which gives both a dramatic feel as well as an almost rave-like energy."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan watches the person play in complete amazement, he's always a fan of video games, playing them, and even watching them, he seems to totally ignore the sorry state the room is in and instead completely engrossed in the video game that Xe is playing, however as he tries to get a closer look of the action by slightly opening the door ajar only to make a creaking sound and step on top of an empty monster can, creating a noise that even through the speakers the noise of his intrusion can be heard*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Ah, fuck!\" Exclaims Taffy, suddenly jumping from the sound and looking over for a moment before turning back to the screen. \"No, where- where the fuck did he go?\"\nAfter looking around a bit in the game, they sigh, looking back over at Indrawan.\n\"Who are you, why are you here, and what do you want?\" She asks, before turning back to the screen to continue playing while she waits for his response. \"Sorry I can't really look at you right now, I'm running the exec. And I've almost won. Just one more down and I should be able to get that final kill in.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Ah i'm sorry dude, but your door was open and i can help but peek when i heard someone was playing a video game this early in the morning\"\n*Indrawan says in an apologetic tone* \"I didn't mean to male you loose the game i just wanted to watch is all\" *Indrawan lowers his head like a puppy who knows that he has done something wrong as he asks for forgiveness and scoots away slightly to the door frame of the room*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Sit down, then,\" They say, continuing to play without tearing their eyes away for even a second. \"You play DBD? It's pretty fun.\"\nThey seem completely fixated, letting out a loud \"Aha!\" When they see someone and start chasing them. \"There you are, you little shit!\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan happy that he's not in trouble re-enters the room with giddy as he can now watches without peaking through a slit on the door, he takes a sit besides them and watches the action on screen.* \n\n\"I do play DBD!, My favorite killer to play is the Clown, i think he's cool\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"I mean, pop off,\" Ze says, chuckling, which then turns to a hearty laugh as they manage to down the last survivor, before hitting them with final judgement. \"Aha! Gotcha! That's a dub! Good match, good match.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan cheers as ze won the game and laughs along with zem, he was impress at how ze manages to catch that last survivor*\n\n\"Yeah great game!, you're really good at this uh- what's your name again?\"*Indrawan asks inquisitively*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Taffy,\" They say bluntly, putting down the controller and turning to look at Indrawan. \"I've been playing for a while now. It's a good escape. I figure, if I can't actually get out of here, why not pretend, y'know? Plus, people get so mad when I fuck with them and it's fucking hilarious.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Taffy?, that's a cool my name is Indrawan pronounced In-duh-rrra-wan, don't worry if you can't say it the first time, you'll get it eventually\"\n\n*Indrawan looks at Taffy with a question in mind*\n\n\"What do you mean you fuck with them?, like pranks and stuff?\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Trolling, jumpscaring, teabagging, generally being a menace.\" She flops backwards onto the bed, seemingly not giving a shit about looking even remotely decent for the stranger in her room. \"Can I call you Indy? It's way easier.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Indy?, i'm fine with that, most people and my Opa shortens it to Indra anyways, plus Indy sounds cute!, i like it!\"\n\n*Indrawan doesn't seem to really mind the person's appearance, as she seemed nice enough*\n\n\"So you do prank them and stuff!, that's cool\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Yeah, I guess? I have this one strategy with the Doctor where I use Insidious to make them think I'm a hallucination, then I hit them or chase them or whatever when they come close. It scares the absolute shit out of them, it's hilarious,\" He says, chuckling to himself."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Woah, that's cool, i just like the the Clown because he has a simple kit, i like to play as the Huntress too though, i like throwing her axes around\"\n*Indrawan says as he's engrossed with the conversation about the game with him*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "Pause.\n\n\"Yeah, sure, if your aim is decent enough. Let me guess, you got one hit across the map once and you've enjoyed playing her ever since because you thrive on that little piece of hope.\"\n\n'I'm not projecting,' she thinks. 'Projection is for losers.' She is, in fact, projecting."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"I guess, i'm not that good at throwing her axes i just like the thrill of it, getting a hit or not doesn't matter, but i've used her a lot so i'm pretty good at throwing them around, not to brag or anything\" *He is in fact bragging*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Sure, yeah, whatever you say, oh so great axe throwing champion. How could someone of your calibre ever brag about anything? You're way above that.\"\n\nOh my god, Taffy, shut the fuck up."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Hey dude, i just like playing the game\" *Indra realizes that Taffy might be slightly miffed at his bragging and decides to back off a bit and think about something else to talk about* \"Does anyone else in this place DBD? We could like have a game night or something that would be so cool\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"I don't know, nor do I really care,\" They sigh, crossing their arms over their chest. \"Everyone here has something against me, so even if they do play DBD, they'll never want to play with me. No matter how nicely I ask or how much I promise them I don't tunnel.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"What?, why? You seem nice enough\" \n\n*Indrawan is a person who likes to assume the best in people even strangers, so has no idea why someone like Taffy might be hated after all they let him inside their room and let them watch video games, they can't be all that bad right?*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "Taffy just lets out a small chuckle, grabbing a pillow and pulling it tight to his chest.\n\n\"I have a reputation, let's just say that. When I first got here I was acting kinda... Off, to put it nicely. I said some things that got people to really hate me. Then, I took a break from talking to people in hopes that if I worked on myself and let time fly by enough, then people would forget, or at least forgive. Needless to say, but it didn't work.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Well everyone has their off days, i'm sure you just had yours when you got here, and i'm sure they can't hate you forever.\" \n*Indrawan thinks about how he felt when he first entered Newton's Cradle and how he's glad he find somewhere where he might belong in, however this conversation with taffy made him realize that not everyone feels the same way*\n\"But maybe if you play games with them, they'll forgive you once they realize how fun you can be around!\"\n*Indra thinks about his granpa's advice about how there's more to forgiveness than time, and how you need to try to mend your relationship with other as well when he gives out this advice*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"You say that so confidently,\" They groan, squeezing the pillow tighter. \"Any time I go onto the intranet, there's some sort of argument because of me. Without fail. I could probably just say 'hi' and someone would get mad at me. It's that bad. I'm surprised they haven't been bitching about me to you yet.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"The Intranet?, everyone argues with each other there, it's not like it's the real world\" *Indrawan says back in hope of comforting them*\n\"It's not like you've killed someone to make somebody hate you, did you?\" *Indrawan tries to make a lighthearted joke to make them feel better*."
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Almost,\" She says, expression not changing even a bit. \"I got a guy with some broken glass once when using my ability. Unless that was a dream. Honestly, I can't tell anymore.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan was shock to hear it, even more so that she admits to it to him* \"Well that one's in the past i'm sure that guy won't find you here..\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Oh, no, it happened at NC. I don't know if he's still around, but if he is, then I wouldn't be surprised if that's the sole reason everyone's still mad at me.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Oh, well even then, i'm sure that was accidental, and he ends up fine in the end right?\" *Indra asks Taffy with a worried tone*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "Sigh.\n\n\"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's fine now, but I can't say it was entirely accidental. That being said, I didn't want to kill him.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"There you go then, i'm sure everything will be fine if you just try to explain it to him\"\n*Indra gives Taffy a nudge on the back*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"I don't even remember his name,\" He admits, albeit clearly not happy about it. \"Besides, he could be gone by now. I wouldn't know.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Well there's more people here in the Cradle, i'm sure there are people who are willing to hang with you, like me!, for example\" *Indrawan points to himself with a bright smile on his face*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Sounds fake but okay,\" They say, sitting up before dropping the pillow to the floor and standing up to go look at a poster on their wall. It's darkly coloured, in red and black tones, and seems to be themed around some sort of anime. \"Honestly, any hope I had that I would make friends in this place is basically gone at this point. It's better for me to just hang out in my room all the time. Better for me and better for everyone else.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indra notices the posters on stapled on their wall* \"Oh hey you watch anime too?, that's cool\" *Indra then listens to what Taffy has to say about themself and other around them, he feels bad about their situation and tries to think about what his grandfather would say in this situation* \"Well Taffy do you know that uhm, uh i don't think it's better for anyone to not interact with others, humans are social animals after all, and your a human right?\" *Indrawan tries to joke round with them again to uplift their mood*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"According to most of society?\" They say, chuckling a bit. \"I'm not human, no. I never have been and I never will be. How can you be so positive about things when most of the people out there will never see you as an actual person?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan is taken aback by what Taffy had said, sure he was never really popular but he never thought himself to be inhuman before* \"Well i think i'm human, i have human needs and human wants, and that what matters right?, as long as i see myself as human i'm still gonna want to be with other like me, maybe that's silly, but i'm a human i get to make mistakes\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Don't you understand what I'm saying?\" She spits, turning to scowl at Indrawan. \"Yeah, you're human, but most people in this world don't see you as such and never will see you as such. All they see when they look at us parahumans is some kind of monster. For me, the people here also see me as such. God, it feels like the entire world is against me. So why try?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Because i like trying, i like meeting new people, i like talking with them, sure not everyone going to like me, but there are like a billion people out there it's impossible for them all to hate me, my Opa didn't, and the whole world *Isn't* Against you, i'm here for one\" *Indra says with a somewhat fake smile trying his best to look optimistic even after all what Taffy had said*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "Taffy's eyes flash for a moment, staring directly into Indrawan's eyes, before they turn their attention back towards the poster. It's for a darker anime. A remake of what some may consider a classic. And they smile.\n\n\"Your optimism is cute, but it won't last, trust me. This place is a shithole. We're kept here against our will over something we can't control. I know you think you're right, but trust me, you're naive.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Well like i said before, i'm human i get to be wrong\", *Indra says still somewhat unsure of himself, but trying his best to be optimistic* \"And i rather be someone who's naive but tries than a do nothing cynic\""
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"You would be a do nothing cynic yourself if you were in my shoes,\" He says plainly, continuing to just... Stare at the poster. *Is it moving? Or am I imagining it?*"
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Well whatever, it's been nice talking with you\" *Indrawan stands up and gets ready to leave* \"I'll see you later i guess\" *Indrawan says slightly dejected*"
},
{
"author": "gorbalicious",
"message": "\"Aight. Piss off,\" She says calmly, waiting for him to leave. \"Shut the door behind you.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"I do meant what i say that i want to be your friend\" *Indra walks out the door before saying* \"Good bye Taffy\" *And shutting the door*"
}
] | 65 | 3,650 |
323.464286 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Violetta found herself surprised by how she was handling this whole breakup thing. 5 years and counting was quite a bit of time, yet at this point she was so over feeling so... Upset? Of course she wasn't happy about it. No, no if anything it was the worst she'd felt in a long long time (which is saying a lot, considering her issues growing up).\n\nDespite that, the short girl was just a bit numb to it all as the time went on, her scar itched and stung with her bad mood- although correlation doesn't equal causation, she felt it was an act of natural pathetic fallacy..\n\nThough still in her worn pyjamas, Violetta was out of bed, which is certainly a start for her recently. Grumbling quietly to herself, she released her blinds, letting light peak into her gloomy room as she went to fuss her already whining chinchilla.\n\n\"Good morning Soupy..\" \n\nShe cooed to the animal- unknowing to the fact it was not even the morning, but early afternoon.\nShe never usually slept in like this, Violetta silently prayed it wouldnt become a hobby.\n\nSure would be a shame if someone swung by hoping to see the chinchilla lolz"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ [1:17pm...]\n\n□ Comparatively, Margo was doing better. Better, however, was not the same as great, and this showed in the fact that she'd been forced into survival mode by her entire mental state being upended. Fuelled by nothing but tea and various fruits from the beautiful carved bowl on her coffee table, Margo had spent the whole morning reading about the history of Lithuanian, fingers running along each page of the tome she'd ordered a week or two prior and had signed off on around ten am.\n\n▪︎ As it turned out, she had been pretty absorbed into this massive trove of one of the world's oldest continuously-spoken languages.\n\n• So, she decided she'd pay a friend a visit.\n\n◆ \"Hey, Violetta...? You up?\" Knocking firmly, four raps rang out. She knew that the girl had went through a breakup recently, so she might not have been awake yet. \"If so, mind if I come in for a bit?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "A knock on the door was not at all like what she expected at this time in the morning, her head perking up in alert.\nShe stifles a shriek of 'IM IN MY PYJAMAS DEAR GOD', before rushing out of her spot to try look like she had been up for over 5 minutes.\n\nFervently, she scurried to her bedside table, splashed water on her face, and slathered on some scar treatment oil to the pulsingly uncomfortable scar upon her face.\nThe healing of nerve endings sucks ass by the by.\n\nShe knocks over a lamp, jumping back with a loud \"Shit!\", catching it and replacing it back up when it bumped off from her head.\nMumbling protests, she rushes to her wardrobe, pyjama shirt off, deoderant on, button up shirt on- she only bothers with a couple buttons, throwing a vest on over and some trousers.\n\nThat panic had taken up the best part of a probably very confusing 3 minutes for Margo- and she still had to brush her hair!\nVioletta runs a brush through her raven black locks once or twice before finally opening the door with a start. Unsurprisingly, Violetta looked TIRED, her scar looked quite angry and she had serious eyebags..\n\nShe cleared her throat, awkwardly smiling\n\"Hey Margo.. Uh yeah, sure. Apologies for the mess.\"\nBy mess, she means the couple tissues on the floor, the unmade bed and the totally inconspicuous pyjama shirt in the corner near the wardrobe."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ She blinked in response.\n\n□ Of the reactions she could have expected, a tornado hurriedly whipping through the other girl's room was *Not* A reasonable thing she could have expected. Yet, as she stood outside with her hands in her pockets and an orange-flavoured cut rock candy dancing about her mouth she could hear a real kerfuffle taking place inside, like her knock had came in the midst of some rather *Unsavoury* Activities and she was trying to cover it up as fast as possible. Whatever the case she stood by with her hands in her pockets, humming quietly and tapping her foot.\n\n▪︎ Then, the door clicked open.\n\n◆ \"Sounds like the Tasmanian Devil just whipped through here, fuck...\" She chuckled, stifling down the urge to comment on the sheet disarray of the bedroom. Compared to her neat, orderly room, it was a disaster, but it also wasn't her place to comment. \"Anyways, no worries about the mess, it's fine. So, what's up? Are you doing okay after that whole, er... Break-up?\"\n\n★ She silently belittled herself for how little tact she apparently had."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "In Violetta's attempts to seem like she was Perfectly Fine!, she just made herself look more and more suspicious. Which wasn't anything she could really help, damage was done.\nVioletta just hoped Margo didn't think she interrupted her hiding the body or something like that.\n\nShe paused, sighing and shaking her head.\n\"Yeah i was.. Getting ready. I wanted to seem like I had been up for longer, but honestly you caught me five minutes after getting up.\" Oh, makes sense.\n\"Usually i clean my room when i get up but..\"\n\nShe shook her head once more, another awkward, fragile smile passing over her face.\n\"Anyways, I'm doing okay, I think. I think i always deserved better than him anyways, all he did was lead me into trouble, in the end.\"\nSelf awareness scale: off the charts? To call a cat a cat, Violetta was sorta lying to herself, or trying to gaslight herself into being a bit less upset about the whole ordeal.\nIt was working though, at least a little.\n\n\"Ah, do you want to come in? Soup is kicking up a clingy fuss so you can say hi to her if you want\"\nChimchilla"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Five minutes? Christ.\" She laughed, a brief snort accompanied by the shake of her head. \"If you need more time I'll just step out and come back in an hour.\"\n\n□ This, of course, was naught but a joke. Clearly Violetta was fine with company, considering she'd just cleaned up and made herself presentable in record time once her door had been knocked on. Stepping in, Margo went to kick off her boots before scoffing and raising a hand to her head, scratching its side out of mild embarrassment. She didn't even have boots on, instead being dressed in a pretty normal set-up of white and black cargo pants, a somewhat normal branded muscle shirt, and jokey socks, so why had she even went to kick off her boots?\n\n▪︎ Force of habit seemed most likely. She fixed her gaze on Soup.\n\n◆ \"No shit, he's a boy.\" Margo sardonically commented. \"Guys are nothing but trouble. I mean, fuck, that boy blew you up; how you stuck with him after that is beyond me.\" Rich words for someone who couldn't even get anyone to fall for her, huh? \"Anyways, I'm... Already here. I'm looking at her, she looks positively adorable. Does she bite? Or mind being handled? I know their fur's kind of funky, don't want to be hurting it if I can help it.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"I.. Think I'm alright\" She moves out the way of the door, watching with a stifled snicker when the taller girl tried to launch her boots off only to be met with dissapointment.\n\"Thanks for taking your shoes off, so many people never do and it's just... I never get how they can do that.\" She shook her head once more, a habit by the looks of it, one of the many quirks of Violetta Suite.\n\nVioletta wore the same as usual, button up white shirt, beige vest, brown trousers and red socks with corgis on them that read 'totally corgeous!'\nShe's currently tying a little ribbon around her shirt collar into a little bow.\n\n\"I suppose so, not that I've ever tried girls... I'm not gonna force you to listen to That issue right now though, can't get a break\" She chuckled dryly, beginning to open the cage\n\"He had a very normal sized head so I can't help but wonder where he stored all the audacity\" She half joked, coaxing out the chinchilla with a kissy noise.\n\n\"Do be careful, but she's alright with being held, yes. The only condition is be aware that she holds the control, not you.\"\nHer voice was dead serious, and it took her a moment to realise how monotonous that came out.\n\n\"That was a joke.\" K"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Right?\" Margo hummed back, staring at Soup as she went about her morning routine. \"I think the Japanese have it right, man. Leave your damn shoes *At* The door, save them the mess. I actually went a step further and left mine at *My* Room, like an idiot.\"\n\n□ Clearly, there was a joke at play here, and rather than butcher it she decided to roll with it, all the while cooing in Violetta's chinchilla's direction. She'd grown up around rodents, sure, but something about the ashy lump in the cage really struck the chords of her heart. Of course, though, she was still listening to her friend talk, nodding along from time to time to show that she was listening.\n\n▪︎ And what she heard was quite familiar: the little darling held the control sticks, not her. \n\n◆ \"Oh, I know how it is with small pets like her.\" Margo spoke. \"I have a beardie, and he pilots me any time he crawls onto me. Shit's safer that way, you know?\" She looked over at Violetta, lifting a single eyebrow a smidge. \"Also, you're missing out, I'd say. Girls are fantastic, but then again, you're straight, right?\"\n\n• Who knew?"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Saves me some dirt at the door\"\n\nSoup was easily convinced, hopping to Margo's direction with a pep in her step.\nVioletta stared at the rodent with unadulterated adoration in her smile. This was clearly her lifeline at this point. Silly mouse thing.\n\nShe was almost jealous of how quickly Soup warmed up to Margo, having to remind herself that it's purely because the chinchilla had grown used to human contact.\nClearing her throat, Violetta rustled around a bag near the enclosure\n\"Here, you can give her a treat.\"\n\n\"It's less piloting, more like she's got a massive ego for a chinchilla. I spoil her too much\" She cooed to the chinchilla, grinning widely.\nYep, she adores this rodent so much, and i dont blame her.\n\nVioletta blinked at Margo, nervously chuckling at the straight mention.\n\"I don't know about that anymore. I... I think i just felt guilty looking at women that way because i was with a man... Is that weird? I don't think it's weird, it's probably weird- sorry to dump that on you-\" \nVioletta rambled, sighing at the end with a quiet grumble"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"A treat? Alright... Sure.\" \n\n□ Looking up at Violetta, she held a look of amusement and mild wonder. She was, after all, about to pet a chinchilla, also known as a literal ball of fluff, and that plain felt *Surreal.* Reaching up for the bag she gridded a few and dropped them into the chest pocket of her muscle shirt, extending her hand out towards the cage afterwards. Nervously, she popped the door open and left her hand out for Soup to familiarize herself with.\n\n▪︎ Now, it was the little darling's turn to choose. Margo had other stuff to say.\n\n◆ \"Pets are all like that.\" Margo chuckled. \"Or, at least rodents are. They're smart, right? So they pick up on stuff quick. She's being treated like a queen, so fuck, she's going to act it. Not that it's a diss, just... I've seen these treats at the pet store, they're *Expensive.*\" An amused hum left her lips. \"Not sure? Well, shit, you can try out a girl here for the low, low price of a smooch.\"\n\n• She might have seemed proud, but inside, a battle was raging, sparked by this one comment;\n\n```♠︎ \"What if she says yes? I've never *Kissed* Someone, and I don't know how I feel about losing it like *This.*\"\n♠︎ \"Too forward. You're always too forward. You come off as a whore and nobody liked it before, so why would they like it now?\"\n♠︎ \"Really? Right after a breakup? You've got as little shame as your father, and his lack of morality.\"```\n\n◇ She gritted her teeth, and clenched her free hand into a fist. Why couldn't her thoughts shut up?"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Violetta always had a look of wonder emblazoned on her features when around the chinchilla. After not being allowed a pet outside of a dog that just had too much energy for her growing up, the notion of this absolutely adorable, gentle, little ball of fluff was mesmerising and exciting to say the least.\n\nSoup quickly found herself sniffing over Margo's extended hand, doing that thing where she would go to bite Margo's finger, but abruptly stop, like a gentle half nibble.\nShe... Probably just wants the treat...\n\n\"Yeah, but they last a while, the bags of them are rather big, so i won't have to fork out that again for a while\" She comments, looking at the small animal with a wry smile.\n\nVioletta froze in surprise for a moment, of all the responses... She wasn't expecting that one.\nWeighing up her options, the small girl let out a hum of thought.\nWould it hurt to experiment? Even so soon after a breakup? Would that just confuse her even more? Or would it provide closure?\n\n\"I mean... If you want to? I've no objections\"\nIt wouldn't kill her, surely?"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fair enough, man. Fair... Anything for the kids, huh?\" She let out a dry laugh, like a dad nearing his forties and realizing that he'd given up *Everything* For his children. \"And speaking of kids, look at her go, she just faux nibbled me! Little rascal...\"\n\n□ For once, Margo didn't quite *Seem* Like a stoic, strict academic, and instead seemed to be what she really was: a teenager with a litany of issues caused by her upbringing. Laughing as Soup nibbled her fingers like they were crackers, she gently scooped up the ball of fluff and brought her close to chest, a faint smile beaming down like moonlight. For a few moments it was almost as if the world around her ceased to exist, crumbs in the plate of existence, totally fixated on this clump of serotonin in her hands. Then... Reality struck.\n\n▪︎ Violetta had *Agreed.* What the fuck?\n\n◆ \"Waaait. Waitwaitwait, Soup, I'm... Sorry, you gotta get out of my hands.\" Baby talking the chinchilla in perhaps the most panicked voice one could have mustered, she dropped all of the treats into the cage at the same time and closed the door. Standing up, she could be seen nervously shaking; though she had been trying to stay calm, this was a first. Usually her flirts didn't end so well, so what had she done except flirt with a bicurious girl who'd just broken up with her boy? \"I. I heard you right, right? I didn't expect you to, er... Agree. I didn't think I'd get this far!\" Her voice twisted into a hilariously garbled Doofenschmirtz impression, nerves twisting every last neuron and nerve in her body. \"I haven't even *Kissed* Anyone and you've probably had that... Boy all over you. I'm sorry if I sound frazzled, I just...\" She turned around, flopping down onto her butt. \"I am. I think I'm down. But it's just... Scary, somehow? Even more so than when I got a tattoo behind my ear, or the fear I felt at home daily for years.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Of course, it's not like she can look after herself after all.\"\nIt was... Nice to see Margo with her guard down, especially around something as fragile as a chinchilla- the taller girl always seemed so stoic for a teenager, despite the tattoos and whatnot that always made her seem like she was living her best life each day.\nThey're just... Two teenagers with a chinchilla right now, daddy issues aside and all.\n\nOh and of course the whole kissy kissy thing, Violetta now wondered if she had come off a little too... Strong? Konstantine being her only ever experience wasn't helping either in her whole 'i want to learn how people work thing!'\nAnd considering Margo was probably the only person here she really considers a friend, she kinda wishes she hadn't bought up the whole bicurious thing in the first place- in case she's not as good a kisser that Margo expected. Such a likable person like Margo has probably kissed a bunch of people!\n\n\n\"So you flirt and expect people not to ever show it back? You're a strange one- endearingly of course.\"\nShe perched next to Margo, looking a little bit pink in the face (more so than usual with the healing scar and such). An explanation point could be seen above her head as her eyes widened in surprise.\n\n\"You've never kissed someone before?- really?\" She questioned, almost amazed at how terribly *Wrong* Her theory was\n\"But I thought you'd have girls basically all over you?- you're strong and pretty, girls love that, surely?\" She enthused, eyes widened in surprise, a small smile on her face at her own naivety\n\"Ugh, all over me? Yeah... He wasn't very good though, don't tell him I said that if you find him-\"\n\n\"You have a tattoo behind your ear, can i see?\" \n\n..Ahem.\n\n\"I get that home fear part, rich dads that dont care suck, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Honestly...? Yeah.\" Margo sheepishly admitted, nervously massaging the back of her neck with her hand. \"Usually my flirts just... Kinda bounce off. They don't stick. But you're here on board, and...\"\n\n□ Clearly, she was frazzled. Nobody had ever heard her awkwardly attempt to flirt and fired right back, so Violetta being quite receptive was about as far from expected as it *Could* Be. Understandably she spent the next few moments looking at Soup, then at the wall, then at whatever else seemed interesting. Anything to keep her vision away from the other girl's, and to give her time to really collect herself.\n\n□ She let out a shaky sigh.\n\n◆ \"Strong, pretty, and I come on too hard for people, usually.\" Margo admittedly, now looking directly at the other girl. In total opposition to her normally stoic, calm, vaguely intimidating face, she looked unsure, excited, flustered, her eyes wide and anxious and her entire face lit up like a stop sign. \"But... I guess that's fine for you? Anyways, I'll show you it in a moment, just...\"\n\n▪︎ Maybe she'd regret this, but weren't the teenage years for doing stupid shit? Rising to her feet, she strolled over to Violetta, and with all the excitement and nervous hesitation that came with the first sparks of young experimentation she wrapped an arm around the other girl's waist. \"Now or never... God, why does this feel so much like jumping off of a bridge?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Really? To be fair, I do read way too far into things.. I could spot a flirtation from a mile away. Maybe you're just too subtle?\" She tapped the side of her head lightly with a half smile. Violetta noticed the avoidance and the need to look around the room- annoyingly there was nothing really there of interest, a violin and a stranger things poster is about as thrilling as the room would get..\n\n\"Hitting the ground running is exciting for some though, is it not?\" She questioned to the other's sentence, looking directly back. Well... Not directly into her eyes, Violetta more just looked at Margo's hair and such- she's going to avoid asking anymore questions like 'can i see your tattoo?' which now felt a bit rude and a bit embarrassing when Violetta thought back to it, stifling a shudder.\n\nBut her mind chose to try it's best to stay tethered to the now, the inevitable present and the inevitable kiss that... Probably shouldn't feel as time stopping as they're both making it seem- but everything feels pretty big when you're a teenager, especially stupid stuff like this.\n\nThe arm around her waist was surprising, though not quite unwelcome- that's just how it works sometimes, and Violetta didn't care against it.\n\"Probably because you're stalling.\" With a small snicker, she leant in and placed her lips against Margo's, biting the bullet quickly.\nIt was a short kiss, nothing amazing or show stopping, just a polite smooch.\nShe pulled away after a couple seconds, blushing about as much as what was expected.\n\nOk so.. She's definitely bi? That was a lovely little awakening for the day! Does this mean she has to partake in pride month now?? Maybe she should comprehend it a bit more first.\n\"I'm... Definitely on the fruity side, yes..\" She remarked, mostly to herself.\n\nBE WHO YOU AAAREEE\nFOR YOUR PRIIIIIIIDE"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I *Am* Stalling, yeah, because –\" And right before she got to explain herself, it happened. \"*That?*\"\n\n□ Squeaked out feebly after it had been said and done, Margo had been caught off-guard by Violetta making the first move. Whilst she was still partially paralyzed by uncertainty and nervousness the other girl had leaned in and made the first move, lips pressed to hers, slightly dry but still soft and effervescent and ethereal. Lightning crackled down her spine, up her arms, through the arteries in her neck, nipped behind her eyeballs. For all of her self-professed woman loving she'd never actually *Kissed* A girl, and now she had, and her entire body felt as if it were floating on a layer of euphoric thrills and straight heroin to the heart.\n\n▪︎ Needless to say, it was only natural that once she'd processed it a bit she leaned back in and pecked again, this time partially missing like the overwhelmed doofus she was.\n\n◆ \"God.\" She laughed as she pulled away, her entire face lit up like she'd been bobbing for tomatoes, and her knees shaking lightly. \"Never actually *Kissed* A girl before, that's... Electric. That's exciting, holy shit. Uh... Anyways, I'd say you're on the fruity side, yeah.\" No shit, Margo. Raising a hand to the back of her head, she began to lift thick bundles of red hair from behind, slowly unveiling a tattoo directly behind her ear. The ink itself was of the internationally recognized transgender symbol, and it was small yet present. \"Anyways, this is, er... The tat. It's the trans one, since I'm a trans girl at heart, and I figured I wanted to keep it close at hand. I dunno.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Violetta had stressed over it not being good enough, but based on how absolutely elated Margo looked- she realised that it was a rather unrealistic sentiment to have gnawing at her. The short girl now had something new to lose sleep over! That being the fear of if making the first move was a wholly good idea or not..\nAnd Violetta was generally pleased too but... This just left her wondering, she actually Really liked that, but is it too soon? Sure, she was fading a bit towards Konstantine considering his lack of commitment, but it was a pretty big discovery for such a fresh wound.\nOh whatever, live in the moment, they say.\n\nShe realised after Margo went in for another that it was in fact, not something to worry her pretty little head about. The enthusiasm left the petite girl letting out a small giggle, Margo was a bit off the mark but Violetta didn't mind, it was sweet.\nThe other girl's ecstatic smile was like gold dust, the first kiss is always such an exciting thing- and the scarred girl tries her best not to feel a pang of guilt for taking Margo's.\n\nVioletta tried to respond but takes a moment to collect herself from her obviously flustered and slightly embarrassed state- she covers her face with her hands, she's flaming up. Some things never change.\nShe removes the hands from her face with a start, giving Margo a well meaning wry smile\n\"Glad for the diagnosis of fruit. This is certainly new but... Well, I would have figured it out at some point, surely.\"\n\nShe peeked at the tattoo, refraining from a comment on how thick Margo's hair was- two kisses and she almost gets cheesy, dear god...\n\n\"I see, must have been worth the pain, I don't think I could ever get a tattoo, my dad would make sure I get hell for it.\" Violetta cracked her fingers, not nervous but fidgety after such a new feeling, a new feeling of excitement"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I dunno, just...\" A laugh followed, youthful and elated. \"Seems to check out.\"\n\n□ The crimson flames that consumed Violetta's face were also familiar to Margo. She could feel her face still burning up something fierce, and as the shorter gal pressed her cheeks into her hands she looked away as well. This *Was* Her first kiss, given away as naught but a curious rebound, and while part of her felt *Dirty* The general consensus was that it had been amazing. Also, it affirmed to her that she, despite how much uncertainty she now felt towards herself, could at least sleep knowing that she was genuinely gay.\n\n▪︎ At least she had something to cling onto; maybe this would be the start of something.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, I get that.\" Margo replied, still audibly shaken but a bit more collected than before. \"Parents are boring. My father, uh... Doesn't care if I get tattoos, and neither does my mom. All they tell me is to think on it and make sure I can trust the artist, and my guy in Isakstad is *Good,* So... Actually.\" Withour realizing it her hands had laid flat against the vaguely plasticky material of her cargo pants, kneading them lightly in a motion she'd noticed before but never paid much attention to. Was this stimming, as the internet put it...? \"I'm planning on getting a new tattoo soon. I just don't know *Which* One to get... Too many ideas, I guess. I don't know.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "There was always something very sweet about a chat after a kiss, it's like a subtle reminder that hey, it's not all that weird!\n\n\n\"That's cool, i think if i could get a tattoo i'd get.. A little love heart on my chest- wait no one would see that- maybe a bee on my ankle? There's a lot of possibilities. Maybe i will get one one day, after i've sorted out not living with my asshole of a father\"\nVioletta blurted out a ramble into the already quite comfortable quiet.\nThe father comment didn't particularly sound like the usual teen angst- there was an undertone of discontempt to her fragile, monotonous voice.\n\nVioletta found herself stimming a little alongside Margo, her head jutting and jerking a bit every so often- her senses still overwhelmed from The Kiss.\n\n\"I think you'd look gorgeous with a rose tattoo somewhere, since you're a redhead\"\n\n\n\"One of these days i might just do everything in my power to piss my father off, like dye my hair blue or something\"\nDaring."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Nothing wrong with an ankle tattoo.\" Margo shrugged. \"But, shit, man... Don't be afraid to get something bigger and better. God knows my parents weren't happy when I started pestering them for tattoo money as soon as I turned sixteen. They said I'd regret it, but fuck, man, just *Look* At the ink I got all over my arm. Does this look like something I'd regret?\" She held her arm up, coloured ink still fresh and bright. \"Then again, I had to go to New Jersey to get most of this ink since New York is boring as fuck and doesn't let anyone under 18 get tats. Anyways, my point is, I'll literally pay for your first tattoo; Ahmed at the Ghost Ship did the little trans tattoo behind my ear, he's real good.\"\n\n□ Somehow, the kiss had spurred her brain into action, into a varied state of generosity and youthful angst playing off each other and whipping up a storm in their wake. She could tell from the way Violetta talked that she likely hated her father every bit as much as *She* Did, and this moment of solidarity, though silent, reminded her that she wasn't alone in the daddy issues club. Whatever the case, she leaned her back against the lip of the table Soup's enclosure sat upon and let out a sigh, looking back up at Violetta and feeling a blush spread again.\n\n▪︎ She'd really kissed her. Mouth to mouth, momentarily, sparks flying. Uri was going to hear every last detail later on over tea and supper.\n\n◆ \"Oh, the red's dye.\" She corrected Violetta, though gentle in tone. \"I'm actually naturally a light blonde, I just dye it a lot. I think I look better with red hair. Anyways, man, er... Yeah, I've actually considered getting a rose somewhere with my mom's name. Much as I hate my dad, I actually love my mom, and... I've considered getting her name inked on me so I'll have something to remember her by when she goes. Anyways... Why not make today one of those days? I've got, like, half a container of Manic Panic left, I'd totally help you dye your hair to stick it to your dad. He sounds like mine, and that's enough reason to tell him to fuck off, shit.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Hmm, the concept of something bigger and better is stressful to me... I'd end up regretting it somehow, or changing my mind halfway through\" Selling herself short there a bit, though she wasn't amazing at the whole committing to stuff like tattoos and hobbies outside violin.\nVioletta's eyes widened at the tattoos already painted onto Margo's arms- she looked genuinely amazed at the artistic talent of whoever did this.\n\"Woah... You'll be one cool looking elder...\" She remarks half awkwardly, trying to come up with ANYTHING to say in her impressed state.\n\nVioletta soon snapped out of it, shaking her head gently at Margo's offer.\n\"That's sweet, but i think i'll be alright- he definitely does seem good at it though, my compliments to the artist\"\n\nAh yes, the gay solidarity behind hating your dad, you seriously can't beat it. Violetta was more mellowed out by the kiss's serotonin gift that it beseeched unto her. The lass looked over to the chinchilla that was kicking up a fuss nearby with a half smile.\n\"You can take her out again if you want to, she's missing you already, or she wants more snacks, god knows.\" Violetta chuckled dryly, though sounded genuine.\nIt felt strange to hear the usually stoic girl chuckle so much, despite how sad she was when Margo originally came in.\n\nVioletta had no one to gossip to, but Soup will hear all about it later!\n\n\"For your mum? I see! I... Love my mum, but i hardly ever see her, she lives in south korea which is a little far away. I visit for christmas though and she's lovely\"\nHands drumming against her leg, Violetta perked up at the idea of just up and dyeing her hair. Right here today.\n\"We'd have to bleach first but.. I only intend on dyeing my curtains so... Sure, i'd be down- as they say\"\nVioletta learns what a slang is asmr"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Guess that's fair.\" Margo absent-mindedly spoke, her attention now focused back on Soup. \"And also... Hey, man, thanks. I'm here to have a good time and leave a good-looking corpse behind, and so far I think I'm doing fine on both.\"\n\n□ *Live fast, fuck hard, die young, leave a good-looking corpse.* The words repeated in her head like a mantra, accompanying her hand reaching out for the chinchilla's cage. She really did have the mindset of someone who didn't expect to live long, but where had it came from? A period of malaise spent under her father's roof lasting into her present and future prospects on life? Maybe. Whatever it was, it dimmed a bit of her bright gay shine, rainbows replaced with barcodes and stripped of its luster.\n\n▪︎ She popped the cage door open, and out came Soup.\n\n◆ \"Heya, little guy... Oops. Girl. Fuck, that just sounds weirder...\" Margo laughed breathily, trying her best to keep her grumbling to a minimum as the fluffy lass hopped up onto her hand. \"South Korea, though... Fuck, that's distant.\" She hummed. \"Anyways, I'm actually gonna have to grab you some bleach... Just thought of that. My hair's really light, you see, so it's not like I have to bleach it. If you don't mind waiting an hour or so I could grab some good bleach and maybe some dye of your choosing. How about we hit the town a bit, huh? It's nice out.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Don't die too soon, you have a whole lifetime to spite those that have wronged you.\" Violetta stood up, also coming over to the chinchilla, scratching the animal's chin while Margo fussed her.\n\nAnd Violetta's motto was... Probably somwthing similar- she hadn't really thought about that sort of thing.\nShe was living off survival instinct for the most part, an upbringing thing most likely. It worked though, she was still around and only moderately depressed! Which was more than she could say a few months before.\nVioletta delicately fiddled with her hair, curling clumps of dark strands between her fingers nonchalantly.\n\nAnd as per usual, she was grinning like an idiot at the chinchilla- its possibly one of the only things on this earth to get her properly smiling ear to ear like that.. It's great to watch such hidden happy innocence from the cool reserved girl.\n\nVioletta snickered\n\"She... Doesn't really know the difference.\" She cooed the chinchilla once more, leaning down to blow the dusty rodent a kiss.\n\n\"South korea is quite a way away yes... But i still see her, and that's enough for me. I'm thinking of moving there at some point, actually\"\nVioletta admitted, it was rather spur of the moment idea from a couple weeks prior, but she knew enough of the language to get by. It would be far better than russia either way.\n\n\"I might have some bleach somewhere but... I've got nothing against going to Isakstad- I have not properly gone out there for anything outside of the occasional grocery run\"\nLocal girl absolutely stoked to have someone to go to town with at last!!"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"That's how I got here, man.\" She chuckled, cupping her other hand up and offering it as extra support for Soup to rest upon. \"Vicious spite. You know the deal, I hope... Patricide.\"\n\n□ Railing off the last part with a somewhat unhinged giggle, it was almost as if she was happy she'd done it. Truthfully, she *Was,* And she was also pissed that she hadn't finished the job, but with her only shot at retribution being a straight shot to America to testify she figured she had no choice. Grudges remained upheld, but the old man kept living, and maybe that in and of itself was growth for Margo.\n\n▪︎ Sure, she was going to testify against him. She was going to ruin everything he'd built up and then guarantee her own life being paid in full. Some fates were worse than death.\n\n◆ \"Guess it's settled, then.\" Margo looked up at Violetta for a moment, then back at the door. \"In a few minutes, though. This little guy's too cute to say no to.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Violetta didn't know why Margo was here of course- she didn't check, she didn't care. And if she did know, she'd probably be impressed at the other girl's actions- something that the shorter lass had always wished to do, but lacked the strength or willpower.\nIt was almost refreshing to hold such a strange and morbid envy.\n\n\"You can put her on the floor if you want, she likes to run around the room and wack into your feet like a rude little tyrant.\"\n\nVioletta took her hand away from the chinchilla to go clear her bed up absentmindedly. Internally, she hoped that the taller gal didn't mind Violetta's habitual spring cleaning of her messy room.. It had to get done eventually! That eventually being in the presence of a girl that she was Kind Of Attracted To?? A lot of confusion for one day, but it was exciting, and gave her something to think about at last."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Alright. Putting her down, watch your step.\"\n\n□ Announcing her next move like she had found herself in a pokemon battle, Margo gently set Soup down onto the floor, carefully booping her head once she had done so. Standing up, she noticed Violetta was back to spring cleaning, a habit she herself had when it came to the upkeep of her room. The strict regimen tended to keep her on the straight and narrow, and almost seemed to help her mental state.\n\n▪︎ As it turned out, physical activity and a clean room did wonders for one's mental health.\n\n◆ \"Gonna go grab my boots while you clean, if you don't mind.\" A heads-up rather than a question, Margo slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her, the last aftershocks of the kiss rippling through her body now that she wasn't subconsciously focused on being cool and impressive and whatever else her lonely mess of a brain wanted Violetta to see her as. Jogging back up to her room, she quickly grabbed her beloved Blundstone boots, slipping her feet in while rambling off the vague details to a suitably confused yet supportive Uri, and within a couple minutes of leaving she was back at Violetta's dorm, knocking. \"Alright, I'm back. Let's get this show on the road, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "The small girl kneeled down to attempt to pet the excited animal, or wave around a treat- before remembering her making the bed mission and returning to an upright position.\n\nVioletta nodded\n\"Okay, mind the door so Soup doesn't get out and reign terror upon the mortal realm of newtons cradle.\"\nThats a nerdy, long winded way of saying 'make sure Soup doesnt get out!'\n\nOnce Margo was gone, Violetta quickly sorted her bed and swept Soup into her hands\n\"Did you see that Soup? I kissed her- I'm not.. Quite sure how to think\" She consulted, as if the chinchilla was going to respond somehow.\nReturning the chinchilla to her cage, the rambles didn't quite end.\n\n\"I really like Margo- but am i ready for anything?- I mean... I was over Konstantine for a while befire we broke up- I kind of saw it coming- this whole bi thing is just rattling my brain-\" She drawled, arms crossed on the counter of the dresser where the cage perked. She was silent for a couple seconds, before letting out a groan\n\"What if she thinks my scar is weirddd-\" Not really the main priority right now, but in Violetta's brain even the most trivial of things can seem world ending.\n\"If she thought that she wouldn't have kissed me- what if she thinks *I'm* Weird for moving on so quickly even though i had been hoping he'd break up with me for months now!- ughh\" Gloomily, she slumped her head onto the counter into her folded arms, her spindly leg bouncing up and down uncertainly.\n\n\"I'm... Talking to a chinchilla.\" She mumbled, huffing quietly and mentally kicking herself for not making more damn friends.\nShe moves from her position a few seconds before Margo knocks, trotting to the door and opening it midway through throwing on some simple mary janes\n\n.\n\"Mhm!\" She turned around to blow a kiss at the chinchilla enclosure- quickly turning back to Margo with an all familiarly anxious smile.\n\"Lead the way\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ And, unknowing of the mopey teenage soliloquy Soup had just received, Margo let a whisper of a smile spread across her lips.\n\n■ \"Hey.\" She greeted her friend – or, was it her fling? The distinction was fuzzy in her head at the moment. – as she stepped out after blowing a kiss to her chinchilla. It was oddly endearing, in a sweet sort of way, and it caused her to think about her own habits with her pets. She kissed Sadie on the head every day, and she slept facing Cosmo at night because he took up the habit of sleeping facing her. It was just one of those weird habits one got into with pets after a bond had been formed, and the speed with which she'd bonded with her new pet amazed Margo.\n\n▪︎ It still felt like she was bonding with Sadie after a month, for crying out loud.\n\n◆ \"Sorry if I kept you waiting. I think the bus comes around in ten minutes... We've got time.\""
}
] | 311.5 | 9,057 |
346.933333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Wanna start my dear hour"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti traced the steps back to their dorm, sneaking less-than-subtle glances at Gabe as they did so. Something seemed wrong. He seemed upset— he *Was* Upset. But the walk there had been nearly silent, with only a clearly faked smile or joke. They'd surely ask him about it later, but for now, they wanted to be somewhere familiar—\n\nThey froze. Their door was closed, the lock that usually glowed a bright red dull and dead. Something was wrong. Someone could have broken in. Their breathing hitched, but they forced themself to remain calm as they turned to Gabe. \"I think someone's been in my room. I can check the place over for bugs, but I'm slightly burnt out. I'm not sure how effective I'll be.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe looked at the door, then back at Matti, then back at the door. *Oh,* He realizes, *I didn't explain that, did I?*\n\n\"No, no. It's fine. Val broke the lock to, er, crack the damn door open to get your blue box. Only problem was that... Well, the lock broke, so I've been waiting over here and making sure no one broke in or stole your stuff.\"\n\nGabe sits down on the metal folding chair outside of the dorm, resting his feet on the cooler that sat next to the room. Hopefully, Matti wouldn't be angry with him for opening the box— the other did give Gabe the combination, but Matti ended up being safe and unharmed. The contents were... Personal, and Gabe didn't know whether or not that glimpse into Matti's life would be appreciated.\n\n\"It'd be a bit of a shitty return home if you came back to an empty room, right? There was no one watching this place when I came to get ya, but... I don't think anyone would have the balls to steal your stuff in that tiny window, so it's probably fine.\" He gestures to the closed door, prodding it with a single finger and watching it swing open slightly."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Gabe had... Protected their room? \n\nMattias felt a tiny puzzle piece fit back into their mind with rush of electricity, almost like a fuse being replaced. Like coming back online. They shook their head as a flood of emotions pushed through their body in an instant, a current that quickly faded, but didn't recede fully. \n\n\"Oh. Well, don't stay outside, come in.\" They glared critically at the cooler, not bothering to hide the distaste they felt for Gabe's strange diet. \"We can talk. If you want.\"\n\nThey pushed open the door, laying their satchel on the ground after pulling out their handbook, collapsing onto the bed. For once, they found themself uncaring if they messed up the well-made sheets. They let out a long sigh. \n\n*Shit*, they pushed themself upright, leaning up against the wall. \"And you. Looked through the lockbox.\" They weren't upset about it— they'd given him the code, after all, and explicit permission. It just, in retrospect, felt silly. Everything had been fine in the end, and they'd troubled Gabe for nothing. \"We can talk about that too. Just. Ask me anything. I'll answer.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Ah, er, alright.\" Gabe wheels the cooler inside and folds the chair to rest against the walls of the dorm, before closing the door behind the two. It was much smaller than his own, and Gabe couldn't help but examine the room with interested eyes. A small glimpse of Matti's internal life, an admission into their place of rest. It was... A bit touching. \n\nHe takes his shoes off by the door, before joining Matti on the bed. \n\n\"I mean, there's the obvious— *Why the fuck did you stay there?*\" Gabe lets out a defeated, exasperated laugh. \"Why did you *Go* In the first place? What was there that was so pressing you left all of us to worry *Sick* About you for three days?\" \n\nGabriel sighs, and his head falls limp, looking up at the ceiling while resting back on his forearms. He wasn't *Mad* At Matti— he knew the other was, well, a bit unstable and naive, stupid in the ways that warranted his presence to step in and explain what was right from wrong. He was *Exhausted*, not mad. The thick relief that washed over his body brought with it the pent up sleep debt from nights of staying up to watch over Matti's dorm.\n\n\"No, you talk. Give me your side of the story. *Why*, for all of this.\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti stood and opened a desk drawer, depositing a small bag of lemon candy next to Gabe. They'd gotten them originally to give to Margo whenever they stopped by next, but it seemed like Gabe might benefit from them now. *Plus, it's not like she'll miss them*, they thought bitterly. They retook their seat next to Gabe, fidgeting with the yellow journal in their hands. \n\n\"This is a long story. And it's... A lot. Just wait until I'm done, then ask questions. Please?\" They glanced up at Gabe before returning their gaze to the ground. They breathed in.\n\n\"A few nights ago, I snuck out. I hadn't learned my lesson from meeting that creature in the woods, but I didn't make it that far this time. I was hiding in the courtyard, waiting for a security guard to pass, when I saw her. An Angel. Her name is Frida. Margo was there too— I don't know for what reason. But Frida was scared. She almost got caught by the guard, but I was able to give her my burner phone before she ran away.\" They leaned back, eyes closing as they removed their glasses and set them on their pillow. \n\n\"When I asked Margo about it, she told me what I told you. The Angels are a cult, killing people. Getting brainwashed. There's an escaped Angel, her name is Annika. She was staying in Valio's room, Margo used me to confirm it. She needed to talk to Valio about it. But I was, I don't know. No— I was untrustworthy. I can't lie, I can't keep secrets, you know? So she sent me away. And then—\"\n\n\"Frida called me. She was scared and— she's just a kid, you know? She didn't have anyone. She reminded me of myself, a little. As vain as that sounds. She was the one that sent that message into the group chat, the tower one. I called her again and asked her about it, and she told me to send Margo there. Alone. Like fuck I was going to let *That* Happen. So I went with her.\" Matti closed their handbook and tossed it next to their glasses. Without it, their hands shook more, and they curled them by their side.\n\n.\n\n\"We went there. There were Angels inside the tower. Margo said to run if there was danger, and I told her I wouldn't. No matter what.\" A loose chuckle escaped them, a noise of an some unidentifiable emotion. They pushed forward. \"We went inside, there was an elevator. We were supposed to go to Floor 13, but it stopped early on. There were two Angels. Said Margo had to go on alone.\" They shuddered. \"She pushed me out. She *Pushed me out*. She'd spent so long telling me that they were killers and dangerous and said I should run, and then she *Left me alone with them*.\" Matti bit their tongue. Choking out whatever else wanted to surface, whatever amalgamable grief. After a pause, they exhaled.\n\n\"They didn't kill me. Obviously. Their names were Karin and Eva, though I really only talked to Karin. She told me they were vigilante killers. That they went after people the law couldn't touch, the ones that were harming innocents. She said their 'Big Sister'— the leader— had an ability. To tell who was good and bad.\" Their voice dropped to a whisper. \"I got angry. Said that if I was going to kill someone, I wouldn't take somebody else's word for it. That I'd make sure I wasn't hurting anyone else, if they died. Changed the subject. We talked about... About a lot, I guess. She said their Purpose— that's the haloes— altered the way they thought. Sounded like brainwashing to me, but who knows. She said a lot of them had been doing this before they joined the Angels. That they didn't force anyone to do anything.\" \n\n\"She was telling the truth,\" They added. \"About all of it. I got worried, asked about Margo, and she took me up. The other Angels there said Margo had attacked them, that Margo had—\" They inhaled sharply. \"That Margo had left the building. Without me. So, I stayed for a little while. The Angels had been... Kind. And I didn't know if I could— I had to gather my thoughts, a little bit.\"\n\n.\n\n\"Burned my hand making ramen,\" They waved the lightly bandaged injury towards Gabe, attempting to bring humor to the stifling air around them. \"Got my ass kicked at Uno and won Trivial Pursuit. I didn't really— nothing else notable happened.\" \n\nAs they concluded, it felt like all the words had drained out of them. They refused to look at Gabe, refused to identify whatever emotion they'd see on his face. Anger, at their recklessness? Fear, for the things the Angels had done? Disgust, that Matti would associate with them? Gabe had protected their room, protected *Them*. They wanted to hang onto that for a little longer, wanted the blissful ignorance."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Deep breaths. \n\nThat was... A lot. Gabe sorted the information into two separate bins: One of useful information he'd certainly toil over in the darkest recesses of the night, and another of information that made Gabe's head turn hot at the transgressions Matti faced. \n\n*Margo abandoned them. Left them to die, or worse. All the money in the fucking world, and she abandons a fucking kid to save her own skin. Coward. Coward coward.* \n\nGabe sucked in a deep breath, looking over at the kid (who was currently looking at everything *But* Gabe). Matti looked so *Tiny*, frail and fragile with no muscle mass to speak of. Just a kid, he realized. A kid— just like Blanche, just like all of the children he would help practice lines with at the local theater, or tutor in maths, or spot when they needed someone to stand vigilant before attempting dangerous dance moves. \n\nJust a kid.\n\n\"Matti, you...\" Before he knows it, he's wrapping the other into a soul-crushing hug, tightly embracing the short kid with large, tree-trunk arms. \n\n\"You didn't deserve to be left to the fucking wolves. I'm happy they were kind to you, but— it's dangerous.\" \n\nGabriel spends a moment patting Matti on the back from within the hug, tucking his head against their shoulder. It was a relief, that they were back and *Safe* And not in dangerous cult headquarters. Even if the cult was a surprisingly competent daycare— it was no place for someone like Matti to be in. \n\nMatti needed better friends, Gabe realized. Maybe he'd invite the other to a movie night with a couple of the other kids— it would make socializing easier.\n\n\"I'm relieved you weren't *Hurt*, physically. If you want me to kick Margo's ass, I'll do so— not usually in favor of hitting women, but *Someone's* Gotta do it, you know?\" \n\nMaybe he'd get Ares to do it, or retaliate by spreading a nasty rumor about her. Gabe did *Not* Want 'hitting women' on his reputation as an actor, as much as he wished she would pay for what she did to Matti."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti paused, the air in their lungs freezing without cold. Then, they sagged into the hug, gripping the back of Gabe's shirt and wishing their eyes weren't filled with tears. Their breaths came in short gasps, quiet first, then quick and ragged. \n\n\"I was *Scared*,\" They cried. \"I was so *Scared*, I thought I was going to *Die*, I thought that they would brainwash me and I would be *Nothing* Again.\" Their body trembled like sheer will was the only thing holding them together, like they were a crack spreading through a stone dam. They sobbed and it was everything they had ever feared, every searching eye and looming figure and dead body in the woods, every empty household, every night gone hungry. When they were done, they felt leaden, and their eyes stung, and they were safe.\n\n\"It wasn't Margo's fault,\" They spoke, voice hoarse. \"She's my age. We agreed, before. That at least one of us would get out. I'm glad.\" The words tasted sweet, like truth, like rotting fruit. Like ash. \"If I had died there, I would have been glad.\" \n\nMattias slumped against the wall, feeling too much and nothing at all. They coughed, and fumbled blindly for their water bottle, taking a large sip. Their hat had been pushed off their head sometime during their breakdown, and instead of replacing it they set it on the desk beside the bed. \n\n\"I think if I had a brother like you, I would have been a little less fucked up,\" They admitted, feeling a sudden compulsion to speak. *What was her name again-* \"Blanche is lucky to have you.\" \n\nIt wasn't *Quite* What they had been meaning to say, but they couldn't muster the energy to change their words. Already, they found themself near sleep, a concept made unthinkable only by the lock still broken, deactivated on their door, and the presence of another person next to them. *Emotions*, they thought, with some small layer of disgust. *How do people manage?*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe swallowed something that was crawling up his throat. *Fuck,* He realized. *I'm too soft for them.* He wanted to tighten the hug and reassure them it would be alright, that he'd get rid of all the bad things that plagued Matti. That there was nothing to fear, now that they were safe in the Cradle. \n\n\"Brotherhood... It doesn't have to be, you know, genetic. Brothers can be brothers in *Spirit.* There's that saying about 'blood of brothers being thicker than water of the womb.'\" Gabe can feel his voice take on a slightly sheepish tone, before clearing his throat and continuing on with newfound confidence.\n\n\"Uh, also, about your door...\" His head swivels to face the sound of hinges creaking with effort, as a slight breeze makes the door sway. \n\n\"Do you... Like, need me to stay here? Or do you wanna take the extra cot in my room for a bit-? It's a double, but you've been in there before, so it shouldn't be too cramped. I know there's CCTV in the halls, so your stuff will prawlly be fine... Hopefully, but I can move out the shit you wanna keep safe.\" The irritation in Gabe voice was self-evident— not irritation directed at Matti, but at the damn Cradle for taking *Three days* To fix a goddamn lock. Where *Were* The staff? Was everyone at this place so goddamn incompetent?\n\n*And,* Gabe thinks to himself. *I'll be able to keep an eye on you, to make sure none of those angel bastards come back, or you don't run away again, or...* Endless worries momentarily fill Gabe's thoughts, before he clears them with a deft shake of his head."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti paused. Inhaled. Exhaled. \n\n\"Gabe. I get these. Nightmares sometimes. All the time. Every night. For eight years. It's been. They're uh— you probably don't want to hear about them. Uriel helped me, and they were gone for a little bit, that's the relevant stuff, but because of—\" *The Tower*, they don't need to say \"—*Circumstances*, they've been coming back. I wake up a lot during the night, and during that time I don't always feel safe around other people. I wouldn't kick you to the floor. I mean, you're tall. It.\" \n\nThey inhaled. Years, *Years* Of training to repress, to push down, to suffocate, was the only thing that allowed them to keep speaking.\n\n\"I haven't slept in a room— a house, really— since they started, and I'm worried I might attack you. If I wake up and see you. So. I probably won't be getting any sleep regardless, that's my point. And I don't want you to get hurt. So I might as well stay here— the deadbolt isn't broken, so I *Technically* Have a lock. People won't steal anything from me. And there's not really anything here I can't replace beside what's in the lockboxes, and those have individual codes and trackers in them. I'll be fine, if you want to go back. That's what I'm saying.\" \n\nThe words fell, tripping over their tongue. Mattias felt like a child in the way they had ever since they'd gotten back from the tower, clumsy and confused and ineloquent. They wanted to bite it out, vaguely. Furious at their mouth for not forming words the way they wanted it to."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I'm not going to force you into anything you don't feel comfortable with. If you want me to fuck off and scram, I have no problem with doing so.\" Gabe crosses his arms, doing his best not to pry into the other's personal life. \n\nStill, the possible reasons of why his friend would develop those reflexes sends a shiver down Gabe's spine, and a pit in his stomach drop. *Eight years, and they haven't slept in a room since.* It sent righteous fury through his veins, the hot emotion boiling his blood and forcing his arms and hands to *Do something.*\n\nHis arms fold tighter together, and Gabe takes a deep breath. Dwelling on the subject would hurt Matti more than it would hurt Gabe second-handedly, and it was already hurting him *Pretty fucking badly.*\n\n\"But, just to set the record straight, I could *Totally* Kick you ass even if you caught me while I was sleeping. Now, I know that's not the take away from this conversation, but, trust me, I am *Super buff*, and any punch you'd try to throw at me would probably bounce off of my pecs like rubber, you get me? We clear?\"\n\nHe claps Matti on the back, making it a little harder than usual. Just to solidify his point. \n\n\"Not that I'd hit you back, or anything. I have some special tricks with my powers I haven't shown anyone here that are more than capable of doin' the job without hurting people, so...\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "\"No!- no. It's alright, I'm not kicking you out. It's just a warning.\" A warning that, as Gabe pointed out, wouldn't really do much. They'd barley held their ground against a fucking *Wild dog*, there was no reason to believe that Gabe, someone who had reduced them to burning eyes and instantaneous overload, would be in any danger. The thought was comforting. \n\n\"Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten. The Great and Mighty Gabriel, he who may end all threat to his life.\" Matti shook their head. \"Tall people, I swear. It's a wonder you can support that height, with all the weight of your ego.\" They kept their tone light, but quickly glanced back over to Gabe, making sure the joke was recognized for what it was. Their smile faded, not out of unhappiness but in the way it did as their whole body relaxed, clearly done with the trials it had overcome during the days past. \n\n\"I'll probably try to sleep, then. It's your choice what you want to do, though I don't exactly have another bed for you.\" They'd slept alone, when with the Angels, but still in an unfamiliar place. *It's all unfamiliar*, they reminded themself. *All of it.* It'd been less than a month since they'd gotten to Newton's Cradle, but it was getting harder and harder to remember that. Their dorm was *Their* Dorm. They attended to their responsibilities almost like a functioning member of society. They had friends. Real friends. \n\nThey resolutely did not think of an unused contact in their phone, of hundreds of messages and calls with no reply. \n\n\"It's your choice,\" They echoed, the words sounding oddly like an accusation. Something close to nostalgia, or maybe fondness, colored their words. \"It's up to you.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"It's not an *Ego* If it's based in fact, I'm just stating the truth. Tell me, Mr. *Lie Detector,* Am I wrong?\" A light, mocking tone as Gabe returns the same energy being thrown at him by Matti. \n\n\"What I'm doing? Passing the hell out, too.\" He snorts. \"I've been wide awake outside that door for, what, a day straight? I'm tired as hell, and I've already done my hour-long bed time skincare routine, so I'm all set on that front.\" \n\nGabe lies down on the ground, propping his head against his arm and resting on his side to keep the bedframe in sight. The angle was... Uncomfortable, he admitted to himself, and would most certainly cramp up his neck when the sun rose with dawn. It was nothing, in the grand scheme of things— Matti had been *Alone*, *Abandoned,* For three days in a dangerous headquarters of a vigilante group. He could handle a little bit of neck pain, if it meant providing a comforting presence to the emotionally-distraught kid. \n\nAn anchor, Blanche would call him. *You're more dependable than dad is, sometimes,* She once tentatively admitted, after Gabe had picked her up from school after her soccer lessons. \n\nIt was the one thing Gabe valued besides his acting— being *There*, and being *Strong* For those who needed him. And Matti desperately needed someone— their sad, nervous eyes danced around the corners of the room, still caught off guard by every shadow. \n\n\"*You* Better get some rest, too. It's been a long couple of days for you, and over-exerting yourself is only going to make that stress worse. I'll get that, uh, the one person who can knock people out to... Magic you to sleep if you don't, or whatever.\" As Gabe talks about magicking the other to sleep, he shakes his hands in a mockingly spoOoOooOky manner, the guise only broken by his failure to stop a mischievous grin from growing on his face. \n\nThe joke is nice, *Safe*, a good tone switch from the prior doting and fretting about the other."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti startled slightly, before pulling the pillow off of their bed and passing it down to Gabe along with one of their blankets. They slid off the bed to grab their coat from the closet, folding it to form a makeshift pillow before flicking the lights off and lying down again.\n\n\"Oh no. I suppose I have no other choice, if I don't want to be 'magicked to sleep'.\" The statement was barely recognizable as sarcasm, punctuated midway by a yawn. \n\nThey shifted so they could stare at the latched door. *You're safe*, they told themself, beginning the long nightly ritual of convincing their mind to sleep. Gabe's breathing was barely audible in the background, and for a moment they were much younger, much smaller, curled up in their parents room after a nightmare. \n\n\"Thank you,\" They whispered, voice already slurring with exhaustion. \"G'night.\"\n\nThey closed their eyes."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Under the cloak of darkness, Gabe gave the other an invisible smile. \n\n\"Goodnight,\" He whispered back, before tucking the pillow that was thrown at his face under his neck and dozing off."
}
] | 318 | 5,204 |
496.1 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "It was a particularly cool afternoon when Craig had arrived at Newton's Cradle and he was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to pass out on his bed back at Evelyn's cabin, but seeing as that was a continent away, it was impossible. \n\nScanning the dorm halls, he stops in front of the room number written on the key card. Swiping the key card with one of his hair strands, he struggled to open the door as his limbs were full of luggage and a variety of potted plants. Closing the door behind him, he placed the large snake plant he was holding down before calling out to his supposed roommate. \n\n\"Hello,\" He awkwardly called out, \"I'm Craig, your new roommate, pleased to meet you.\" He said with a smile, transferring the luggage he was carrying in his right arm to his left to extend his arm out to his roommate. It was odd greeting a new person. For most of Craig's life, he'd been treated as livestock and he only had one person he could really trust after that. \"I hope we could get along well.\""
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\n** 【 \"But you promise, right? You promise to come back. You know I can't stand them.\" 】**\n\n【 \"I will be back as soon as possible. You must know that they won't let me leave this institution until I have... Certain things under control. I understand your frustrati— 】\n\n *Creaaaak-* \n\nGlancing to see what seemed to be a character ripped straight out of a fantasy book, Craig's roommate would pause with his mouth still left ajar. What was supposedly just an innocent glance could easily be interpreted as a *Sharp* Glare, piercing through Craig's tinted glasses-covered eyes. He let out a sigh, continuing on his conversation over the phone as his roommate placed down a concerningly big snake plant down.\n\n【 \"... I'm sorry, Mei. My roommate has arrived. I will call you again later. Goodbye for now.\" 】\n\n** 【 \"Da Ge-\" 】**\n\n*Beep* \n\nTucking his phone into his untied trench-coat's pocket, the shorter figure would turn to the new addition to the dormitories. His dull black orbs stared back at him as Craig would eventually (and awkwardly) introduce himself. He would have to get used to the Western names, that was for sure. He had arrived just a few minutes before him, and he was still suffering from jet lag (who wouldn't after an 8 hour long flight?), and he hadn't even unpacked yet. His much neater luggage leaned against his side of the room, which would be towards the window. \n\n**\"I hope we could get along well.\"**\n\nShaking his hand, his roommate would give him a polite yet brief bow, his arms to his side. \n\n\"I am Wan Haoran. I will be your roommate for your time at this institute. It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Jones. Do you need assistance in moving your baggage?\" \n\nFinally, his identity would be revealed, light Chinese accent and all. Standing moderately short when compared to Craig, his seemingly unkempt black hair contrasted against his neat slightly formal attire. Haoran didn't know this person, who he was, why he had such exotic looking hair, or why he was so tall. All he knew was that he was named 'Craig Jones' and had a serious obsession with plants."
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"Lovely meeting you, Wan Haoran, may I call you Haoran?\" He asked, putting the luggage he was carrying on the floor by his bed. Stretching his back slightly, he let out a groan. \"It's alright, I don't have much on me anyway, I mostly just need to set up these plants.\" He assured, continuing to unpack his things. \n\nCraig thought Haoran was a bit scary, but didn't think to comment on it. His head was buzzing, all the other 'people' (for the lack of a better word) in his head chattering away. \n\n```\"His accent is funny\" \"He looks angry\" \"He called you by your last name lmao\" \"He looked at us so funny earlier\"``` \n\nA flurry of different thoughts, most of which not belonging to him bounced around his skull, forming insufferable and barely coherent mumbles. 'shut up all of you.' he thought to himself, getting slightly frustrated. \n\nHis hair hovered above him, extending upwards towards Haoran's face. *\"You're funny\"* The strand of pink and blue plant like 'hair' spoke aloud. Noticing this, Craig quickly yanked the strand away from Haoran's face \"I'm so sorry man, I cant control them well yet.\" He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. *\"Let go Craiggg\"* The strand of hair he was clutching whined. \"Don't do that again or I swear I'll cut you off.\" He grumbled, letting go. \n\nPicking up a couple of succulents, he placed them on a shelf by the window. \"Sorry about that again, you must be confused.\" He sighed, \"Each of these buggers has a mind of their own and they're quite troublesome.\" He explained, pointing at his hair."
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\n\"Yes, you may call me that. Alright. If you say so.\" \n\nStraightforward, a bit too robotic, and an equally as straight posture. It was like he had a meeting in 15 minutes, and had no time to offer Craig anymore kind gestures beyond the bare minimum expected of a decent human being. As the taller male would continue unpacking, Haoran would tend to his items and take off his coat to hang by his chair, revealing more of his expensive-looking clothing as he seemingly typed something in his phone. All of a sudden, he'd turn around to see one of Craig's.. Hair strands approaching his face. \n\nHe didn't move, his stoic and blank expression morphing into a more curious one instead. Did it *Look* Like he was curious? No. He looked like he was about to punch the strand. But he stared, and he stared hard in awe as he looked at the talking piece of hair. Perhaps getting a roommate *Was* A genius idea after all, one that he wouldn't regret in the span of 10 minutes. \n\n_ _\n\n_ _ \n\n*Fascinating.* \n\n\"Why, your hair is interesting.. Does it always talk?\" \n \"Make it talk again. It's very important for my studies. Don't cut it off.\"\n\nDisregarding the snake-shaped hair's words, his subject of staring would shift to Craig himself as he apologized - first apology ignored too, for the pursuit of scientific discovery - he took one step forward to take a look at the hair closer, to see just how magical it really was. \n\n**\"Each of these buggers has a mind of their own and they're quite troublesome.\" **\n\n . . .?! *真的吗?!*\n\nOne more step forward, a lot bolder this time, a lot less personal space respecting. \n\n\"Tell me more. What do they do, Jones? Your hair. I assumed that they held *Some* Form of power, but not this. Not this at all. Tell me, Jones, what your locks are capable of. I need it for my work, this kind of information.\""
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"They only talk if they're interested in someone other than me. Other than that they usually just send their thoughts to my brain.\" He answered, picking up his large snake plant. \"Ah er, I cant exactly force them to talk-\" \n\nHis head was buzzing again, the hair seemed very amused at Haoran's curiosity. \n\n```\"Wow what a funny guy\" \"Should we humour him\" \"Oh man i wonder what he wants to do with us\" \"Should we mess with him\" \"Dude I thought he was gonna rip us off Craig's scalp\"```\n\nAs Haoran begin to walk towards Craig, he backs up out of instinct, clutching the potted plant. \"Ah- er, my hair?\" He began to move away from Haoran as he comes closer, his leg pressed against the side of the bed. \"Well, they can talk, er, they can grab objects and carry some weight.\" His posture straightened, moving his face away from Haoran slightly, using the snake plant as some form of shield. \n\n\"Ah uh they make some form of acidic fluids that could be drunken diluted as a form of healing potion but will bur-\" Caught up in the movement of backing away Craig tripped on the bedframe and was about to fall backwards before-\n\n*Chomp* \n\nIn a quick effort to save himself from the fall, one of Craig's hair strands bit onto Haoran's shoulder, using him as a clutch to pull Craig up. \n\nIn a panic, he put the snake plant down and grabbed Haoran by the shoulder, inspecting the bite. \"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Haoran,\" He said, looking at the bite on Haoran's shoulder. It didnt leave any blood, but it was drenched in acid. \n\n\"Oh this will leave a rash,\" He said in a panic, going over to his bag to search for a rash cream. \"I'm sorry again, I've only been here for a few minutes and I've already caused trouble.\" He sighed, focused on searching his bag. \"That'll leave an itchy rash soon if you dont treat it.\" \n\n\"Here, please use it.\" Craig said, handing Haoran a small tube of cream."
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\nInteresting. Very interesting. Too interesting to pass up. He was dead wrong to believe that his abilities were strange - in front of him was living *Breathing* Proof of that. He seemed far too invested in Craig's hair to notice himself rapidly approaching the much taller male, let alone process the fact that he was uncomfortable by his actions. \n\n\"**Well, they can talk, er, they can grab objects and carry some weight.**\"\n\n**\"Ah uh they make some form of acidic fluids that could be drunken diluted as a form of healing potion but will bur-\"** \n\nHis seemingly dead eyes light up with curiosity, his head tilting as he took a closer look at his head again. They were so strong they could grab objects? Carry weight? *Healing properties?* The applications of such power ran through his head like 10 bullet trains all at once, such a versatile ability to be used in combat. He could've sworn that the words of a 30 minute rant were rapidly climbing up his throat, but before he could say anything he would —\n\n ***CHOMP!***\n\n. . . \"O-\" \n\nQuickly, to stop himself from crashing on top of Craig, he'd hold onto the bed. \n\n*Blink* \n *Blink* \n\nWhat had just happened? Slowly, his optics would drift to where his shoulder was seemingly bitten. He had expected it to be red with blood, but to his (pleasant) surprise, they were just drenched with some form of.. Liquid. He wasn't sure what it was, but almost robotically Haoran would reach to his breast pocket to take out a handkerchief to wipe it off. As Craig scrambled to find whatever cream he was talking about, he'd fold his fabric neatly and return to where he took it, before his gaze landed on the suspect. \n\n**GLARE**\n\nIn reality, he was just shocked. His eyes, however, told another story - one of a mean glare. It took him one more blink for a change of expression, returning to his rather stoic face. \n\n\"It's quite alright, Jones. Thank you. I apologize for overstepping your boundaries when I should not have. Please tell me next time, as I.. Well, people tend to say that I can't 'read the room'. I was merely fascinated with your powers is all.\" \n\nHe'd ask Craig about the other students too, but he knew that he was probably just as new as Haoran was. No use in trying then. Taking the cream gently, he'd apply it to the now dry area of where the acid was."
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "\"Ah no no, don't apologise man,\" He said, loosening up slightly after Haoran's apology, \"You don't have to be sorry.\" He picked up the large snake plant with both his arms, his hair carrying the rest of the plants he brought with. Scanning the room for a proper place to set them down, he finally stopped to take in his new living area. \n\nIt was miles different from his home back in the woods of America. It was cold and the surface was made of hard concrete, certainly a change of pace from Evelyn's cosy, wooden cabin he's grown a custom to. However, it was much more roomy than his old place which was quite nice. \n\n\"How 'bout you, what powers do you have?\" He asked as he walked around his side of the room, placing his array of potted plants around the place. \"Hope you don't mind the plants, none of these should cause any allergies if you're worried about that.\" He hummed, hanging a comically large pot of maidenhair fern above his bed. \n\nThe array of potted plants scattered about the harsh concrete room was a stark juxtaposition, however it made Craig feel more at home. Now much more comfortable, he had already forgotten what was making him panic just 5 minutes ago. \n\n\"Mm I thought this place was for delinquents and people who don't have much control of their powers.\" He thought aloud, sitting on his bed. \"I don't peg you as the kind of guy who would be a delinquent.\" Yawning, he rubbed his eye through his multicoloured glasses."
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\n\"Apologizing is what is seen by society as the bare minimum, no? People tend to do that despite it not being their fault, but I don't see any point in that. I'm simply telling the truth.\" \n\nHaoran frowned a bit in confusion, not entirely understanding what Craig was saying. Not have to be sorry? Well, he had already apologized, so what was he supposed to do? Tell him that he *Wasn't* Sorry? He was, and there was no point in lying about it. Perhaps this was one of the social contexts that he didn't understand either. Enough people had told him that he severely lacked in that department, anyways. Haoran hoped that Craig wouldn't find any trouble in adapting to his rather strange personality. As Craig made his half of the room a mini jungle, Haoran enjoyed the blank concrete of his half. He was much used to this blankness than.. Color. \n\n**\"How 'bout you, what powers do you have?\"**\n\n\"..Perhaps now would be a good time to show you.\" \n\nConvenient. Suddenly, a nearby suitcase whirred to life - it was hidden behind the bed previously, but had metal limbs the entire time. On it was metal wings that would scale the shelves, claws attached to the side pulling his neatly folded clothes into his closet. Haoran merely glanced at it doing its work, before his gaze returned to Craig. \n\n\"My doctor advised me to not hold heavy objects often, so I put my powers to good use and prepared a robot to do the heavy lifting for me. That is my power - to create robots out of inanimate objects.\" \n \"Not as fascinating as acid-filled plants nor capable in combat, but certainly practical in everyday life.\" \n\nCompared to sentient plant hair, his abilities were definitely duller (both metaphorically and literally in color), the grey steel limbs smoothly climbing up and down the shelves as it placed Haoran's belongings that were previously in boxes to their proper locations. It seemed to have a mind of its own, placing his notebook on the desk, pausing, and then sliding it elsewhere as if it were deciding which would be a better place. The creator of said robot would stay on his bed, much more invested in the conversation than watching what he had already witnessed before a million times. \n\n**\"Mm I thought this place was for delinquents and people who don't have much control of their powers.\" **\n\n\"Incorrect, unless said delinquents are included in the latter group as well. It's a facade. Everyone here has powers, and barely anyone here is a delinquent.. I would hope.\" \n\nHe corrected, bluntly and sharply, almost like a robot himself. Brusque. He eyed Craig curiously, tilting his head ever so slightly as he continued to speak. Him? Delinquent? No, definitely far from it. As if he had even the opportunity to become one. If his father knew he was even just a smidge cavort-like, he would've received a lengthy talk and an equally as lengthy punishment. Definitely not Craig either. Haoran had a better chance at being a 'punk' compared to someone like Craig.\n\n\"No. I'm no delinquent. My verdict was not guilty, and I doubt you are one either. You're far too soft-spoken and friendly to be one, Jones.\" \n\nHaoran gazed at the plants scattered around the room. \n\n\"I don't think delinquents like plants either. Or perhaps that'd be a generalization. Are you tired? I will not bother you if you need rest.\""
},
{
"author": "yourunpaidparkingticket",
"message": "Watching as a suitcase with robotic limbs crawled out of the bed Craig's eyes turned wide. His relaxed, leaning position on the bed swiftly moved into him watching curiously, his body hanging over the side of the bed, his hair following the robot's movements carefully. \"Woah,\" He muttered, \"That's so cool!\" He exclaimed, hanging over the side of his bed like an excited large dog. \n\n\"Not as fascinating as acid-filled plants nor capable in combat, but certainly practical in everyday life.\"\n\nCraig violently shook his head at Haoran's remark. \"I think your power is just as cool- if not even cooler,\" He said, a stupid grin on his face, \"This hair is annoying, I can't be left alone with my thoughts else I go insane and I can barely control them half the time.\" He groaned, tugging on one of his hair strands. \"I would much rather be able to control robots than this mess of a power.\" \n\nIt was true, Craig really doesn't like his powers much. After all, it was the source of his pain and torturing for the past 15 years. He wished he could shave it all off but it was really no use, it would be too much pain to handle for it to only grow back soon after. \n\n```\"Aww don't be too harsh on us, you know you wouldn't survive without us\"``` \n\nTrue again, \n\nCraig knows that deep down, without his head of hair and without his powers, he would likely not have survived his early childhood. He was born into poverty and had he not been shipped to the cult, he would have likely died of starvation much faster than he would torture. But he doesn't want to think of that kind of thing- no, it would be a waste to think about. Such a taxing thought and for what? \n\n\"No. I'm no delinquent. My verdict was not guilty, and I doubt you are one either. You're far too soft-spoken and friendly to be one, Jones.\"\n\n\"I figured,\" He said, chuckling lightly. \"You seem too proper to be a troublemaker.\" He returned to his relaxed position on the bed and yawned lightly. \"Me? I don't think I'm one either but it's kind of hard to say when my hair is a walking contradiction.\" He sighed, tugging on one of the hairs. \n\nCraig was far from a delinquent, by all means. He's generally sweet and will quite literally do anything you ask of him, no questions asked. He never really had the chance to be a brat, really, he was used as produce for 15 years of his life after all. Evelyn never spoiled him either, he always had to clean up after himself and help around the house and never once did he complain or not agree to a thing he was asked. \n\n\"Are you tired? I will not bother you if you need rest.\" \n\n\"I'm a little tired, yeah,\" He said, laying down on his bed and yawning, \"It was a long trip to get here.\" He hummed, letting his eyes close for a bit. \"Did you just arrive today as well? I'm sure you're tired as well.\" He opened one of his eyes briefly, glancing at Haoran. \"If there's some produce in the fridge I can make us something to eat if you're hungry.\""
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\nHaoran was taken back by the sudden expression of.. Enthusiasm from his roommate. He didn't expect such thing, leaning backwards slightly as he hung over the bed. He frowned. Not exactly in distaste, but rather in confusion. Craig seemed to be more and more peculiar, stranger than what he first expected out of a roommate. He cringed slightly as Craig tugged at his hair strands, but said nothing towards those positive remarks. He wasn't exactly sure what to say to them, (a strange feeling of awkwardness bloomed in his chest) so after a few moments of glancing around he opted for the commonly accepted response - \n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nThough, he could understand that Craig didn't seem to enjoy his powers. There wasn't much you could enjoy when your hair constantly talked in your mind (which, Haoran would add, was extremely fascinating. He ought to write that down later.). He also didn't know Craig's past, and neither was true vice versa. Would Haoran have had a better life without his powers? Possibly not - he wouldn't have been able to rediscover his passion in robotics again if he hadn't received them. He would've continued attending private school, and he would've continued having no friends. \n\n**\"You seem too proper to be a troublemaker.\"**\n\n. .? \n\n*Really now?* \n\n\"The 'troublemakers' I'm used to are just students who pay too much money to break a few rules. They speak just like I do.\" \n\nIn fact, they tend to speak a lot more formal and more eloquent than he could. That was one of the only ways you could get around the strict regulations of his former institution, anyways. He squinted a bit at Craig, taking a better look at his hairs before shaking his head in disagreement.\n\n\"I wouldn't put your hair and yourself together. You have different character from... It. Them. As for you, I doubt you would ever come close to being a 'delinquent'.\" \n\nHe wasn't misjudging either - Craig seemed a bit.. Malleable. The type to apologize for things not even his fault, do whatever you request him to do.. Perhaps Haoran would have to keep a close eye on this roommate of his to ensure his kindness doesn't fall in the wrong hands. It is nice people like him that are abused, after all. He'd take off his coat and drape it over his desk's chair as Craig confirmed his suspicion. \n\n\"No, it's alright. I don't buy groceries often. You should rest if you feel tired. I just had coffee so I'll use the remainder of my energy to visit the school's facilities. You can contact me through the forum's private chats, yes? If there is anything to happen that needs me.\" He said as he moved, taking his phone with him to leave his robot to do the work he had tasked it to do. Haoran would glance at Craig one last time, before opening the dormitory door to exit the premises, closing it behind him with a gentle click. \n\n*Hm. Maybe I should invite him to dinner later. It would be rude not to.*"
}
] | 471 | 4,961 |
239.666667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Finley had, shall it be called, a *Slight* Impulse problem. \n\nAlthough, they argued, entirely internally, a problem carried a negative connotation. And Fin, sitting on the floor of the music room, in front of a brand new guitar case, did not see it as a negative. The case sat open before him, the beautiful Kramer Voyager (1983!) a scarlet red that they felt aptly matched their boyfriend's fiery and boisterous personality. It reminded him of Ares in many ways - standing out, packing a punch, sturdy, and, well, to Finley, gorgeous.\n\nTheir fingers flew across the keyboard of their phone, rapidly texting Owen, who had been kind (and feral) enough to polish the guitar (and had promptly shrieked upon seeing it). It was clean, and perfect, and Fin couldn't wait to present it to Ares. They loved the guitar, they loved him, and they wanted nothing more than to give it.\n\nAnd, they'd gotten *Crazy* Lucky with the price. 350? Unheard of. An old Norwegian metal-head sold it to him at the music store with little more than a shrug and asking if he wanted to keep the case or buy a new one. (Fin had kept the old case, but that was for later).\n\nThey switched to their conversation with Ares, and texted him to invite him to the music room. He couldn't wait to see his face - but the suggestion Owen made about giving it to him outside may have been right. Ares *Could* Literally explode, after all."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The *Moment* Ares got a text from Fin, he already found himself racing down the stairs. It had been a few weeks since he initially asked them if they could exchange gifts, and now the other was finally ready. The boy felt like he was twelve on Christmas morning, jumping down each step with a childlike happiness. \n\nA stupid smile was pressed into his cheeks, a small bag in his steady hands. He was overwhelmed with an emotion he had rarely felt within his life, but was getting far more common. Pure, unfiltered joy. \n*Finley was everything to him.*\n\nHe practically knocked down the door to the music room. His hair was ruffled and messy from the fast pace he moved, and his breath flowed rapidly in and out of his lungs in a giddy enthusiasm. He could *Not* Stop smiling. \n\n\"*Cariño!*\" Ares wasted no time in running over to Fin, swooping them tightly into his arms and spinning them around in a hug. His laugh cracked in his chest, warm and full like sun itself. \n\nIt was almost like he hadn't seen them in ages, despite literally seeing them the day prior. \n\nRight now, any gifts could wait, for Finley was the greatest gift of all."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"Oh! Hi!\"\n\nFins feet lifted off the floor, a giggle peeling through their voice as they pressed their face into Ares's shoulder as he spun them around. They looped their arms around his neck and leaned back to look at him, smile wide. \n\n\"Hello, *Cherie,\"* Fin said, leaning forward to peck Ares on his cheek. \"How was class? Did you have a good day?\" \n\nGod, he adored him. He was down *So* Bad, and he knew it. And as excited as they were to show Ares his gift, they had some form of decorum left - they were trying to be considerate first. \n\nIf Ares noticed the not at all suspiciously guitar-case-shaped, bright-orange wrapped, blue-tied bow on the top package in the corner, ah, well, you know – that was totally fine, too. \n\nFin just knew that they loved this boy, in all his disaster and glory, and wanted nothing more than to give Ares everything he ever wanted (as implausible as that may be). So instead they sat contently in his arms, reaching up to tuck some of his hair out of his face, cupping his face in one hand."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares held Fin close, staring at them with pure bliss and content. How could he think of anything when his entire world was wrapped between his arms? \n\nHe returned the kiss on the cheek, once, twice, three times, dotting their face with pecks as they laughed. He never wanted to let them go, but knew they were excited to show him what gift they'd pulled together for their one year anniversary. So, the taller boy smiled and slowly let Fin's feet meet the floor again. However, he still kept an arm around his waist. \n\n\"Class was... *Fine,*\" Ares clearly did not go to class. \"However, my day has been *Fantastic* All thanks to you, *Mi corazón.*\" The boy cooed. \n\n\"How are you? How has your day been?\" Ares loved to hear about anything and everything Finley did. Hearing them talk was like sugar and honey, each word sweet no matter what was spoken. \n\nThe itch to show Finley what Ares had bought for them was beginning to make his heart beat faster. He was just *So excited,* But of course, cared more than enough his lover to ask about his day."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"It was *Amazing,*\" Fin admitted. He reached out and clasped his hands over Ares's, biting back the huge grin forming on their face. \n\n \"In part,\" They said, \"Because I found the *Perfect* Thing for you. Because, you've made this past year so – I don't even know how to – its been great. Really. And I just — can you cover your eyes for a second, baby?\"\n\nThey tugged Ares's hands, gently guiding them up over his eyes, getting up on their toes to peck the backs of his hands. \n\n\"Just take a little step towards me, okay? Let me be your eyes for just a second. Trust me.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "*Past year.* One year. \nIt hadn't felt that long, at all. \nA part of Ares was proud of himself for maintaining a relationship, but the other part of him knew that with Finley, it would be easy. It was easy. Loving Fin was second nature, which was incredibly refreshing. \n\n\"You've made it great too, *Amor*.\"\nThere was more for him to say, but Fin was clearly excited, so he saved it. \n\nAs soon as they asked, Ares placed one hand over his eyes. Suddenly everything was dark, and as much as Ares *Wanted* To cheat and peak between his fingers, he didn't. \nExcitement and anticipation made his heart beat quicker. \n\nHe moved without hesitation, he trusted Finley not to lead him into a wall— and even if he did, it would probably be funny. \n\nIn the back of his mind, Ares thought about what he had gotten Fin. It was more of a promise, something to look forward to, less of an immediate gift. He hoped they'd appreciate it regardless. \n\nThe boy was unsure what awaited him, which made this all the more fun."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"Okay,\" They took a deep breath. They swallowed hard, and led Ares over to the *Fucking phenomenal* Guitar they'd gotten for for him. It had been an absolute steal - somewhat insane that they'd managed to get it at all. But it was here, and it was real, and it was gorgeous, and it was for *Him* - this wonderful, spectacular boy, who Finley had decided was the one. He wanted Ares in his life for as long as he wanted to be in it. He loved Ares, loved him more than anything.\n\nFinley dropped his hands from Ares' eyes, clasping their hands together. \n\nThey took a deep breath, grinning. \n\n\"Okay. Open your eyes.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares let Fin cover his eyes, he felt their chilled fingers over his cheeks and brow, and the excitement that continued to burn between his ribs. It was right between his lungs, beside his heart, a pounding sort of feeling that almost made him dizzy with anticipation.\n\nEverything was dark for a moment— then it was light. \n\nSitting there, right in front of him, was the guitar of his dreams. The one pulled straight from fuzzy memories and endless night rambles about how perfect it was, how it was *His,* If any guitar was *Him,* It was the guitar he was finally looking at. His breath caught in his throat, Ares was silent for a moment. Then another, three moments, four. \n\nHe didn't know what to say, he couldn't find the words. Not in a million years— even if he tried every single day— could he string together a sentence so perfect, to articulate the emotions that swarmed him at that exact moment. \n\n\"Oh my *God—*\" He finally managed to choke out. A soft smile began to spread across his previously shocked face; his eyes remained wide. \nThe boy almost didn't believe what he was staring at. Maybe he didn't, not fully. \n\n\"Where on earth did you find this? These are— basically legend— how the *Fuck* Did you get your hands on one?\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Fins face was wide with a grin, half covered by their hands held to their cheeks, pink in his ears. They shrugged, reflexively, and gestured to the guitar, at a loss for words for a moment.\n\n\"There was this guy in Gothenburg, online, it was literally Facebook Marketplace, I think, and he was just trying to get rid of it because he was moving to the States – he sold it to me for *Mad* Cheap, and it just, you know, you'd talked about it so much I thought you'd really like it, and—\"\n\nFinley shrugged, Ares's infectious glee stealing their ability to enunciate properly. All he could do was grin back. \n\n\"You should have seen Owen's face,\" They prattled, laughing a little out of their nose. \"I thought he was going to pop – no puns intended heh.\"\n\n*God, Ares was his entire world, wasn't he?* \n\nFin looked up at his face with a soft smile, and rocked back on their heels.\n\n\"All that's to say – happy one year, *Amor.*\""
}
] | 247 | 2,157 |
245.666667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "saperde4493",
"message": "It had been a while since Frankie settled herself into her new life within NC. A few weeks, maybe? But, man, since she was such a little kid compared to everyone she's seen hustle and bustle on her floor, well, maybe keeping to herself for a bit more was the best survival choice. \n\nHer face twisted into a grimace. A stomach growl. She hated leaving her room. Even if it was so weirdly immaculate while she tried her best to keep it as it was when she first came in. Maybe it was time for a rock candy refill? Or even a simple snack run. But she would need company. It's been mighty lonely, but, well, she didn't really feel comfortable talking with older kids. So she normally just kept her head down and scurry past them. But no more pity partying. Maybe she'd fine someone going outside her room at this time? But, well, some protection would need to take place then! \n\nRummaging underneath her bedframe, she took out Corn's idle boxed body. Hoisting it up onto the mattress, she scurried outside her door, and called out, a bit hesitantly, to activate him. \n\n\"Corn, c'mere and be a good ankle biter, will ya?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Another day, another Woolong.\n\n□ Boredom sat in the stagnant air, the overhead circulatory system blocked by some unseen clot, and it was driving Margo insane. Her room already proved itself to be a constant war of temperature, and it was a battle she was just about prepared to pay a HVAC guy to win for her via the heat pump method. En lieu of such an absolute victory, though, she decided that maybe what she needed was a stroll, some time spent outside of the comfort of her dorm, with its wall of books and the constancy of tea on the induction cooktop.\n\n▪︎ So, she sat up, stretched, turned off the television and used the inky blackness as a mirror. What she saw? A dyke in a halter top, with far too few tattoos.\n\n• She stepped out of her dorm, dressed to kill, the stick of a lollipop hanging from cracked lips, hands in the pockets of her red-black cargo pants, a certain air to her posture and how she roamed the halls with Merle Haggard blasting from her chest pocket and cherry hair dangling carelessly in her face. What would today bring?"
},
{
"author": "saperde4493",
"message": "Hearing a door open on her floor, Frankie felt a jolt of slight fear and MAJOR excitement go through her body. Trying to beckon something moving towards her close to her chest, she held the weird object to her body tightly, and with a faltering laugh, spun on her heel and began to march down the hall. Rounding the corner, there was a... A person. Oh no. Immediately, that initial fear was turning to a 9 on the intensity scale from her room neighbor. Yeah. Sh-She looks scary. Tall, too! \n\nComically swallowing a big gulp of air, she slid pushed herself into the wall and slid down, hugging Corn to her chest, the strange colored robo-dog panting at her face. His key-like tail was winding around and made a simple ticking noise that filled the air."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Am I that intimidating?\" Tuned in to her own station, yet the world itself still held sway over her conscious mind. She noticed a diminutive squirt trying to get around her, and thus she had to open her mouth. \"Good.\"\n\n□ Letting a chuckle bubble in her throat for a few moments, Margo reached up and turned down the music, also deliberately sliding a foot out to block the shorter girl's passageway. Maybe it was cruel, but... She was *Bored,* And the thing about boredom was that with it came restless mischief, the normally stoic, quiet academic giving way to a more mischievous, melancholimanic soul. With the sounds of Merle still singing about gunning a man down, she clacked the lollipop against her teeth, staring down with her eyes starkly opposed in their look.\n\n▪︎ One normal and silver, one completely inhuman; a glyph across it, her power's signature.\n\n• \"So, what's up with the dog? Looks like one of those, erm... IDogs? From the mid-2000s. Weird things.\" She'd noticed the robotic dog, and thus... She commented. \"Or would ya rather slink off to your own life than chat with a neighbour?\""
},
{
"author": "saperde4493",
"message": "Corn reacted first from Margo's intimidation, and spun his head around like an owl to growl like a chainsaw. It didnt make sense, he surely had no motor or voice box capable of making such a guttural and natural imitation of one. But it still came out of his mouth. \n\nFrankie patted Corn and carefully set him down on the floor, just as his little feet popped into existence. Chattering around like a chicken without his head, the imaginary friend became to figure eight around the two girls. \n\n\"Oh! He... Uhm.. He's Corn! I'unno if he's a eyedog.\" Staring up at Margo with curious but hesitant eyes, it was 100% obvious the glyph held Frankie's attention, and she was gonna blurt out a lot of questions if she could muster the courage. \n\nNow that she thought about it, she was chicken, not a lion, even if cowardly. \n\nJust as she was about to dash away, body instinctively trying to duck and run, a cartoonish pop! Of confetti styled smoke came out of thin air between the two girls, and Gravy was. Well. Hm. How to say this. Staring at Margo. But. Also holding onto her face. With his entire tiny body. Hm. Someone should teach everyone manners in this hall."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fair.\" She nodded, an eyebrow shooting up as said companion's head whipped around and a guttural steel-on-steel noise screeched from its throat. \"Thing sounds like it could use a Hall's, though... Christ.\"\n\n□ It was the truth, as she saw it. This thing – Corn, the petite girl had named it – had been squawking like a mechanical parrot for a few moments at this point, and her lips already curled into scowl at the very tips out of annoyance. Why was this thing screaming? She hadn't outright threatened anyone, so it couldn't have been that. Whatever. Shaking her head she let slid her leg back to meet its partner, able to tell from the girl's fixation on her glyph eye that she was too curious to really dash off.\n\n▪︎ Fine and dandy; now, what the hell had grabbed her face?\n\n◆ \"What the fuck...?\" Obviously surprised, she quickly raised a hand to her face, and with a swift motion grabbed onto whatever was hugging her face. \"Alright, let go... Goddammit, man, is this another one of your death traps?\""
}
] | 255.5 | 1,474 |
300.363636 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "The skies above were overcast, shrouded in a tapestry of greys and whites and the occasional pop of blue sky, and River couldn't help but yawn as she stared up from the second floor balcony. Grey skies brought a sense of weariness and a malaïse not unlike the gnawing pit of anxiety she was all too familiar with, and she knew staring at the bits of blue in the sea of grey wouldn't help. So she took her hands off the railing and scooted inside, making sure the door closed solidly behind her; an old habit mated to the instinctive back-forth kick of her socks, as if knocking dirt off a pair of Converse.\n\nRiver didn't precisely know *What* To do with herself, with the restlessness gnawing at her bones and at her legs and the tiredness in her head, and the debate raged on in her head for several indecisive moments as she leaned her hip against the thick frame of the door. The weather outside was a touch colder than her frail frame seemed fit to handle, and the music room was closed for cleaning last she checked, but simply going back to her room felt amiss and liable to simply make her feel worse. She pursed her lips and hummed. *Screw it.* She strolls down towards the stairwell – the Nook, as she's heard this particular landing called – and makes her way downstairs. The ground floor had more to do anyways.\n-\n\nOnce off the last step and in the library prior River scratches the back of her head, trimmed but unfiled fingernails dragging pleasantly against her scalp and the itchy patch that'd been yelling at her off and on all day, a silent reminder that her hair needed a good rinsing. That could wait, however. It'd been an hour since she had swung by the music room, and she was intent on seeing if she could get in to bang on the drums a little before retiring to her room, but as she strolled from the library and out towards her destination her eyes wander. They wander, and it's as she walks by the computer lab she catches a glimpse of a screen with a game that seems familiar-ish. She stops, snoops, and decides to become a pest. She pushes the door open.\n\n\"Heya! Is that Risk of Rai... Ah, nope. Never mind. Too gritty. Risk of Rain is, like, gloopy art, and this isn't. Izzat Helldivers? Friend loves it and has been tryin' to get me into it, but like, I've just been dragging my feet, y'know?\" She announces her presence, planting a hand against the desk and looking first at the screen then the fellow seated behind it. She's got on an oversized mauve t-shirt from some skate brand and loose knee-length cargo shorts, and she's got a curious expression spread across her features.\n-"
},
{
"author": "sane_colors",
"message": "Sounds good, I'll respond shortly!\n\nSam would be fighting on hellmire, one of only a few thousand willing to deal with the bugs on that cursed planet. Stupid termicide, who could have expected that using mutagenic agents on bugs would have caused all this. Oh, right, anyone with a working brain. Nope, enough of that, no dissident thoughts, only those for super earth. \n\nSam would be started by river's arrival, turning his head a bit only to get obliterated by a charger. Aaaand into the reinforcement cycle his character went. He knew he should have brought stun grenades, he could have been done with the charger a bit ago. \n\nIn the meantime, he turned more fully towards river. Annoyance at having been distracted and dying would flash through his mind for a second, before his face would soften. A fellow gamer was a fellow gamer, after all, especially if they were thinking of becoming a fellow diver. He shifted a bit to let river see, hopefully that wouldn't be a passive-aggressive message about the impact of the sudden distraction.\n\n\"I just got it a few days ago, I've been playing it a ton since I'm cooped up here. You should get it, it would be nice to have someone to play with here.\"\n\nHe seemed to suddenly realize something, mainly that he didn't know this person.\n\n\"I don't believe we've met before, I'm Sam. What brings you here?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "River looks on as the lad gets killed in a moment of distraction, and winces softly. An *Ouf* Squeaks its way from the corner of her mouth.\n\n\"Ah shoot– didn't mean to get you killed. Sorry 'bout that.\" Her expression remains apologetic as the lad replies in turn with a voice far less annoyed than she'd have expected. She loosens up thusly. \"But like, I hear ya. I've been on the Stardew Valley grind since getting banished here myself, so like, I feel it. Gotta do what'cha gotta do to pass the time, right?... Oh also, I'm River! Nice to meet'cha. Honestly I saw your screen from the hall and I kinda thought it was Risk of Rain 2 so I came in because, y'know, I'm a sucker for that game. Even if it gets on my nerves sometimes.\"\n\nShe leans over towards the nearest chair and paws it towards herself, albeit not fully.\n\n\"Y'mind if I take a seat? I'm actually, like, curious about this now. Whatever the heck that bug thing was it took you out like a Left for Dead charger, and now I'm intrigued. Sorry about killing you, but intrigued regardless.\""
},
{
"author": "sane_colors",
"message": "Sam would roll the chair out a bit in approval, reinforcing near a bile titan. Lovely, what a great start. Not that it wasn't his choice, he just expected to hit the thing. Unfortunately, it moved and he was off course regardless, so right next to it he goes. Maybe if super earth gave him some pilot instruct-nope, no doubting super earth in the middle of a mission, lest a democracy officer catch him. Time to run and get the weapons back, otherwise this helldiver won't last nearly as long as the previous. \n\n\"Don't worry about it, that's my bad for dropping with a bad loadout. Didn't even bring anything to stun the damn speed demons\" Funnily enough you reference that, by the way, these guys actually are called chargers. They're a pain, as you saw when you walked over. I know Stardew, just never got into it, but I've never heard of risk of rain. What's it about?\n\nDone asking questions for the time being, he'd find and grab his dropped gear, finally taking out that bile titan."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Sam pulls out a chair, and River wastes no time spinning it around and flopping herself down into it. She leans her chest against the backrest and crosses her arms, propping herself against it as comfortably as she can manage.\n\n\"Wait, really? Those things are actually called chargers? Huuuh. Neat! Lookit'im go, he's just a charging, uh...\" River replies, visibly chuffed to have been damn near correct off nothing more than the seconds of Sam's diver being massacred in swift fashion. She keeps her eyes on the screen, watching him drop in again and beeline it for his death point. \"Bug? Those are bugs, right? They sure look it.\"\n\n\"Risk of Rain 2, though, is a rogue-like. It's kinda like... It's a shooter, but every run is different, every set of levels is different, and really all you're trying to do is get absolutely BLOATED with items. Like, I deadass have killed bosses in a single tap because of all the stuff I had. It's addictive almost. I have something like 550 hours into it? And I still find myself going back. 10/10, no complaints.\""
},
{
"author": "sane_colors",
"message": "Sam glanced at river long enough to answer, narrowly avoiding another embarrassing and easily avoidable death.\n\n\"Technically, they're called terminids, but everyone just calls them bugs. Name is almost certainly a reference to warhammer's tyranids, but they function in this universe more similarly to the bugs in starship troopers. The other side is the autom-sorry, I don't want to ramble. Point is, yes, they're giant space bugs who have taken no liking to humanity. Totally not our fault, but even if it was, too late to fix it now.\"\n\n\"550 hours, huh? That's a lot, I definitely don't have 550 hours in this, not yet anyway, but I'm afraid to check steam for my counts on tf2 or any of the payday or battlefield games. Maybe I'll have to look into it sometime though, seems interesting.\"\n\nAnd apparently, embarrassing and easily avoidable death comes for us all, as Sam's character dies to yet another charger. Unfortunately for Sam, the mission is almost over anyway, and he doesn't get reinforced, so there goes that extract perk. Stupid bugs and their stupid charging, he's going back to the bot front. \n\n\"So, what other games do you like to play?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"Ahh. Rightright. I guess if it scuttles like a bug it's a bug huh? Like duck logic.\" River replies, voice equally inquisitive and upbeat. \"Ramble on dude, I'm the one who asked about it. I love when people rot hard about stuff too. Like yes, gimme *All* The lore, tell me your ships, whatevs!... I'm getting ahead of myself. Whoops.\"\n\nRiver laughs awkwardly, and shifts her arm about a bit. Watching Sam duke it out with bugs the size of city buses as nothing more than a man seemed neat. The game itself seemed neat. Really though, she seemed content to simply watch, arcing her gaze towards her newfound buddy – *Was that too soon a call to make?* – as he commented on his own games with far too many hours into them. She chuckles.\n\n\"Tellya what. You check out Risk of Rain, I check out Helldivers, and we see what one sticks. Not gonna like, make ya shake on it or nothin'. You got other games rattling round the dome, i'm sure. Jeez, that...\" She trails off. Seems she felt herself wandering too far and needed a mpment to lasso her runaway brain. \"But if you ever played Binding of Isaac and found yourself wired up on broke ass synergies you'll probably like Risk though. That game goes 'balance? Pff, who needs it!'\" She gesticulates the whole time, latent Mediterranean in her blood showing in the illustrative motions of her hands. \"Also, can I just say you sound so much like my bestie back home? She has like 600 hours in Warzone and outright *Refuses* To talk about her Apex time. Izzit that bad for you?\"\n\n\"Far as games though? I mostly play, like... Stardew, Risk of Rain – I know, I already told,... Pokémon. Genshin. Stuff like that. Also Deltarune! God that had me in a chokehold last year. Don't Starve and me are on the ropes 24/7; it's *So* Stylish yet so tough... Blegh.\""
},
{
"author": "sane_colors",
"message": "Sam would exit out of helldivers, partially to take that challenge and partially spare himself the embarrassment of his pitiful performance in that mission. Making a mental note about the stun grenades, he'd turn towards river. As he talked, he'd open steam back up to check some of his hours, as well as install risk of rain. \n\n\"Alright, bet. I'll check this out. I think I've maybe heard of binding of Isaac once, so this should be interesting, I have no idea what I'm getting into. *Please* Though, tell me risk of rain isn't as imbalanced. If I get killed by something super overpowered in the first like second I'm going to be sad. As for my hours... You just can't tell anyone, alright?\"\n\nHe trailed off a bit at the end there as he clicked through most of the battlefield series, payday, and tf2, each having hundreds of hours, with the same applying to several assassins creed games. \n\n\"Like I said, I know stardew, just never got into it, same with don't starve, and I played some of the older Pokémon games, but I haven't really kept up. Mainly just a *Lot* Of battlefield and some helldivers along with that.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "River thinks for a moment, and then her smile flattens out. She looks back at the computer monitor, watching Sam bring up the homepage for Risk of Rain.\n\n\"It's definitely harder than Isaac to just pick up and play, but like... Honestly? As long as you keep moving it's not all that bad. Lotta aim manoeuvring and stuff, yeah, but once you get the hang it's really not all that hard. You learn the enemies and you learn your dudes and you find out how to get busted fast. Also it's, like, easier with friends. Solo Risk is hell sometimes.\" River calmly talks, disjointed bits of her most memorable (and most frustrating) runs flashing in her head. Her eyes widen slightly at the *Hours played* Tab of each game Sam brings up as he scrolls through his list; \"Gee. That's a lot.\" Is all she can muster. He really *Does* Remind her of her best friend back home.\n\n\"I remember the one time I played Battlefield. It was... Not great.\" She remarks, faintly sarcastic and otherwise light in tone. \"I suck at first-person shooters like that.\""
},
{
"author": "sane_colors",
"message": "Cue Sam dying horribly. Once. And again. And yet again. Yep, seems like solo risk might just be hell. \n\n\"Harder? Try impossible. The enemies keep changing! And why does my guy run so slow? What am I doing? How do people even play this solo? Can you help?\"\n\nSam would take a breath. Getting unnecessarily frustrated didn't help him with any of his other games, and it wouldn't help here. He tried again, actually getting past a few enemies this time before getting obliterated once more. He'd stop briefly when she spoke. \n\n\"Like I said, I do a little gaming. Which battlefield? I like the first one the most. I'm not amazing at shooters, but I can hold out\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "River looks on as Sam boots up Risk, and winces as he immediately is descended upon by a horde. Suddenly she's regretting bringing it up; *What a bad impression!*\n\n\"Oh, uh– so y'gotta stay moving. Walk, jump, whatevs. And you gotta keep 'em where you can see 'em, since, as you saw, they really gang up on your ass.\" She explains, talking fast as Sam does what Sam does. \"Also that's just how it be at the start. A few items in you actually pick up the pace – which, by the way, you really gotta prioritize in this game. Anyways– but at the start you're kind of a snail. I usually just spam restart until I get a speed up first item actually, pleb as that is.\" She chuckles.\n\n\"Also it was Battlefield 4...? I believe? I was like eleven and rummaging through my brother's stuff and it was in the Xbox I found. All I know is it was a shooter and I sucked at it. Anyways if you wanna I could take over and show ya how best to approach the game, because I promise it's not hell constantly. It's just... *Tough* To pick up. Weird of it. Ah well.\"\n\nShe leans forward a little, and shifts in her chair."
}
] | 262 | 3,304 |
432.333333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Finley stood outside the door with a blanket pulled tight over their shoulders. The day pulled on their eyes like bags of sand; it seemed the very nature of the Cradle was unwinding at their feet. The phenomenon that ensnared their friends and perhaps not so friendly acquaintances pulled on Finleys paranoid nature like puppet strings. \n\nIt seemed like the thing stole items at near random, and then, at once, the Spot (or Armando - who the fuck had named it that?) would descend on you, and you'd be like Amelie, or Fennel, or Esmeralda - carted off somewhere else, unable to be found. \n\nFinley had little precious possessions - only a few trinkets from Ares, Owen, and one from his sister to count as his own, including their beloved drum sticks. They had started keeping all of it in a little bag - but nothing was worth getting thrown into the Distortion. \n\n\"Ares?\" They called. Their voice was soft - despite the cruel nature of the enigma, the faculty might decide to care more about curfew than their befallen students. \"It's me.\"\n\nAs long as the few people Finley valued more than anything stayed out of danger, they could manage. Uneasily, but they could. \n\nThe scream had ripped something open in their chest - a fear, deep, breaking his ribcage in an attempt to escape. Between it, and the surefire midterm they'd most likely fail tomorrow, no one could blame them for sneaking upstairs. \n\nAnd it was Ares, after all. Ares, the person Finley was closer to more than anyone - even Owen, but they wouldn't tell him that. (Though, they assumed he felt the same way about Uriel.) Ares himself had a way of settling the sparking anxiety that kept Fins mind going in tighter and ever tighter spirals. \n\n\"I brought you something.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares sat against the plush sheet of his bed, the soft comforters providing a gentle contrast to the rough bark he had been holding himself against for what seemed like forever. His arm ached, the bandage pulled around his bicep was tight. Ares couldn't lie that Moru did a good job. He would have to properly thank him— whenever that chance would come. \n\nThe tan boy had just began to rest his eyes when a knock rang out from the door, followed by a soft and familiar voice. His chest lit up with sparks, excitement even. After the hell hole roller coaster his day had been, he frankly couldn't wait for some down time with Finley. \n\nAres got up, walked over to the door, and pressed the handle down with his right hand. Avoiding using his left arm was easy, since it wasn't his dominant hand. \n\nThe heavy door opened, and a short blonde figure stood in front of him, with a smile. \n\n\"Hey.\" Ares spoke, it was almost hoarse, and cracked slightly against his throat. His voice was softer than it usually was, partly due to the fact his headache hadn't subsided and partly because Fin was deeply comforting. There was no need to be loud around them. \n\nAres shut the door behind the two, and immediately pulled Finley into a hug. He wrapped his arms around their upper shoulders and held them close to his chest. The taller of the two let his head rest softly on top of theirs. Ares didn't need to speak to tell Finley how much he was glad they were here. The comforting dark of Ares' room was lit up only by a few orange lights. Holding them there, behind the door, Ares almost felt his whole world melt away. \n\nSilence held heavy in the air for a while, Ares just stationary in the hug. If anything it was was he needed— even if he would never admit that. \n\n\"Oh— ha. Sorry.\" Ares let out a small snicker as he pulled away from them. He immediately went over and began to fidget with the TV he had set up against his wall. He shifted around almost with a sense of embarrassment. \n_ _\n\n\"What movie are we feeling tonight?\" Ares looked over his shoulder at Finley. \n\n\"Oh yes, right my bad— you said you brought something?\" The boy paused, and turned to face Finley properly."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "*Oh.*\n\nHugging Ares, they'd decided a while back, had to be the safest place in the world for Finley Carlisle to exist in their entirety. He was *Here* - the Distortion hadn't grabbed up him up and shuffled him off, the Cradle hadn't sent him away, he hadn't been killed by some of the freakiest angel shit Fin had never learned about at mass, he was *Here*. Ares Morales lived in a way that made Finley convinced he could never be anything less than what he was - a dancing, glittering flame, vibrant, *Lively.*\n\nIf no one, Finley thought, were to ever be there for them again, at least they would have him. It furled something undone in their shoulders, dropping them from his ears. Ares gave the best hugs - nothing could hurt them here. Not angels nor anything else. \n\nThey blinked a few times as he stood back, going to fidget with a button or two on the television. \n\n\"Don't apologize,\" They said, immediately, but the words fumbled out of their mouth. \"I, ah, didn't really have one picked out, I was sort of just—\"\n\nOh, he looked so shy. Embarrassed, even. The orange light captured him up in a perfectly candid way - orange, it seemed, really was his colour. He looked kinder, softer, even. Finley didn't know how many people could say the same about him, but they were grateful they could.\n\nPink spread over Finley's ears as a little smile tugged at their face. They set a small, plastic bag down at their feet and took a few steps forward until they'd crashed into his arms again. \n\nFin laid their head against his chest, wrapping their arms around his torso, and closed their eyes, just for a moment. He was sturdy, and the day had been so long. Finley could forgive themself for holding on just a little while longer.\n\n\"Just a second,\" They promised, their voice muffled just a tad. \"I swear I'll move in a second. Today's just... Sucked. This place sucks.\"\n\nThe laugh stung with bitterness, but Fin pressed their head into his chest, in a silent hope that it would make it go away."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Ares stood there, and snickered a little at Finley's *'just a second.'* Both of them knew it would be longer than that, and neither of them minded. \n\n \"I know, I know. It's over for now though, we can make the rest of today better.\" The taller of the two placed his hands over Fin's shoulders, pulling them closer to him. \n\n Ares wouldn't admit it, but he was glad to be back. That basement had drained every ounce of rationality from his brain, the static filled his ears and made him sick, his head was still spinning. The lead weight in his stomach still remained; he could feel the inkling of something bad soon to come trickling down the hairs on the back of his neck. Here, with Finley tucked under his arms, that surely wouldn't matter. Not yet, at least. He wouldn't let that Distortion taint his mind for any longer than it already had. \n\n With a scrunch of his nose, and a small audible sigh, he had decided to push the thing out of his brain. \n\n \"You're welcome to keep hugging me but *Damn* Can we sit down I feel like i'm gonna pass out.\" He gave a wry sort of laugh, slowly let go of Fin, and immediately fell down onto his bed. The soft sheets beneath his head were *Heaven* And he would fall asleep within seconds if Finley wasn't his number one priority at the moment.\n\n Ares sat up, and tapped the space beside him lightly with his palm, signalling for Fin to come join him. \n\n \"Im sorry about worrying you, yknow. I tried to contact you, I really did. I promise I wont let it happen again.\" The boy looked at Fin with a look no one had seen before. It was a genuine look, an expression that told the other Ares *Wanted* To be around them. That the week where he had been trapped in the basement was agony for him too, and that *Of course he missed them.* \n_ _\n\n_ _ _ _ His expression flicked a little. \"I dont wanna be sad though, I made it out alive and that's something to be proud over.\" A smirk drew over his face, bordering a smile. \"How about we order some food and enjoy a night with just the two of us? Maybe watch a movie, or I could beat you at Mario Kart for the seventeenth time.\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "A little laugh bounced Finleys shoulders, shaking their head with it. They nodded, conceding, curling up beside Ares with a long, long exhale out their nose.\n\n For the first time in a week, both of them could breathe, it seemed like. Finley wasn't sure what it had really been like in the basement, and wasn't sure that he really wanted to know. But Ares was here, and that was enough. \n\n\"Don't apologize,\" They said. They rested a hand on top of his, squeezing gently. \"I'm just glad you're okay. I couldn't imagine being with that damn thing for ten minutes, much less a week. Missed you almost as much as I worried about you - but it's not your fault. I know you tried. I trust you.\"\n\nThey listened to his next thoughts, a little smile pulling on their face. Dae-Hyun, Valio, Vi, and the rest had been great company - kind words, warm tea, thick blankets. Fin couldn't overstate how much their companionship had meant to him. But Ares had a special place in their life they couldn't replace with anything - *Anyone* Else. \n\n\"Sure, I'll put on something, and order some snacks. I would say Mario Kart, but, let's face it— \" A snicker pulled their lips apart — \"I'd kick your ass right now. You couldn't beat me if you tried.\" \n\nConfidence tilted their words, and Fin laid their head on his shoulder as they pilfered through food delivery apps on their phone, a smug little snicker right on their face.\n\n\"I'm just happy you're home.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Ares smiled at Finley, feeling their hand on top of his. Everything would be alright, he was certain of it. There was nothing the boy couldn't face, he was strong and he knew this. Yet, the support of Fin beside him was a different kind of comfort. Valio, Safya, Caleb, they all had their charms and the way they would place strong hands on his back in times of need, but Fin was something else. Ares didn't want to think about it too hard. \n\n Leaning against Fin's shoulder, he listened to the way they spoke. He felt the calmness in their voice, and how they were genuinely glad he was back. The fact they even missed his company in the first place resonated with Ares, in a way he hadn't really felt before. Finley made Ares feel a lot of things he had never felt before. Maybe that was a good thing. \n\n \"I trust you to order the good ones.\" He snickered. The taller boy nudged them in the side lightly with his shoulder and a laugh. It was the first time in a while he could really feel at ease. With another snicker, Ares wrapped his arm around their shoulders and pulled them in close in a teasing sort of manner. \"And Oi— No cmon, I'd totally win. You know this!\" The sentence came out with a laugh and a smile, they both knew Fin would win. \n\n With a small breath, Ares looked at Finley with a certain *Look.* It was genuine, and soft, and the smile on his face was one very few had seen. He rested his head on top of theirs.\n\n \"Im happy to be home too.\""
}
] | 436.5 | 2,594 |
342.777778 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"C'mon, Margo... You've gotta look nice, fuck.\"\n\n□ Stress was nothing new for Margo. Given her upbringing, she knew what stress felt like, and she knew she usually worked well under stress despite being the human equivalent of a warehouse full of ammonium nitrate. But, the sort of stress that knowing Vi was on her way brought upon her was entirely foreign, and it seemed intent on exposing her every last flaw and imperfection. The way her hair always looked slightly greasy despite her taking good care of it, that one persistent zit along the bridge of her nose, her teeth stained from a short lifetime of drinking tea and eating acidic foods religiously... It was all coming back as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror attached to the inside of her and Uri's dorm room door, and it was coming back with a vengeance. Busting the zit with a wince and a clenched jaw, she wiped up the mess and looked at herself again; should she have restyled her hair? Was her lounging around in a bikini top too forthcoming? It felt like it, yet the heat outside kept her from throwing on a bootleg shirt and calling it a day.\n\n▪︎ Needless to say, whatever the deal was between her and Vi, she knew she'd *Never* Felt this way, these worries, these thoughts... It was all exhilarating and terrifying, and as she sat back down on the couch she couldn't help but nervously chew on a necklace she'd ordered without telling anyone. Seems as though she was still a little embarrassed about being autistic deep down, even if all the evidence pointed towards it."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "While looks were something Vi frequently stressed over, she hadnt really worried about dolling up for someone specifically in a while- what screams casual but put together? She wanted to be more... Bold! Far more akin to her age than what she was usually dressed in. She knew her hair was fine- a simple slightly overgrown bob cut (though nowadays she questioned the reliability of getting a wolf cut..? Though the short girl wasn't sure if that was leaving her sort of predisposed Vibe) \nGoing bold was so much harder than she thought it would be. She looked at herself in the mirror with an uncertain bubble in her stomach at the concept of the flared jeans she had on, she cringed at the skintight baseball shirt, twirling awkwardly a couple times with a couple quiet whines.\n\nFace wise, her scarring was looking up! The healing process was something that she pelted with enthusiasm, and while the scarring wouldn't go away- she knew that was something Margo was certainly keen on. She grinned at herself, was blue a good colour for her braces? Vi let out a contemplating groan.\n\nIt'll have to do!- she looked like the early 2000s got into an apocalypse and suffered the consequences. She tossed up her hair a couple times as she prepared to take the leap out the door; and with that, she opened to the hallway and found her way thoughfully to Margo's door.\n\nWalking through the halls, she tried her best to just chill the fuck out, she smelt fine, she looked ok (if not a little awkward with the very new sort of look), and as she rapped a knock onto Margo's door, her breath caught in her throat for a moment.\n\nAh yes, young love. She sorta hoped this feeling Wouldn't happen, but new uncertain romances were somewhat riveting at times..."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "● [KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK]\n\n◇ Well, she'd been waiting for it, yet her heart still leapt from its home within her ribcage as the three knocks echoed through her admittedly packed room.\n\n□ Shooting up from the couch, she let the chew necklace fall from her teeth as she pulled it off and stuffed it out of sight. Even though they were two peas in a pod on that front, she couldn't help but feel ashamed, like it wasn't meant to be talked about, or seen, so she hid it out of sight and tried to put it out of mind. Popping the door open with a nervous pull she had a smile and a light flush on her face, only deepening as she saw Vi in a tight baseball shirt and flared jeans. Compared to her generally mousey, almost conservative way of dressing, it was a welcome change, and she'd have been lying if she tried to claim her eyes didn't veer where they weren't supposed to for a second before resting on her friend's twin-tone eyes.\n\n◆ \"Hey, Vi. Decided to try something new out? Looks nice, darl... I... I mean. It suits you. Yeah.\" She stepped aside, letting Vi stroll in at her own leisure as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. What she'd see on the other side of the door was a condensed, well-organized pile of knowledge and reptiles, her dresser pressed up against the back of her couch and Cosmo in his enclosure atop it sunning himself. Bookshelves lined the wall beside the couch, and a large flatscreen sat atop a stand. A desk in the corner lifted Sadie's enclosure up, and the little darling could be seen in the shade, only his tail poking out from under his little dome. As Vi walked in and closed the door she followed, resisting the urge to smack her butt out of respect for unspoken boundaries and the fact that they weren't even dating yet. Or, were they? She still didn't know. \"Don't mind the mess, i've crammed a lot into here. Thankfully Uri doesn't mind... I've kept them in the know the whole way and they seem to be fine with it, so. How's it going?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Margo looked as good as usual, and Vi wasn't too surprised by that at all- she never payed any mind or notice to the perpetual little bit of grease in the girl's hair, or the now redness by her nose- it all formed into the same bigger picture, painting had in a way taught her how little the details actually mattered.\nShe clasped her hands together, her voice piping up after a second or so.\n\n\"My eyes are up here, miss Killjoy\" \nL + ratio + caught lacking. She half smiled, stepping in cautiously. It was half unapparent, but she was kidding it seemed- if she were offended by anything she would have bluntly left, but Vi slinked in quite comfortably after the initial surprise.\n\n\"Mhm, I like my style but... My sister kept bugging me to try new stuff. I still don't like her, but she had a point.\" She mused, fiddling with her fingers inside the half extravagant room of reptile mayhem. It was a cute interest- niche enough to be attractive, and cool enough to not be absurd or creepy- like an obsession with cremation would be- or even worse, an obsession with world war two... She's been there, done that.\n\"Woah... You sure love your reptiles, I mean- this is quite the collection of merchandise.\" She commented towards the piles of books, pages upon pages of herpetology and the things that made Margo well... Margo!\n\nShe was quick to take a look at Sadie, blissfully unaware of Margo's amazing self restraint and irresolution. Though the question hung in the air as usual about What Were They? Maybe Vi would ask... Just maybe- but for now, she found herself content with her self viewing of it being a situationship.\n\n\"Hmm, I've been good, painting, spoiling Soup, thinking about you- the usual sort of stuff\"\n\nInsert bad attempt at flirting there."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fuck. Sorry.\"\n\n□ Well, she'd been caught. Sheepishly laughing, she followed Vi into her room, a sprawling mess of reptiles and dead languages and Owl House merchandise out the fucking wazoo. Special interests, as it turned out, were far beyond anything she'd attentively noted before, and her sheer obsession with the show manifested in fanzines on the shelf, posters, and even a couple of pins on her TV stand that she didn't quite know what to do with yet. Sitting down she looked over at Vi as she spoke, noting how she was looking in at Sadie. Hearing that she'd been on the other's mind, though, once again sent a flock of butterflies down her throat and into her stomach, nervous wingbeats tickling the inside of her chest cavity something fierce.\n\n▪︎ How was it that someone so short could make her into such a mess?\n\n◆ \"Fair. I'd imagine Soup's a pint-sized tyrant, huh? She looks the type.\" Margo chuckled, relaxing into the couch where she spent most of her days reading or tending to her reptiles. \"Also, little old me's been on your mind...? I think you've got a hang-up or two.\" She teased, her deep, accented voice rolling off her tongue with an amused yet awkward lilt. \"And as for me...? I've been okay. Reading about languages, tending to my sons, watching the same three shows over and over... You might have noticed the pins on my stand. I impulse bought them, but fuck, I dunno what to do with them, man, so...\" A soft hum followed. \"Anyways, yeah, I do love them. Sometimes it feels like I'm living more for them than myself, to tell you the truth...\"\n\n▪︎ \"I mean.\" Standing up, she leaned over the back of the couch and, cautiously, she extended a hand out for Cosmo to scurry onto. Forever the attention whore, he soon obliged, and she lifted him out into her awaiting hands. \"How can I say no to a face like this, right?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Before marriage... How taboo of you.\" She tutted teasingly, another day another blackmail on Margo's good name... Not that there was much she could actually use with that. Oh well.\nVi swung her arms by her sides for a couple moments- her heart raced a little bit around Margo- similarly so when looking around at just how intriguing the other girl was; dead languages scattered around the room, Margo's interest in them seemed to spring them back to life with gusto, and the endearment with the owl house made the corners of Vi's mouth turn up into a genuine smile, despite how clumsy and out of place it looked.\n\nShe plonked down beside Margo, leaning on her for a moment, before subconsciously bringing herself upright like a plank of wood. She let out a quiet huff\n\"You don't even know, the little monster is sucking me dry of sleep, she has a little wheel and decides that night time is the best time for it. Because why not.\" She noted dryly, shaking her head with a half smile.\n\"Youre lucky I dont know whaf a hang up means, or else I'm sure I'd be... Super offended right now.\" The mumble drawled out of her mouth sultry, a small tut noise being made afterwards.\n\"Ah yes, it seems like busy business being a half single mother to two children like those\"\n\nShe hummed idly as Cosmo scampered up Margo's arm, a bond formed on adoration and trust that made Vi let out a little chuckle.\nHer hand hesitantly reached out for Cosmo to.. Sniff or something? She wasn't quite sure how lizards worked, and had only shortly met the reptile in the past.\n\nYou let dogs sniff your hand right? Is that a lizard thing too??"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Oh, it's nothing too bad, man.\" Margo reassured her companion, noting how she'd leaned against her only to go rigid and upright again. A frown pulled at the corner of her lips. \"Also, shit, man, you don't gotta sit up like that. I, er... I'm not gonna bite. Unless you ask. But also not really because I don't want to hurt you. There's other people I'd rather make yearn for death.\"\n\n□ Half awkward flirt and half thinly-veiled threats against those who she thought had wronged her for whatever reason, Margo's words awkwardly bounced off of her tongue like punch-drunk kids on a bouncy slide. Something about Vi caused her brain to backfire and die out, badass aloof futch energy replaced with genuine awkward young lesbian charm, the tingles of romance tickling her throat and her ribcage something fierce. Part of her wanted to reach out, to bring Vi into her arms, but... Would that have been too forward? Or overstepping a boundary that hadn't even been established?\n\n▪︎ And all this time, Cosmo was curiously bumping his head into Vi's hand, almost like he *Wanted* Her to scratch under his chin.\n\n◆ \"Huh, look at that, I think he wants you to give him scritches.\" Margo chuckled once she noticed her reptilian friend laying his head against the side of Vi's hand. \"Just... Under his chin, softly. Right side's his favourite... Don't go too hard, though, you're still a stranger to him, wouldn't be hard to betray his trust. Anyways, so what, your shirt shows you off, and I love – I mean, appreciate – every part of you. Fuck.\" The last word quietly echoed out as she realized what she said, her gaze fixing itself on a replica wanted poster of Eda from The Owl House pinned to the wall. \"Sorry.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "She loved the way Margo bumbled around her sentences in search of any sort of romance in that smooth brain of her's, and the moment she heard the phrase 'i dont bite' she sorta knew Something was going to happen. And sure enough it was awkward in seconds, which Vi adored in some way.\nHer shoulder swayed wordlessly back into Margo's with a gentle bump- Vi let out a half awkward click from her mouth.\n\nVioletta had a naturally very gentle gaze when it came to Margo, she looked down with the same delicate smile as a soft pink dusted over her cheeks. The unsteady status of their relationship left Vi in an awkward, yet unspokenly exhilarating spot.\nHer outstretched hand tenderly stroked and scratched along the lizard's jaw, small clicking and tutting noises erupting from her throat once it had started.\n\nIt was a usual thing for Vi to do this, upon petting anything, she chutted to the animal at a steady and comfortable rhythm, a sense of calm falling over her usually quite highly strung self.\n\"Such a cutie... I see the appeal\" She mumbled as she cooed towards the lizard.\n\nHer immersed look of gentle stoicism towards the lizard slowly began to fade as she took in the other girl's awkward speech; her lips upturned to a smile and then opened to a giggle and a snicker in response to the awkward flirting, and the VERY forward way of confession.\n\"Why thank you, I'm quite fond of your body parts too.\"\nWhile her voice reeked of teasing sarcasm, at least Vi seemed to be enjoying herself as she swung her head around to face Margo.\nShe wanted another kiss, weirdly enough, but as far as Violetta is concerned, that could wait as it pushed to the back of her head.\n\n\"I'm glad you like the shirt though, I was quite uncertain for a bit. You're good as usual, I've always envied your fashion sense.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Jesus, that sounds worse now that you put it that way...\" Margo rubbed the back of her neck and looked away, quietly cringing at herself for being too forthcoming, too susceptible to Vi's physical allure, too *Brash.* She'd have to tone it down. \"Anyways...\"\n\n□ Falling into a comfortable yet tense silence, she looked over at Vi as her shoulder leaned into her own, a flurry of fuzzy emotions rocketing up her arm, neck, and directly into her head. She'd always envied television couples, and their occasional yet endearing displays of affection, but being in that position and feeling her good friend – a term that admittedly still felt *Off* – lean up against her was something else. It was young romance, blossoming, and for all her aloof, stubborn charm she couldn't help but *Melt* Around the shorter girl just a few inches away.\n\n▪︎ Naturally, she leaned her cheek against the top of Vi's head and hummed softly, yearning yet too nervous to make the first move.\n\n◆ \"Thanks. I took along my bikini tops *Just* For weather like this. Funnily enough, actually, I don't have any bikini bottoms; something something, a dick isn't easy to hide in those skimpy things.\" She laughed. \"But the tops are great in the summer, so I keep 'em around. God knows the hormones did their thing, so no reason to hide how comfortable I am in my body these days.\" She continued, wordlessly scooping Cosmo into her loving hands as he flopped down. Lifting him, she put him on her shoulder, as if he were a parrot in a high seas crime comedy. \"Because, yeah, I'm... Pretty comfortable with myself nowadays. It's taken a while to get here, but better late than never, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Yes it is isnt it?\"\nShe noted coolly as the taller girl looked away sheepishly- weird flirtatious slips that come out so much *Weirder* Than you ever intended is a normal thing in such budding romances, like an awkwardly formed petal that leans to the side wryly, among a crowd of perfect petals.\n\nThe soft skin of Margo's cheek up against her head startled Vi, her face heated up, and if you looked closely some steam would probably have leaked out of her ears. \n\n\n\"I wish I had that confidence, or the sort of facilities- hot weather is awful for my skin, believe it or not\" \nAh yes, the pains of already being 40% burnt AND pale as fuck- Vi was the sort of girl that didn't tan, but rather burnt and got a fuck ton of freckles.\n\nThe freckles were adorable, the burning less so.\n\n\"I don't think anything's easy to hide in bikinis, I like my long sleeves and trousers- I can't wait for autumn.\" Her gaze followed Cosmo onto Margo's shoulder, and then to Margo's face. For what felt like a minute, but added up realistically to a couole seconds, Vi studied the taller girl's face with slightly parted lips.. Is this what she had been missing out on? Girls? How she coped, she didn't know- all she had to go off of was a Winona Ryder poster and as far as she was aware, EVERYONE was attracted to Winona Ryder.\n\n\"Yeah- you should be comfortable with yourself- you're hot- well, gorgeous, I- ugh.\"\nAnother attempt at casual flirting falls flat in the atmosphere of Margo and Uriel's dorm.\n\"I'll... Maybe be confident one day, though it's a little hard.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I'd imagine, man.\" Margo spoke, giggling softly and cooing to Cosmo as he burrowed his head into the base of her neck. \"Where was I...? Oh, yeah, burns. You probably tan like an Irishman... I'd imagine it's cute. *Why'd I say that...? Too forward.*\"\n\n□ Voice growing unsteady as she spoke, it was the compliment that broke her down into a surprisingly bashful mess, her gaze once again shooting about as she tried to hide the fact that she was nervous. Nervous, nervous, *Nervous,* It tugged at her stomach with barbed ropes, wrapped her neck in piano wire, lit her blood vessels ablaze, and for all of her years of seeing herself as the cliché silent strong type in a relationship she was awfully soft and mushy.\n\n▪︎ Thankfully, as she focused on the wall Vi kept on talking, and like a diehard fan she hung on every word.\n\n◆ \"True.\" A brief image of what could be flashed in her mind before she hurriedly forced the image out of her mind for her own sake, steam metaphorically pouring out of her ears. \"But, gotta admit, trousers and stuff really suit you. You dress like an... This is gonna sound fucked, but you dress like a grandpa, and I couldn't imagine you otherwise.\" She spoke, unsteady but genuine, like the words were scary to say yet needed to be said. Taking a moment to process the shock and flustered flutters of being called not one, but *Two* Different sorts of radiant, she gently nuzzled her cheek into the crown of Vi's head.\n\n◆ \"No worries, I get what ya mean. I know, it's... Fuck, man, I've flirted before, but actually flirting with someone so wonderful is...\" A hum. \"It's tricky. Anyways, chin up, Vi, you've got it in ya.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "She fiddled with Margo's hand subconsciously, she was well aware it was not her own hand yet for some reason... It sorta didnt really add up or get comprehended in her brain before she let go, and tried to pretend that she Wasnt doing that.\nObviously the other would notice, she couldn't just gaslight Margo into thinking that she had been keeping her hands to herself, but the thought was there.\n\nTan like an irishman, she silently mulled it over in her head, before looking at Margo with mock betrayal and offense.\n\"What about it? I wear suncream so i only slightly burn\" She tutted, lips lifting at the 'cute' implication. She leaned back into the other girl without thinking; at this point you'd think she were doing this on purpose, to get Margo nervous or flustered and clumsy. But it was simply her romantic habits once she got comfortable. \n\nInstant betrayal. Grandpa- she would not stand for this! The heretic heathen beside her had suggested that Vi dressed no more than a crusty old guy.\n\nShe rolled her eyes and playfully nudged Margo, tutting as usual.\n\"It's academic, i Have to wear it so people know I'm smart.\" She commented, her two hands now intertwined and squeezed tight.\n\"Maybe i should dress like a grandma instead soon, at least it'll be more on par.\" Her words crushed to a fine, smooth felt, Vi's voice came out calmer than usual.\nShe was getting used to it at long last.\n\n\"I mean... I've flirted plenty before, unsurprisingly. Wasted so much brainpower\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Don't think I don't notice that.\"\n\n□ Awkward yet sultry, Margo had noticed Vi fiddling with her hand, and with lips cut like crinkle fries and a bouncing leg she grabbed the other's hand and gave it a light squeeze, dragging her short nails against its back. That was what others liked, right? It was always what she'd loved when she wasn't feeling well as a kid, back scratches from Mom with heavt emphasis on the nails, and she hoped that Vi would be the same as her. Still gently running her thumb and its nail along her friend's hand, she chuckled at what the other was saying.\n\n▪︎ Seemingly she'd struck a nerve.\n\n◆ \"You look like a dork, so I'd say you're doing fine.\" Margo teased, gently nudging Vi back and looking over with a soft yet genuine smile. \"I mean, fuck, look at me. I dress like a military brat and yet I spend most of my free time reading about obscure shit. Academia takes a lot of forms, I guess. Anyways, grandma, grandpa, whatever, I'll let you feed me any time!... Fuck, that's weird, actually.\" Embarrassment began to set in, and Margo's free hand gently toyed with the light material of her shorts. \"Jesus, I should learn to think before I speak, huh? The fuck kinda flirt is *I'd let you feed me any time, grandma,* Huh? Like, might as well put me in the fuckin' high chair and make airplane noises at that point.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "The gentle scratching of nails across the soft back of her hand made Vi shudder a little in surprise, her eyes fluttering closed, content with the situation as she leaned against Margo as if the taller girl were a pillar, holding up a large stone monument of her adoration. She almost took Margo's hand and pressed a kiss against it, but so far refrained.\nIt's a miracle she ever questioned her sexuality, else she risk never being able to get into this situation in the first place, and that... That would be a disaster.\n\"Well thats new..\" She mumbled quietly, allowing Margo to simply do whatever to her hands, the consequence being her heart rate picking up like the final stretch of the marathon.\n\nShe watched on in esteem as Margo continued talking, about aesthetic, about hobby, whatever comes to mind- until a feeling of whiplash hits her.\n'ill let you feed me any time!'\n\n\nHer laugh had always been awkward and loud, it came out in a sort of strange wheeze, but she was imperfect- and it was surely something Vi was coming around to. Desperately, she attempted to compose herself over how fucking *Strange* Of a flirtation that was.\n\n\"*Please* Brain before mouth\" Vi remarked with a grin, shifting back to a less vulnerable and fruity position.\n\n\"Khehe, that's awful- you're adorable- learn to flirt please-\"\nAmused.Mp4"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ What was she expecting?\n\n□ A few moments of silence hammered home the fact that she'd perhaps said the weirdest fucking thing she could have, but to her delighted surprise Vi began to laugh. A quiet snicker escalated all the way up to a roaring wheeze of a laugh, endearingly kooky and off-beat, and Margo couldn't help but laugh along, wrapping an arm around her companion as she laughed ever louder. It was so much noise that she could feel Cosmo scurry down her back in a nervous fit, presumably hopping onto the back of the couch and finding his own perch to look over his kingdom from.\n\n▪︎ And as for Margo...? She kept an arm around Vi, rubbing her bicep lightly and tapping her fingers against it.\n\n◆ \"I mean, hey, I managed to get a kiss from you off the back of a flirt, so... I have my moments. That was one of them, but... Y'know. A moment for the cringe comp my brain forces me to watch every night.\" She chuckled. \"But, yeah... Brain before mouth. Got it. What a fuckin' weird thing of me to say, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "She made a quiet \"Noo\" As the lizard scurried away- before accepting the lizard's wishes with a sigh of betrayal. Violetta found herself recovering awkwardly from the laughing fit, as soon as she thought she would over it, she'd let out another snort or snicker, tipping over and bumping into Margo's side.\nShe disregarded the hand on her arm, it wasn't something she payed any attention to- if anything it was a comforting presence that held her upright as she held back cackles.\n\nThe term bicep should be used lightly, as there didnt feel to be any muscle there at all.. Just a bit of squishy skin and bone.\nMaybe she should start working out one of these days... Or getting a healthy diet would work too. Maybe both... At the same time! Self consciousness flooded her a bit- in contrast to the girl next to her, Vi was beyond scrawny, it was like a shrimp next to a... Bigger and stronger shrimp, i suppose. She overestimates how tall Margo is on the regular; partly because she feels tiny, and partly because Margo's muscle makes her look bigger proportion wise.\n\nShe was finally quieter, looking up at Margo with a half lidded smile- her fingers drummed together as she was paying her attention on Margo.\n\"Care for another one?\" Rare Vi flirtation, her head swindled in place, her eyebrow and a half raising at Margo.\n\n\"You're a dork, it's wonderful\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I.\" Red instantly, looking off to one side. Seemingly just that tiny flirt had caught her off-guard. \"Let me just...\"\n\n□ After just a touch of hesitation and wondering if it was even fine to go back in so early, she decided it just wasn't worth it to cower in fear instead of go in for it. So, with the hand she'd already wrapped around the other's slender frame she gently ran her hand up Vi's arm, dragging her fingernails very lightly and humming softly. Tracing her fingers all the way up to Vi's jaw, she turned the other's head to face her, and laid down three smooches: one initial, and two of pure pleasure.\n\n▪︎ Then she backed up and looked down at Vi.\n\n◆ \"How'd I do?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Good ending: i actually quite like gay people! Violetta hadn't expected such a visceral reaction off of Margo to such a simple, age old line; yet the other girl glowed a bright red in the face, and she couldnt help but smile.\nShe buzzed at the seams, a small beating in the back of her head wondering if it would actually result in anything.\nAny kisses, anything further.\n\nVioletta wasnt struck surprised by feeling Margo's hand begin to move, she kept a cool and calm demeanor- of course, she had plenty of experience, especially compared to her companion (of whom had only had one, or a few if they've kissed between that scene and now- who knows.).\nShe shuddered at the light scratching against the fabric on her arm, and then a comfortable shuffle forwards at the sensation of gentle touch on her jaw.\n\nThe kisses were nothing special besides being from Margo Killjoy, simple awkward teen movie kisses that made her heart thrum against her fragile ribcage.\nHer hand found its way grasping gently onto Margo's spare hand, either for stability or... God knows what. Something or other.\n\nThe moment Margo pulled away, she yearned for the taller girl's lips back against her own, even if just lingering- but it was far past that.\nShe glanced up at Margo, trying to come up with some smartass answer.\n\n\"Great- good- almost as good as me\"\n\nHalf got there"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Turns out that stammered line of praises were enough.\n\n□ Buzzing something fierce, Margo leaned herself back into the cushioning of the couch, and she took a few moments to just *Think* In the comfortable yet electric silence that filled the room. In the span of just over a month she'd went from rewatching specific Owl House episodes and pining so hard her heart felt as if it were on a bed of charcoals to having someone who made her feel all the ways she'd ever wanted to and then some. It was a rapid shift, and uncharted waters, but she knew her way around the cabin of a boat and didn't fear anything.\n\n▪︎ Well, anything except seeming too desperate and scaring Vi away. She was just so thrilled to finally have a girl to call her own that her usual reservations seemed to melt.\n\n◆ \"You've, er... Got really soft lips.\" A genuine compliment, shot off a little awkwardly. \"You must bite the skin off of them like I do, huh? Not that I'd... Nibble the skin off. Y'know. Never mind, don't mind me.\"\n\n▪︎ What a DORK."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "``[insert paused TV static here]\nUr scheduled gay rights broadcast will return at like some point``\n\nVioletta's body involuntarily fell back into the soft of the couch in time to Margo- her hands plastered onto her cheeks in partial disbelief. They'd kissed before, why did it always feel so special? She bit her lip- Vi could hardly help but wonder similarly. From a fucking rejected wreck to... Somewhat stable, despite being in the middle of nowhere in sweden, lacking her mother and her motorcycle.\nSigh.\n\nShe was waltzed out of her daydreams by Margo's bittersweet voice, a flutter in her chest for half a second. Her.. Girlfriend- that felt weird to say, even traitorous to the strange, self loathing voice in the back of her head, of which she had decided to shut out... Especially in that moment.\n\nShe let out another quiet laugh, leaning forward and against Margo with a quiet thud. Not going to lie, Margo was not the comfiest of people physically but... The plush of the couch supported her enough as she half leant against margo.\n\n\"I'll always mind you. Yes, I do bite the skin off my lips when stressed- painful, but I'm glad my anxious habits have paid off\"\n\nTheyre both so bad at this i wont them"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Could be worse.\" Margo replied in turn, casual and aloof as always. \"I knew a guy back in Brooklyn, went to middle school with him, and every time he got stressed out he'd shit himself. *On command, Vi.* You shouted at the guy when he was spaced out and you'd hear that distinctive wet shit sound before he'd run out crying. At least you biting your lips makes them... Infinitely sweet.\"\n\n□ Weird terms, but the point got across well enough, she hoped. Compared to Alan, the aforementioned stress shitter, Vi's lip biting habit wasn't all bad; if anything, she'd noticed it when they first started hanging out, yet never could bring herself to comment on it. It seemed harmless, and helped along with a healthy dash of being endearing it was one of many traits that'd made her fall so hard so fast when she'd so desperately wanted to be the aloof, slow lover, the mysterious cool femme fatale of her dreams and her fantasies.\n\n▪︎ Instead, she was just an awkward teenager who couldn't look her girlfriend in the eyes without her legs bouncing out of excitement. What a dork.\n\n◆ \"The worst part about that guy, though?\" She continued, tapping her fingers against the back of Vi's hand before grabbing it wholesale and gently resting it atop her own like it was a throne. \"He was already horribly shy, so some of my classmates basically bullied him *Out* Of the school I was at. I actually beat one of those bastards to a pulp that same day, I heard Alan had been pulled and I just fuckin' *Swung.* Needless to say, I got suspended for a while for that stunt; worth it, though.\"\n\n[Pokes this thread]"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "There was something very attractive about strong girls who can't flirt. Or maybe that's just what Violetta tells herself to make up for circumstances like this, in which Margo will say the most strange addition to a conversation, and Vi will get strangely invested.\nShe really didn't know why Margo had to add on the 'wet shit' description. Letting out a quiet snicker, she grinned that crooked, out of tune smile at the taller girl.\n\nHow on earth a 16 year old redhead was going to be 'femme fatale' is beyond me, and beyond Violetta as well- who could see easily into what Margo tries to go for. She much preffered the bumbling, clumsily affectionate underdog thing- her cheeks going ever so slightly pink at Margo's unprompted hand holding.\n\nAh yes, justice for wet shit kid, justice best served cold by Margo herself.\n\"...Good- It's good that you stood up for him. Weird habit sure but... The world could use more vigilantes, I think.\" She noted, shuffling a little closer to Margo, her other hand resting absently on her partner's knee.\n\n\"Plus you won a suspension out of it- free couple days off, hm?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Can say that again.\" Margo let out a brief throaty chuckle, chest rising and sinking like a blanket in a windstorm. \"Plus, yeah, the suspension was nice. I spent the week off from school watching old boxing tapes and... Fuck, what else did I do?\"\n\n□ Well, this sucked. The suspension wasn't even particularly far in her past, about three years behind her, yet the ensuing week was apparently splotched with inky blocks of missing memory. What *Had* She done? She knew she'd spent the week at least watching old boxing matches, and pestering the family's two cooks, but there was something, some sort of point of note, that lingered on her tongue yet refused to drip off into the awaiting cup of knowledge, and it visibly frustrated her. Her jaw clenched, her hand went rigid, and then after a few moments of steadily maddening at herself she suddenly shot up straight, posture perfect, and snapped her fingers.\n\n▪︎ What a coin of a person.\n\n◆ \"I remember now, fuck! Er... Yeah, I was trying to help my mom in the garden. Didn't really work out, though... I have a necrotic thumb. I think I could kill a tree just by fuckin' touching it, which is ironic to say given the bonsai on my windowsill, but... Uri usually waters it alongside their plants. I just trim it, and that's what's important. Have I ever actually mentioned I have a bonsai?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ It was nice, listening to Margo talk, to put it lightly. The taller girl's words soothed easily into Vi's mind, and left a sweet, delicate tingle against her eardrum. Her thumb meekly stroked over the back of Margo's hand, affection and esteem oozing off each brush against the obscurely textured skin.\nAnd even when Margo fell silent in thought, her action didnt cease.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Like water poured into a freezer, Margo's hand went stiff in the frustration, and Vi was caught off guard by the growing exasperation. \nShe delicately took Margo's hand up to her face, giving it a graze of a kiss in some sort of attempt to silently tell her to chill out.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ The way Margo shot up with such fever made Violetta jump a little- though it was nice to see her partner back on the rails. The short girl half grinned at Margo, her crossed right leg bouncing as she looked over Margo and the beauty of her features, especially when she looked pleased.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Oh? A bonsai, this was new information!- Violetta giggled at the anecdote\n\"Sucks to be you, I used to have a lot of plants before coming over to the cradle.\"\nVi nudged Margo teasingly, then looking over at the windowsill, and sure enough, there sat a bonsai. She raised her eyebrows and nodded in approval\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"You never mentioned, but it's very pretty. Maybe it picks up from it's surroundings?\" Casual flirt.Mp4"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Maybe.\" Margo casually spoke, following Vi's gaze to the windowsill once she'd recovered a bit from having the back of her hand kissed. A little bit terrifying, but also totally exhilarating... Was this what she'd been missing out on? \"And if that's the case I'm giving it to you so it'll become the most beautiful of bonsai, at least on this side of the Atlantic. *Too cheesy...*\"\n\n□ Beating herself up a touch under her breath, she fixed her gaze back on the television first, then on her shoulder as she felt Cosmo's stubby little feet along it. Turning her head to face him, she awkwardly scooped him up and dropped him back in her lap, scratching under his jagged chin in the spot she knew he liked more than any other. Now that things were quiet again, she relaxed into the comfortable silence, running one thumb along Vi's hand and the other under Cosmo's chin, two of the most important creatures in her life in her grasp at the same time.\n\n▪︎ She could get used to this.\n\n◆ \"Have I ever actually gave you a room tour? Just thought of that.\"\n\nIt's. Been a week lol"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Violetta giggled quietly at the taller girl's overly cheesy flirtations, her hand's touch still lingering on Margo's hand, as if she were to never let go. And honestly? Vi didn't want to let go, she wanted to keep a grip on Margo's hand forever, to be able to recognise every crease and curve of her partner's palm.\n\"I think I'd take great care of a bonsai, but unfortunately Soup requires constant attention, as does my lady\"\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta shuffled closer to Margo, a grin on her face as she slightly pressed against Margo. Sort of like cuddling without the commitment.\nShe studied the reptile on her girlfriend's lap with half lidded eyes. Something about quiet moments like these managed to make her cheeks heat up and her eyelids grow heavy. In a snug and warm room, with such a wonderful girl... Just made her sleepy.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ her hand sort of leaned into Margo's touch, in the way a cat would lean into a scratch to the forehead. She used her spare hand to give an extra light scratch at Cosmo's neck- she was plenty happy to provide extra attention to the little creature.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Hm? No actually... You haven't- I can't help but wonder what you keep in this room.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"What, am I high-maintenance?\" Margo coolly replied in a teasing manner. \"Ow, Vi. Fuckin' shoot me while you're at it, why don't ya.\"\n\n□ Laughing once she was done acting faux insulted, it was clear from how she held herself, and how her voice didn't waver, that was simply joking about, teasing Vi in a way that she was sure other people did in relationships. Was it too mean, though? Or was it not mean enough. She'd watched Omar spit game before, and for someone so blunt and so forthcoming he'd had a staggering amount of luck in the four years she'd known him, so maybe she'd be better off being more straight-forward and mean? \n\n▪︎ Ah, the uncertainties of first loves.\n\n◆ \"Anyways...\" Giving Vi's hand a squeeze, she let go with a silent yet perceptible whimper before setting Cosmo into her hair and taking a step back from the couch. \"This is my room. You know it, you, er... Love it, I hope. The couch is from IKEA, as is the television stand... And the television... And my bookshelves. Might as well have a fuckin' IKEA sponsorship at this point.\" She laughed. \"Anyways, the bookshelves are mostly biographies and linguistic texts, but there's also lots of stuff on religion, philosophy, fishing... Carpentry. Building that shelf for Sadie and Lapis awoke whatever goddamn gene turned my father into a carpenter, so I've been doing my research. Won't hurt to learn. Anyways, beside the stand is my comic collection, and I've got all of my records underneath my TV. My bed's on the right, and yours anytime,\" She winked, \"And the other one is Uri's. I rarely use mine, which is why it looks so nice...\""
}
] | 344 | 9,255 |
313.326531 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie sat on her bed while she was on her phone. Her fingers twitched a little while they laid idle on its smooth screen. Margo seemed like a delightful girl, rather well spoken for somebody from here. Unlike that boy, ugh, Amelie didn't even want to think of that vile egomaniacal child. \nHer day was much better off conversing with Margo, Whom again she found was lovely despite the rather violent things she has heard Margo do. Her dorm lay empty on one side, her roommate had yet not arrived, which is peculiar but they seem to be rather well off without Amelie so she doesn't pester them. \n\nAmelie sits up upon her bed before grabbing her wheelchair. The wheelchair is drugged around much like a toy somewhat across the room before it settles in front of Amelie's bed facing the unfortunate girl. Amelie sucked in a little breath before lifting herself off her bed and settling herself down upon the wheelchair with slightly shaking arms. Bone moved violently underneath her arms like snakes sending a shock of pain into Amelie's body. Amelie hisses while moving her legs from her bed to the wheelchair, they've been useless for almost half a year now. Ah, how the days fly. \n\nAmelie uses her thin arms to move her wheelchair from her bed to the middle of her room. She turns her wheelchair to her dorm, opening it. She takes her beloved leather jacket with her as she moves out. There was a light cool breeze within the hallway as she exited her dorm, closing the door behind her with a soft click. It was a rather spacious hallway, a good convenience for the girl. Amelie exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding before moving down the hallway of the third floor.\n\n.\n\nAmelie noticed an open door, just like Margo said. Light pouring through the doorway like a curtain. It looked rather gentle how the rays settled upon the floor. Amelie raised an arm, nervous, the arm looking like it was having a violent cramp. Bones moving like lightning under abused skin, her hand twitching like it was straight out a slasher film before settling on the door frame. Amelie knocked on the frame, she pushed herself forward leaning her head into the bulb-lit room. \n\n\n\"Buna ziua?\"\n\n\nShe asked hello in Romanian. Her thick accent dripped delightfully down the words spoken like a ganache to a small cake. She looked into the room with her one eye, noticing a girl within the room. Margo perhaps? Or she was just embarrassing herself. Nervousness punctured the poor girl. Pinkish bones plunging themselves outward from the bandages on her left side. Blood slipping down from the openings the bones had created, staining the bandages."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "[Day... Seventeen?]\n\n◇ The days simultaneously flew by atop rockets and slogged on as if stuck in a bog in such a place, but at least now she'd have company.\n\n□ Still silently uncertain about how to feel over being referred to so formally as feminine, Margo had otherwise grown to appreciate Amelie's presence in the group chat, seeing her as another educated, well-off soul, the kind of mutual recognition that dripped heavy with the stink of elitism. Whatever the case, as the moments passed between her acquaintance letting her know she'd be coming by she'd set off grabbing a selection of her favourite titles, a broad collection of non-fiction, textbooks and religious texts and everything in-between.\n\n▪︎ That, and she was brewing up some of her finest tea. As far as she could remember, Amelie liked tea.\n\n★ And the knock came, feeble and barely audible over the comfortably-set volume of her turntable.\n\n◆ \"Hey, welcome to my little corner of... *Oblivion.*\" She awkwardly crooned as she turned to face the door, her bandaged hands pressed flat against her desk. Dressed simply, she had on an oversized Evangelion Garfield shirt, striped baggy corduroy pants, and Elmo socks, and her hair found itself tied into a loose low ponytail. \"Come on in, get comfy, got some tea brewing right now. Hope the place was easy enough to find...'"
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie wavered by the doorway before leaning back and wheeling herself into the rather nice room. There was a furrowed brow plastered onto her head with a heavy frown while she did so. It eventually evened out to a neutral stare while she looked around the room. It looked quite nice! Her gaze stopped on the lizard which was lovingly named Cosmo for which his head was ever expansive but empty, which rang true as he looked at a wall with what looked like interest but, he looked like he was pressing himself into the glass. Amelie found it quite charming.\n\nAmelie hummed shifting in her leather jacket. Which she'd suddenly remembered that Amelie had indeed been spoken to. There was soft curse of German as she cringed a little before looking at Margo. The crescendo of lights usually in ones iris barren within Amelie's brown gaze. Margo was, dressed, that's all she could say. Margo's sense of fashion was atrocious but, this was essentially and hopefully her first friend here so she'll brush aside the fact that Margo looked like Picasso seized while painting, oddly endearing she might say. \n\n\"Oh! Thank you.\"\nAmelie instantly replied after a moment, how embarrassing for the girl. Though her neutral look returned so did the bones. She was feeling a little out of place during her moment of ignorance.\n\n\"You vere very easy to find. I'm not fully blind after all. I think you little corner is quite charming, Ms. Killjoy. Tea? Vunderbar!\"\nThe heavy German accent rang though every word she said. Amelie wasn't completely sure that Margo liked the formal wording but Amelie found it wrong not to do so. It was an energetic language to say the least. Amelie's low ponytail rested over her right shoulder as she turned to Margo, she laid back in her wheelchair. \n\n\"Vut, also I'm afraid this is as comfortable as I get.\"\nA light airy tone taking her voice as she spoke, a simple jest."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"No worries.\"\n\n□ Watching as Amelie cautiously wheeled herself into the room, she also kept an eye on the kettle, a thermometer awkwardly hanging out of the spout. A bit of an odd thing to see, but oh well. Noticing a soft undulating pulse beneath the wheelchair-bound gal's leather jacket she winced lightly, left corner of her lip curling for just a moment before she reached out and switched off her hotplate. With the tea now ready she began to pour two cups, dropping them into antique porcelain cups atop matching porcelain saucers, and once the cups were ready she set the kettle back atop the hotplate.\n\n▪︎ Better to keep it there than to possibly damage her desk.\n\n◆ \"Oh, it's... Charming? Cool.\" She awkwardly stumbled over her words, already feeling the all-too-familiar tingle of embarrassment welling in the base of her neck. \"It's really just my life condensed into half a dorm room, I guess. The sofa's new; believe it or not, most rooms don't come with an IKEA loveseat.\" She chuckled. \"Anyways, tea's cooling down as we speak. Hope you like, uh... Darjeeling green, from Nepal. It's a specialty I order from time to time; expensive, but so worth it. Anyways... Sick jacket.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Delightful.\"\n\nAmelie wasn't looking at the rather haphazard kettle but, at Margo. The Wheelchair bound girl caught the unfortunate wince, and Amelie's stare became slightly colder. She hated winces sent in her direction, how much would it take to say she's fine and convince them of a lie? Everything. So Amelie laid further into the leather of her wheelchair with a soft hiss. The girl watched the tea on the table, the vapour of the slight steam giving to it's soft flowery sent which actually made the girls gaze soften. \n\nAmelie regarded Margo with a rather stiff nod while she watched the tea. It piqued her interest since she doesn't think she has had this before. \n\n\"Oh I'd know but, it would be much less an inconvenience if it did. But, I'm not a wizard or there would be the exact same thing in the middle of my dorm.\"\nAmelie spoke with a slight sarcasm tainting her words. Though it would make her dorm room seem a lot more pleasant, she'll see to that much later though. \n\n\nAmelie was right she'd never heard of this tea before, her brow raised slightly at the name. Perhaps it would taste as good as it smelt. Yet, Amelie's furrowed when Margo regarded her jacket but, quickly became neutral once more. \n\n\"This jacket? It's something I vill never let go. Vhat dosent help is that I actually got it signed by the Storm Child themselves. They picked me up by the jacket and signed it while in the middle of a concert. I ended up getting put into the Vip section after.\" Amelie spoke with fondness, her lips twitched upward to a small smile before settling back. That was a wild time. The storm child was an utter delight. \n\n\" This tea smells amazing by the way. It's certainly sounding worth it vut I wouldn't want you to waste it . Vut, I suppose I should've said that sooner.\" Margo really didn't have to make it. A small ounce of guilt punctured Amelie's poor mind."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah.\" The sarcasm bounced directly off of her speckled noggin, clearly. \"Then again, I'm lucky, I guess. Uri's rarely here, so most of the space is mine.\"\n\n□ Noticing the cold gaze, she felt as if she'd dissolve into nothingness. She wasn't even sure what she'd done, at least not at first, and by the time she chained together the string of occurrences into a cohesive narrative it was too late to apologize. So, instead she plopped herself down on the armrest of her sofa, crossing her legs in the sort of way that only someone of her pedigree would have been forced to. A seat beneath her, she looked over at Amelie, mixed eyes peering at the other's face, at what features were visible beneath the bandaging, and she thought also of how it reminded her of her own arms, almost always wrapped in gauze.\n\n▪︎ She wasn't sure if it was a style thing at this point, but her hands and arms felt naked otherwise, so who was she to argue with something that maybe took ten minutes to do?\n\n◆ \"Storm Child...? Never heard of them. Musician from Germany?\" A fair guess, albeit one cautioned with hesitant wording. \"Either way, man, sounds pretty slick. Did they just... Pick you up by the collar, or did they not literally pick you up? Also, huh. No worries, it was just a nicety. Not enough of a dick to have guests over and not just... You know, offer some tea.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Oh, yes. Uriel seems to always be with that boy.\"\n Amelie pauses and then snaps her bandaged fingers and points at Margo. \"Owen.\" She drawls her accent causing the name to roll off in a way it's not meant to be said but, only due to her accent. \"They always seem to be with Owen.\" \n\nAmelie's entire body is covered in bandages, some with varying degrees of blood soaked into them. I'd Margo noticed the bandages on her left side moved slightly, a bone peaking through the wraps. It didn't help much but it covered what was more grotesque to process. Unlike Margo it wasn't style but necessity. Amelie's ring finger of her right hand wormed under the bandage's of her left slightly, feeling the raw scarred skin under, still fresh. \n\n\"Yes. Storm child is. They're quite lovely. I had quite the crush on them for a moment.\" Amelie described, it was true they were a favorite of hers. \n\"They actually picked me up by the collar, which is frankly quite easy.\" Another fact, with everything going on she was quite light. Which is a thought that made the finger that wormed under her bandages twitch. \n\n\"OH! You aren't, I'm sorry! You're actually extremely pleasant.\" Amelie stumbles over her words and curses in German. \"I got into my own head.\"\nAfter a long moment Amelie pursed her lips at Margo's shirt. A question forming inside her head. \n\"What do you enjoy? Also do you like this... E-Van-gelio?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, him.\" She confirmed with a nod. \"They're always off with him... Oh well. Helps with the whole getting used to life here thing, I guess.\"\n\n□ Rather than drag down the conversation with confessional complaints over her living situation and where she believed she should have been, she instead let out a hum and fixed her stare on the wall. It was a natural habit, one borne from an unexplained aversion to eye contact she'd felt for years, and it was one she hoped wouldn't insult Amelie in any way worse than her unintended micro-wince. \"I see.\" She spoke. \"Celebrity crushes are always kinda sad. They're one-sided, yet you can't help but look at the person and feel your entire body light up in emotions you didn't know you could feel. Honestly, it kinda scares me, but... In a good way. That weird?\"\n\n▪︎ \"Anyway...\" She rubbed the back of her neck, scratching an itch under her hair. \"Yeah, I like Evangelion. Couldn't explain half of what it fucking means, man, but I like it anyways. I also enjoy non-fiction and comic books – kind of an oxymoron, but fuck it – , martial arts, meditation, shitty reality television, tea, certain animated shows, and fishing. Also girls; a true vice. You?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Quite odd if I have any say. But, I don't so I just watch them both in ze chat.\"\nShe waves her right hand in a shooing motion. It really isn't any of her business but they are obnoxiously loud about it. Perhaps they can tone it down but Amelie doubts they can. \n\nAmelie narrowed her eye slightly at the aversion of eye contact. She knows Margo has a weird thing going on with her eye, Amelie dosent necessarily see the problem with the eye but, she wasn't the one with it. Amelie shrugs it off turning to the tea that sat on the table. She listened but her interest was currently in a tea that she wasn't even touching. \"They are but, it was nice. They're a nice person and I think they enjoyed my company. That crush dosent exist anymore though. It's scary when you don't know and it's weird but it's nice.\" Amelie furrowed her brow and let out a snort. \"No its not weird, gnädige Frau.\"\n\n\"Odd. I'll take your word for it.\" \nAmelie turned back to Margo with a raised brow. \n\"I enjoy all types of books, as long as they're well written. I enjoyed dancing and I have a large following because of my violin playing. Girls are nice, yes. They're very pretty.\"\nAmelie tapped her chin, looking at a wall past Margo. She pursed her lips trying to remember something before giving up with a sigh.\n I haven't watched that many shows. Care to tell me about some?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Can't blame ya. Probably not worth digging your nose into; some sort of low-key yet known gay romance, whatever it is.\"\n\n□ Shrugging, she kept her gaze fixed on the wall, humming a tune for a few moments. Maybe it *Was* A tad weird that Uri seemed to spend their sparse waking moments around that Owen lad, but perhaps it was just a romance that was left open for everyone to see. Whatever. Hopping off the armrest of the couch she somewhat clumsily made her way to the teacups, grabbing one and it's accompanying saucer before flopping back down on the couch.\n\n▪︎ About as graceful as a newborn foal.\n\n◆ \"Fair enough.\" She spoke, taking that first nervous sip of tea and having her entire face light up in happiness. What a delicious cup... \"Anyways, pretty slick. Reading's such a nice hobby, even if it's just staring at slices of dead tree and hallucinating for a while. Who's your favourite author?\" Perhaps a bit awkwardly spoken, she set her cup down onto its saucer. \"Also, shows...? I mean. I watch a lot of shitty reality television to mock it, but then there's also The Owl House, which is, uh...\"\n\n• And, if uninterrupted, Margo would spend the next roughly ten minutes dumping any and every thought and feeling she had about this one particular show. What a dork."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"I have no idea, is it weird to say that I think everyone knows about it.\"\n\nAmelie watches as Margo lays on the couch as if she has broken bones. Surprising to Amelie is that no tea actually fell from the cup. Balance is key she supposes. Amelie took her own cup soon after looking at it with a raised brow. \n\nAfter a taste of her own Amelie's face softens dramatically. From a penchant almost scowl to something closer to a faint smile. \"Realist.\" She scoffs. \"Katy rose pool at ze moment. Her book is Wonderful.\" Amelie's brow dipped in worry at the awkward tone. \n\n\"Oh please continue about this Owl house, Ms. Killjoy. Or anything you're interested in It sounds nice.\"\nAmelie spoke softly taking another sip of the rather nice beverage. Amelie dosent mind people going on tangents it's always nice to listen to."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I think you're right.\" She hummed. \"Then again, romance... Not much to hide, is there? Aside from what goes on in bed; no need to broadcast that shit to everyone in earshot.\"\n\n□ Speaking with a distinctly stilted accented rumble, she took another sip, this one a bit braver than the last, and possibly it was because she'd seen Amelie sip her own tea, and how she'd seemed to enjoy it. Maybe she'd just misunderstood or misread her friend's expression, but whatever the case she just hoped that her tea wasn't secretly an affront to the other's tongue. In the midst of that train of thought, an author's name bounced off her skull – *\"Katy Pool...? Can't say I've heard of her.\"* She'd respond in turn – and then she set off rambling about her own interests, excitedly rambling end over end, tangent over tangent, for ten whole minutes at least before she realized that she'd been just chattering for no real reason.\n\n▪︎ Surely others did this, right?\n\n◆ \"Shit, uh... Lost my train of thought. Sorry about just rambling, I do love to do that, I guess.\" She shrugged. For as long as she could remember, she'd been the type to fall impossibly deep into anything she did get interested in, so it didn't even raise any alarms when she went on tangents like that. \"Anyways, how's the, erm... The tea?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"There's nothing really to hide except things from eachother, is there not?\" Amelie responds the words have a bitter taste leaving her throat. Which in kind Amelie coughs lightly into her hand. \n\n\nThe tea tasted absolutely maddening but... In a good way. The musky yet sweet tasting tea is absolutely something Amelie has never had before. She really needs to ask where Margo got it from but, would that be too much of an inconvenience? Amelie's expression twists out of anxiety before she takes a sip of tea once more. She's thinking too much over tea. \n\n\"That's because she's a German author.\" Amelie says before Margo goes on a tangent about this show that has piqued her interest. Amelie listened to every word yet connected none of it. It was nice to listen to but Amelie understood no word of what Margo was saying. There was just a blank stare and a small awkward smile as she listened. \n\n\"Oh you're quite fine. I love to listen.\" Amelie said hoping Margo didn't catch on that Amelie got lost upon the second word. It sounded like a nice book that she'd listen to. Amelie eye flickered to her tea then to Margo. \n\"The tea is simply divine, Ms. Killjoy. I do not understand where you'd get such a delicacy.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Guess so.\" Margo shrugged. \"But at the same time, I dunno, there's no sense in being a fuckin' liar. Nobody likes someone who can't say two words without one of them being bullshit.\"\n\n□ Grumbling into her cup of tea, she took another sip as Amelie coughed into her hand. What was it about people that made them so prone to lying and cheating? Maddening as the thought was, she couldn't lie to herself and claim to understand why people weren't just honest with each other, and just that thought made her want to rip the hair from her scalp in bloody mats, skin and all. Instead of getting worked up, though, she looked back at Amelie, who was talking about her favourite author, and with an attentive yet perennially tired look she listened.\n\n▪︎ Good thing she had got a grip on her own blabbering; surely nobody wanted to hear a regular old teenager ramble about a show for kids.\n\n◆ \"But, I don't understand why I just... Feel the need to ramble about the shows I'm into, you know?\" Uncertaintly laced her voice. \"Like, I just get into these vivid states, and it's like the words are running from a fire, and they get caught in my mouth and I have to spit 'em out somehow. I dunno. It's *Weird.* Anyways, it's a site online, they mostly deal with looseleaf teas right from places like Nepal, India, China, and Japan. Also there's some African ones on there and I'm... Tempted to try some.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"There is little sense in it. Scheiße. It's sad.\" Amelie sighs. \"Sometimes the truth hurts. But, we must all come to terms with it... No?\" \nThis was more of a question for herself. Amelie's eyes grew to have a far away look within them. But, there was a fond glint in her eye that looked far too old for someone of her age. \n\nAmelie's ears perked hearing Margo's grumbling within her cup. It was truly a thought that led to insanity, how the mind works... You could know everything about it yet never predict what a person says despite pouring everything into trying. It's all so sad. \n Amelie's face scrunches up much like a cat while she thinks more onto the subject. She mumbles how the thought is a waste of her time before she looks back to her tea. \n\nAmelie needs to stop spacing off less she be pulled into a black hole of guilt. Amelie rubbed her temple with her free hand then slid it down the right side of her face. She placed her right hand onto the cup and just held it delicately with both hands. She was truly going to go mad one of these days. \n\n\"Don't be ashamed of it. I actually like it when folk seem to dump all they know about a show to me. Gods, I believe it's as entertaining as it is interesting. It's not boring at all.\" Amelie said with a light chuckle. \n\"Oh? It's a sight online? Also, the African teas I can get you myself. It's the least I can do for letting me have your company.\" She ended her sentence with a light smile. Odd yet very good company, Margo was. A friend possibly a good one in Amelie's messed up book."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Exactly.\"\n\n□ Nodding, she wasn't exactly sure if she understood what Amelie said in full, having tuned part of it out as an intrusive thought about one of her shows poked into her skull at an inopportune time. Taking another sip of her tea she let herself sink into the couch, its freshly manufactured seats primed to give way to any great weight. \n\n◆ \"Yeah, but at the same time, I don't see people doing it usually. I mean, I have an online friend who does it, but they're autistic, so that's why they do it.\" [Writer's note, Margo must be stupid as hell to not piece this together.] \"Shit, you'd buy me tea? I mean... Maybe some rooibos. I'm out right now. But don't spend too much on me, man, I've got literal billions in my family.\"\n\n▪︎ A bit of an odd brag, but... Oh well."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie's mouth twitches into a smile. The fragile girl took a drink of her tea letting it fracture her empty features into something more soft. The couch did look particularly nice but, Amelie wasn't about to ruin it with the blood that was currently soaking into rather fresh bandages. A faint iron sent wafted into her nose and she purses her lips thinking on what to say next. \n\n\nUpon hearing the first part of Margo's sentence Amelie gives her a raised brow.\n \"Similarities give way to friendship, no?\"\nAmelie says returning to her cup. Amelie stops before she can take another sip of the tea. She nods carefully, any fast jerky motions may agitate the wounds on her neck. \n\"Oh that dosent matter. I just like to give my friends.\" \nAmelie waves off Margo's subtle warning now finally taking another tentative sip of her tea. \n\nTruly the money dosent fly far sometimes. Amelie has too much just for herself and she's just been trying to find ways to spend it other than for useless things. She hums looking into her cup. \n\n\n\"That's nice to know. But, I won't ask of anything. I'll get some of that Rooibos.\"\nAmelie adds."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, maybe.\" Margo shrugged, though her mind immediately veered to other similarities that had brought them close. But, at the same time... \"Wait. What are you insinuating with that?\"\n\n□ Was Amelie suggesting that maybe, by some stroke of weirdness, she was autistic and undiagnosed? She'd never even considered it, and the mere idea seemed wrong, so she quickly slid it out of sight and took another sip of her tea. The bond between herself and ol' Cinder was one built on kung fu flicks and fishing, not some shared mental illness, dammit. Looking back up at Amelie, she set her cup into her saucer and nodded.\n\n▪︎ Another rich girl, huh...? Solidarity.\n\n◆ \"Seriously, just don't... Y'know. Blow like a hundred bucks. Some of their teas are that expensive, but they also sell it in bulk, so...\" She'd learned that last bit the hard way, when she'd ordered tea expecting enough for maybe twenty bags and been hit with enough tea for at least an entire year. \"Just lemme know when it's in, I guess.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Similar interests!\" \nAmelie corrected herself. \n\"Perhaps you both have similar interests.\" \nAmelie shrugged. It was odd to think that Margo had no friends before. She certainly seems like the person to have many good friends. Or was Amelie's judgement of Margo false. It can't really be. \n\nYes Amelie was rich beyond her reason due to unfortunate circumstance. It was all something the girl was all too willing to keep hidden under vauge insinuations and distractions. \n\n\"You must know I'm more than willing to spend that much.\" \nAmelie will be careful to heed Margo's warning. She wouldn't want to accidentally flood the cradle full of tea. Though it would be oddly funny. \n\n\"That much I can promise you, Ms. Killjoy.\" \nAmelie smiled to herself. She tapped her fingers on the side of her cup.\n\n\"Do you mind if I stay for at least a moment or two longer? We don't have to talk if you wish. I just desire company.\"\nAmelie says."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Gotcha.\" Figuring it was easier to just accept whatever Amelie said at face value as truth, she let out a sigh. \"I'd say we do. That's kinda how we connected at first... Kung fu flicks and talking about fishing reels and stuff.\"\n\n□ There was no way she'd have forgotten how her and her internet friends had met, or at least the two of them she had. Mutual interests ran deep, it seemed, and it kept the pair together over the past year or so. The thought, however, was fleeting, as her attention was drawn towards the other gal talking about how she'd apparently found herself sitting on a king's fortune. Oh, how she knew that feeling, even though she was dead certain she had no place in her father's inheritance by this point; perhaps, then, she shouldn't have attempted to murder him. Whatever. She quietly scoffed at the thought, then cleared her throat.\n\n▪︎ Whoops.\n\n◆ \"Sorry, not scoffing at you.\" She pre-emptively cleared the air. \"Just... Thinking about how I could have been a billionaire in a few weeks or a few decades from my father's wealth, but how I don't want a cent of his ill-gotten gains. Anyways. I guess just let me know when it comes in, man.\" She hummed. \"Stay as long as you want. You're pleasant company to have around. Your roommate move in yet? That... Jester. I envy you a little, you know? June's crazy pretty and my gay heart wouldn't be able to stand living with them, but at the same time I still envy you. I dunno.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Ah that sounds wonderful.\" Amelie sighs. Amelie really should start being more honest with them, rather than going mental gymnastics on how to avoid directly calling out her own actions. \"Fishing sounds rather nice. I haven't been able to do fishing but, rather see beautiful rivers.\" \nShe can actually barely remember but, with Tejal she has. \n\nAmelie had no online friends. She only had one true friend since she was about twelve. But, now no longer she had that friend due to unfortunate circumstances. Amelie's face withers as she contemplates it all. Life moved far too fast for Amelie to pace. And before long it crumbled how it was meant to be. Amelie herself slowly crumbles. Her body her mind growing silent. Bone curls through bandages rapidly creating an almost porcupine look to the girl. An ocean too violent for just a frail girl like her, for she will never see a clear sky again in her eyes. A rough clear to Margo's throat caught Amelie's mind from shutting itself too far within her own head, which admittedly she does frequently much to Amelie's despair. \n\nAmelie nods a little too hard hissing at a jolt of pain that comes through. Amelie rubs at the bandages around her neck mulling over Margo's words. \n\"Yes I heard about that story. I do not blame you for what you've done at all. Your judgment is good in my eye.\"\nAmelie raises her brow slightly while still rubbing at her neck. The opioids she took dulled most of the pain but some still shines through like a star. Her left hand was still holding her cup but she set it down on the table to leave her left in her lap. \n\"Thank you. June? Ah, they have not come in yet. Frankly I do not blame them for taking the time they need. If you want I could ask June to talk to you, if they show that is.\"\nAmelie says with a smile. Always the first to try to help, in her own odd way. That's all she really knew was to care for others and damn if she stop now."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, that's the thing.\" Margo sighed. \"I basically threw away my free ride. I don't regret it now, but what of five years down the road? When I'm in university and the debts are piling up? I just wish he would have fucking flatlined, man; that way he couldn't have wrote me out of his will.\"\n\n□ Perhaps grim, but it was the truth of how she felt. She'd never liked being set for life, but at the same time she was no fool; enacting her revenge on her father for years of neglect and abuse had been necessary and inevitable, but that pit in her stomach told her that she'd made a mistake with far-reaching consequences, of which imprisonment was on the mild end. What was her future holding from her? What would she be dealing with in twenty years, in the aftermath of her father's natural death? Would she even outlive him? Part of her hoped not. It would be the ultimate heartbreak, a last hurrah to a lifetime of mutual trauma infliction and hatred.\n\n▪︎ Fucked up, but...\n\n◆ \"Ah.\" Margo briefly replied, adjusting how her crossed leg sat momentarily. \"Also, honestly? Don't. I'd... Have a difficult time talking to them without just asking them to kiss me violently. But, thanks... Yeah. Appreciate the offer.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"I can understand that.\" \nAmelie says. \"If you don't mind me saying but I certainly don't like your father. I'll help out when I can Margo. You have my word.\"\n\nAmelie looked at Margo, truly grim. Amelie shared some of the mentality. She has no right to wish for what once was, because there was truly nothing for her. But, that was for another time. There was a friend here who possibly needed company. Amelie would do everything she could to at least deliver some comfort to others. Gods know they all needed it. Amelie hoped she'd see Margo after the cradle, sometimes it's just hopeful thinking though. \n\nAmelie snorted and laughed which soon turned into a nasty cough. She cleared her throat and with a strained smile looks at Margo. \n\"I understand Ms. Killjoy. It was a joke but at least I now know this.\"\nAmelie's hand on her neck was removed Amelie looking at for a moment making sure there was no blood. Amelie brushed hair out of her only eye that moved from her rather unladylike laugh. \n\"You're hopelessly romantic arnt you?\"\nAmelie said with a small smile, less strained."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fuck no, I don't.\" Margo laughed. \"I'd sooner plunge a knife in his neck and lay him in the ground with garlic around his neck than willingly face him eye-to-eye. But... I guess you know that.\"\n\n□ Truthfully, her hatred ran far deeper, sputtered out with infinitely more vitriol after a few drinks, completely riddled her with anger. But, this wasn't the space to get patricidal, and so she decided to simply let it go for now, until she was alone in the gym with the punching bag staring her down. Looking over at Amelie again, her expression was one of mild concern, understandably so since the sickly lass had just coughed a lung up.\n\n▪︎ What a life it must have been...\n\n◆ \"Hopelessly for sure. Dating as a trans person is... Tricky, let's just say.\" Even though she didn't date guys she had still experienced quite a bit of trouble and transphobia on her dating adventures. \"Also, shit man, you okay? Sounds like your lung just tried to leave through your mouth, Christ.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"I would've done the same thing to both of my parents respectively, if I was strong enough.\" Amelie added. \"I do know that and you're in the right in my opinion.\"\n\nAmelie's life was a mess and would continue to be a mess continuously rolling downhill to put it simply. If she could do anything she would but, now she's just a shell of who she once was. Too fragile to do anything despite her saying she was stronger than she looked. To be honest she was far weaker, it was and will continue to be an honest struggle Amelie isn't sure she wants to continue. \n\nAmelie cleared her throat again. Every living moment was something she was fighting for. The girl had a surprising amount of willpower considering it all.\n\n\"Oh gods above I'm right.\" Amelie lets out a snort after. Collecting herself after, she still needs to talk and if she goes into a coughing fit again she's going to keel over. Not in front of Margo.\n\"I don't understand how it's tricky. But, that's just my opinion and I don't think you'd want to hear that.\" \nAmelie simply didn't understand hatred for somebody that wished to be the opposite sex of what they were born as. But, some answers will continue to remain elusive because this answer sounds stupid. Amelie really likes Margo as a friend though, it dosent matter of Amelie is wheelchair bound she'll run over anybody who does Margo wrong.\n\"Oh! This happens all the time now. It's a bit of an annoyance but it's the least of my worries and certainly some of the least painful things I experience.\"\nAmelie smiles. \"So no need to worry.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"*Oh.*\" Margo's voice rumbled deep in her throat. \"You had family problems too, man? No push, but... What kinda bullshit did *Your* Family put you through?\"\n\n□ Now, oddly enough, they had another talking point: a mutual hatred of at least one of their parents that curled into dreams of extreme violence, mutilation and murder center stage in idle daydreams. Margo understood what had drove *Her* To the ends she'd been to, but Amelie was somewhat of a stranger, someone she didn't know well, and that meant she felt as if there might have been an entirely different reason. Whatever the case she sipped her tea again, listening to her friend talk.\n\n▪︎ It was nice, the whole sitting around and talking thing. It felt oddly domestic, a rarity in such a spot.\n\n◆ \"Chasers, transphobes, TERFs, bigots... Us trans chicks have it *Hard,* Man, and a huge part of that is dating. It's *Risky,* Especially for my trans sisters who date guys, but even a lesbian like me gotta watch out for shit.\" She explained, her hands doing some rather weird motions that fit in with what she was talking about. \"It's just hard out there, I guess. Anyways... Chronic illness life, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Are you truly sure you want to hear that?\" Amelie wheezes out through another cough that falls from her throat like a fall leaf. \"I... Alright?\"\n\n\"My mother and Father were both extremely abusive. My mother a drunkard and my father an incel. Both of my sisters died in my early years and I was gifted expectations I couldn't live up to and more beatings. Though I...\" Amelie stops. A cough causing her to double over before collecting herself again. She sighs while wincing at pain that burst through her skin. \"I lost everything. And, everyone. To put it simply. My mother tired strangling me to death, after killing my only friend and my father. It sent me into a seizure which ended up to me losing my ability to walk.\" Amelie's voice sounded heavy. She truly wished she never survived that say, all this just is just too much. Nothing to live for nothing to look forward to. Blood trickles down her face, the bandages on her hands and collar staining slightly. She doesn't think she'll ever come to terms with it.\n\nA rarity that she found somebody like Margo. Amelie hopes she gets what she wants, it would be a shame if she didn't. \n\n\"Disgusting and frustrating. Why aren't they dead? I don't understand. The world eludes me.\" Amelie pulls out. Wincing once more when her voice comes out raspy. \n\"Chronic illness? Possibly. The power that's destroying my body certainly isn't helping.\" Amelie chuckles."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ She wasn't sure what to expect, but good *Lord* Did she get a handful.\n\n□ So, Amelie hadn't always been riddled with ever-shifting bones, nor wheelchair-bound. It had been the result of trauma, intense abuses at the hands of both parents culminating in attempted murder, and apparently the aftermath had left her parents nearly dead. It was a lot to take in, and so Margo sat quietly for a couple of moments after Amelie stopped talking, the rim of her cup pressed into the crease of her lips, tea vapours wafting into her nostrils as she sat deep in thought.\n\n▪︎ After all, she couldn't just blurt some generic apologetic stuff out. She'd lived a similar experience; she felt compelled to spill her own blood.\n\n◆ \"Fuck, man, that's rough, but... I know how it feels. I'm... Glad you're here, still, even if your waking moments gotta be a living hell.\" That was an understatement, but how could she accurately explain such anguish when she'd never felt it? \"My home life was kinda better than that but my father was... Crazy abusive, but it wasn't in obvious ways. It usually wasn't physical, instead he was neglectful and manipulative. Bastard had a snake tongue, and he'd never, y'know... Talk to us honestly. He got lost in that world of Wall Street bullshit and we never saw him much afterwards. I'm sorry, though, that you never had a moment of peace.\"\n\n• \"But, hey...\" Margo looked over, a hopeful look on her face. \"We survived that shit, not much can hurt us now, right?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie's breathing comes out a little heavy. \n\nGods there was so much more. The constant burdens, the guilt tripping. The men at the bars. It's too much of a mess to put into words. Her entire family dead, her friend... Lord only knows she doesn't want to talk about that. Amelie inhales and exhales trying to calm herself. Her right hand twitches and shakes. She quickly hides said hand in her leather jacket. \n\nAmelie dosent need pity and she never will. Every day waking up to it makes her sick. Maybe if Tejal- No, she wasn't going down that rabbit hole.\n\n\"There's more but, you've heard enough. Yeah it's rough but it's nothing compared to others so I don't complain.\" Amelie just looks at Margo her eye looking rather hollow. \"That man deserves an ill fate.\" Amelie hisses her face turning into a scowl. \"You deserve much better than that. I know it.\" Amelie's face returns back to neutral after that scowl. \n\nAmelie purses her lips. She knows she truly died that day. She'll never really think the same nor act the same. Amelie's eye flicker to her hands then to her tea then back to Margo. She puts on a smile. \n\"Yeah. I'm glad you're here Ms. Killjoy.\" \nAmelie means it genuinely and she tries her best to convey it though speech."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Trauma is trauma, man.\" Margo interjected, her voice serious yet respectful. \"Doesn't matter how mild you think it is, it's still... Well, *That.* So... Fuck. I had something I was gonna say, but it slipped my mind.\"\n\n□ Letting out a discontented grumble, she looked back at the TV, gently swinging her head around so she'd be able to see herself in its negative reflection. Something about this whole hangout, with its trauma dumping and chatting about women, felt absolutely unhinged, yet it felt as if it was a natural, good conversation. It had went places on its own, with barely any outside interference, and perhaps that was what mattered. Whatever the case Margo flicked on the TV, making sure to mute it so that it wouldn't interrupt the conversation at hand.\n\n▪︎ She hummed lightly.\n\n◆ \"Thanks.\" She plainly replied, rotating her foot around slightly. \"I think we both deserve better. But... The world's cruel as hell, so who knows if we'll find it?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"It's alright Ms. Killjoy.\" Amelie says a smile peeking onto her lips. \"I'm still living.\" *Surprisingly*, Amelie adds on within her head.\n\nAmelie hums with unrest, this whole conversation was something of its own. An amalgamation of confusion, trying to recall this hangout later would be like trying to recall what numbers you saw when you got hit by a car. Amelie couldn't because she would be too busy taking her medication and, trying not to accidentally overdose because of how much she shakes and twitches. It was a nice airy talk, one Amelie certainly couldn't replicate within her head, not that she'd want to. But, she'd certainly want to talk to Margo again, it was a little because Amelie liked her voice. Something Amelie was loathe to admit. \n\nThe light of the TV bounces off Amelie's rather lifeless eyes, it creating an artificial light to a void. \n\"I'll make sure you get it, or I'll try.\" \n\nAmelie's brow furrows as she looks at Margo. \n\"Ms. Killjoy, how tall are you?\" She asks with a contemplating look upon her bandaged features."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"And sometimes that's good enough.\"\n\n□ Offering up a bit of life support with a cautiously hopeful voice, Margo switched on the TV with the remote she always kept wedged in between the seats, her flatscreen zipping to life and instantly showing an episode about two morbidly obese women trying to lose weight. It was one of her stupid hobbies, this show, and as it came on and the sound started playing she felt compelled to turn it down, mostly because she didn't know how her wheelchair-bound friend would feel about the fact that she watched shows like this just to make fun of the leads.\n\n▪︎ Admittedly, it *Was* Kinda fucked up, but Margo...? She would be the first to admit that she herself was a little fucked up.\n\n◆ \"Five foot nine or so. Haven't been measured in a while, but I think female puberty doesn't really give you a lot of room to grow height-wise. It's all just... Went to my hips and my chest.\" She jokingly lamented, knowing full well that the constant warfare between her body's natural supply of testosterone and the various medications she was taking meant that her body was still masculine in ways she was loath to admit. \"Family doctor back home said that if I hadn't started transitioning young I'd have likely been over six foot, but... I like my height. Means that the actual six foot plus women I see are all way taller...\" She trailed off, dreaminess lacing her voice like a tablecloth. \"You? Feel like it's kinda tough to judge that stuff just based off of how you look in your wheelchair.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie's face scrunches as Margo gives life advice. She has heard this all too much and is actually quite tired of it. The show is in the background and Amelie regards it with a raised brow. It's an odd show. Not that she particularly knows what they're saying, she doesn't want to either. Amelie just instead looks at Margo the show forgotten in the foreground. \n\nAmelie could absolutely care less if you were fucked up. If you're a friend then she would, wheel herself to the ends of the earth. \n\n\"I'm actually taller than you.\" Amelie says with pride. She always enjoyed her height, being any shorter and she simply wouldn't exist. Amelie just couldn't handle being that tiny. \n\"Good for you! I'm glad you like that.\"\nAmelie noticed the way Margo's voice sounded dreamlike. Margo likes taller women that's for sure. Hopelessly gay she was, not that Amelie had a problem with it. \n\"I'm 5'10 though this Wheelchair severely handicaps my height, I was rather tall. I would stand and show you but...\"\nAmelie motions to her legs with a laugh."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"*Oh.*\" Margo let out a surprised chuckle, deep in her throat and barely audible outside of maybe a few feet. \"See, that's the whole thing, man. I would've thought you were maybe my height, but God... Five ten before God struck you down? Then again, that's only one inch of difference, so.\"\n\n□ It might have only been an inch, but it was enough to set Margo's mind a-wandering. What had Amelie looked like before her powers manifested and completely ruined her life and any shot at a happy future? What had she looked like on her own two feet, leather jacket flowing as she strolled down whatever German street she'd lived on? Whatever the case, it was a reminder that life could switch up on a dime, and that maybe she'd be well off to cherish her able-bodiedness.\n\n▪︎ Or, maybe she was just letting her mind wander, and she'd forget once Amelie was back in the hallway.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, though... I'm gonna be honest, some days I just. Man. I hope I lose a leg or an arm some say.\" She laughed, oddly enough. \"Just to have a prosthetic and all that shit. I think they look cool as hell, and everyone who has them seems to be fine with it, so it can't be that bad...\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Yes it seems so.\" Amelie mumbles as she listens to Margo. \"I could be taller who knows.\"\n\nAmelie's powers were going to ruin her life any way, shape, or form. She was meant to die it's just the question of why didn't she at birth. She was supposed to die in that damn operation room. She was supposed to die so long ago, why can't she just do so. Her life didn't switch on a dime it just got worse. And Amelie just dosent want to fight anymore. All of the happiness from before was gone and, Tejal's death was the reason why. She faults herself for it, all of it. \n\n\"Odd. What I wouldn't give to have that. But, I'm so messed up that doing that would kill me.\" Amelie says with a tight smile. Her right hand twitches violently. \"I think you'd look pretty cool with one. If you want it, whom am I do deny you?\" Amelie's eyes curl with her awkward smile. \n\"But, why would you deny yourself the ability to walk?\" \nAmelie envies Margo, for being able to control their body without being in intense and agonizing amounts of pain. \n\nThe envy Amelie feels with everyone is unmatched. Why must she suffer this way? She got one happy thing and then everything at once got torn away. Everything dosent work how it's supposed to, her body is fighting itself. What Amelie wouldn't give to be in Margo's position is frightening. But, Amelie could never say that. She has to keep it to herself or she's not a good daughter."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Margo simply nodded. Surely, Amelie could always be taller. That was the miracle of life...\n\n□ But not now. No sense in dwelling in those unknowable futures, for the present had its own troubles... And its own conversations. Looking over at Amelie, she shook the cobweb thoughts out and let her friend's wistful speech flow in effortlessly. Of course, though, one question lodged itself into her brain: *\"Why would you deny yourself the ability to walk?\"* It was a question she had considered before, and so she had previously-cemented ideas, but she hadn't actually considered the *Future* Troubles being an amputee could cause.\n\n▪︎ Maybe she needed to think on it again, with a good cup of white tea.\n\n◆ \"I dunno. I've... Never really thought about all the bad stuff. It's just the aesthetic, and wanting to know what having my mobility ripped from me feels like. I'm a fucked up kid, man, I dunno.\" She looked down at her lap, the vertical-striped corduroy trousers folding and creasing in odd places. Why had she decided to bring this up with a crippled woman? What was she thinking? \"Probably a terrible thing to say. I'm... Sorry.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie could've been many things. But, it just ended up like this. In a wheelchair with endless guilt and regrets. Once covered with makeup to hide bruises from her parents supposed tough love, then sent out to a stage. It was either dancing or violin and she was beloved for it. But, Tejal the one person Amelie would trade the world for. She could never forget. She *Was* Happy, once. \n\nAmelie though all that pain and burden. Having to live up to and hide everything, hid nothing from this one girl. She would give everything to have Tejal back she'd do anything. She'd die for her, for Tejal wasn't supposed to. Tejal was a girl that was worth so much more than Amelie. Why did she have to die? Why did Amelie have to continue? \n\nAmelie's bones purged themselves from her body and her hands came to hold herself in a hug. Clinging tightly into the leather jacket that hung from Amelie's thin and weak shoulders. She stops for a second patting around her jacket then pulling out a broken necklace. One that is worn, it looked like a locket or something. Amelie circled her thumb on its silver surface, it was a sort of worry Stone for the girl. It seems like she needed it as she brought her legs up into her curled position.\n\n\"You never know what you lost before it was too late. You are able to live with it. But, it's hard. So hard.\" \nAmelie's thumb prodded at the locket. She hums listening to Margo. \n\"It's fine. Though you did bring it up to the wrong person. I envy you Margo having to live with no phantom pain. Being able to walk, to stand up to others. To be strong enough to fight back.\" \nAmelie purses her lips.\n\"I have to be quite frank when I say I both admire and envy you. You're so wonderful. And I haven't yet started to process it. It's probably because I just got here though. And there's so many people I'm envious of. But, that may just be me.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ And, as Amelie sat quiet, in her own train of thought, Margo stepped aboard her own, with an unknown destination emblazoned on the back of her skull.\n\n□ She'd never really considered the long-term effects of her decisions much before Newton's Cradle. Perhaps a vestige of her childhood spent on the streets of Brooklyn, being a menace without a cause with her siblings and living carelessly, she hadn't considered what her future would look like after she'd beat her father nearly to death. Now, she had a lot of time to think, and think she did, and it had helped her realize that life was indeed like a game of chess.\n\n▪︎ Looking forward was what it was, and she was now looking forward into the future of losing a limb.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, I, erm... I can imagine you probably envy me.\" Her voice never faltered from husky and awkward, but it was clear in the way she squirmed in her seat a touch and really wouldn't make eye contact with Amelie that screamed volumes of how she was feeling. \"Man, I'm just a... A mentally ill dyke. Nothing to look up to when it comes to me, honestly, but... Also I'm a little flattered. Woah. I guess you're... Great too? Your willpower's insane, and you're still so good-natured from the looks of things. You're handling this shit awfully well, I think.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie couldn't do anything yet Margo has the power to do... Everything. And Amelie is clinging onto what restraint she has left with painful force. \n\nNobody really knows the consequences. Nobody till after they happen, and if you think about the future filled with what ifs you drive yourself insane and paranoid. There really is no winning here and Amelie found that out the hard way. Her game was already up, it was just a matter of time. But, she does which she had a second chance. \n\n\"I do but at least I'm upfront about it. No use to hide it.\" Amelie winces as the position she put Margo in and looks away her thumb stopping itself from rubbing into the locket. She puts the locket back and after she interlocks her hands, just having them there. Her tea has long gone cold though it would be nice to have some again. \n\n\"I'm trying my best. If you're a mentally ill lesbian then I am too but, I think you're pretty cool. But, y'know you already know that, and if I must say it again I will.\" Amelie just sits there leaning back into her wheelchair with an absent stare upon her features. What if Margo didn't want to be friends? What if Amelie pushed too far- No she must find out now. \n\"And.\" Amelie takes a moment to breathe. \n\"I'd really love to be friends with you. Ms. Killjoy.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fair.\" Margo shrugged, twisting slightly and snaking a hand through the neckline of her shirt to scratch some unseen itch on her shoulder. \"Fair... What is it, though, that makes me stand out? I'm... Aside from my eye, man, I'm nothing special. Just another trans chick in an unsafe world full of them.\"\n\n□ Maybe it was self-deprecating to minimize her own benefits and her own genuine good traits, but it was a rare moment of humility shining through awkwardly-constructed sentences, an admission that she was just an average girl at this point. Sure, she'd done things no other teenage girl had done in a long time, but she was still, at the end of the day, not that much different than the others at the Cradle. Sipping her now-lukewarm tea, she hummed in the depths of her throat as Amelie spoke, any flirtatious words that might have left the other's mouth bouncing off of her noggin like it was nothing.\n\n▪︎ Just because she was hopelessly gay didn't mean she was good at telling when other girls were flirting in their own ways.\n\n◆ \"Had you pegged for one. I. I mean. That sounded better in my head, shit...\" The hand she'd previously snaked to her shoulder moved to the nape of her neck, rubbing it as she let the wave of embarrassment cascade over her like a shell in the clay. \"Oh, we're not already friends? Kinda thought we were just from chatting in that group chat thing the Cradle has. You're cool so far, not really getting any nasty vibes off ya, we're cool. We're cool, man...\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie smiles but, then her eye catches Margo scratching at that unseen itch and that smile quickly turns into a cough. \"I don't care of physical difference, Ms. Killjoy. The way you speak, how you sort through things, the way you even walk or move your fingers. From what I've seen you're extremely caring as well.-\" Amelie stops. \"I'm just very prone to looking at the less obvious things.\" \n\nNothing Amelie said was a flirtatious it was all compliments. She knows how to deliver those well due to her frequented outings to play or show publicly in general. T'was odd but she knows how to navigate things correctly when she is able to control herself. Amelie wasn't hopelessly gay she was just happy to be here, which was an astute lie. \n\nAmelie couldn't actually tell if she was flirting or not. Which ends up mostly in confusion. \n\n\"I... I don't understand why it doesn't sound fine.\" Why was Margo suddenly embarrassed? Was it something on her face. Amelie quickly touched her face and the fingers of her hand came away red. Oh, she was bleeding. Was that why? Amelie's fuzzes over a little And her eyes droop slightly. Maybe this conversation was a bit too stressful. Amelie needs a good rest. \n\n\"Vunderbar! That is very good news. I thought we weren't for a moment and I was going to be utterly confused.\" Amelie says with a wobbly smile. She Continues to stare at her hand while doing so though."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"You pay attention to that small shit?\" A touch surprised, she figured it wouldn't hurt to look for confirmation. \"Thought I was the only one. Can't face someone eye-to-eye for the life of me, but noticing how their fingers curl or how the skin on their neck tightens around their arteries as they turn it? I notice all that shit. Usually.\"\n\n□ She was human, what could she say? She had her flaws, but rather than mope about 'em she did all she could do, which was learn body language, little tells that told her how someone was feeling, or what they might have been thinking. Of course, though, in a low stress hangout like this it was barely worth her effort, so she'd been slacking. No matter. Sipping her tea again, she could be seen still nodding approvingly at its flavour, but oddly enough she could also be seen rocking back and forth on such a small scale that it was debatable if she even knew.\n\n▪︎ Answer: she didn't.\n\n◆ \"I dunno, I said *Pegged* And my shitfuck of a brain just... Went places. Dark places. Leather-bound books. That sorta shit.\" She sheepishly admitted, worried that it'd maybe scare Amelie off, or disgust her. Whatever; she'd already said it. \"Yeah, I get that. Friendship's kinda weird if you think about it; you just... Look at someone, talk to them a bit, and your brain decides that it likes that person, maybe even enough to dispense serotonin or something. I dunno.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Yes, I have a tendency to it.\" And, Margo got her confrontation. Amelie could meet another eye yet she always found her gaze flickering to a subtle twitch, or movement. \"You have a good eye.\" Amelie stops. \"That can be seen as a joke or not. If you don't mind it.\" Amelie is also extremely Cautious. It just came with the package.\n\n\nAmelie had too much time to herself, to mull over the way she was to tear out her own fingernails, due to how much she felt the bones of her body bulging from them. She moped but acted at least. She acted with what she could, and damn if she wasn't good with it. Amelie watched Margo take a drink a tea even though it was rather lukewarm. She gave a shrug before minding her own again. \n\nIt didn't matter if Margo knew or not. \n\nAmelie choked on her air and curled into herself with a laugh. Which again turned into coughs. \n\"LORD! Ms. Killjoy. You do have a mind of your own, truly.\" Amelie had her hands covering her face while she recomposed herself. It took a long exhale before she uncovered her face and looked at Margo with a rather flushed look. That laugh took everything she had. \n\"Yes yes I understand. It's that strange little click I'm not quite sure.\" Amelie says. She is slow to take her cup of tea again and take a long drink of it. This conversation was a whirlwind she wasn't prepared for."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I'd hope I have a good eye.\" She dryly joked. \"I already got one eye fucked up by my powers, would be awful if the other one went. *Thaaat's* A joke, by the way; my vision is crazy good.\"\n\n□ Perhaps it killed any impact her joke had, but soon enough she'd be making a riot off the back of her verbally mistake anyways, so who cared? Sipping the bottom third of her tea, she was debating on whether to grab another cup immediately after she was done, or if she'd just let it cool off a bit more. Did she? Or did she not? Whatever. Clarifying her previous point seemingly got a laugh out of Amelie, and even if it *Was* Oddly embarrassing and her cheeks lit up red she still smiled, at least able to take solace in the fact that she'd made someone else laugh.\n\n▪︎ And thankfully, it was with her, and not *At* Her.\n\n◆ \"I'd... Hope my mind is mine. I'd probably rather just give up and die than trade my free will out.\" Foreshadowing, perhaps? Or maybe just the truth of the matter. Who knew? \"Anyways, yeah. It just... Clicks. Outta nowhere. It's a mystery but it works, and maybe we just shouldn't question or force it. I dunno.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "\"Good! You can ve my eyes then!\" Amelie says as a joke. With a side smile warping her features. \"I know Süßigkeiten. Your tone killed ze joke.\" \nAmelie says with a sarcastic tone. \n\nMargo was plenty funny but, to be honest Amelie could not take her seriously with her accent. Amelie could care less if Margo fumbled with her words like putting a key in a lock while panicking, Amelie would hear and understand regardless. Amelie noticed that Margo was tipping the cup a little far with meant she was nearing the end of her tea. The tea wasn't bad by any means, so why not Margo get more. Amelie was currently breathing a little hard, she was so weak that even laughing rendered her helpless. What a sorry child. But, Amelie found it alright when she was with Margo. \n\nAmelie could never laugh at others, it simply wasn't a thing she could do. Having heard it too much it left an indention upon her brain. Amelie could be mean without regrets because of her condition on constantly being on deaths door, banging on its bloody mahogany wood. But, she feels that she cannot sometimes. Though bitterness sours her blood she is simply too tired sometimes. \n\n\"And I couldn't bear to 'kind of' lose a friend when I just got one. Ms. Killjoy.\"\nAmelie hopes it whatever Margo said never comes to fruition.\n \"I am not! I swear it! I am just drinking tea.\" \nAmelie pled with a sarcastic tone."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Hah, guess so.\"\n\n□ Rather than fire a joke back, in a moment of awkwardness stemming from a lack of witty remarks to spit she instead opted for quiet, letting her voice train off and the soft sound of My 600lb Life flow through the room. Finally paying attention, she sputtered a little, misting tea onto her TV and her coffee table in a moment of disbelief. Quickly checking the directory, she noticed that, for one episode, it had *Two* Eight hundred pound individuals on it, and like the fucked up kid she was she let out a laugh.\n\n▪︎ Maybe it was weird, but...\n\n◆ \"Hah, holy *Fuck.* Look at those whales, Jesus!\" She continued to snicker, her eyes closing slightly and her mouth curling into a smile, albeit a cruel one. \"Honestly I just watch this show to laugh at the people on it. Like, yeah, some people have thyroid problems and stuff, but I guarantee you most of these people just don't have any goddamned willpower. Literally all you have to do is watch your portions and work out, and that's still too much for those fuckin' hamplanets. Anyways...\" She took a few moments to simmer down, breathing heavily to try and stop herself from cracking up again. \"Well, I ain't goin' anywhere. God has no sayy over my life, and neither does the Devil. It's all me, myself, and I, and I'm not goin' anywhere until I decide I've seen enough. No worries.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "There was a soft laugh that cut through the room from Amelie. Though the show that played went in one ear and out through the other at surprising pace. She didn't necessarily care for the show nor did she want to. American TV didn't interest her by any means, yet it seems Margo enjoyed it. Odd but, you find entertainment in strange areas. Amelie didn't pay attention to the Television, only to the fair haired girl almost but not quite across from her. \n\nAmelie would never know what Margo is laughing at. \n\nAmelie hummed watching Margo critique the show. It was interesting watching Margo do so but it was most likely because Amelie was making direct eye constant with Margo's face. \n\"Wie traurig.\" \nAmelie said with a drawl. She slowly put her cup onto the table. Amelie's vision blurred quite a bit, though it was most like due to the bones causing her blood loss. But, not enough to kill her. She'll be fine. \n\nAmelie narrows a weary eye at Margo. \n\"Ich genieße deine Gesellschaft. Ich möchte noch einmal sprechen.\" \nAmelie's voice slowed. \"Bald vielleicht?\"\nHer gaze softened. \n\"Gut. Ich möchte meine Freunde behalten.\"\nAmelie looked at the table. \n\"No hospital, please. Ms. Killjoy.\"\nAnd with a soft thump Amelie's head hit the able and she was out like a dead fire."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ At first, she didn't notice what was up, but then...\n\n■ \"Huh?\" Looking over at Amelie, she immediately recognized that something was wrong. The other girl's eyes were narrowed, her tongue slipping into German out of nowhere, her every word pushed out like the world's worst crap, and she could tell that something was up. Turning down the volume on the television, she was about to open her mouth when her friend's head smacked against the table, indicating that she was completely and totally out. Sighing, she couldn't deny that there was a pang of worry within, but...\n\n▪︎ Amelie had said not to call the hospital, so she wouldn't.\n\n• Instead, she simply rose to her feet, stretched, and set both cups with their saucers atop her desk before beginning to try and balance Amelie in her wheelchair so she could at least wheel her back to her room. That, and she grabbed a tube of crickets; after all, she wouldn't be leaving Amelie's room for some time out of concern, so might as well bring a snack along."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "———————————-(ended)————-"
}
] | 312 | 15,353 |
283.2 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Bored, thats what she was... Just plain fuckin' bored! In fact, it had been a while since she'd done... Well, *Anything* Really! Whatever, she'd seen Sig and Esme a few times but...\nYeah, she could use a breath of fresh air that was a bit more, say, cynical!\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ That said, she was awaiting Gabe, looking down at her nails from time to time and at the clock, as she idly sat by in wait. He was always good company, just fairly easy damn to talk to, especially when things are mundane. Why? Because even if Gabe isn't nearly as off the walls as she is, he's definitely got some conversation in him, and Hatsume is beginning to get pretty good at tuggin it out.\nHer mouth widened into a yawn, her tall body slouching in the chair as she sat amongst the common room.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ A little bit of catch up never hurt anyone, plus, she had a bowl of cereal to demolish either way so..."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Now, of course, Gabe didn't *Need* To look good, especially for someone who was: \n1. Like a sister more than anything. \n2. Not into men.\n3. Batshit insane. \n\n...And yet, Hatzume was fun, and would most certainly comment on whatever out of character things he would wear, and so today Gabriel was sporting some of ... *Gasp*, was that Sigrun's clothing? \n\nA pair of black jeans, an appropriately spooky shirt, and boyishly messy curls under a beanie. The only thing preventing Gabe from fully transforming into this edgelord persona was the smug, confident grin on his face as he hailed Hatzume down. \n\n*Oh yeah,* He thought. *I can do scene better than any of you bitches. I am a golden god.* Gabe's inner monologue continued to wax poetic as his face sported the same smile. \n\n\"Yo.\" He said, offering his vape to Hatzume as a peace offering."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ It doesn't take a genius to know that Gabe and Sig were an unlikely pair, but seeing him rock up in her clothing was certainly... Unexpected! She whistled, looking Gabe up and down with a grin that could easily either be taken as teasing or just... Being happy to see him.\n\"Hello?? Gerard Way?? Do you do autographs??\" \nOkay, teasing it is, she wasn't dressed too dissimilarly, but it was on par for Hatsume, to see Gabe dressed like it was the early 2000s and he desperately wanted to impress the scene girl he sits next to in science was abnormal, and a little strange.\nBut in fairness... He was slaying it.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"All you need is a look of general distaste for society and you'd look like the edgy losers I hang around with in Isakstad sometimes.\" She comments, swinging one leg over the other in newfound attention.\nShe eyes the vape up, flattered by the offer. She was hardly a chainsmoker but... Everyone now and then, well it wouldn't kill her.\nThat said, she yoinks it and raises a brow.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"You sure you want to allow me use of your precious resources mr gabriel?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Gerard Way? *Please*.\" Gabe scoffs, albeit still doing a little outfit twirl so Hatzume could admire him in every angle. \"Maybe Blanche would call more often if that was the case.\" \n\nA joke, but it came out a bit sour, the corners of Gabe's mouth turning downward for a split-second... And then he remembered himself, and he was smiling, and a faux-easygoing laugh squirmed its way out of his mouth. \n\n\"If I wanted a general distaste for society, I'd go on intranet more often.\" Gabe cracks his back, leaning against the wall and looking proud as Hatzume took the vape in her hands. *They grow up so fast,* He jokes in his head, wiping away a non-existent tear at Hatzume finally taking a puff of nicotine.\n\nHe waves his hand at Hatzume's question. \"Go nuts.\" Gabe assures her."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Jokingly, Hatsume whistled a chorus towards Gabe's outfit of the day twirl, giggling to herself afterwards.\n\"She's probably so busy with children school- sooo much work.\" Hatsume teased, she noticed the downturn in Gabe's grin, which was fixed before she could even comment... That's Gabe for you, Hatsume really had to coax him into a sentimental therapy session one of these days...\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Ugh wrooong, I love the intranet, best thing about this place is letting all you loveable goons know my stream of consciousness. Not nearly as bad as my close friends story, but still.\" She shrugs, letting her body relax back into the chair- of which she scraped across the floor to be closer to Gabe.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Yippee\" She uttered, taking a go on the vape- Hatsume wasn't expecting much, and its a good thing her expectations weren't in the clouds, as she hacks and coughs in her failed vape attempt. Desperately, she clears her throat, giving herself a short cooldown period to rejuvenate her composure.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Auck, ahauck- how is weed illegal and this isn't, again?\" Hatsume raised a brow, passing the nicotine grenade back to Gabe.\n\"At least your lung problems will be mango flavoured, I guess?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Hatzume was relaxing to be around— she didn't comment on anything he didn't want her to comment on, and always found a way to abuse his ADHD to avoid dwelling on any particularly nasty subject for too long. Still, he sighed, putting an overdramatic hand on his forehead. \n\n\"They grow up so fast...\" He echoes again, this time out loud. Considering Hatzume's personal life, he did his best to avoid mentioning his sibling around her. It was a courteous apathy, he'd like to think, feigning ignorance about her clusterfuck of a family situation to avoid confronting whatever the fuck went inside her head. \n\nStill, he muses, taking his vape back and fiddling with the stick. It was easy to realize just how much his life revolved around Blanche when he was forced to monitor the amount of sibling-gushing.\n\n\"Fun fact, actually.\" A smooth voice rang out next to Hatzume's ears, and Gabe couldn't help but look collected as he sat down. \n\n\"Weed is really taboo in Sweden. Like, *Really taboo*. It's illegal, yeah, but people will go apeshit if they see you smoking.\" Gabe throws his head back and laughs, mind wandering to how many people in New Orleans wandered the street high as a kite— or on other, worse things. \n\n\"Isn't that *Wild?* I think the deans could benefit from a toke or two.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Hatsume had noticed it, the reluctance towards sibling talk- dare she say, she's actually a little flattered by it... As much as a jealousy ached in her to hear an older brother talk about his little sister, it was fine actually, really it was.\nIn fact, she *Liked* Hearing about Blanche, nature was heaking, 8 year olds like warrior cats still, it's nice to know... That said, it made her smile to see the subject flick away to something else.\nHe was so thoughtful, awhh\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ She rolled her eyes, handing the vape back to the ever so slightly shorter(?) boy\n\"Really? That's... I kinda thought it would be something they're chill about here... Huh. Not that that affects me. I'm like... Way too pretty for drugs, duh.\" She sat up in her seat, placing her hands on her lap and flashing a toothy grin at Gabe- one a bit similar to when you're creating a sim and they wont stop moving their fucking faces and grinning everywhere, you know what i mean.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"I think the deans could benefit from a *Lot* Of things, like i dunno, a martini and a massage, or like a *Really* Good nap.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You're saying the deans need a martini, a nap, and a massage?\" Gabe's meticulously sculpted eyebrows furrow, and he thought to himself. *Now where could they get that...*\n\n\"For the martini, we just need someone who's twenty one or over. Real shame about that Valio person leaving, though— wasn't she a bartender at some point? She fit *Both* The criteria, but... Oh, well. What's done cannot be undone, and I'm sure there are other people with access to drinks.\"\n\nThe mental image of Gabriel and Hatsume asking one of the teachers for drinks floated in his mind, and Gabe couldn't help but laugh. The worst outcome was obvious; Oliver would probably try to pour isopropyl alcohol straight down their throat. Pernilla or Graham, though... Well, he'd let Hatsume do it to avoid any potential backlash, but he didn't think they'd react too poorly.\n\nOf course, Gabriel would never do that. Still, it was amusing, the corners of his smile widening naturally and carving dimples into his cheek.\n\n\"As for a nap... You could just ask your 'skrungle de de bungle uwah', as you affectionately call 'em. That's their, like, whole deal.\" Gabriel didn't like acknowledging the names of people he didn't think were important to him, and this was no exception. Sure, they were relevant, once upon a time... But that was before they went into Mattias' dream. Before the fallout of that sent Mattias into a spiral of pseudo-albino worship, and, ultimately, straight through the doors of a mental institution, never to be seen by Gabriel again. \n\nMattias had a lot going on; Gabe wasn't stupid enough to think the albino was the sole cause of his issues. Still... It didn't mean Gabriel had to *Like* Them.\n\nBut that was long ago, and Gabriel did not want to contemplate the people he's failed.\n\n\"And a massage?\" Gabe flexes his arms, winking at Hatsume with a picture-perfect smile. \"Leave it to me.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Nah nah, you only have to be 18 for that around these parts, american boyy. I can get em a martini- and a mcdonalds wrap if they're so inclined.\" She gives a thumbs up, she hates working in hospitality but she *Does* Love free food so... Do with that what you will.\n\"Val was indeed a bartender, I went to her bar the day before my 18th. A little bit of a dead idea but I was sort of in surgery on my birthday so... At least I got a coke.\" Hatsume shrugged, it was as if they were both wearing an intertwined foil hat- because the thought of asking teachers for drinks also crossed her mind, causing a chuckle.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"I'll have you know Uri is my scroingly bop, actuallyyyy\" Awful specific there, Hatsume... The tall girl was blissfully ignorant of The Mattias Incident (and weirdly enough, even if she was aware- she'd find a way to shift the blame away from them- so why even bother letting her know?) That said, Hatzume may never find out about it, choosing to find the albino simply just a little fucking strange, in a way she found intriguing and wonderful.\nChrist, Hatsume had her ways...\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Hatsume whistles, giggling at Gabe's whistles.\n\"Woo, go muscle man. Sign my forehead!!\" She teasingly fangirls, placing a manicured hand on her cheek; the other hand fanning her face"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Yo, mind if I end this? \nSorry, I just... Dunno where to go from here 😵💫😵💫\n\nGabe and Hatzume shoot the shit deep into the night, enjoying each other's company in the relatively lame surroundings of the Cradle. \n——"
}
] | 305 | 2,832 |
537.375 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "A lovely afternoon it was, for what was felt an awful lot like the *Middle of the night*. It hadn't rained in a while, but it desperately needed to- humidity stuck stubborn and miserable to Magnus' back and palms, condensing under her thick mane of two-toned curls; she needed a shower, and needed to trim the shaven sides of her head, and needed to not be here, please and thanks. *Fuck*. Wasn't Sweden supposed to be cold or something?\n\nApparently, she wasn't the only one full of surprises.\n\nThe people at the office- nice enough, if not painfully hospitable- had told Magnus to head this way, and that most of her stuff should be here already. Hands too full to pull out her map, the short but sure-footed figure tried her best to remember which halls led where. The odd presence (classmates, now? Fellow inmates?) didn't go unnoticed. A well of charcoal and a startling drop of ice water scanned disturbingly nice architecture, signs she could read maybe half of at a glance, and some mighty strange fashion senses. All of these observations were muttered under her breath as she blew errant strands of misbehaving curls from her forehead and scanned the room numbers for what was apparently hers now.\n\nThe light filtering in through the windows would have been pleasant if she weren't dealing with two flights of stairs, residual simmering fury, and no free hands, but Magnus wasn't keen on letting that go. She was pissed, and righteously so, and if this place decided to be her problem, then it was only fair that she return the gesture.\n\nThere. Number 2388.\n\nTwo quick kicks from a gravel-scuffed red boot toward the bottom to serve as a knock, and then the begrudging newcomer stood back and straightened her back as much as she could.\n_ _\n\nWhoever opened the door would find her glaring up at them, stack of delicate boxes in hand, clad in an '80s-style neon windbreaker unzipped to reveal a faded black *Ghost* T-shirt and whatever serviceable shorts she had thrown on that morning, sort-of brought together by her favourite cherry-coloured Doc Martens. Not quite a fashion disaster, but decidedly a half-deliberate mess. \n\nHair still messy from an impromptu nap on the ride there fell to stubbornly squared shoulders, falling chaotically over piercing eyes red around the rims but open unsettlingly wide. Small in stature, but undoubtedly intense. Hopefully. She pried her gritted teeth apart.\n\n\"Aaaaanybody home?\"\n_ _"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe was positively *Buzzing* With excitement. \n\nNo more single dorm, for better or worse. Here he was, lounging on his bed, waiting for an auspicious knock on the door to arrive at any moment. The room was immaculately clean; after all, he wouldn't want to make a bad first impression. Every poster of a shirtless bodybuilder, or an actor on stage, or a landscape photo of the New Orleans sights were crisp without a wrinkle in sight. The cream colored rug was vacuumed to hell and back, and the various photos and mementos from home that dotted the room were wiped clean. A vase of lilies sat on his desk, their blossoming scent filling the room with a pleasant aroma.\n\nGabe's hand grazed a dirt spot on the small, dark green vase, tenderly wiping a small speck of dust away. He was going to give them to his mom on the day he was taken— he didn't get a chance to say goodbye, but somehow, the flowers survived the trip to Sweden. It was unfortunate, then, that they had been cut off from their home plant and forced to endure a slow death. No matter how well Gabe tended to them, they were destined to die. \n\n*Knock, knock*. Wait, no, were those kicks? Either way, Gabe jolts out of his previous train of thought, turning towards the door with a startled jump. *Thank god no one was here to see that,* He thought to himself.\n\nA clear of the throat, and Gabe takes a moment to tidy up his appearance (first impression, after all, better make it a good one!): smoothening his sweater vest, rolling up his sleeves, and making sure his collar was in place. \n\n\"Coming!\" He opens the door, and... \n\nA figure, with hands currently occupied on holding up a painfully large stack of boxes. A weird (read: bad) sense of fashion, and a surprisingly *Intense* Aura about them. Gabe takes another look, eyeing them up and down, eyes trailing the two-toned blotches on their skin and hair. \n\n*At least they're like me in that regard*, he mused, looking at the dark patches of skin. *Nice*.\n\n*Short*, is Gabe's first thought. *Ugly*, is his second. A small relief— he wouldn't know what to do if he was upstaged by his own roommate. Still, they didn't seem like someone he'd be interested in; the vaguely punk band shirt gave off 'loser who smoked weed by the dumpster during lunch' energy, and Gabe was positively sure that wasn't a compliment. \n\nNot that he'd voice those thoughts out loud. At the end of the day, they didn't seem *Dangerous*, and it was good enough for him. Gabe plastered on a large, charming grin, eyes crinkling in just the right places.\n\n\"Welcome,\" *Miss*? *Man*? \"...Fella. Here, let me help you with those boxes.\" He beamed, craning his head down to look them in the eye and rest a stabilizing hand on the sides of the other's luggage. \"You're probably tired from moving in, huh? Might as well rest a bit and let me do the hard work.\" \n\n*Brownie points. Nice.* Gabe mentally patted himself on the back."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Ah! Hello, person Magnus would be sharing a space with for the next three years. You're objectively gorgeous. His voice hit her tongue as it sank into her ears, unfamiliar and buzzing with the potential of a newly unlocked dungeon, risen from the sand after a deviously solved puzzle, a flash of light, and a tremendous rumbling. *Insert the Zelda mystery sound.*\n\n\"Tangy! You add that yourself? Fascinating.\"\n\nHer voice mimicked the taste, tingling like ginger ale, swishing it around before discarding it in favour for her own natural tones. Despite her still stubbornly crappy mood, Magnus flashed back a smile of her own- striking eyes met her immaculately-postured roommate's and stayed there as dimples creased and the gap between her front teeth glinted from behind an inexplicably devilish grin.\n\n\"Yeah, uh, if you insist,\" She eked out, reluctantly loosening her hold on the contents of her arms. He wouldn't find them particularly heavy, but distinctly *Cold*. \"Drop 'em, and I turn your fingers into replacements! Kidding. Mostly.\"\n\nHer tone was lighthearted on the surface, but with no efforts made to conceal her disgruntled mess of a mood. Scratchy and androgynous, just like the rest of her. \n\n\"Also, I'm feeling girl-ish today, but that's subject to change. My bracelets are in here somewhere...\" \n\nSlinging her backpack onto what she deduced was her bed, Magnus talked while straightening her spine, *Finally*. First meetings were always awkward. Blegh. She spoke as though she was used to the blanks in her bizarre speech being filled in automatically, the lore preceding the strange fragments of scattered dialogue. The same language, but a dialect meant for.. Someone else.\n\n\"Looks like they dumped most of my stuff here beforehand. Makes me want to cry, just a little.\"\n_ _\n\nShe shrugged off her jacket, and flexed her fingers. An undertone of lingering sweetness bloomed in Magnus' mouth at the glint of silver on her ring finger, a bird nested in the wrong place. *She's here*, he thought, surveying the room. *Never split in a way that matters.* The lilies snapped her out of her trance, and her eyes came back into focus when they landed on the vase.\n\nThey seemed.. Out of place? What were lilies doing here? *Lilly...* Focus. The bright-eyed girl-today laced her fingers together behind her head, lifting her hair from her neck for a moment and tilting to face ..Whatever his name was. Should probably ask that.\n\n\"Also- it's Magnus, before I forget. You been here long? This place is weirdly clean. That's not bad, it's just, well, weird. *Lemme see, where are my paints..*\"\n\nThe indeed unsettlingly-clean place was like this dude. Postured. No dorm is this nice, and no dude is this pleased to be here. Damn preppy kids, with their layers of sweater-vests and midnight cable commercial smiles. *Sleep Country Canada- Why buy a mattress anywhere else?* **DING!**\n\nThe corners of her mouth twitched a little as she forced herself not to laugh too loudly at her own unspoken joke. This was going to be interesting, and by the spotless carpet silently sobbing beneath her grungy boots, Magnus was *Interested.*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Uh, ok, weirdo.* Gabe remarked internally at the weird phrases and shallow threats she made, before picking up all of the boxes in her hands— and a suitcase or two, just to show off. \n\nShe... Seemed like a *Lot*, certainly one of the more eccentric characters at the Cradle. The craziness didn't stop with her too-loud fashion taste or the odd patterns that graced her skin, it seemed. Gabe contained an already exhausted sigh, and went to pile even more suitcases on his shoulders. \n\n\"For now? Alright, uh, tell me when that's subject to change then, miss.\" He follows in the room after her, before plopping the boxes on the top of the bare, newly-owned mattress. \n\nIt was finally setting in. He was going to be sharing a room with *Someone* Else, and the neurotic, over-controlling part of his brain began to go haywire. Would she contribute with the dorm chores? Or play music late at night? Or—*Or even touch his off-limits mini-fridge?* He felt faint.\n\n\"Of course it's clean. Wouldn't want to have someone move into a messy, filthy room, now would I? That'd just be poor manners on my part.\" Gabe remarks sweetly, the edges of his voice almost saccharine before the latter half of her sentences catches up with him. \n\n\"Wait, *Paints*? For the *Walls*?\" He stutters out, momentarily jolting as she reaches for her paints. \"You— you can't do that. You'd get in trouble.\" *And it'd look like shit... Wait, maybe a little hasty, wouldn't be surprised if she was an eccentric artist type.*\n\n\"Oh, as for myself, well...\" Finally, he'd been waiting this— a routine practiced dozens of times in the mirror. He turns to face her with poised, confident posture, gripping her hand in a perfectly firm handshake (firm enough to show off just how strong he was, not too firm to be *Overcompensating*). With his other hand, he slips an off-white business card into her palm with one, fluid gesture.\n\n\"Gabriel. Gabe Darius Trahan. It's a pleasure to meet'cha, Magnus.\" White teeth shine back at her."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Well!\nWell, well. This fellow is *On another level*! Spiffy, though, she'll give him that.\n\n\"Pleasure's all mine, Gabrielll,\" Magnus trilled in response, gripping his hand back. Her handshake had more power behind it than one would expect, the patchwork hand nearly engulfed in Gabe's insisting upon itself appropriately. Still, though. *Damn.* Those muscles were no joke. Was it bad to immediately jump at the opportunity to use him as a drawing reference? ..Never mind that. He seemed like he would be game.\n\n...\n\n*Man, what the hell?* A *Business card?* In *Juvie?* She really did need something to make her laugh today. A bewildered cackle built up in her throat, just barely held back by pressing her plush lips together as hard as she could (for both of their sake- people didn't tend to like Magnus after she laughed at them to their faces), a childishly amused snort briefly shaking her shoulders before she recalled the memo in her back pocket.\n\n\"Man. You're Looney Tunes! Good for you, honestly. So, tell me, which circle of Hell were you a used car salesman in before the IKEA Doom Squadron wrangled you up here?\" That counted as asking someone about themselves, Typical Conversation Procedure. \n\n\"Ah, reminds me-\" Shit, which pocket was it in again? Magnus gingerly clamped the card between her teeth and stuck her hands into all the pockets in her horrendously frayed black denim shorts. *Cellulose,* Murmured a sense in the side of her brain. There! The note from the office. \"They wanted me to give this to you? Apparently they forgot. Told me not to read it, but of course I did anyway.\"\n\nMagnus did indeed read it. Short and sweet, to the effect of *\"Watch this freak of un-nature, or else they'll make something atrocious with their spare time, and that will be a massive headache for all of us, yadda yadda something about looking out for humanoid forms.\"* Whatever made them feel better.\n_ _\n\nShe stared, blew a strand of spun-cloud off of her nose, and set about wrangling her blankets out of whatever she had shoved them into.\n\n\"It's pointless, really. I've learned my lesson.\" Another snort. \"Not about what I did. My methods have drastically improved, though. One hundred percent going to do it again, and better, just out of spite.\"\n\nWhat next.. Books? Art supplies? Clothes? *Clothes, yeah.* Lilith's voice in the back of her mind, sensible as always. Though the back of Magnus' neck prickled with more sweat at the sight of it, her black, haphazardly-spiked motorcycle jacket was good to have in her hands again. Into the closet to stay a while, it goes. \n\nBeneath her pissed-but-relaxed-enough demeanour, however, Magnus felt as though she had scarfed down sea urchins floating in orange juice for breakfast. Gabe's presence was utterly *Dazzling*, but in a way that felt.. She couldn't piece together how exactly he unnerved her. Like his gaze still grabbed at hers even when they had broken eye contact, the jarring sight of an immaculately curated picture of a man after a day of half-dead airport-goers and city folk blurring together in the background sticking out like a perfectly manicured thumb. Was he to be trusted? What was it that put him here, on her level?"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "This person certainly talked as funny as she looked. Which was... Well, pretty weird. It was nothing compared to the most unsettling thing about Magnus— the omni-present gleam of *Something else*, a deep, unbridled curiosity that made the hair on the back of Gabriel's neck stand up straight. He could tolerate her *Biting his business card*. (Could he? Those were *Expensive.*) He could tolerate her threatening to paint the walls like a toddler with a crayon. \n\nThat look in her eye, though...? It made his eyes twitch with wary, his cool gaze following her movement as she trapezed around the room unpacking her items.\n\n\"Which circle of Hell I was in before I came here...? I don't know, does the South count? Certainly hot enough. How about you? Where are you from?\" The corner of Gabe's mouth twitched at his own joke, and he forced the movement of his lips into a winning smile. \n\nA smile that... Would not last long, as Magnus handed over the letter addressed to him, and his two deep brown eyes scanned the letters contents. Again, and again, each reread leading to him jutting his head closer to the letters on the page in order to properly have their meaning sink in. \n\n\"I'm *Babysitting you?!*\" Gabe blurts out incredulously, manners briefly forgotten as a tiny groan escapes his lips. \"God, as if this place couldn't get any *Worse*.\" \n\nHis toned hands briefly cup his temple, as if trying to pre-emptively stifle the migraine Magnus' presence would inevitably cause. Not that Gabe was bad at babysitting, per se, but he certainly was *Sick* Of having to do it.\n\n It was the one reprieve this place had offered; As much as he loved Blanche, the pressure of constantly having to play father to her and guiding her when he remembered things that were common sense to 18 year olds didn't necessarily make the most sense to kids half his age. \"*No, Blanche, please do not hide under the pew during service. No, the priest doesn't fight vampires. Please don't try to drink the holy water.*\"\n\n__ __\n\nIt was fine. It was *Fine*. It was fine, truly! He'd better be getting brownie points from the administration for his unwilling community service in keeping potentially mad-scientist (or a human trafficker?) off the streets. \n\nGabe leaned against his bed frame, resting his forearms against the top of his bed. Hopefully, she'd be a least a *Little* Prone to reason when he'd inevitably bring up the topic of 'ground rules for the dorm', but as Gabe watched her eye the paints with a mad gleam, he realized how futile that hope was."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*Ah. So, there it is.* The crack in that gleaming Disney prince smile, that separated him from the rest of this mess of a place. Just enough. Magnus was angry at the facility for scooping her up, at the neighbours back home for not minding their beeswax, at the cops they called for a *Whole mess of things*, at her creation for getting her into this shitstorm, and at herself for, well, everything that monstrosity of golden alloys with the driftwood bones did. \n\nAll that, but Magnus.. Wasn't so angry at Gabe. Not particularly.\n\nThere was still something about him that twisted wrong in her gut, but it occurred to her as she slid her paint-splattered books with the wrinkled and uneven pages into their chosen drawer that she ought to throw him a bone. She had spooked him plenty. Might as well throw him a bone before resuming her terrorizing of him.\n\n\"Eh. Thing only says to watch out for human-y things. I'm working my way back up to those. I don't want you in my hair, like you don't want to be in it!\" \n\nAn aggravated *Thump*, another bag to be unpacked hitting her bed.\n\n\"I'm here because of nosy people jumping to conclusions regarding my sanity and *Totally* Overreacting.\" She snorted. \"Don't believe the stereotypes of Canadians being nice. One tiny disturbance, and they're farther up your ass than an action figure in a drunk college student.\"\n\nHer father had told her to tone back the vulgarities upon meeting new people. But Lilith giggled when she said horrendous things. Only one of them had remembered to shove her favourite bracelets into her pocket before she left, though. So.\n\n\"No feathers to be suffered here, that I didn't make,\" She put bluntly. Was that reassuring? Hell if she know. It sort of came out backwards. No, sideways. Magnus tipped back onto her bed and fiddled with an errant SNES controller, marginally more self conscious. \n\nAh. Now would be as good a time to ask as any, while the iron was still hot.\n_ _\n\nIn a voice.. A little more tired than seething, she finally asked,\n\n\"So how are the prospects of blowing this popsicle stand, Prince Charming?\"\n\nHer eyes glimmered darkly as she propped her head up on her hand and awaited his answer."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "<THIS BITCH DONE, YEET>"
}
] | 559 | 4,299 |
487.238095 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Mattias knows he's dreaming. \n\nIt's one of those nights. The noise is loud. Flies are hiding from street lamps, wasted teens (probably Margo) shirking the iron spotlight of campus staff. Sometimes, something more sinister. He can hear a door rattling, the clunk of heavy machinery when he knows no construction should be happening. Matti shuts his eyes. \n\nHe can't.\n\nHe never can, in these kinds of dreams. He gazes up into the ceiling and starts counting popcorn kernels again, in clusters. *Five, ten, twenty, fourty, eighty, one hundred sixty.* He reaches... He reaches... \n\nA part of him doesn't want to continue counting. There have been nights like this too, where he's restless and tired and the pit of knowledge in his chest corrupts the flesh of his heart. He doesn't want to do this. He knows he's only prolonging the inevitable. But sometimes, the time he earns now, staring at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom with mind blessedly blank, is worth the extra hours that come of what's after. The moments, the minutes, of imagining standing up, walking around. Touching the worn spot on his dresser where he had left water for too long. Pulling the sky blue covers off and using them to cover every picture he'd drawn and hung in his room. He imagines destroying it, in those stolen, procrastinating moments, but find there is not much to destroy. He spends this time scrubbing at the ceiling, wondering how long it will take until it is shiny and smooth. \n\nStill, his guard is up, like matted fur raising on a cat. Eventually, he knows, it will come. \n\nHe buries the bone-deep, rib tearing terror by counting again.\n\nThe task is mind numbing like it always is, and still he thinks if he could move he would be shaking. Ever number he recites is another step closer to a beast's gaping maw, one he can see from far away and approaches all the same. He's never seen the rest of it, and wonders at the thought from *Six hundred, six hundred and one,* To *Six hundred ninety eight, six hundred ninety nine, seven hundred, seven hundred and one, seven hundred and two*. He can picture it easily enough, but his mind continues to twist its form. Once, the face connects to long, spindly legs. Corkscrewed with bones jutting out at odd angles. Blood dripping lacerated feet. Another, and it's a spider, a cruel, long, twisting black mass with legs that hide in the shadows of his room to trap Matti in its web. Again, and it is the hand of god, showing Mattias his fate should he fail.\n\n*Nine hundred and ninety five.* He counts, body tense like a live wire and mind aching, ready for the terror. His last moment, his eleventh hour. Another number, and it's in his room. Another number, and it's next to him. But at nine hundred and ninety five, he stands on the edge of the cliff, torn between certain death and a moment paused forever. \n\n*Nine hundred and ninety six*. The door creaks open. He feels sick."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Where had they been pulled to this time...* \n\nIt hadn't happened for a long, long time. One moment, they were getting ready for bed, brushing their teeth in the bathroom sink while humming a jaunty French tune. The next, they felt a tug at the base of their brain, as something *Cried out.* It was an immediate change; the light dimmed from their eyes, limbs giving out as they fell to the tiled floor, unconscious.\n\nIt had happened often enough to where Uriel knew what to do— raise their arms to protect their head, tuck their neck to avoid a nasty cut on their forehead. It was lucky, then, that they weren't awake for when they finally impacted the floor. When they fell, they opened their eyes to a different place— no, a different *World*. \n\nDark, ominous, *Fear*. The fear rolled off the scene in waves; thick, soul-stopping impulses of panic, the kind of fear that melted your resolve and forced the inner child within to cower and cry for help. \n\nA successful cry for help, Uriel thinks, watching with half-lidded eyes as the monster approaches the figure cowering in bed. \n\n*Oh dear, a nightmare.* It's not spoken by Uriel, but it rings out through the dreamscape nonetheless. It's distinctly *Foreign*, not a product of whatever familiar dream Matti's brain was currently playing over and over. No, it's unexpected, too clear and lucid to be just a figment of Matti's imagination. \n\nIt was apparent something— or someone— else was here. \n\n*Let's do away with this, shall we?* A figure materializes by the door, only the barest details of wispy white hair neatly tied in a braid visible from the darkness of the bedroom. \n\nIn the moonlight, the white almost seemed to glow. For a moment, it looked ethereal. \n\nA small, content hum rings out, as the figure's gloved hands flick the light-switch on. The shadowy mass of creature, before cloaked in the dark, creeping, foreboding corners of the person's vision, is stripped bare of its disguise as the bedroom lights are *Thrust* Onto it."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Mattias blinked against the sudden light, but moreso, the sudden change. He knew what came next, what had come next for thousands of nights in the past. He knew that the not-Mattias was coming, that it would loom over him and try to cry. He tried to wipe phantom shards of glass from his face and— and to his surprise, his hands moved. Caught in the sudden euphoria of freedom and hesitant relief of a monster-less room, he sat up with a start, looking down at his hands and body. His form flickered between the one he knew and the one he remembered, from years and years ago: the child's form, the one who wore no sunglasses and donned no hat, whose hair was pinned up with hair clips and flowers, the one who was every vulnerability Mattias had ever known. The flashing switches gave him vertigo, and he looked away. \n\nMatti was never truly at ease; always some part lurked within him, terrified at the very prospect of the world. Usually that part ruled him, in these nightmares, but now it was silent. Rather than relaxing, Matti felt uneasy. The fear was a predator, one that feasted on his psyche. The only times predators fled was in the face of a larger predator.\n\nMattias looked towards the doorway. \n\nThe figure there was foreign, but familiar the way people in dreams always are. They felt much farther than the scant feet from the bedframe to the doorframe, and simultaneously uncomfortably close, like sitting next to a fire with a blanket on. They were soft, the edges of their existence esoteric and blurred. And most importantly, they radiated a kind of pure power Matti had never seen before.\n\nMattias coughed, if only to prove he could. His voice has hoarse from tightly-held terror and unshed tears as he croaked out- \"*Have I failed?*\" His voice flickered between his own and that of a child's, the two layered on top of one another like twin echoes. \"*Have I failed? Are you here to get me?*\" \n\nThere was only one explanation for a divine being standing before him. He had failed to See, and now he was going to be killed. It made sense— all knowing deities could likely hardly keep defective products around. Still, he distantly wished he knew what he'd done wrong. Making friends with Gabriel and Margo, possibly. *Interfering*. He kept his eyes cast to the ground, unwilling to meet the angel-creature's eyes. He felt no fear. It was probably futile in the face of an existence that could kill him with a thought. It was... Nice, though. In his dreams, he was always scared. It would be nice to die calm, feeling safe."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "With the creature vanquished, disintegrated by the sheer force from the bedroom light, Uriel turned to look at the figure sitting upright. \n\nWhoever it was, their voice wavered as terror temporarily took hold. They could *Sense* It, the shadowy edges of the dream creeping back in as the mental state of the source began to waver. \n\nIt wouldn't do, not at all. Their snow-white eyelashes fluttered closed for a the briefest of moments, before the dream changed with Uriel's whims. \n\nThe pull of a string visible to only Uriel; a deep orange one emblazoned with the word *Comfort*. As they began to weave, the sun began to rise in the sky, filling the room with a warm, almost nostalgic light. The shadows grew less harsh, gashes of deep black washed out and softened like a Polaroid left in the sun. Sweet, sepia tones, the faint buzzing of bees and the quiet lulling of an early Sunday afternoon. \n\n\"*You're safe,*\" Uriel approached the figure like one would a nervous cat— slowly, softly, with hands raised to signal that no harm would be done to them.\n\n\"*You're safe, the shadows are no more. You may rest your weary soul. There is nothing to fear.*\" They take a seat on the edge of the flickering person's bed— a small pull, and the name *Matti* Floats to the top of their consciousness, a faint murmur spoken by an unknown, garbled mix of adult voices. \n\n\"*You're safe, Matti. There's nothing to fear, alright?*\"\n\nLow, soothing, delivered with their heavy French accent. Hopefully, the constant reassurance that there was nothing to fear would quell the terrified expression on the other's face."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Almost against their will— but no, this was the will of the angel, so they didn't resist— they felt comfort and calm seep down into their bones, settling them. Their body stopped flickering, and in their mind they saw themself small. Not as small as the child with butterfly clips in their hair, but not quite the teen who covered their face to hide from the world. *When did you feel safe?* The angel's tapestry seemed to ask. *When did you last feel **Safe***? And then they were ten, maybe twelve. Black hair ties around their wrists, fingers smudged with bright ink. They were nervous, but they didn't shrink from everything. \n\nTheir bedroom had never been this way— soft with light and color. Maybe that's what made it feel safe, now. The world was ethereal, blurred from the edges of their dream. It was like nothing they'd ever known.\n\n\"You're not here to kill me,\" They said, in the matter-of-fact way they did when they were ten or maybe twelve. \"Are you? I thought you might be, because I failed my mission. To watch. But you probably wouldn't go through all this trouble to make me feel better if you were just going to kill me. To end the nightmare. So what do you want?\" \n\nThey paused, and their mind was fuzzy. Muddled. Someone who was protecting them. Who made them feel safe. Who knew their name. Looking at the figure, a connection refused to be made within their mind. Something they weren't realizing. Maybe...?\n\n\"Are you my god?\" They asked. \"The one who chose me?\"\n\nThe thought was fuzzy in their mind. Maybe they should be kneeling? That seemed like something to do, when you met god. Even if the figure was only an angel (*Only an angel, what a sentence*), it felt... Heretical to converse with them casually. They kept their eyes down, traced the outline of an eye on the back of their hand."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel blinked in bewilderment as Matti began to talk. Whatever they had been expecting to come from the kid's mouth, it wasn't *That.* For a moment, the dream stuttered, buffering like a video with poor connection— until their confusion subsided, and the scene returned to normal.\n\n\"A god? No, no, I'm nothing of the sort.\" A polite, airy laugh, and Uriel covered their mouth in amusement as they crossed their leg over their other. What Matti said wasn't funny, but the insinuation they were something derivative of divine caught them off guard enough to force a laugh from their sternum. \n\n\"You... Hm, I suppose it would be accurate to call me your classmate.\" They let out a small, nonchalant hum, idly toying with the scenery in tandem with their tiny tune. The dream was *Moving*— constantly shifting, the edges ebbing and flowing like a tapestry gently waving in the wind. \n\n\"As for why I'm here...\" A red string wrapped itself around Uriel's finger, knotting against their knuckle before fading away and dissolving into their skin. As it dissolves, the edges of *Uriel* Begin to solidify, the separation between their form and Matti's mind becoming more distinct, almost jarring against the watercolor-like background of the hazy summer afternoon.\n\n\"Would you believe me if I said I got lost?\" \n\nIt wasn't inaccurate— they were pulled somewhere unfamiliar and strange, forced to bear witness to emotions and events that didn't belong to them. Things they *Shouldn't* Have seen, things that were best laid tucked neatly under the floorboards or next to the skeletons residing in the closet. \n\nThey watched Matti with pallid, quiet eyes, waiting with baited breath for how the other would react to the news."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Oh. *Oh.* Of course. There was no way a *God* Would come down for the sake of someone like Mattias, even if only in a dream. But if they were no god, and from the sound of it, not an angel either, they had to be human. More accurately, *Parahuman*. An angelic parahuman, who \"Got lost\" And stumbled into their dream: in other words, immensely powerful. Matti felt sick to their stomach. \n\n\"*Uriel?*\" They gasped for air, panic sloshing in their stomach and making them dizzy. \"You're- you're *Uriel?*\" \n\nThis, *This* Was a death they were not ready for. To die for their god, because of their incompetence, it was an honor, and a punishment they deserved. But to die here? At the hands of someone they had tried dutifully to avoid, that they'd attempted to prevent from angering, from talking to at all— *They had done everything right*, why was Uriel still here? \n\n\"*Please,*\" They choked out, lungs once again heavy and still. \"*Please don't kill me. I'm not done. I promise- I'm not done.*\" If their god was watching, maybe they'd intervene. Matti still had work to do, if they weren't gone by now. But, but, maybe they'd *Been* Watching, and they'd been insulted. That Mattias confused Uriel for whoever they were. They cast their eyes skyward, as if they could stare into the popcorn ceiling that haunted their dreams and be absolved of sin, like the sunlight that streamed through the window could be a kind of new baptism, bathing them with light. *Please. Not like this.* Their eyes were creased closed. They hadn't tried to use their Sight, and wouldn't, not if it would eliminate whatever slim chance they had to get out of this alive. \n\nMattias' form flickered again, back in their body. Tall, and clumsy, and so very afraid. Blood welled from where their nails dug into their arms, hunched over, and the droplets glittered in the dying sunlight. In their heaving breaths, their head bowed, and vaguely Matti felt as a criminal might, placing their head under the blade of the guillotine."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"You seem shocked. Why?\" Uriel's head tilted, low, French-accented voice barely more than a murmur.\n\nSomehow, it seemed the news that they were not, in fact, a divine being made Matti's mental state *Worse.* In fact, as Matti began to hyperventilate, the thought suddenly struck them: the news that they were *Uriel* Seemed to scare Matti more than the nightmare did.\n \n\"You know my name, and what I do— and yet you're still under the impression I would harm another person.\" White eyebrows knitted together, pulling Uriel's face into an expression of discontent. \"Is that what the people here say about me?\"\n\nNot just harm— Matti was under the impression Uriel was a *Killer*, someone who would attack an innocent in the confines of their own mind. It sent shivers down their spine, a familiar type of sickness clawing at the confines of their stomach and turning their insides out. Being doubted, being *Feared*— perhaps someone weak of heart would revel in the feeling of inspiring fear, but Uriel dreaded their moments of accidental voyeurism. \n\nHow many times had this scenario played out before? People screaming at them, pleading for them to *Get out of their head, please*, before waking up and cowering from them? Or, worse, hearing whispers about the weird, albino child who lived at the edge of town and turning defensive; old, worn, grizzled hands of a father pushed over the edge by his daughter's complaints of being watched in her sleep, in her *Head*, pointing at tiny Uriel and screaming to *Stay the fuck away from my family, and the rest of this town while you can.*\n\nNo. Uriel shook their head, scattering whatever memories laid at the end of those stray threads of thought. It wasn't the time to dwell on matters of the past, only focus on the present. \n\n*Do they all fear you behind your back...?* \n\nDespite Uriel's best efforts, the age-old question bubbled up to the surface of their head, and they couldn't quite bring themselves to look away from it."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti shook with the effort of staying still— it was almost like some large, cosmic joke that they weren't a part of. In their nightmares, they trembled with effort to move. Here, they were doing all the could to freeze themself in place. Uriel was powerful, and powerful people were cruel and dangerous. But now, in front of them, they sounded... Sad. And concerned. \n\nStill, they understood what Margo and Gabe had meant now. In this moment, it felt like they would do *Anything* To suck in even one more dream-air filled breath, to live to wake up and clutch their pillow and cry like they usually did. Even lie. But if they were going to die anyway (it didn't *Sound* Like they were going to die, for some reason. Maybe Uriel was bound by some restriction. Maybe *They* Were being controlled, directed, just like Matti was), they'd rather not betray themself in their last moments. \n\n\"No one says anything about you. Margo said good things. Said that you were kind. I assumed she'd been—\" It sounded stupid now that they were being forced to say it out loud, but still they pushed the words from their lips, and it felt like a dam was broken. Like ears popping after an altitude change. \"I assumed that she'd been manipulated, since she wasn't lying. You use a façade, and I know— knew, I knew that nothing good lied. Nobody good. And I knew you were powerful. It wasn't that hard to connect the dots. But.\" Matti paused. This part, they had not had time to think about. There were no pages of reliable dark blue ink to fall back on, to catch them and guide their words. Still, some incomprehensible power seemed to keep their thoughts flowing from their mind to their mouth, still trembling, speaking in a rush of breath and inference.\n\n\"I might be wrong. I assumed— everyone I've ever met before with power, they hurt. Hurt you with it. It doesn't matter who you are, or who they are. You mentioned in one of your messages you knew about pulling stitches in a fight. So. You were powerful, which is dangerous, and you'd fought before.\" \n\nThey inhaled, a stuttering intake of breath that seemed to pull in their whole body in addition to just air. Mattias forced themself to look up, and try to meet Uriel's eyes. They couldn't, ultimately, but in the normal way they couldn't look at anyone most of the time. \n\n\"People don't. Tend to want me alive. Or able to speak. If they know what I can do. I thought that since you were here, you might be coming to kill me. If you're not god, I mean.\" \n\nAs they exhaled, they shed some sort of invisible skin that had been wrapped around them, their shoulders settling and tremors finally subsiding the longer they spoke (the longer they remained alive *To* Speak). \n\n\"You're not god, or from them, right? You said you weren't, but—\" They cut themself off, sudden strange boldness faltering. It was... Disappointing, now that they weren't in imminent danger of death. At least if their god had come to kill them, they'd be *There*, present, and speaking. At least they'd be, well. Paying attention to them. Even within the containment of their dream, Matti could feel the blurring of their form, the paranormal tendency to fade into the background amplified by their surroundings. \n\n\"Never mind. You're... Not terrible. Terrifying, I mean. I don't *Think* You'll kill me, after meeting you.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Margo said good things.* It's the tiniest comment, but the parts of Uriel's brain stressing over familiar anxieties latch onto the soundbite with tiny clutches. Instantly, their old internal monologue about being feared dissolves, fading back into the darkest recesses of Uriel's mind. It's quelled for now, but they knew it would come back eventually, when their state of mind faltered— it always did.\n\n\"Fought before...? Pulling stitches?\" Uriel thinks to themselves, gloved hand on their chin as they attempted to recall the old intranet conversation. \n\n\"...Oh, I see. You mean *This*.\" \n\nThere was a small bit of hesitation as they lifted the edges of their shirt and poncho up to their stomach, a faint dusting of embarrassment discoloring the tips of their ears. It was worth it to quell Matti's anxieties about their character, but... The motion was strange and foreign, and it wasn't aided by the fact Uriel didn't particularly *Enjoy* Revealing the scar. It was an ugly thing, a dark, discolored *Dent* On their hip, marring otherwise pallid and smooth skin. The mark of poorly done stitches marred and disfigured the edges of an old injury's ghost, the memory of pain leaving its physical mark on Uriel's body. \n\n\"These are the stitches I was referring to. It wasn't a fight in any sense of the word.\" They can barely force the words out, the attempt to voice a memory long buried deep tinting their voice with smooth, low bitter-sweetness.\n\n\"I was young. I peered in on a classmate's dream, and saw she was being... Hurt, at home. I confronted her the next day, pleading with her to seek the authorities after her class had let out, and...\"\n\n*And I failed.* The continuation is on the tip of Uriel's tongue, only held at bay as they abruptly clear their throat, the sudden noise cutting through the heavy silence like a knife.\n\n\"I pushed too hard. She became panicked. The possibility of being removed from her family, dysfunctional as it was, must've sparked a fight or flight response. She had scissors in her hand, and the next moment... I don't think she truly realized what she did until afterwards, when she ran away and cried. I stitched myself up, but they were a poor job, shoddy from the adrenaline and pain in my system. I ended up tearing them in my sleep, and my mother had to send me to the hospital.\"\n\nTimid hands slowly lower their shirt back down. \n\n\"It's a testament, more than anything— a promise, a reminder of what happens when you try and pry in places where you don't belong. People fear things who know too much, and that terror can so quickly turn into anger. It seems that you know that fact, too.\" \n\nMatti's views on people with power were familiar. Too familiar, aching Uriel's heart with displeasure and sympathy forged through years of tiptoeing around other people and their confusing, strange emotions.\n\nThey reached a small hand out towards Matti; not touching them, not close to, but a gentle hand placed on the surface of the bed halfway between the two. A gesture brimming with sympathy yet halted by the fear of overstepping, of discomfort caused by the already intense intimacy of being in someone else's head.\n\n\"I couldn't kill you while in your dreams, if that's any consolation. There's no possibility I could harm you physically in this world. Or in any other world— I'm quite weak, after all.\"\n\nThey attempt a breathy hum of amusement, if only to hammer in how ludicrous it would be for them to harm someone else. Uriel doesn't mention the importance of the word *Physically* In their sentence— they're positive it would spark nothing but resentment and terror in the other, and they weren't too keen on reminding Matti about the vulnerabilities someone being inside of your head truly entailed.\n\nIt might have been Matti's mind, but it was *Their* Realm— and the less that fact went noticed, the better."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*People fear things who know too much, and that terror can so quickly turn into anger.*\n\nAnd god, if Mattias didn't know the gravity of those words. They fought against a whirlpool of memories, each one aching to make them feel sympathy for the person in front of them who had clearly gone through similar things. Matti had been, comparatively, lucky. They'd been relatively young, with few physical incidents, when they'd learned to keep their eyes closed and mouth shut. They glanced at Uriel's hand with a wary, hopeful gaze. They hadn't missed the implication— the one that while Uriel couldn't hurt them *Physically* They could hurt them *Mentally*. But they appreciated the combined attempt at consolation and honesty. Uriel was dangerous, that much was true. But, maybe. \n\nMattias mentally updated their level to a four in their mind. *Doing harm would take effort, with a strong dislike of harming people.*\n\nMaybe it was supposed to feel uncomfortable, having someone else in your mind, driving it, *Controlling* It. Matti wasn't so naïve to believe that this was manipulating their actual psyche, but they were under no false belief that this was *Their* Space. Still, it wasn't as jarring as they'd expected. They felt as though their mind was elastic, stretching to accommodate the energy coursing through Uriel's constructed dream. But it was a familiar kind of stretch, the ritual kind, whenever they Looked. Maybe it wasn't so uncomfortable to have someone invading your head when it happened every day.\n\nThey felt a vague regret. Really, nothing so bad had happened to them yet. Uriel had even stopped the nightmare— something Mattias hadn't been able to achieve in close to eight years of trying. But they'd clearly been... Uncomfortable, and upset by Matti's assumption that they were a killer, and somehow, that they were divine. Mattias still couldn't shake the feeling that there *Was* Something divine about the other person, but then again, they supposed angels couldn't go around telling people their true identity. \n\n\"I'm sorry that incident hurt you. And I'm sorry that my actions— my assumptions— hurt you as well. I can see you're unlikely to harm me, after having interacted with you.\" \n\nThey knew it wasn't... Much. Certainly not as stable as the comfort Uriel had given them. But they couldn't lie, couldn't say that they were sorry every hurt had happened, and that they regretted trying to stay alive."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Hm?\"\n\nThat was unexpected. Matti was apologizing? For what, Uriel could not fathom; Matti hadn't done anything wrong, only reacting to the scenario the same way any human would. Their only conceivable sin — if you could even call it that — had been begging for their life.\n\n\"No, no, please don't apologize. In fact, I believe it would be more worrying if the concept of someone... Ah, wandering into your head while you slept was a normal, everyday affair. It's perfectly reasonable that you'd be taken off guard and frightened.\" \n\nIt was... *Concerning*. Fear brought out the essence of a person, that much Uriel knew first-hand. When Matti felt the imaginary blade of an executioner's axe, their voice had been so, so soft, their eyes unable to meet Uriel's as they apologized for sins not committed and sacred duties not upheld. Uriel saw a part of Matti's soul, and it was *Fragile*. So fragile. \n\nThey couldn't do much, at the end of the day. It wasn't Uriel's place to ask about the guilt that burdened Mattias' psyche, or coerce the other into confronting their nightmares. That was up to Matti, and Uriel was content with playing a supporting role.\n\nThey couldn't do much, yes, *But...*\n\n\"What would you like to see? I know we're still in your bedroom currently, but this *Is* A dream. I can make it anything, before I leave you back to your peaceful slumber.\" Uriel's hands idly plucked at the covers of the bed, and for a moment, they *Shimmered*, revealing their true nature for a split second— not a solid yet constantly shifting piece of fabric, but a series of infinitesimally small interwoven strings.\n\nSlumber. \n\n*Slumber.*\n\nOh, right.\n\n\"...Hm. Now that I say that... I'm reminded of the fact my body is currently laying unconscious on the third floor bathroom.\" Uriel's face forms a perfect O, the sudden care about their current worldly position and the possibility of *Bleeding out on the tile floor* A very obvious afterthought.\n\n.\n\nOh well. They didn't particularly pay importance to the injuries or intricates of their physical body. It didn't matter too much, after all. They were more alive *Here* Than in the waking world, and here, they could be anything. What was their physical body, if not a vessel to cart their mind around? So long as their physical state wasn't in dire condition, the possibility of potential injury from instantly falling asleep failed to spark panic in their mind.\n\n\"I do hope Oliver doesn't have to sweep around me again, or that I didn't drop my toothbrush on the floor...\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Internally Matti smiled, before letting it peek through onto their expression. Considering the nightmare they'd been having before Uriel had arrived— well, it wasn't 'other' people that had invaded their mind as they slept. But their thoughts weren't exactly their own. Still, the denial of their apologies lightened their mood and soothed the rest of their worries, shade on skin cracked and sunburned. *Finally, someone who might understand.* \n\nAnd they seemed so similar, Mattias and Uriel. They both saw things others kept close, things no-one wanted to be seen. The control they had over their powers were limited; Uriel referenced \"Stumbling\" Into their dream by accident. Here. Someone who understood the oppressive terror, the walls piled high to keep trespassers out. The nights staring at their hands, wondering why they only ever seemed to hurt. Looking at Uriel was like looking in a funhouse mirror. A little warped. Light refracting. A reflection of what Mattias could have been. The moments of fear felt alien and distant— ironically, like the foggy notions of a dream. Instead, they basked in the presence of someone who held no ire towards them, who saw what they were and acknowledged it, not for power or obligation, but for the sake of soft feelings buried and resurfaced like a martyr in a thorn crown.\n\n\"*What would you like to see,*\" Uriel had gifted them. The ability to be free, to be safe, even for only a moment. Mattias made eye contact, and couldn't imagine anything else they'd ever wanted. \n\n*Don't hate me,* They asked silently. *When you see everything else that I am.* Uriel glowed like a lightning bug, soft under the dark caress of night. They shone like a thousand, like a swarm, like the quiet-givings over to comforting insignificance. To be one among many, to sleep beneath the protection of a being, not angel but angelic. Matti longed to close their eyes in the presence of this greater mind.\n\nThe bonds they had forged in the past few days were the only treasure they'd ever owned, and they lamented that it couldn't be held in their hands, kept safe or hidden away. This lightness they could covet only in the cavity of their chest, in the place love used to lie, the vacant bed it left behind. \n\nThey stifled a laugh— a real, genuine laugh— swirled it with concern and whipped cream before throwing it into the world. They found another source of kinship there, in the spill of happiness and malt, in Uriel's unmasked surprise at their own disregard. It came at the cost of worry, of the image of their new friend's body still and unmoving on some dirty tiled floor. Part of it itched, and Matti would have ached to wake and find them if it didn't mean sacrificing *This*, the time in the smooth glowing sunlight, in the warmth that spread down their spine. Uriel didn't seem concerned, though, so they let the thoughts retreat slowly into now-comforting darkness. \n\n\"Is it alright for you to be here?\" They asked, partly from courtesy. \"I appreciate your company, possibly more than you could ever know,\" (that was a lie. It *Was* More than they could know, more than Uriel could ever comprehend) \"But I don't want you to be hurt because you were— as I understand it— forced into my dream.\" \n\n*That* Left a bitter taste that they refused to swallow in the back of their throat, the sour remnant of biting a lemon through the peel. The idea that Uriel was here because they had to be, and that all this had been impersonal kindness and nothing more. It was still more than Uriel would give them knowing (*Knowing how they were, all of it*), but Matti guarded it zealously all the same, the way that they stole away the words \"*Margo. Honest.*\" And kept an inking of an empty spotlight nestled at the crook of their arm. They forced themself to relax, slumping shoulders, settling their weight back into the sturdy frame of their bed."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Whether or not it's alright for me to be here is up to *You*, Matti. It is your mind, after all— and therefore, your rules, no?\" \n\nUriel gave Matti a small, amused hum, eyes closing momentarily as their white eyelashes fluttered together. Of course, they couldn't fault the other for not knowing the etiquette of mind intrusion. It was an area of expertise Uriel was uniquely skilled with, as depressing as that was.\n\n\"I'm here to provide whatever is needed of me. If that's a nice chat, or a pleasant dream... So be it.\" Uriel waves a hand, and the ground below the bed begins to fall apart. Green shoots of grass sprout forth from between the wooden floorboards, consuming the land under the two in the thick, mossy forest floor. \n\n*I appreciate your company, possibly more than you could ever know*. They didn't expect to hear such a phrase come out of Matti's mouth, but it was nonetheless something they cherished deeply; a memory, Uriel decided, one they'd tuck deep into their heart and display on a trophy case to look back fondly whenever needed.\n\n\"It's... Nice, to hear you say that. I could say I appreciate hearing that, possibly more than you'd ever know.\" They gave a faint smile at their little joke.\n\nThey were being useful. They were being *Good*. Something odd was happening in their head, Uriel faintly realized; their vision swam, buzzing static elevating to a sweet, soothing drone. It was a decidedly pleasant feeling, and they weren't aware if the butterflies in their stomach were a figment of the dream or a product of the parts of them that clung to the opinion of others. \n\n*A human weapon no longer,* Uriel's internal monologue cooed, *A step closer to being a tool instead.*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*Agency. *That's what this was. Power. Matti was no longer a stranger in their skin, a ghost trapped within a dying body. *Your mind, your rules.* Was that the way it had been, before? Was that the way it could be?\n\nA part of them felt fury, at these precious parts of themself that Uriel gave away. It was taking a berry made from blood— beautiful, and sweet, but brittle in the knowledge of its origin. *This is yours,* They wanted to say. *This is **You**. Why treat it like an obligation?* To cut pieces of their power, of their kindness, and treat it like it was nothing. To provide what was needed? Into how many pieces would Uriel cut themself for the people they truly cared about? *Too many.* Mattias wanted to hunt down every person that had ever asked anything of Uriel and tear them to shreds. And drop them into the ocean. To grab them in iron hands and shake them by their shoulders. To damage someone in the way that made them sacrifice themself— for Mattias, who had shirked all but their own company for years, the thought was inconceivable. \n\nThey suppressed their anger in favor of more pressing thoughts— those of repayment. Every malicious intent Mattias intended to— and had— return threefold. Likewise, in payment for not one but *Two* Gifts, that of their company and of Mattias' own autonomy, they owed an unimaginable debt. \n\n\"Is there anything I can do for you?\" They asked, attempting to convey their sincerity through voice alone. \"I can find hidden things, and see the truth. They're useful skills— I can use them to help you.\" Part of them hoped that Uriel said yes, if only to lessen the burden of their dues. A smaller, quieter part hoped they'd say no. Mattias hushed it with a hand ruffling childish, soft hair. They knew they where their greatest assets lay, and though they didn't make a habit of offering to use them, the reigns of their power were a meaningful gift indeed. This was no obligation— this was trust, and a desire to repay a favor in kind."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"The truth? Why would I be interested in such a thing?\"\n\nA small, airy laugh. The thought of the truth seemed incredulous to Uriel. \n\n\"If people would like to lie... I trust that they're doing so for a good reason. I wouldn't want to force someone to talk about a topic they're uncomfortable with. People know what they want best— and if lying is what's best for them, so be it.\"\n\nOnce, maybe long ago, Uriel might have been tempted to seek the 'truth', to dredge into the depths of people's heads and attempt to uncover some grand *Reason* Why people acted the way they did. Digging up string after string, leaving nothing covered as they watched the expanse of someone's being unfurl beneath them. Perhaps, if they did so, it would make everything easier; the strange creatures which walked around on upright legs less mysterious and foreign to Uriel's mind. \n\nIt was a dangerous desire, one they quickly quelled as they matured. Everyone had their reasons to hide what they did, and who was Uriel to shine light on what was hidden? Even if they had the ability to do so, it didn't give them the right.\n\n\"And even if something isn't factually accurate... Does that make it a lie? Does a concrete, objective 'truth' even exist, or do we all have our own truth, our own realities that are true to *Us*?\" Uriel's grey eyes twinkle with amusement. \n\nThe statement was confusing and illogical, yes, but for someone who operated on dream-logic it was almost obvious. The lands that dominated the space inside people's heads were reflections of reality; not a one-to-one copy, but representations of the warped perceptions people carried about the world. \n\nThey were true, in and of their own right. To dismiss a dream just because it was a 'lie' would be unfathomable. Concepts like truth and lies; they were strange, meaningless words, ones with no power in this realm."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Mattias...\n\nMattias thought...\n\nTheir mind blanked.\n\n\"You don't... Care?\" The words were strangled out of their throat, and if they were a cartoon character their color would surely be fading as their brain deteriorated into loosely sketched lines. Not caring about lying. About the truth. It wasn't a concept that had ever occurred to them before, and the moment it did they wished it hadn't. Not understanding, they could at least, well, understand. But not *Caring*? If they had less control over their facial expressions, their jaw might have physically dropped. What about the *Lying*? What about *Trust*? What about being *Safe*?\n\nThe concept of *No* Truth was more horrifying, exponentially so, made much worse by the fact that when they thought about it, it explained. A lot. If two people, each believing *Their* Realities to be the one true version of events, were to both state their renditions, they'd be. They'd be telling the truth, wouldn't they? Even if the accounts conflicted, they would *Both* Be the truth, which meant there was no *Singular* Truth, which meant—\n\nMatti's head hurt like it did watching things spin for too long. Dizzy, on the verge of toppling over. \"I'm so confused.\" They whispered breath shaking in near-hysterical laughter, burying their face (burning with mental effort and, more importantly, embarrassment) into their hands. They pushed their glasses up and over to fall onto the bed. In their mind, an alien figure with a corkboard and red string ran in circles, pinning evidence and arguments and counter-arguments. \"How can you— do you really just. Not care?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel clamored onto the foot of the bed, sitting on their knees a good foot from where Matti flopped over. \n\n\"Should I?\" They ask, tilting their head and placing a finger on their chin. \"Maybe it's weird, I suppose, but... No, I don't particularly care about the truth.\" \n\nIt certainly seemed as if Matti found their outlook odd, opting to curl in on themself and double over laughing. \"There, there.\" Uriel muttered, placing two swift pats on the top of Matti's head. They could sympathize; contemplating the nature of a concept integral to your abilities could shake someone to their core.\n\n\"It's a... Bit scary to think of, but it's freeing, too. People are who they are, and they say what they say. There's no more worrying about bad or good, honest people or liars... Just people, and their actions.\" Uriel smiled over at Matti, the sepia tint of the room pulsating in intensity. Light browns, washed-out blacks now a navy blue... The room was drenched in an old, faded aesthetic. \n\n\"Does that worry you?\" Their accent grows thick as white eyelashes flicker over at Matti's, brief concern growing on their face."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*Does that worry you?* Would the sun suddenly burning out and going dim worry them? Would the sky shattering into a thousand pieces *Worry* Them? Uriel's face was kind, curious, unchanged. Another laugh hiccupped up into their palms, and their form shook with silent wheezes for a while until they had time to sit up fully and catch their breath. \n\nThis must have been why the two had crossed paths. For the kindness, maybe, for the earthquake they'd somehow stumbled into. *Oh, god,* They sent their thoughts outwards (they didn't believe in skywards, or heavens, or rather didn't know or care to know), with a hint of stale, leftover mirth quickly spoiling into weariness. *What a fool I must have looked.* What a fool, indeed. \n\nTheir brain ached with overcapacity, longing for the last few steps of the typical dance of *Nightmare, still, wake up, cry, go about your day, observe, write*— writing, oh god, they'd need to write all of this down. Sooner rather than later. Mattias raised their head with the politeness of a tired homeowner hosting a party, and sighed. \n\n\"It... Does worry me. Quite a bit. And I may need some time to think about it outside of the dream...\" They tried to keep their tone light and neutral, flatting their tongue to the roof of their mouth to prevent it from becoming a disaster of questions. \"Do you know how to leave?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Of course I know how to leave. I'd be a bit of a poor dream-weaver if I couldn't, no? It's actually quite simple, really.\"\n\nUriel looked around the dream, facing away from Matti. The edges of the bedroom began to fade, the water-color edges dissolved into a transparent mist. It was a slow process, but entropy was inevitable— sooner or later, everything would crumble into dust, including the fragment of sepia-tinted childhood memories. \n\nThe mist devoured more, the boundaries of the dream and *Everything else* Contracting onto the bed laid in the center. It was just them two, now. Everything else— the good, the bad, the popcorn ceiling and the wooden floor and the remnants of an ever-present monster faded into oblivion.\n\n\"You *Wake up.*\" \n\nUriel looks back at Matti, and smiles. \n\nThe sound of a snap is the last thing they hear before both Uriel and Matti are thrown into consciousness. \n\n—\nUriel blinks awake, their grey eyes opening to... Darkness. Complete, pitch black darkness, the only source of light being the streaks of yellow around the frame of the door. They shift their weight onto their legs, groaning as the handle of a broom *Whacks* Them in the face. As they raise their arms, Uriel knocks over more cleaning equipment, a loud *Crash* Sounding as the contents of the closet fall onto them.\n\nAh. They were moved here, most likely to make way for the cleaning crew to tidy up the bathroom— or maybe someone took pity on them, and dragged their body somewhere safer. \n\nWho knew? Uriel certainly didn't, and as they came out of the closet, they couldn't help but have their thoughts drift off towards their fateful encounter."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti blinks. \n\nThey pull the covers off of their shoulder, and cast their eyes again to the popcorn ceiling. \n\n*One. Two. *\n\nTheir breathing is stable. Their mind is humming softly, like a radiator, but awake in a soft way it rarely ever is. The morning is quiet. They pull their old, cracked laptop out from beneath the bed, and their mind wanders as it boots up. To a not-god not-angel, to an empty memory bathed in pink and orange. To something concrete, with the edges of forgetfulness around it. To a friend. \n\n\"*Uriel Melançon-*\", they type, \"*I'm tired of scratching out notes I make after I find people are better than I thought they were.*\"\n\n============================"
}
] | 451 | 10,232 |
303.538462 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Want me to start or you? :^0"
},
{
"author": "graveyard_bones",
"message": "He wasn't expecting this already. \n\nDakota let out a breath, one that he hadn't realized he was holding for a little too long. He fiddled around with his phone, clicking the ringer more than he could've counted, feeling a sense of dread creep up upon his spine. He felt chills crawl over his body. \n\nHe shifted his glance over to the mess on his desk, brown-stained papers lied out neatly to make sure all the work he had done towards learning a language so in-depth wasn't gone to waste. He remembered pushing everything off to the side, some of the notebooks falling on the floor; he wasn't too fond of it, but it had been a while now — well... He *Was* Stuck in bed for the past couple of days. \n\nHe eagerly stood up, sliding the phone in his pocket. He had finally come to terms how dirty his room actually was — it was void of personal items but filled with books and papers. Anything to keep his mind off of any terrorizing thoughts. \n\nHe took his time, crouching down and stacking what he could properly, picking up pens and throwing them in an empty drawer in his desk, hearing the items inside rattle when he slammed it shut. After feeling as if his desk sufficed, he moved over to kicking any clothes into a corner — which were completely devoid of any color except for a dull red that didn't even match him. A dirty clothes corner was normal, right?\n\nHe huffed, feeling as if this was at least presentable enough for the person showing up. He nervously pulled at his fingers, rubbing his thumb over the top of his hand. He mumbled something in his native tongue, already feeling sweat form on his palms. \n\nHopefully they didn't find him weird. Regardless, something to soothe his sweet tooth sounded nice. He couldn't stop a small smile from forming."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Chillier evenings had been had, attempts more unsuccessful. \n\nSigrún hummed peacefully along her leisurely stride down the hall, long fingers looping through the handles of a warm coffee pot and a sizeable mug. Under her arm, a pack of cookies was safely enclosed; there were indeed too many. She could put them back all by herself, of course, *Easy*, but a brief moment of clarity revealed to the blonde colossus that they could be put to better use.\n\nIf she was at all surprised that her earlier stunt had worked, she didn't show it- this was a trip to a friend's room, with snacks and hot dirt juice. That was enough to put anyone in fine humour indeed, wasn't it?\n\nPressing a cold, ringed hand flat against what she hoped was the right door, the kraken girl listened. Papers shuffling, drawers closing, something muttered. She gave him a moment of grace, and then flipped her hand over and rippled her scattered knock across the surface. Her lips curled upward.\n\nHer lucky target would open his door to.. Surprisingly not a very unsettling sight today. A ratty *Alice in Chains* Shirt hung from her toned shoulders over a dusty wine-coloured turtleneck, tucked into black cargo pants with simple chains hanging from a studded belt. Her wide, eerie eyes, ringed in lighter smudges of black, crinkled at the edges when she yawned softly first and smiled; it revealed dark-stained gums and sharp teeth.\n\nSig tipped her cup forward.\n\n\"Hallo! Mug.\""
},
{
"author": "graveyard_bones",
"message": "He was hesitant to place his hand on the doorknob, his heart feeling as if it was ready to leap out of his chest. There was a moment where he contemplated his choice to go through with something as insane as this — at least, he thought it was insane. \n\nHe shut his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before swinging the door open — the first thing he thought of was how intimidatingly *Stupid* The other looked. He tensed up lightly, ever so noticeable to the naked eye. He forced a smile, the previous one having depleted ever since he heard the furious knocks. He crossed his arms, squeezing the sweater to rid of any sweat on his palms. \"*Hello.*\" He mumbled, turning his head to the side. \n\nHe stepped to the side, taking a step back to allow the other to enter. \"*Uhm...*\" He shrugged his shoulders, \"*Other than stopping by to drop off cookies, is there any other reason you are here?*\" He questioned, wrapping his hands around the mug she tilted forward, uttering a simple thank you. \n\nHe took it upon himself to apologize for the mess in his room, letting his shoulders relax after a few minutes. \"*I tried... Taking care of it but there is only so much i can do sometimes.*\" He scoffed, \"*Let alone do i have anything interesting, other than studying.*\" He paused, \"*That is if you like studying.*\" \n\nSmall talk to fill the alleged void dakota thought would help him.\n\nSorry its shorter 😭"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"I, heh. Not particularly, sorry.\"\n\nSig found an adequate place to set down her thing of cookies, and turned back to pour Dakota a (hopefully) nice cup of coffee. It smelled good, at least. She certainly wasn't a great judge. It was difficult to tell where exactly she was looking; her eyes lacked that human focus to them, but they crinkled up at the corners with a glimmer of something familiar enough. She guessed that the state of his room was.. Not new. She didn't mention it.\n\nIt was smaller than hers, but had more space. It didn't look lived-in so much as rotted-in; she had had to stretch her own stuff pretty far to make her side of the dorm cozy enough to pass for a home, but. *Faen*. This kid must be losing his mind in here. He certainly looked antsy.\n\n\"I draw, usually, rather than sleep. That's a lie. I think about making art and then I faff about replaying *Kirby Epic Yarn* Until it's four in the morning and it's just us lunatics left awake blinking at the moon.\"\n\nSigrún's easy stream of blabber was punctuated by a clean bite through a sugary cookie, arms loosely crossed and hips tilted as though she had been here for hours already, that this was a place she relaxed in *Oh, all the time, it's splendiferous*.\n\n\"And, I dunno. There a reason you'd like me to? I wouldn't mind.\"\n\nHer head tilted, and her eyes twinkled inquisitively. Powdered sugar melted on her tongue."
},
{
"author": "graveyard_bones",
"message": "Dakota shuffled off to the side, finding a nice, soft place to sit down on his bed as he watched the creatures movements like a hawk. He was adamant about almost everything, wrapping the sheets around his finger and fiddling with whatever he could get his hands on. \n\nHe huffed.\n\n'invasion of personal space' is what he would call this, but he was aware of his own invitation to bring her into his most personal space, where he completes all his work, where he sleeps, where he does practically everything. \n\nHe narrowed his eyes, \"*Lunatics?*\" It was the first thing he questioned out of everything, \"*Am i a lunatic for saying up too late — i mean, i can't really help it.*\" He brought his hands up, pulling the comforter over his shoulders. \"*I have no idea what 'kirby epic yarn' is.*\" It was his subtle hint towards not being able to connect to sig's odd hobbies. \"*Nor do i draw.*\" \n\nHe found drawing rather *Useless*, not because he didn't enjoy it, but because staring at a blank sheet of paper yielded no results. It was intimidating, it was a waste of time.\n\nDakota only mustered a shrug in response to her question, the words were stuck in the back of his throat. Company sounded nice, to spew away the loneliness that resided in the corner of his room, but, sometimes loneliness was comforting. \"*Sure, i guess.*\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Happily munching away, Sigrún made a slightly unsettling amount of eye contact with Dakota while he spoke. She still wandered, but whenever he opened his mouth to speak, unseen magnets drew her attention in. It may have been noticeable, though, when she put less effort into emoting- her eyebrows rose with less exaggeration, her long legs swung in shorter steps as she paced this way and that. \n\nHe did seem uncomfortable. Perhaps she was laying it on a little thick.\n\n\"Sure we're lunatics. 'We're all mad down here,' *Heh*. I'll tell another time. Don't mind a thing.\" \n\nAnd that was just as true as anything, she thought. Different things were to be minded here. There had to be more to this kid's life than insomnia and hastily-organized stacks of paper. Sigrún had not come to concern anyone with herself.\n\nThick, wavy eyebrows knit into an odd expression, and then peacefully relax. Dakota looked like a little kitten, she thought, wrapped up in his blanket, hair in his face. Kittens were cute, but they liked their personal space. So she plopped down in his chair, propped her knee against the desk, humming something idly. The rings on her fingers jingled against the silver swords hanging from her earlobes.\n\n\"You do much exploring yet? You don't seem to be planning on sleeping tonight,\" Said she, swiping something from the curling streak of red on her cheek. \"Or at all.\"\n\nIf she was indeed going to stay awhile, she might as well know a thing or two about her disgruntled host. A lot could be learned from how one wiled away the twilight. *Heheheh.*"
},
{
"author": "graveyard_bones",
"message": "\"*Lunatics...*\" The word sounded odd as it rolled off his tongues, but there was that thoughtful expression again, as he began dissecting the word into its very roots. He concluded the word meant one very thing: crazy.\n\n*Was* He crazy? Fou. Was that how the others perceived him? \n\nHe was overthinking again.\n\nDakota's glance would rapidly go from the person in front of him to his hands fiddling with the loose string from his blankets. He pulled at it, watching the blanket slowly fall apart at the seems. It was a habit he needed to break — picking at whatever was in his sights, and that included his own fingers. Self-consciousness rose because of this, and he commonly hides his hands in his pockets. It was embarrassing, how red and torn his fingernails and the skin around it was. \n\nWith another light shrug, he only grunted in response. \"*Exploring is...*\" He narrowed his eyes, thinking of one specific that was hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't think of it. Dancing around it was the only option. \"*It does not bring me any joy. It is merely one activity that is... Ah... When you do not enjoy it.*\" \n\nHe felt embarrassed, again. \n\n\"*And sleep? I- i do not know, admittedly.*\" He was being dry in the grand scheme of things, he had to think of something to say, and out of a whim, he was able to think of something. \n\n\"*Why do you look so... You know.*\" He waved his hand lightly, \"*You look like a dead fish.*\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The sound of jingling and *Clink*Ing jewellery ran under Sigrún's intent focus. Her strange eyes bore into her odd friend(?), taking in his fiddling. It struck her that this setting must be strange to insert herself into like she had. Probably. To hell with starting anything reasonably, anyhow.\n\n\"*Heh??*\"\n\nFrom the seated sea creature's suddenly *Very* Animated, incredulous expression crackled laughter, a crunchy wheeze of sorts that one might expect from a sprite or something stealing your lunch or your true name deep in the woods. How straightforward! Sig loved this guy already.\n\n\"Fish, you're right on the money, but whaaat, *Dead*?\" A dreadfully amused snicker. \"*Oh*, I am very much alive.\"\n\nAnd, blink and you'll surely miss it, the dark hollows around her eyes vanished. Sank into her skin, like ink into a sponge. The remaining purplish smudges under her eyes stayed put, but they were far less dramatic. \n\n\"That any better?\" \n\nShe flicked at a thin silver sword dangling from her ear. The corners of her mouth quirked.\n\n\"My brethren are *Krakens*, fry. Sea monsters, creatures of breathtaking, *Maddening* Majesty- I can only hope to properly become what they've given me.\"\n\nHer eyes twinkled as she leaned forward, into the voice of hers that rushed with wonder and delicate vagueness. The taunt was the best part, was it not? She curled her fingers around an armrest, one at a time.\n\n\"I wonder, Dakota... What strange magic lurks in you? If I may be so bold, certainly *Curious*, or... Willing to trade you for the rest of the cookies?\""
},
{
"author": "graveyard_bones",
"message": "Dakota scrunched back for lack of better words, digging the nail from his index finger into the skin around his thumb. \"*Well... Obviously you are alive. I mean... Your appearance doesn't really help.*\" Dakota was one to speak, looking as if something had drained all the color from his skin, with dark bags under his eyes from his insomnia. \n\nThe blanket itself was soft enough to provide some semblance of comfort in the room, especially heat warmth, one of the things he wanted to feel at the moment. He had hesitated before responding to her next question. \"*It was okay before, and it is okay now. I am just having to get used to all these new appearances i am not so used to, you know? I was used to just seeing humans... People... Not ah-*\" He glanced back up, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to make out what type of deep-sea creature sig was. \n\n'krakens'. \n\n\"*Kraken.*\" He repeated, the sudden nickname she had given him piqued his interest; he just *Had* To ask about it. \"*Fry? Are you referring to me when you say that?*\" He blinked, \"*I am not skinny, right?*\" A lack of self-confidence formed, but he figured sig didn't mean it in some sort of bad way. Soon, he thought it was a nice nickname. \n\nHe smiled lightly.\n\nSnapped out of his small trance, he tuned into what the other was speaking of, and struggled to form a response. \"*Music? I? You better keep the cookies then,*\" He dismissively waved his hand. \"*I don't listen to it. The only time i'll listen to music is when i'm forced to.*\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Aww. The kid's smile was sweet. It almost wasn't there, but it pulled her focus from the dust mites trickling through the air, the haziest currents of warmth rushing by her hearts. It felt familiar, and when it was gone, she remembered it.\n\nSigrún giggled at that last part, a hushed, raspy sound. Her skin seemed to glow a shade brighter as her dimples creased, the effect dissolving as her creature eyes opened wide again.\n\n\"Aside from how bone-chilling that statement was— I meant *Magic*. You're in the same box as the rest of us alive not-humans, so... Perhaps magic's not the right word, then. I have plenty of others! What's your supernatural inclination, your sixth sense, your.. 'parahuman' *Je ne sais quoi*?\"\n\nLeaning back (when had she started leaned forward?), Sig grabbed the rest of the cookies before she ate the rest of the ~~bargaining chips~~ peace offerings and gently tossed the pack toward Dakota's blanket pile. \n\n\"Sugary goodness, for your secrets?\""
},
{
"author": "graveyard_bones",
"message": "\"*Bone-chillling? What about that is bone-chilling?*\" Needless to say the teenager was confused at the moment, \"*I just don't like music, it's obnoxious.*\" He shrugged it off, dakota had never liked a lot of sound in the first place, and music only added to that dislike. \n\nMagic — specifically *His* Magic — is what she was interested in. Dakota felt embarrassment settle in due to his dozing off and misinterpertation of what sigrun was trying to ask of him. \"*My magic.*\" He pondered, dazing in and out again. \"*Oh.*\"\n\nSuddenly, dakota leaned forward and grabbed the pack of cookies. He shook the pack lightly, examining the baked sweets inside almost as if he was attempting to pick the perfect one. Ultimately, he didn't want anyone and he tossed the pack back. \"*It's kind of boring, really — compared to everyone else's that is. My sweat is very cold, and it freezes things, so if i want to freeze a lot of stuff then i have to drink a lot of water.*\" He went on. \"*It's pretty simple. It's also why i'm cold a lot of the time.*\" \n\n\"*I don't really like sweets either.*\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The cookies vanished from sight. Pulled from the space between Sigrún's back and the chair, a limb— its shape and colour not to be noticed, only that it was lined with round suckers— curled around the plastic and then both were gone, with nary an acknowledgement of it on her face as she listened.\n\nDakota was reasonable, in ways she had evidently yet to consider; unfamiliarity was the hook in her cheek, his reel steadier than she gave away. It seemed that as soon as she started paying attention to him fully, her face turned to cast lead— that was, he would likely find, an impression not to be trusted.\n\n\"Oh, but that's hardly boring,\" She said, matter-of-fact. \"Simple, yes, but I doubt even that- handy, too. Do you know how *Cold* You have to be to freeze salt water? Colder than fresh water. That's impressive.\"\n\nSig's fingers, glinting with silver, played with her earring some more as her pace picked up. She, evidently, had less of an aversion to sound— it was quieter now, though, the pad of her thumb catching the loudest *Clink*Ing sounds before they reached her host's ears.\n\n\"I'm cold too. Built for deep water. I'm better at oxygen than human bodies, but, *Ehh*, not so good at warmth— is that why you're sick? Being cold makes your sinuses bad at stopping sickness. Something about mucus. I got a *Wicked* Fever when I arrived here.\""
}
] | 326 | 3,946 |
325.157895 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*FROM THE TOP NOW-*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "I'm illiterate what"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Are you restarting from the Very Very Top or just like."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "I think the first few messages were fine? .\n\nMight edit a little bit but otherwise good stuff\n\nWelllllllll lemme reread"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "I think the first two or three are good but I don't like what I did after 😭"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "\"Therapy\" Had taught Mattias Gates a great many things. The first, that they were, to some degree, safe at Newton's Cradle. The second, that they were a person. A life independent of their inglorious purpose, a consciousness, a choice, a (para)human. The third was that there were people who cared about them. And that those people could be trusted and treasured. \n\nIt was the third reason they'd come here, why they remained after near seven hours standing in front of a closed door. They'd been watching \"\"Owen Edris\"\" For a while, even before they'd been taken to be interrogated, and come to the conclusion that he was strange. He could manifest fire. He was clumsy to a degree that should almost be impossible for an actual human being. And he was close to Uriel, a proximity and insidious trust-building that could only mean he intended to hurt them. Matti had meant what they'd said down in the room, to Blazer. Any threat to Uriel was a threat to themself. . \n\nThey figured if they intended to kill \"\"Owen\"\" (or more likely just to scare him into rethinking whatever plans he had for their friend) they should start early. Psychological warfare was efficient, and would lend credibility to later threats. They'd sit outside his dorm, wait for him to exit, and tell him in no uncertain terms that should he hurt Uriel, his head would fall to the weight of their flashlight. The plan was simple and clean within the confines of their mind, with a neatness that should have been a warning sign in itself. \n\nAfter hours— *Many* Hours, not risking to sit or move or take a break for fear that they'd miss his departure, Mattias was tired. They swayed slightly on their feet, their vision fuzzed from behind the dark tint of their glasses. *Maybe another day*, they reasoned. Yes, that was a good idea. If \"\"Owen\"\" Didn't come out soon, they'd leave and try again later."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen was about as awake as he could be before breakfast. Last night's rain gave way to a pleasantly chilled wind through his open window; it kissed his back ever so sweetly as he lay on his carpet before deciding to get up. The best sleeps, he thought, were the ones that he awoke from in a disgruntled but well-rested heap on the ground. *It's a wonder that that doesn't happen when Uriel's over. Hah, even they might run out of patience for me if I dragged them out of their beauty rest like this.* A wonder indeed.\n\nThrowing on a black *Motörhead* Shirt with the sleeves hacked off, thrice-repaired cargo pants, his bullet belt, and his favourite studded bracelet did nicely for today. Ares had once called this outfit his \"Karate Kid Villain Fit,\" And he couldn't *Disagree*... \n\nA cursory glance at the mirror hung at eye-level, and he was off to the bathroom with his hairbrush to tame this mane of overgrown copper. Just the routine click of the door opening, and he *JUMPED OUT OF HIS SKIN-*\n\n\"**AaAAA?!!**\"\n\nThis kid was *Way* Too close, and *Not moving*- the boy who hadn't wiped enough sleep from his eyes for this gripped the hairbrush white-knuckle tight in front of him, a familiar shell of heat shooting out from his arms and chest and resting over his clothes. Its glasslike, almost-liquid facets shifted and zipped, crackling in surprise. His face, frozen in an expression of shock, seemed to.. Not know what to say here. Owen's eyes, cracked wide, tried to take in the sight before him, but getting sucked into the dark glasses somehow boring holes into his skull. *Gulp.*\n\n...Were they.. Twelve??"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*Oh thank god*. \"\"Owen\"\" Had finally woken up and moved outside. The startled scream he'd let out had been slightly startling, but Matti wasn't sure they had the capacity to move or flinch. A side effect from standing stock still for the better part of a good night's rest. Rapidly gathering themself into some form of competence, Mattias glared from under their glasses. Their blue, slightly discolored flashlight was gripped in their left hand. \n\n\"'Owen Edris',\" They spoke, voice flat and low as to not betray any of their thoughts (still racing and half fallen into sleeping). \"Cease, or perish.\" \n\nWell, it was perish or be lightly maimed, but it wasn't like Mattias could add that after the fact. If they could have a do over, be slightly more alert when \"\"Owen\"\" Finally opened the door, they would have put something about the maiming. A good threat was specific, they'd learned. Though upon first glance (this was technically the first time they'd spoken, and thus the first time Matti was able to observe \"\"Owen\"\" Up close), \"\"Owen\"\" Had seemed suitably frightened by their presence alone. It made the long wait worth it, and internally they preened. \n\nAfter a dramatically long pause, they spoke again. \"Your sinister machinations against Uriel have not gone unnoticed. Withdraw your manipulations of ill intent, or be judged.\" \n\nIt sounded like something someone from a movie or a Greek myth might say, which meant it was probably a good warning. Their purpose complete, Mattias' fatigue finally started to catch up to them. Their legs held up by sheer force of will, but their eyesight began to grow fuzzy the longer they stayed standing. \"Be judged,\" They echoed, putting as much spite and vitriol as they could muster (which was, at the moment, not very much) into their tone."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before it released anything.. Intelligible. To say he was baffled was a sore understatement. This wasn't the sort of thing that, well, people *Said*. And, certainly, it wasn't what he was expecting from an innocent bond with a classmate (???). *Did they seriously echo that last bit?*\n\n\"P-pardon??\"\n\nThe befuddled boy now planted uncomfortably in the open doorframe had heard their unnerving words perfectly clearly, and certainly hoped he didn't understand them as such, but, *Damn*, he did not have the wherewithal to process them this early. Early as in 'before noon,' really, but still *Early*.\n\nEyes cracked wider, and hand desperately twirling the hairbrush, Owen got a better-ish look at his accuser. Shorter than him. *Very* Sure of themselves. Wearing a hat indoors. The heavy-lidded look of exhaustion blended too well with the defiant glare of someone evidently at the end of their rope, to the point where Owen couldn't tell which was which, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't making him a little nervous.\n\nIt wasn't rational, of course- some part of Owen knew that, that this ..*Kid* Had more nerve than proof of anything, but the cogs behind the sun-spiced brown eyes darting around the jarringly quiet scene couldn't help but spin themselves a yarn and a half about all the ways they could be right.\n\nThe cinnamon-smattered boy's always-pounding heartbeat quickened, and his brows pinched into a haplessly confused scowl as he waited on *Something* To work with."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Seeing Owen's obvious confusion was, really, the footnote to a long list of evidence Mattias Gates had been gathering labelled with a largefont title that read \"Maybe He's Not So Bad\".\n\nItems approximately 1-35 on aforementioned list were general instances of \"Dumbassery\" (as Gabe called it). Tripping down stairs. Falling out of trees. Going to the same wrong classroom twice, in the span of a few minutes. Putting a metal spoon in the microwave. Forgetting to turn the lights off when leaving a room (which wasn't stupid, just in bad taste).\n\nThat wasn't necessarily to say Matti believed Owen to be a fool— on the contrary. They'd witnessed some almost startling moments of wit. It was just. It was kind of difficult to continue suspecting someone of being an evil mastermind out to get your friends when you'd watched them walk straight into a table. Twice. (And that had been *After* The thing with the tree). \n\nWith the very quick and dawning realization that the would-be schemer did not *Have* Any suspicious schemes, Matti was just as suddenly confronted with the fact that they now had no reason to be here. And that they'd already started on the threats and stuff. They let the awkwardness hang in the air for a few minutes and very briefly wished that they could make people fall asleep like Uriel could, so that they could leave and convince Owen that this was all a dream. Instead, they scrambled for something to continue the conversation in a way that made them look any slight bit less strange. \n\n\"You're Uriel's friend,\" They opened, trying to inject as much confidence as they could (and halfway succeeding). They'd witnessed people (Gabe) get away with a lot under the shade of confidence, and with any luck Owen would just go along with the small change in topic. \"Correct?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Y-es? Yes.\"\n\n*The fuck??* Owen didn't know this kid at all- *Had he even seen them anywhere before this?*- but it appeared as though.. They were a little confused. But they knew who he was. And who he was friends with. And which dorm was his. *FffffffffFF-*\n\n\"Have you- have you been stalking me? Wh-\"\n\nA couple of other sentences almost fell from his still sleep-heavy tongue, but the boy's mouth found it could do little more than nervously clamp shut. Owen leaned against the doorframe, coming down hard on his shoulder, still fiddling with the hairbrush. He supposed he might be able to.. What? Knock this kid over? Outrun them? Describe them to the police?? Sweat pricked at the back of his neck.\n\nExhaling shakily and keeping his bewildered expression trained on the Hat Kid, the metalhead cursed that he wasn't very well-spoken on the fly. Ares could make anyone flustered and aggravated enough to cut the small talk short; Uriel could gently coax a myriad of strange things from a surprising number of people simply by giving them that warm, peaceful smile and offering them some tea, and Fin knew how to ask the right questions, lightning-quick and sharp as a tack. Owen, this soon after waking up, was only adept at being totally and utterly lost less than five minutes into a conversation.\n\nHe supposed he sort of had a *Why*- something to do with Uriel, who he was apparently plotting horrible things against, but everything else about this was just...\n\n*Wow. Weird dream I must be having.*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Mattias nodded. Good. Good. This was the right person after all (not that having the *Wrong* Person was a concern they'd had, because that would have been mortifying. More mortifying than the entire interaction already was).\n\nThey considered what they would have done had they found the *Wrong* Person for a few minutes before moving on to more important things. Things such as phrasing \"Technically yes I stalked you, but it wasn't out of malicious intent, except for it kind of was, and then I saw many, many, *Many* Moments I think you would rather I hadn't, and now I'm less concerned you're evil and more concerned about you as a person\". It was a good thought processes. An important internal dialogue. \n\n\"On a technicality, yes,\" They said externally. \"You fell down stairs yesterday, and I think you may have fractured something in your foot. I suggest having it examined by a medical professional.\" (It probably wasn't fractured, but it could never hurt to check. Especially if Owen was likely to exacerbate the injury by knocking into walls, or low set tables). \n\n\"It's good that you are friends with Uriel,\" They continued. \"They need good friends. Friends that do not have hidden agendas. Friends that will not try to bring harm to their emotional, mental, physical, or metaphysical wellbeing.\" The words could be construed as a threat, but mostly they were true. *A final test*, they thought abstractly. *To make sure everything is safe*. \n\nTheir head pounded. Every time they blinked it hurt more. They wondered what it was like to be a snake."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen held out hope, sometimes, that he would one day understand other people without issue. That a person could walk up to him and say something, and it would make a lick of sense, and he would respond with something funny, insightful, *Sane*, at the very least. It seemed, today, that he would need to hang on a little longer. He blinked, and dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. Kept them there for a moment, as he thought.\n\n\"I. I hope I'm one of them. I mean I'd never- I only want them to be happy, because they deserve nice things..\" A heartbeat, and he puffed out his chest a little. \n\n\"I'm their friend.\"\n\nThe groggy boy danced on glaring points of heat- Owen was all too aware that he could promise nothing, that the two of them were definitely capable of hurting each other. The most he could promise, and the least he could hope, was that he would never *Try*. His dear ~~dare he think, *Dearest*~~ friend had had more than enough of people trying to hurt them. They had told him, in their hundred little ways, that he did the opposite- made them happy- and that simply meant too much to discard under a moment of pressure such as this. Owen reminded himself of the feeling of their hand softly squeezing his shoulder, and tried his best.\n\n\"Do you, uh, you need to sit down? You're.. Er.. Wavering.\"\n\nDid cryptic tests from worlds/nerds beyond typically come so... Awkward? Knock-over-by-the-flick-of-a-finger-able? \n\nCautiously nudging his door open a crack more, Owen made what was probably a stupid choice (typical of himself, apparently), but a nice one. *Hell. They already know where I live. And that I sprained my bloody foot the other day. Worst comes to worst, window's open, ah?*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "It was... Strange. Strange, that was the word for it. Not Owen looking like a complete fool declaring the equivalent of his undying affection (friendship, *Friendship*) for Uriel to the mostly abandoned hallway (no, Matti could relate to that, however ineloquently stated). Not the complete change they'd gone through, threatening to feeling almost-calm. Not even the apparent ease with which Owen took the news that they'd been following him. But inviting them in? From anyone else, they'd think it was an unsubtle attempt at manipulation, too crude to dignify a response. Offering them *Comfort*, allowing them an opportunity to attack, after Matti had already proven to be somewhat hostile (or at the very least an unknown). But this was *Owen*. And someway, somehow, that meant something. It made the situation more complicated.\n\nMatti *Hated* When things were complicated.\n\n\"You no longer have to prove yourself, Owen Edris,\" They responded, pushing back at what was very likely a bid to assure Matti that he could be kind. \n\n\n\n\"We are on even terms. We are 'good', as Gabriel says. *You* Are good. For Uriel. There is no need for this.\"\n\nNeed. *Need*. They *Needed* To go back. They *Needed* To sleep. The steps back to their room felt impossibly long, stretching the length of the world like a snake. They wavered. Owen's room would be safer. If they passed out in the hallway, if something *Happened*—\n\n\"A few minutes, perhaps. Just a few minutes. Enough to rest, then I will leave you be.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Uhh. Yeah! There's a plan.\"\n\nWell. If Owen was off his rocker for letting this kid come into his room, then said kid (who he really needed to ask the name of, *Shit*) was utterly unhinged for *Agreeing to it*. A tentative, gentle hand tapped between their shoulder blades as the utterly dumbfounded teenager pushed his door open and closed behind them. They had their pick of places to sit; he took the chair in front of the desk beside his bed, and began filling the room with the sound of his foot bouncing on the floor where the carpet ended.\n\nThe walls of Owen's room were a collage of band posters and string lights, and the floor was clean today. The window was open, letting the mid-morning chill light on the pile of blankets on his bed, his instruments and his amp, a soft, dark blue beanbag chair, and a tower of folded animals on his desk that could not and would not be touched that day. The pile of blankets of the beanbag seemed the best places to sit, but the nervous dweller of this achingly comfortable space wasn't sure if they would make it much farther than the deep red carpet. That was comfortable too, at least.\n\n\"I-\" *No, no..* \"W-what, pray tell, is your name?\" Finally, something reasonable out of him. \"And-and what's this whole 'you are good' thing, what- what *'terms'*?? Did I do something? Just, *What*...\" And he trailed off, his doe-eyed, unintentionally sorrowful gaze like gold-flecked cocoa darting nervously around the glaringly strange presence in his space.\n_ _\n\nOwen wasn't necessarily *Complaining* About being told that he was good. In fact, it embarrassed him a little how tantalizingly delicious it felt to hear, before the sheer *What in the actual ffyc-* Of the context sunk in. No, what was really cheerily nibbling away at him was that he had supposedly had to 'prove himself' in the first place. Winning a game he didn't know he was playing, he mused as he awaited their answer, was just as frustrating as losing; he was clueless, more so than he thought, and if this cryptic messenger didn't cough up a nice and clear, reassuring explanation soon, it would nibble at him further still.\n\nAll that was certainly plastered across his face clearly enough."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "In myth and folklore, names were important. The fey (fae, faeries, and a thousand other names) were said to hold them in particular esteem; to them, names had *Power*. Tangible power. They could be components for spells, points of compulsion, or stolen to set hapless mortals adrift. Of course, they had an actualized kind of weight, names. Legal names to serve as both restraint and identifier. Information gleaned from how they introduced themself, from the ways other people called them. If you were smart enough, or too foolish, names didn't have to be *Magic* To hold the same kind of power found in legend. \n\nSomeone might have argued then, knowing all this, that giving your true name to a person you'd briefly threatened to kill and admitted to not-stalking was a poor idea. Matti, at least, could acknowledge that they weren't in the ideal headspace for threat analysis. Still, they'd introduced themself to every stranger they'd ever met with the same words, the same tone, and the same name. \n\n\"Hello, Owen Edris. My name is Mattias Gates.\" \n\nHabits, perhaps, were not without their own power.\n\nThe words \"Pray tell\" Could have also had some factor in the speed of their decision, they mused as they settled to the ground on an admittedly very nice carpet. It wasn't often that Matti found someone who'd so instinctually indulge their fondness for well-spun words. Their back itched for a wall, but they settled for slumping sideways, positioned so that they could see most of the room. String lights glowed softly, humming with the soft kind of quietness that tended to elude their paranormally enhanced senses. In fact, everything in the room *Felt* Soft in a way that went deeper than its surface. *Like a bird's nest,* They thought idly, mind dipping its feet into what felt like a pool of sleep. \n\nThey pulled their awareness back to Owen. He'd asked for answers, and for all they'd done over the course of the past (few minutes? It'd felt like an hour), he deserved some clarity.\n\n.\n\n\"Everyone is in debt to being good,\" They explained, eyes drifting between half-shut and open. \"To close cases, you have to be a good detective. Everyone is a suspect, until you can confirm they're not.\" *Checking for snakes in the grass*. It'd only been a few months since they'd arrived at Newton's Cradle, no matter how much it felt like a lifetime. Just because the water seemed calm (calm: vigilante killers and strange conspiracies?), that didn't mean there wasn't anything lurking beneath the surface. \n\n\"Uriel isn't good at checking those things. You're friends with Uriel. So I had to make sure. There are horrible people in the world. *Horrible people.*\" It was suddenly important, *Very* Important, that Owen know— \"They're all bad, do you understand? Not everyone can see it. Uriel shouldn't be in danger. You shouldn't be in danger. It's like flies to lightbulbs, though. Evil to good people.\" Matti let their head tip backward, just slightly. It relieved some of the pressure at their temples. \"We're on even terms. You're good. Net positive. No debt.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen wiped sleep from his eyes in quiet disbelief as Mattias sang him their song of debts and caution. He had a big book of myths and legends, as a kid, lines of which were still engraved in the corners of his sight; the boy mused that he had never pictured the beast below the scales with the ostrich feather as wearing sunglasses, nor the sphinx's cliff looking so much like his carpet. It seemed that they made do.\n\n\"Um.\"\n\nThe taller of the two leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs- he had thought, for a moment, that he knew how to respond to all that, but any shred of that nonsense left him the moment he opened his mouth. *Better try again, before the lad(?) just passes out...*\n\n\"I don't- I don't know about that.\" *Gently, Owen, this did start out as a murder attempt...* \"There's a lot of good in people, I think- I try to see it, at least- mm.\" A spotted finger tugged at a loose blue thread in the tear at his knee. \"Seems awfully lonely, doesn't it? You wouldn't be so.. Comfortable? If you had opened with decking me with the flashlight. Thanks for the, ah, fair trial, I s-suppose...\"\n\nOwen had no idea where he was going with any of this. Every word felt simultaneously overwrought and underbaked, dancing around the pieces of their sleep-deprived logic he couldn't help but admit to himself he agreed with. Kind of.\n\n\"Uriel.. We've both got the same affliction, don't we, but I'd say they've got it worse,\" He mused, rocking this way and that in his chair. \"I really wonder how they extend half the hands that they do, but.. They pleasantly surprise me sometimes, with the good they do. It comes so easy, and goes so freely- kindness- they remind me how, um, how good it feels.\"\n\nWould it be too much to say that they inspired him? That they scared the hell out of him, time and time again, but that watching them made him want to be more outwardly kind, that it meant the world to have someone else beside him who still so stubbornly believed in magic?\n_ _\n\nProbably, yeah.\n\nThe redhead fidgeted on, and picked a spot in the corner to direct his hidden lopsided grin toward."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "***CW// talking about starvation and hunger, in kind of depth ***\n\nMatti sat on the floor of the dorm, half-tired and much further to sleep than coherency. Words were letters and sounds, meaning nothing. They lost themself in the quiet buzz of the string lights.\n\nAt some point the words \"Seems awfully lonely, doesn't it\" Tripped out of the mouth of Owen Edris and (as he was prone to doing) fell flat into the cracked concrete structure of Things Not to Talk (or Think) About. \n\nLoneliness was not a stranger to Mattias Gates. It wasn't a friend, either. It would have been antithetical otherwise. No, loneliness and Mattias Gates coexisted in some strange, liminal space between mirrors and empty hallways, like a stranger you see occasionally on the subway and nod to. ||Like this:||\n\n\n\n\n\nThis was the way Mattias Gates wore loneliness. Tighter than skin. Inseparable. \n\n.\n\nMatti shook off their thoughts of loneliness and focused again on what Owen was saying. They caught the words \"Affliction\", \"Good\", and \"Kindness\", and a small part of them wanted to rip open a hole in reality and push Owen into a dimension where things were better. They opened their mouth to say something to that affect, probably about kindness being weakness, but weakness not meaning certain death (at least, not while Matti was around), but something in their overactive mind scratched at Owen's expression, at his gaze, at the way he was talking.\n\nIt was, is, and will continue to be an undisputed fact among those who knew them that Matti wasn't the best at picking up on social cues. If conversations could be counted as road trips and facial expressions, tone, and sarcasm the street signs, they'd still be fucking lost. They'd never learned to drive. Still, there was a difference between an exit number and the glaring, neon lit indicator. Face and eyes and tone— Owen cared for Uriel. To an almost nauseatingly sweet degree. \n\nThey blinked twice, slow in an attempt to push away both the looming realization and unconsciousness. Both were a losing battle. They started to slump against the nearest vertical surface— the wall, possibly.\n\n\"Kindness is good for you,\" They tried to say, forcing the words out in the few seconds before the world turned black, and they finally fell asleep."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "And, just like that, Owen's would-be angel of death passed out, slumped against the wall near the corner of his room. Just past the carpet. They wouldn't even allow themselves that.\n\nThe sight ached to linger on, like a sour memory turning its gaunt, nearly-forgotten face to stare back at him after so long without being summoned. Its eyes weren't cold, dead, and pried wide open in unblinking judgement like many others, or even half of them- this particular frayed string of prisoners in the back of the boy's mind looked just like this. Asleep, nearly peaceful, save for the bags under their eyes and the insistence of their smaller frame on curling inwards, to the corners where they felt smaller still; dust was a friend, but it wasn't a kind one. It was familiar, though- Owen couldn't recall the last time his fingers had turned blue, but even the warmest parts of him could quietly remember what it felt like. The way it gnawed, even when he was sat by the fire. His fingers brushed the back of his neck, distantly relieved to brush against sweat.\n\n*You could have sat on the chair, or even the carpet. It would have been more comfortable. It would have been fine. Why didn't you??*\n\nHe supposed he knew why, well enough.\n\n\"I'm so sorry, *Bach*.\"\n\nThe words were more difficult to conjure from his chest than they had been before, but it felt right to *Say* Them, even just to be eaten up by the chill blowing through the window. *Someone in this poor kid's life has to mean it.*\n\nUriel likely did. Owen sighed heavily, and moved to.. Figure out how to pick them up. What on earth was he going to do now? Phone Uriel? Carry them to their room, wake them up in an hour or three, ask them where it even was? At the very least, they deserved a nicer spot to sleep in the meantime. Owen himself had certainly taken some convincing, worlds away, so many gentle touches and shared bouts of laughter ago.\n\n\"It'll get warmer. We have to believe that.\"\n_ _\n\nOwen tilted his head back and breathed deep, wanting to say more."
}
] | 388 | 6,178 |
381.272727 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabriel Darius Trahan [Link to Patreon] did *Not* Like talking to his father. \n\nIt wasn't that his father was a bad person, per say— Terence Trahan was many things, and a bad person was not one of them. He went to mass, and he washed his hands before eating, and he said grace; a trait most bad people did not have, in Gabriel's eyes. \n\nNo, Terence was not a bad person, he reminded himself as the former screamed his ear off via smartphone. Just a stressed out one.\n\nHe had far since tuned out the barrage of noise coming from his phone— in fact, Gabe was expecting the onslaught ever since yesterday, when Blanche called and mentioned how Dad was passed up for a raise he was excited to get. \n\nHe would have been mad to be treated this way. He *Should* Have been mad, except... \n\nThe same old crack in Dad's voice shone through his words; the one that appeared the night Mom was first admitted to the hospital, when he had to sit the both of them down and explain her condition.\n\nThen, and even now, Terence Trahan was grieving. And Gabriel was not one to kick someone down while the did so. \n\n\"Yes, Dad.\" He said, for most likely the thousandth time in the past minute. He was ranting about an appointment this time— how the dentist Gabe scheduled conflicted with a meeting Terence had, and the laborious work he did in order to right such a wrong.\n\nIn a few days time, Dad would warm up again, sheepishly calling back and peppering Gabriel in words of affirmations. How proud he is of his son. How helpful he is ever since Mom became less of a mother and more of a walking zombie. How much he *Needed* Him. \n\nOf course, that was tomorrow Gabe's problem. \n\nThe *Click* Of a phone as Terence hung up on Gabriel, and he lightly tosses the offending object on his comforter. He dives face down into his pillow, and groans.\n\n\"Hhhhnghngh.\" Gabe rolls around to eye Sigrun. \"How much of that did you hear?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Enough to want to tie your *Far* To a ceiling fan by his ankles. Not for too long! No torture! Just to... Spin him around a little.\"\n\nQuoth the blanket heap on Sigrún's bed, from which the *Mario Kart* Music had ceased to emanate around a half hour ago. \n\nWith a grunt and the incredibly loud popping of at least four joints, Sigrún's face and hands emerged from their dense cave like a disgruntled bat on an off-day. Bright, multicoloured eyes blinked at her poor dear friend as she wrangled the rest of herself out of the blanket cave, taking the top layer with her around her shoulders on her perilous two-second journey across their comically decorated space. The anachronism felt like home, now, despite the impeccable organization on Gabe's end.\n\nA soft huff came from the concerned creature and it plopped comfortably onto the side of his bed, somehow pulling the space to perch cross-legged on the edge from the same cartoon void from which it seemed to get its ideas for glorious retribution. She tilted her head to align with his.\n\n\"I have *Many* Words about how I would like to spin him by the ankles from a ceiling fan for a non-permanently-damaging amount of time. Would they help? Or would they make you more depressed?\" Her low, raspy voice softened a little. \"I'd hate for that.\"\n\n*Patpat.*\n\nShe rested a hand on his shoulder, for good measure. Her strange, curling smile was a little late as well, but genuine enough; those grins of hers were more for his benefit than her own expression, but she did feel a real pang of sympathy for him. This phone call, followed by the (frankly, creepy) apology attempt was one she had overheard from her blanket pile many a time before this, and the thought of the number of times more compelled her to bite the inside of her cheek. Nothing stung like repetition.\n\nSo her guts twisted, and her little grin held steady, for whatever good it did."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I don't know. Maybe?\" \n\n\"I'm in the mood to simultaneously be the best, most perfect person I can be just to prove to him I can, and do something extremely reckless and horrible just to spite him.\" Gabriel says, groaning. \n\n\"Maybe I'll kiss a guy. Or study for six hours straight. Or maybe I should get shitfaced and vomit in a toilet.\" The sound is muffled as he flops back on his stomach, pressing his face in a pillow and letting out another groan before facing Sigrun once again. \n\n\"I'm torn between being the best person I can be, and watching it all burn just because I can. Is that so *Weird*?\" His hands twitch, grabbing onto a pencil and flipping it between his fingers to be doing *Something* With the nervous energy coursing through his veins. \n\n*Christ,* He thought to himself, looking at his own distorted reflection in Sigrun's misshaped pupils. *This is embarrassing. This is so fucking lame. I'm being so annoying.* The Gabriel that stared back at him looked disheveled and *Tired* After the emotional drain of that phone call. Not at all like who he was supposed to be, who he had to be; someone reliable. A guardian angel, one could say.\n\nHe slowly stretched the corners of his mouth in a mockery of a smile, watching the pointed corners rise in his reflection.\n\n*What the fuck am I doing.* Gabe asks himself with no correct answer, and groans again.\n\n\"Maybe jostle me from the ceiling fan. It'll get my head on straight.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Sigrún shifted a little as Gabe turned his turmoil this way and that, trying to find an angle that would be easiest to tuck back into his cheek without souring his expression. It didn't brush away so nicely, though, colouring his show-stopper grin with the same stinging fluorescence as a headache. Lenses flipped imperceptibly behind his reflected image.\n\n\"Oh, put that away, *Smukken*.\" Sig's palms clap onto the sides of his face; they were a mottled reddish purple today, up to her elbows. Her tone is even— not quite teasing (well, a little), but far from shock or distaste. Clay on the riverbank.\n\n\"If your head were on any straighter, your spinal column would be fused into a worse stick than the one the science teacher has up his ass.\" \n\nIt playfully tilted his head this way and that, making a dry clicking sound for emphasis before snorting half-heartedly and finding an annoying curl of hers to fiddle with instead. That was all the shit she felt like giving him; her roommate didn't much care for pity, but the stuff Sigrún was made of was soft and mirrored the murky and vibrant shapes alike around it. Smudges of the ashen purple beneath Gabriel's ink-drop eyes flickered through her face, a silent note of concern.\n\nShe knew his plight— the folded spectre, too, held a cup that was never quite full, the tea leaves swirling in the last sip before the phone rang always hovering above a shape that spelled dissatisfaction. It was a knot in an organ she had yet to find in any of the books of medical diagrams propped open on her desk and the foot of her bed; she tried to visualize it sometimes, and got the closest with fingertips dipped in dense ink and charcoal more smeared on her skin than her page, but it was never accurate. Its attempts always looked a little too much like someone else's, delicate loops, frayed ends, pulled nerves muddled in expression.\n\nShe supposed the difference between them was what they were aiming for, in achieving such similar results. Still...\n_ _\n\nSigrún rocked on its perch, a wry smile creeping in. A benefit of not having a great sense of the *Time* Or *Place* For funny thoughts was that they came to it delightfully often.\n\n\"Any way we could jostle you in the *Other* Direction?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe didn't know what *Smukken* Meant, but he found great amusement of thinking it a portmanteau of \"Smug\" And \"Munchkin.\" Gabriel was not a munchkin at all, but he was *Certainly* Smug, especially when it was justified, and he snickered at the thought. \n\nIt was probably some Nordic insult, Gabe assumed, and waved the term of endearment off. \n\n\"A jostle in the other direction...?\" The actor thought to himself for but a moment before large, jagged spikes appeared to dig into his skull; he winced, and the quaint dorm room with a horrible clash of aesthetics seemed to swim. \n\n\"You know what always cheers me up, actually?\" Despite the pain in his head, Gabe manages to sit up and look at Sigrun dead in the eyes. \"Being subjected to all of Blanche's whims. Dragging me to play dress-up, or house, or her forcing me to run around with her on my shoulders... It's kind of nice to be dragged around by someone and having a ball.\"\n\nThe awful, dark images swirling in his head are momentarily replaced with happier, bright ones; Blanche, his shooting star, his sole reason he kept moving forward. Sure, she sees him like a cross between an older brother and a father, but... If Gabe were to be honest, he'd be equally as lost without her. She helped him just as much as he helped her, and bringing a smile onto her face filled him with all the warmth of the beignets they used to sell two doors down from the church, the same ones they'd share when they'd walk back to school together.\n\nAnd the buttery smell of those walks were gone, and Gabe was back in Sweden.\n\n\"What I'm saying, Siggy—\" Gabe batted his eyes at the squid, the color-shifting of her skin not phasing him any more, \"Is that my fate is in *Your* Hands. Treat it with all the care and grace you treat your Sandman comics with.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Faintly green-stained teeth worried a sore, coppery spot on the inside of Sigrún's cheek as difficult things arced beneath the glassy surface, nearly breaking the even swell. Her shoulders rolled back as he leaned forward, pulling the rest of her spine along on a fishing wire; it tasted sunlight, in his strained words, warm and soaked deep, buried there. Gold dust blinked in its ever-turning kaleidoscope skin— she was listening.\n\nGabriel really was a nice thing to listen to, she thought. When he talked about Blanche, he had the nicest scenes to set; the air is warm because somebody precious is smiling, little hands tighten around strong shoulders, and things are alright again, for a moment. The actor spoke of true things.\n\nThe feeling ached; Sig held it tight.\n\n*Ah! He has half a proposition.*\n\n\"*Pytt!*\" A cheerful splash of crushed pearls exploded behind Sigrún's sudden face-aching grin. \"Sometimes I wonder if I've started making words on my forehead by mistake!\" *Welcome, dear Gabriel, to the point of no return.*\n\nCool red fingertips run along either side of Gabe's jaw, sliding off his chin before landing on his carpet just in time to brace for the rest of her half-falling-half-melting off of his bed, blanket apparently forgotten. In a step and a half, she had made it to her closet (what of it that wasn't piled over her laundry basket) and scanning for only the most devious things with which to bedazzle her... Hopelessly normally-dressed roommate. *'Bless his heart', as he would say, no wonder he's so emotionally constipated.*\n_ _\n\n\"My brother used to let me do this! He is known for being far more sensible than me. So you're in good hands! Tell me, I beg, how hot am I allowed to make you, on a scale of... Heh, *Monster High* Heartthrob to murder-victim's-vengeful-spirit-found-behind-goth-club?\"\n\nIt was clear as day, from the wicked gleam in her silvery eyes, that she needed this as much as he did."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabriel was taken off guard by Sigrun's silky smooth movements— sometimes, he forgot how *Fish* Like she really was, down to the inhuman, freaky flexibility and the smell of the sea that seemed to follow her. (Or maybe she just didn't shower? Inconclusive, but Sigrun seemed like she liked showering. Then again, she *Was* A bit of a nerd...) \n\n\"How *Hot* Are you allowed to make me?\" Gabriel looked mock offended. \"I'm *Always* Hot. Me changing outfits isn't changing my level of attractiveness, only my target demographic.\" It sounded... Oddly rehearsed, as if Gabriel has recited this same train of thought to himself multiple times. \n\n\"Like you.\" He gestured at Sigrun from across the room. \"Just because you change color doesn't change the core of who you are.\" \n\nHe leaned back. His strong arms stretched out behind him, cradling his neck in a lax pose. \n\n\"The core of who I am just *Happens* To be being attractive.\" It was a truth Gabriel had forced into existence. Indeed, if he wasn't attractive, or smart, or reliable, he was essentially *Useless*; so he had made those words a shell around him, his whole life a play with that persona as the lead. \n\nHe was attractive, smart, and reliable, and no style of dress could take it away from him. No one could."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Sigrún paused her rummaging for a moment, pretending to admire something silvery just a little longer than she normally would while Gabriel rambled through his elegantly constructed palace of self-assured reasons *Why*. He kept the tapestries clean, and all the stained-glass portraits detailing his practiced smile in wrought-iron gleamed with a vengeance, certainly. It kind of gave her the heebie-jeebies.\n\n\"The *Core*, you say,\" It mused, stretching its arms far above its head. Being all coiled up for too long was really no good.\n\n\"You don't seem fickle enough a bastard, for a thing like beauty to be the one constant.\"\n\nShe fiddled with her earring for a moment, skin rippling like a seabed under a choppy day. It really was interesting how her roommate made sense of himself, and of her, even if his implications did make her sad. *Was that the right word?* Despite the public's ideas of him (one he had worked to create), he didn't truly go to all that many lengths to make himself happy and, as someone who had firmly decided she cared about him, that was... Saddening.\n\n\"I wonder if I have a core,\" Said she, testing how much give a shirt had around the shoulders. \"I'm a three-hearted thing whose skin changes with its shadow... Who's to say where the middle is?\"\n\nShe snickered to herself, her train of thought switching tracks nine times a minute. \"You make me sad, Gabriel, and for that, you get the murdered-goth treatment!\"\n\nIts shoulder pops loudly as it spins on its heel and throws a couple of its decidedly favourite options at its willing victim's damnably smug face."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"The middle of your three hearts?\" Gabe ponders the question for a bit, before a sly smile grows on his face. \n\n\"Why, it's the brain, of course. Only got one of those, eh?\" He puffed out his chest as if his words were something profound, only deflating slightly at the words *You make me sad.* \n\nHe didn't *Want* Her pity. Gabriel held back the gritting of his teeth, instead opting to bat his eyes at Sigrun and spare glances at her wardrobe. \n\n\"Would any of your clothes even fit me?\" He wonders out loud. \"I mean, no offense, but... I am *Built.* Don't wanna rip anything, is all.\" \n\nWho was he kidding. Sigrun was around his height, and while she wasn't as defined or slim as he was, she was certainly strong in her own right. \n\nAn interested look makes its way onto Gabriel's face— the intrigued eyebrow raising, concentration and deep contemplation piloting his usually overly upbeat eyes. \"You *Are* Onto something,\" He admits, a smile forming. \n\n\"After all, e-boys are the new trend. It's great to modernize to appeal to all audiences, right?\" \n\nGabe whistled. Maybe Sigrun *Was* A marketing genius."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Eh. I am built for two things: pillaging, and surviving the winter with enough of me left for more pillaging,\" She mused, dramatically flexing an arm in Gabe's direction; her outline was soft, but there was a density to the stretch of muscles across her back and arms that only made sense from certain angles, that suggested what was coiled inside of her. \"Plenty of room.\"\n\nGabriel took great pride in the broad planes of his figure, Sigrún knew; something sleeveless for him, yes, for she wasn't trying to knock him down (or rip any of her tighter-fitting things). No, the goal here was mostly to make his father have a heart attack.\n\nAnd, despite the blonde's inclination towards womenfolk, she could appreciate a madman sculptor's work; the both of them were striking, in their ways, and though she made many a joke of it, her excitement to drape her roommate in vampiric finery came from a place that did think he was beautiful. He certainly drew enough attention to it. Ah, a dangerous thing it was, to draw Sigrún's attention to beautiful things.\n\n\"Pardon me, *E-boys?!!*\"\n\nSig's face flashed a bright warning round of stripes, *Incredulous*. A red hand fished her favourite spiked gauntlet out of the mess on her desk, and the fate so kindly entrusted to her is sealed in black leather. \n\n\"Heh, that does sound like something one with but a single brain would say.\"\n\nShe worked with a ferocious attention to detail—silvery pieces move around Gabe's hands, neck, and waist, balanced perfectly, gleaming like stars against his dark skin; complimented by bloody reds and heavy draped black. Contrarian though Sigrún was, cloaking and bedazzling him with things she loved was no small deal to her. Strange shapes and colours stretched and coiled like shoals of undefined creatures swimming below her pearl-dusted skin as the wheels turned behind her eyes.\n\nIts eye shadow palette flicks open, and it bounces with excitement. Had he any last words?"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Hell yeah I said e-boys.\" Gabe said, jutting his chin out with an amused smile on his face. Riling up Sigrun was one of his favorite past times—not with any malice, he'd assure you, but simply because it was amusing seeing Sigrun have an excuse to talk about the things she was interested in. \n\nOr, in this case, Sigrun unrepentantly bedazzling him. \n\n\"Give me your worst,\" Gabriel said with a cocky half-smile, and he knowingly sealed his own fate. Especially when she was just starting on eyeshadow— it was one thing to move with righteous fury when adding necklaces, or putting clothes on, but getting someone currently doing your makeup to be pissed off at you was the number one way to make sure you made a statement with your look. Which, funnily enough, was *Exactly* What Gabriel was looking for."
}
] | 432 | 4,194 |
341.5 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Day two. She was still a little discombobulated, but she had a promise to uphold. She generally didn't like breaking them.\n\n□ Mercifully she'd had quite a while to wake up before Levi was at all ready to visit. Perks of waking up early, she chalked it up to. In those early hours she'd ate a lemon, drank tea. Smoked a hand rolled cigarette partially stuffed with mint and cloves out the common room window confident that nobody was up. She went for her jog, ate her second breakfast of eggs and hash browns, and hung out with Vi into the afternoon, curled up in her embrace and regaling her in stories, gifts from home, and kisses from the heart.\n\nLife had carried on at the Cradle in her absence, and she fell right back into her routine the second the guards let her through the gates. Maybe this place, once a nominal death sentence, was actually the home she needed. She had been thinking on that matter, mulling it over and spitting out the unwanted bits, when a knock came at the door. She rose to her feet and nearly smashed her shin into the corner of her coffee table.\n\n● \"Goddamnit- comin', gimme a sec!\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "A scrawny, gangly figure hung outside Margo's door. Plastered back light brown hair, blue eyes rimmed with dark circles, a loose white t-shirt hanging over a wirey frame, grey sweatpants to keep off the too-cold AC chlil. Levi didn't fidget much - if at all, really - standing perfectly stock still, unblinking.\n\n\"You're alright,\" He said, even before Margo had answered (he'd heard her explicative inside) and waited until she opened the door. He stared up at her, immediately holding out a small trinket. A little stone statue of a frog, one that she could hold in her palm. \"I brought this for you.\"\n\nHis speaking voice, while not riddled with static, was soft, plain, somewhat affected by a long-lost Italian or New York accent. He finally blinked, exactly once, nearly squinting his eyes shut with the effort it took to reopen them. The Deans, Joan in particular, had taught him that blinking about once a minute or so was good to help alleviate dry eyes.\n\nLevi was sure he must have known that, at some time in his life.\n\n\"Thank you for opening the door.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ She hadn't been sure what to expect, but she knew a familiar accent when she heard one.\n\n■ \"No fuckin' way you're from New York as well, man. I-I hear it in your voice... You got a little Italian. It's a whisper of an accent but I'm good with that shit.\" She chattered as she stood in the doorway. \"But you brought me a gift...? Sick. That's cool, actually. Look at him.\" Margo chuckled and reached out for the statue. She looked it over, pursed her lips slightly, and nodded approvingly. \"He's perfect. I'm gonna put him in Lapis' enclosure, I think. That's my Bluey; i'll introduce ya once we're in.\"\n\n□ Compared to Levi, best described as unassuming and gangly, Margo was alive in her choice of clothing: a bootleg shirt of Jar Jar Binks reciting some really unhinged shit tied at the stomach, yellow and white-accented cargo pants, and a \"Women love me fish fear me\" Hat on her head. She stood there for a few moments looking him up and down, before stepping aside and gesturing towards the inside of her room.\n\n▪︎ \"Mi casa, su casa. Head in.\"\n\n□ The first thing Levi would likely notice upon walking in was how densely packed her room was. The door of her dorm barely had room to swing, missing a knob from the dresser Cosmo's enclosure rested upon by barely three inches, and it seemed as though save for one bed against the far wall every square inch of the room had been fully utilized. The details would be peculiar and telling: a plethora of books on religion, philosophy, languages, linguistics, and other assorted fascinations sat upon her bookshelf. A large enclosure housing a rather large bearded dragon sat atop the dresser near the door, and against this setup was a real leather couch. A coffee table, television, and fishing rods in the corner mostly completed it, and next to the bookshelves a handmade shelf with two reptile enclosures sat, a little overhanging shelf attached to it to allow a teapot comfortable seating. \n\n▪︎ Incense burned in a holder, and various fruits sat in a hand-carved bowl on the table. It was equal parts elegant, cluttered, and fiercely heavy with its atmosphere of incense, tobacco, and old books.\n\n◆ \"Don't mind the smell, I haven't had a chance to clean out my boys' cages yet and I can tell neither Uri nor Vi did it. S'all good, not their job. I'd have done it by now but jetlag's been fucking me up harder than usual, y'know? Real bullshit.\" She complained lightly as she closed the door behind her, leaving it unlocked in case Uri happened to wander by. \"But yeah, this is the Dojo. I got my books, I got my reptiles... I got my Owl House nerd stuff on the entertainment stand.\" She pointed. \"Also don't mind the smell. I... Like it this way. Feels like I'm wizardmaxxing. Dunno. How's it goin'?\"\n\n[Please don't feel obliged to match!! I just got carried away LOL]"
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"Every smell is new to me,\" Levi said. He stood, looking around the room, focusing on each section at a time with only his eyes moving. He took exactly two steps closer to look at the bookshelf, before turning around. His movements were jagged, uneven steps and turns, clunky and uncoordinated, his ankles wobbling in his feet. \"It's a new experience.\"\n\nHe finished off the silent appraisal of Margo's living space, particularly admiring the little fellas in their enclosures. A tiny smile pulled at his face when he looked at Cosmo.\n\n\"Your room is much more crowded than mine,\" He said. \"Mine is very quiet. I have a few books.\"\n\nHe went and perched on the very edge of the couch - it was impolite to just stand if one wanted to visit, right? - his spine slouching into his shoulders as his hands settled atop his knees. Solid, new white sneakers dragged against the floor.\n\n\"And-... I'm from New York, yes. My mother, or, my father came from Italy. I'm still unsure on who.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Right.\" Margo spoke, scooting around Levi as he scanned her room and taking a seat on the couch. She grabbed her cup of tea and took a sip. \"Wouldn't exactly describe reptile guano as *Peak* Smell, but... You've been in a black hole for a decade, so can't knock ya for wanting the shit with the flowers.\"\n\n□ Chuckling, she took another sip of her tea and mumbled under her breath – something about it being delicious, Levi would overhear if he decided in that moment to lock onto her voice. She watched as Levi made his way around her room, noting how his face tugged itself into a smile while looking into Cosmo's enclosure, and responding to his sitting on the very edge of the couch with a somewhat perplexed expression.\n\n▪︎ An eyebrow raised, and the sort of expression of someone with the cogs in their skull turning.\n\n◆ \"You can scoot back if ya want. I bought this couch for sittin', after all.\" Margo casually spoke, looking over at him until her attention was suddenly and noticeably drawn by Cosmo, who was pressed up against the glass haphazardly, staring right at and through her. \"Heh, look. Cosmo wants out. That's what he does when he wants to hang out. You mind having a little guy running around?\" Mostly it was good housekeeping, she figured, to not simply drop reptiles into the laps of her friends. She might have loved them, but that didn't guarantee Levi would. Of course, though, she couldn't take her eyes off Cosmo for a few moments, so she stared.\n\n◆ \"But yeah, that's kinda what I heard. I've been around enough half-Italians to know what sorta accent it is. Not sayin' you're half-Italian, or half-*Anything,* Just.\" She trailed off, struggling to find the words for what she was trying to convey. \"Y'know. I grew up in Brooklyn myself. Liked it in a lotta ways, but... I guess my heart still belongs to Scotland. Was born there, and I consider it home.\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"I don't mind. Some of Basil's creatures are reptiles. They're good company.\"\n\nLevi forcibly put his back against the couch at Margos comment, finally remembering to blink again. He didn't mind the sudden appearance of a reptile friend – the little guy seemed very polite.\n\n\"I think I was born in Italy,\" Said Levi. His words always came half a second too early or too late, clunking behind Margos with unpractised fault. \"But I mostly remember New York. The Bronx, I think.\" \n\nEvery so often, Levi's eyes would drift off, staring at something unable to be pinned down, an unidentifiable spot on the wall, before he would jolt and look back up at Margo. \n\n\"I've never been to Scotland.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Alright, uh... Sick.\"\n\n□ Without another word – *Not unpacking that until Cosmo is out,* She decided – Margo partially stood up, leaning over the top of Cosmo's enclosure with a level of palpable yet adjusted excitement that showed just how much she loved the little guy. Flipping the top open she dipped her hand in, baby talking her beardie as he crawled up into her hand, eager to be raised to the sky by her hand. She lifted him out and looked back at Levi.\n\n◆ \"Huzzah. A *Man.*\" The words rolled off her tongue smooth and with gusto. She held Cosmo out towards him in her two hands, though not with a full extension. The little guy never came closer than a foot, and soon enough he was dropped back down in Margo's lap as she sat down and turned her attention to what he was saying. She nodded thoughtfully, and occasionally made a noise. \"But the Bronx, huh...? Neat. At least it's not Staten Island – or even worse, New Jersey. Fuckin' *Godless* Land.\" She chuckled. \"One of my good buddies back home lives in the Bronx, actually. Omar, up on the east side. Met in a comic shop when we were kids and hit it off quick. We played in a jazz band for a while. He's cool. I miss 'em.\" She plainly admitted, looking down with a light smile as Cosmo began to move around, mostly sticking on her lap.\n\n● \"You can reach out for him if you want. Just be careful about his upper left leg, he took a tumble a few years back and it seems like he's been real sensitive since. I-I took him to a vet, but...\" She looked down at him. \"They could only do so much. He's healthy otherwise so he won't mind being handled I think, just. Be mindful, alright?\"\n\n▪︎ A few moments of silence as she checked her phone. A few taps, some staring. A light blush. What had she been looking at...?\n\n◆ \"Tea? You strike me as a tea drinker.\" She broke the silence, gesturing to her teapot. \"I've got a few different kinds. Not just gonna feed ya orange pekoe like some boomer, y'know?\""
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"I love tea,\" He said. Levi's lips hardly moved when he spoke. \n\nHe visibly pushed his shoulders down to sit on his hands, watching Cosmo. The little lizard reminded him of Basil – an old memory, steeped in static – and his eyes told a thousand tales as the little beardie made its place in Margo's careful lap.\n\n\"Whatever kind you have will be fine. What's, ah, the saying? Choose your favourite?\" \n\nHe scratched the back of his head, almost timidly, a painfully human gesture that was lost on him most of the time. He'd lost much in the void. \n\nSomewhere, his brain reminded him Margo had mentioned the Bronx. His gracious hostess seemed bumbling over at the seams with stories, and, Levi was fine letting someone else do the talking. \n\n\"You were in a band?\" He asked. *How long had it been since he'd even heard one?* \"What did you play?\""
}
] | 256 | 2,732 |
370.583333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Mistakes had been made, and now she had to pick up the pieces.\n\n□ Earlier in the day, she'd been lounging in the sun, under a tree near the entrance, simply relaxing and waiting to see where the day would go. As it turned out, life took a left turn that day and dropped her off a cliff of regret, right down into Rock Bottom, and now she was power walking through the hallways and stairwells. Where was she going in such a rush? Why, the only place she could think of going: directly to Vi's dorm to apologize and beg for forgiveness for kissing another girl.\n\n▪︎ She reached the door. *Knock, knock, knock.*\n\n◆ \"Vi, it's. It's me. I made a fucking huge mistake, lemme in.\" Compared to her usual loose cool voice she sounded panicked, like she'd seriously done something wrong. \"God, I hope you're here, and not, like, in town. Fuck, fuck, fuck...\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Shes in town loser /j\n\nJk, soft jazz music could be heard through the door, and the short girl could be envisioned scrambling to get it to turn off.\nAn excitement bubbled in her chest to hear Margo, as caused by the violent throws of teenage love. But... There was a hesitance to open the door upon hearing the guilt stricken tone that stuck to Margo's voice like poison.\n\nBut she opened the door anyways, of course she did- Vi was at least flattered that Margo knocked thrice, an ease washed over her for half a second.\nShe gently swung open the door, noticeably worried.\n\n\"Jesus Margo, do you need me to fill a bath with sulfuric acid for you?\" \nMorbid joke... But with how the other sounded, it didn't seem fully out of the question.\n\nShe moved out the way of the door to let Margo in.\nJust what was up with the girl?"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fuck, you might as well.\" Margo replied, nervously stepping in yet totally unable to bring herself to face her companion. \"Feel like throwing myself into one...\"\n\n□ A couple of stilted strides carried Margo into the room, sinking down with her back against the foot of Vi's bed and letting out a sigh. Why did she do it? Why had she ignored her better judgment and went in for that kiss? Why, why, *Why?* She wouldn't be in this situation otherwise, so she couldn't help but strangle her inner self by the neck and thrash it around as if it'd be able to spit out answers over all of the blood, phlegm, and mangled flesh caught in its mouth.\n\n▪︎ Maybe she was avoiding the big problem. She fished out a peppermint and chucked it into her mouth.\n\n◆ \"I... I guess I'll just. Tell you.\" Every word that left her throat had to be forced out, and between her hesitant, guilt-laden voice, and the way she sat with her feet planted flat, her knees arched up, and her body hung betwixt her legs like mistletoe, it was clear she was exceedingly nervous. Scared, even. \"There was this new girl. Arrived today. We started talking, and...\" A sniffle. She raised her hand to the back of her neck and rubbed it, unusually aggressively at times. \"I. Fuck, Vi, I kissed her. You were in my head the whole time. I saw your pretty little self in my head the whole fucking time, and my gut was telling me not to, but I did it anyways, and...\" A very dejected, shaky sigh. \"I felt so terrible afterwards I nearly vomited on the way here. I'm just... So fucking sorry. We. We haven't even established anything and I feel like I've *Cheated* On you...\"\n\n▪︎ Her head hung a little lower; time to prepare for whatever anger Vi would have been rightful to voice."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Yikes.\" Is all Vi can respond with as Margo approached, watching her maybe-girlfriend sit by the end of her bed with a frown.\n\"First take your shoes off please, this is my favourite rug. Second, just... Lay it on me already\" She mumbled, sinking beside Margo's side with uncertainty.\nShe couldn't quite imagine what the problem at hand could be- Margo was usually sort of pent up, but often times in the sort of 'i'm a charmingly awkward rogue!' sort of way, not a 'ive fucked up and want to die' sort of way.\nSo needless to say, she was curious- especially considering it Looked like Vi was involved one way or another.\n\nShe nodded as Margo's explanation vomited out of her mouth painstakingly, her brows furrowing in thought as the monologue braved forwards. Vi's knees were huddled in front of her and pressed gently against her chest. Head laid upon her knees, she looked at Margo through the corner of her eye. (sort of inconveniently, considering only one of her eyes actually give out vision, the other one existing without use).\nDejected, Vi fiddled and toyed with her hair, all the while with a partly pained expression.\n\nShe didn't... Want to be mad. She didn't want to feel any animosity towards the situation, they weren't an item after all. No boundaries had been set between the two, no line in the sand for them to not dare cross. They weren't established, their romance remained unlabeled since the first excited kiss.\n.\n\nBut it was a sore spot, a still fresh wound from just a month or two ago, people come and people go, but she never got told they go for other people. Replacements, replacements, its Always about replacements. The sense of abandonment and replacement had stayed fresh and raging in a frenzy ever since even her sister had been born, perfect slavic baby girl who was immediately just *Better*- or perfect slavic girlfriend who was inevitably far more important, in the long run.\n\nShe sorta just prayed that whoever Margo kissed wasn't blonde, but that didn't really seem all that relevant outside of her mind.\nTaking a deep breath, Vi sat up and leaned her head against the headboard of the bed structure; her gaze set on the cieling. \nAnd she was silent, for a couple consecutive moments.\n\n\"That's... Tricky.\" She mutters, assessing the situation internally.\n\"I'm taking it personally, I shouldn't- sorry- it's... Mm\" She let out an overthought whine at the end of her statement, her eyes closing and her head lolling forwards.\n\"I mean... We haven't established anything, it's no disaster technically and probably morally speaking i just-\"\nShe bit her lip. Now wasnt the time to talk about her problems, thats a 2 shots convo, and neither of them could drink.\n\"We should... Figure out soon enough what we are, I'm scared I'm accidentally like... Leading you on, i suppose.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ And kick off her boots she did, her Blundstones coming off and being carelessly tossed towards the rest of Vi's footwear.\n\n■ \"No, no, it's. Fine. Your ex just broke up with you a month ago and now your gay awakening's kissing other girls. If anything... If anything you're handling this shit better than me.\" Margo's voice barely rose above a low, remorseful rumble, like the lowest keys of a church organ. \"I'd probably be angrily asking whys and whos and shit... It's just. We haven't really established *Anything,* Yet I feel totally awful, like I've already just chewed you up and spit you out like a... A fucking stick of Doublemint gum.\"\n\n▪︎ A brief pause followed, and another sniffle. She was clearly trying her best to hold herself together.\n\n◆ \"Maybe we should. This whole fling or whatever we have going on *Has* All been a whirlwind of heat and flash, and it's only a matter of time until we kill Mom and Dad and hit the road at this rate. Just... Can you forgive me? I. I know it's still a tender spot, and I'm sorry for chucking lemon juice and coals on it...\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Violetta tried her best to ignore the rash chucking of the boots- biting the inside of her mouth to stifle the want to comment on the behaviour.\n*'teenagers your age are just like that Vi, don't be so dramatic'* Her internal monologue nagged in her brain relentlessly, even in times like this.\nDramatic.. Fuck Vi, don't be so dramatic, the one thing she hated to seem, despite how her body just happens to respond so viscerally to things sometimes, things such as neatless manners, numbers of knocks on the door and god forbid she step on a crack in the large square bricks that lined the streets of isakstad.\nAh yes, the 'tism, out to get her especially in times of crisis.\n\nShe nodded to the continued conversation, letting out a quiet 'hmm' under her breath in ambient noise.\n\"I don't know, I- I feel a little bit guilty saying this but... I failed to feel upset about him leaving me, I was only upset to see myself replaced.\"\nWow, deep much? She stared towards the door, blinking a couple times and avoiding looking at the clutter of two boots which stood disarrayed beside her neat and orderly rack of shoes, consisting of probably 4 pairs.\n\n\"Doublemint..? Surely I'm strawberry gum...\" She mumbled, partly to herself- it wasnt an attempt to lighten the mood or anything- it was simply an observation of non serious offense. \nShe leaned a little on Margo's shoulder, sighing deeply and closing her eyes.\n\nThe cogs in her brain clicked and whirred robotically, as if manufacturing some sort of response to the apology..\nVi hated calling it a fling; she really liked Margo after all but... That was a topic for another day.\n\n\"Hitting the road would be nice... One can dream- if only we weren't *Stuck* Here\" She noted, a hint of positivity somehow escaping her person.\n\"Pretty tender spot but... I can't fault you for not knowing what we are when I don't even know either-\"\n\nShe paused abruptly, considering for a moment\n\"Plus you called me pretty, and I'm a sucker for that\"\nReal."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Really?\" Well, that was a bit of a surprise. In all the break-ups she'd heard about, she hadn't ever heard it worded like that; Vi seemed more miffed at being replaced than left, and that was its own can of worms. Anyways. \"That's... I see. Seems like you handle shit better than I do. I'm just...\"\n\n□ *Guilty.* That was the word of the day, and even as she made light conversation back with her companion she couldn't help but feel utterly *Guilty.* Every glance, every hum, every faint whiff of elderflower and lime... It was enough to shatter someone to pieces, and here she was, fruitlessly slathering glue on the cracks to keep herself together, and to keep herself from completely cutting Vi out of her life in what could only be described as dramatic catastrophization; something, something, it was just to keep her safe.\n\n▪︎ But, Vi was her own person, and her senior in terms of age, so who the fuck was she to think that shutting Vi out would do anything but exacerbate the problem?\n\n◆ \"I'm... Sorry about hurting you. I really am.\" Her voice once again hung low, as if she couldn't bring herself to talk louder than a clarified mumble. \"I should have just listened to my gut...\" A long period of silence followed as she kept her gaze on her socked feet and listened to Vi talk. \"Also, that was kind of a Frankenstein of a reference. Sonic Youth, Killjoys... No wave meets comic books. So, I guess now... What *Are* We? Are we together? Are we not? Is this just a weird... What do you call 'em, situationship? Yeah. Hm...\"\n\n▪︎ And, like with a lot of things, she fell silent in thought. This sort of situation definitely required a lot of thought; and some careful words."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Mhm... He was an awful man but I needed to feel loved. I was so... Obsessed with him, it was hardly love\" And the fact that he had immediately found someone better afterwards made Vi want to strangle him or herself\n\"But that's irrelevant. A whole other can of worms.\" Dismissal. The need to dismiss such chatter came from Vi in her need to just Keep It To Herself. \nBecause it wasn't Margo's business, and it wasnt the taller girl's burden to have to lug around like a suitcase full of cinderblocks.\n\n\nShe placed her hands on her thighs as her right leg bounced rhythmically fast, she took in Margo's words with deep consideration, the clockwork in her head turning harmoniously to come up with an answer.\nMaybe Vi was just clutching onto straws, grabbing at loose ends with Margo but fuck- the taller girl awakened Something in her- and she didn't want to condemn anything, she banned the thought of having to leave... Whatever this was! From her brain.\n\nLove wasn't right, but she really, *Really* Liked Margo in some way or another. It just felt so healthy, she wasn't walking on eggshells, she wasnt giving nothing to just chase after scraps in return. It was peaceful and quaint, and Vi insisted to herself on putting the effort in.\n\n\"What.. Do you want us to be? It's a little bit confusing I know- but I know I really like you, Margo. You're sweet, pretty, funnier than I am and fuck- you like *Reptiles* Do you not know how sweet that is?- i just\"\nConfessions are weird, they're so so fucking weird and if Vi could ravage a hole into the ground, lie peacefully down in it and let mother nature's dirt bury her then really, she would.\nBut to approximately no one's surprise, such surprises don't take place without divine intervention- and upon further inspection, no such thing was taking place.\n\n\"That was really awkward. But i hope my point is across. It's up to you\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ She couldn't help herself from scoffing at hearing how utterly distant and careless Vi's ex had been.\n\n■ \"What a fucking cunt.\" She coolly grumbled, previous feelings of shame and guilt starting to give way to nervousness and a healthy dose of anger. \"You gave him your all, and what did he give you back? Burns and a fucked up eye? He didn't *Know* What he had on his hands, how... *Lucky* He was.\" True colours shone through: Vi was wonderful, and made Margo feel loved and also understand, while her ex was just another person she'd swing on if she ever saw him in public. Of course, after a bit of grumbling she fell silent and simply looked over at Vi, then at the wall, then at Soup, in a strange loop borne from nervousness and the sort of innocent excitement of first confessions and first buds of love.\n\n▪︎ Or, was it really love? Felt too soon to call it that.\n\n◆ \"I... Yeah. A little awkward, but I haven't exactly been smooth and collected either.\" A fretful laugh followed, alongside her hands gently clasping within each other. \"But I... I think I'd like a little more. That boy whatever his name is, didn't treat you right, and... I'd love to show you what it feels like to, er... Be valued. Treasured. *Loved.* Treated like a person instead of a trophy, or a straw man to throw off any gay accusations. I just... I like you too. A lot. *God, why is this so hard?*\"\n\n▪︎ A natural sort of soft groan, and she leaned into the foot of the bed a little harder. Here's hoping her heart wouldn't blow from nerves."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Pretty much. He's lucky I'm weak- one day he'll mess with the wrong people again and it'll suck really bad for him.\" She notes, despite the resentment she felt for the guy, she had known him, she had known him as rash, unorganised, loud, mouthy and overall brawn over brain. One of these days, someone else will teach him a lesson, she supposed.\nHe didnt deserve to even graze her thoughts. As if they were connected via bluetooth, Violetta's gaze followed Margo's around the room, although she lingered longer on Soup ever so slightly. \nThe silly little rodent left a partial smile on her face for a moment. No thoughts outside hay, food, and the large humanoid servant that bent to her whim.\n\nVioletta shuffled up closer to Margo, to the point where they weren't quite touching, but more just slightly brushing against eachother. It caused a slight redness in the cheeks.\nThey needed boundaries, elaboration and solidification. That's what the chat was about, so why couldn't her mind just get the fuck out the gutter? Each occasional touch of skin made Vi imagine holding hands, kissing, all that gross sappy stuff...\n\nVi grinned at Margo, she grinned that same dorky, lopsided grin, the one that showed off her braced teeth and the dimple marked in her cheek.\nTo be loved... That sounded nice. She had wondered a couple months ago if she'd ever know what that Really felt like. Her head swayed idly and she placed her hand delicately on Margo's clasped ball of her two entertwined hands.\n\n\"That... Sounds nice. Christ, this is so cheesy- and strange.\"\n\nI LOVE GAY RIGHTS SO MUCH"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Like a block of gorgonzola.\" Margo blurted out in stilted syllables before realizing how stupid what she'd just said was. \"Actually, why the fuck did I say that? Vi, I think the guilt's fried my brain, just saying dumbass things and not making sense. Mind giving it a smack?\"\n\n□ Admittedly, she didn't actually *Want* Vi to whack her in the head. Rather, it was just a joke, a mildly self-depreciating joke meant to alleviate a bit of the embarrassment she felt from comparing this whole situation to a wedge of funky blue cheese. Why had it even came to mind? She didn't exactly *Care* For blue cheese most of the time. It was a real mystery, and it was one she hoped wouldn't repeat itself. For now, though, as she felt Vi's hand against her own she flipped it over and, for the first time, grabbed with barely any hesitation.\n\n▪︎ No nervous jerks, no unsteady reach. She was confident that it was fine this time.\n\n◆ \"I guess now it's just... Figuring out what to tell everybody. I. I'll admit, I don't want this to be super public, at least not in the chatroom. Uri's going to know regardless, but... What's your thoughts, darling?\"\n\nBe still, her beating heart. Now began the conversation about boundaries and whatnot, and who knew how long they'd be chatting?"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Charmed, Violetta let out a giggle at the absurdity of what had been said. She mouthed a quiet \"Okay\". She prepped her hand in front of Margo's forehead, and gave it a flick with a lighthearted smile.\n\nI'm not about to make a paragraph about Vi's opinion on blue cheese. Her heart gave a flutter whenever having to see the poor girl beside her fluster over trying to find something to say. On top of a billion redeeming features, Margo's adorable word vomit was always somewhere near the top.\nShe leaned on Margo's shoulder, vision flicking to the judgemental chinchilla, who was now just... Staring at them like a fucking CREEP. \nMaybe she's jealous of all the attention Margo is getting from Vi. \n\nThe small girl's face went a pale shade of pink when her brash partner held at her hand with conviction. She wanted to lean in and kiss Margo boldly right then and there, but Vi was almost certain that was just her brain playing tricks on her again, and revering to anywhere but the topic at hand.\n\nBeing called 'darling' didnt help. At all.\n\n\"I might tell a friend or so but.. I don't have a preferred pace. People here won't get mad but... I think it'd be nice to be on the downlow for a little bit- just because... Sometimes i forget where i am and the rules. Its fine for us to date, but I'm not used to that notion\"\n\nRussia.Mp4, she smoothed a thumb over Margo's hand frictionlessly like over silky velvet.\n\n\"I hope that makes sense?\""
}
] | 372.5 | 4,447 |
418.215686 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ 7:30pm...\n\n□ August 22nd was always a special day to Margo. It was a special day, and not just because it was the day the doctors escorted her out of her mother's holiest of holies and into the wide, unbearably cruel world, but it was also the day she'd initially come out to herself. So, naturally, her birthday was as much a celebration of surviving another year as it was a celebration of embracing her femininity and finally shedding the shame that'd lingered behind her ever since early childhood.\n\n▪︎ And, to that end she'd spent the entire day treating herself – and by extension Uri – to charcuterie boards and lobster tails and a day out at the spa. Now...? It was evening, and she had plans with Vi, plans she'd mentioned to Uri days in advance so the sleepy lad could find themself a nook to chill in.\n\n◇ Two glasses sat on the coffee table, alongside several mixers, and a forty of some gin – she hadn't bought it herself, so she'd had no choice in the matter. Hopefully Vi wouldn't mind."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Honestly, it had always felt weird being officially older than Margo.\nCalling herself 17 and Margo 16 made a curious and weird feeling in her gut- so it was certainly nice for the much loved girl to finally grow up a year officially. \nAnd of course with birthdays comes the excitement... An excuse to get Margo something nice- a gift without having to make the other feel any guilt, since of course it's an obligation for a birthday.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi stood in front of her mirror with a quiet sigh, trying to figure out if this outfit was worth the risk- she may as well be looking at a caution sign on the mirror, as it was very much 50/50 on if the combination of blue jeans and the simple pale green spaghetti strap vest would work..\nIt seemed okay enough- yet Vi still found a way to stress over if it was good enough, rambunctious and self deprecating thoughts told her to cover up more but... She shook her head; she was certain that especially with the heat, it may be rather helpful for a bit of revealing clothes to make an appearance.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Though just in case, she stuck a folded up jumper in her bag.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi looked herself up and down, and once she was finally satisfied, she set off through her dorm door, little gift bag in one hand, a small bag for herself in the other, and a newfound confident bashing against her skull, just waiting to be let out.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She reaches Margo's door with a wide smile- of which was still off tempo and crooked, but sweet, and comfortably gentle if you payed enough attention.\nShe knocked thrice, hands swaying idly"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "○ Three knocks rang out, and in their wake came the shuffling of feet.\n\n◆ \"Hey.\" Coolly welcoming her girlfriend with a faint smile and a casual lazy cadence, her face lit up red as she saw exactly what Vi had showed up in. A pea-toned spaghetti strap top and some blue jeans was a touch more revealing than she was used to, and accordingly she was just a touch flustered at it – *God, she's beautiful,* Her thoughts bounced around in her skull. Rather than look away, though, she spent a moment at the door processing it before gently caressing Vi's face. \n\n▪︎ She *Was* Beautiful, God damn it, and there was nothing she could do except be enamoured by her beauty.\n\n◆ \"Sorry about making you wait at the door, babe, I'm just...\" Her words rejoined her after a few moments, honeyed and genuinely warm. \"Enamoured. You look, uh... Great. Yeah.\" With that, she'd let go and step back, gesturing towards the room. It was more or less the same as regular, except there were a few birthday decorations on the wall, ostensibly hoisted up by Uri while she was out and about picking up her charcuterie board. It was pretty modest, pretty laid-back, and very fragrant due to the incense burning in its holder on the table.\n\n▪︎ As Vi walked by, she'd gently smack her butt, and close the door behind them. \n\n◆ \"So, I see you got a little gift.\" Speaking as she sat down, she'd quickly wrap an arm around Vi's own, clearly in a bit of a touchy-feely mood, despite how desperately she still wanted to be the cool, aloof femme fatale of her daydreams. \"Uri also got me a gift... It's actually really pretty, wanna see it?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Violetta's face continued to light up when the door open, grinning widely at Margo and leaning forwards. She had hoped that her outfit wouldn't have made anything awkward, and by the way Margo sort of marvelled for a second- Vi figured that she had made the exact opposite effect; relief flooded her for a moment as she half walked in\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She didn't say anything at first, just taking in Margo's room as usual. The place was becoming far more common for Violetta to frequent, her visits often lasting several hours of talking about nothing important, their meaningless conversations holding place near and dear to her geart nonetheless. Like a christmas tree with only lights; this was all just... So new and exciting.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Once she felt a pat, she turned around with a quiet gasp- the audacity of this birthday girl!!!! Violetta quickly then leapt into action, now in the flow of things, pulling Margo down into a tight hug around the shoulders.\n\"Happy birthday!!\" A simple wish, but enough for Violetta to say as her cheek squished against Margo's in the hug.\nPulling away because of the bags wacking gently against Margo's back, Vi gave a subtle smirk and a peck on Margo's cheek as she went to sit down with her lover.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Indeed there is a present for you- though do show me Uri's- I can just imagine theyre amazing at presents.\" She leaned into Margo's touch enthusiastically, head resting upon Margo's shoulder."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Thanks, babe.\" \n\n□ Replying in turn, she draped her arms around Vi's waist and held her close without a care in the world for the bags hitting her hip. Joining her lover after a moment on the couch, she set off getting comfortable and settled in, lightly tangled up with Vi, fingers betwixt each other, cheeks pressed together. This was meant to be a night of romance, of snacks, of card games and television shows and music and cuddles, and she was looking forward to it.\n\n▪︎ She leaned forward and stood up, producing a small paper book from her shelf.\n\n◆ \"So, this is what Uri got me. It's a little pressed paper book, right? But...\" Opening it up, she sat back down and held it out for Vi to inspect on her own if she wished to. \"They got me a little booklet full of magnolia flowers, due to my Intranet handle. I'd be lying if I said I almost teared up when they gave it to me...\" Her voice naturally faded, comfortable silence filling in the gaps left behind. \"But, what did my favourite girl get me, huh?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Vi was perfectly comfortable to snuggle up to Margo, a small grin befitting her face as she set her bags down onto the floor in front of her; that was just about the only place she could really reach to place them anyways... What with the overly comfortable position she had managed to get herself in. It felt as though she had a cat on her lap, and you don't dare move lest you wake the feline up.\nVioletta fought back a sigh of disappointment when Margo proceeded to stand up, despite how interested she was about what Uri got her.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi flipped through the paper book with a faint smile, looking from the book and then to Margo, she could understand why she loved the flowers so much- they both seemed to give off a similar, safe radiance of beauty and graceful intelligence.\nShe gently returned the book of flowers to Margo, still smiling subtly\n\"Uriel seems to really understand you... That's wonderful company to keep, you know\" She noted, sitting upright.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Ah- of course.\" Violetta reached down to her bag again, opening it up and much similarly to Uriel's gift, taking out a booklet. It was a little bigger than A4\n\"Apologies that it's not all that flashy but... It's personal- which should count for something.\" A very proud of herself look adorning her face, Violetta handed over the miscellaneous booklet.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Yeah... You know how I never let you look at the paintings i make of you? Well... Its them- just every painting of you in that booklet- there's... Also some candy in the bag- no gummies. I know you hate those.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Can say that again.\" Margo calmly spoke, gently tapping her fingers against Vi's hip as the shorter lass looked through one of the hand-made gifts she'd received. The intimacy of it all, though, wasn't lost on her... She'd be cherishing this night for a while. She hummed and clicked her tongue against the base of her mouth. \"They're a really good friend, in a very different way than my friends were back home. I'm... Not quite sure what I'm going to do when they move out of here, y'know? But also that's a while away, not fuckin' thinking about it tonight.\"\n\n□ Voice rumbling with youthful confidence and the sort of calm that only a lover's presence could bring, she took a few moments to look down at the sketchbook in her hands. For weeks now, she'd been Vi's muse, an oft-painted subject chiseled right from Scottish stone, but now she finally got to *See* The pieces her girlfriend had made, and naturally she was just a little nervous. It might have just been paintings, sure, but they were *Very* Personal, candid shots of her laid down not ten feet away in Vi's room, in relative silence only occasionally punctuated by casual chatter and looks of admiration exchanged behind backs.\n\n▪︎ And now, she got to see them. She opened the book, and began to gingerly paw through it.\n\n◆ \"Jesus, Vi, you... Really get my good side.\" She chuckled, clearly flustered and trying her best to stay firmly placed in her emotional boots. \"I love it, actually... And the candy. Hm...\" She dumped the candy out into her lap and picked through the small pile, nodding approvingly at the selection. \"Nice. You know me, that's for sure. Then again, I'd hope ya know me, babe... Be a little awkward otherwise.\"\n\n▪︎ A few moments passed in silence as she continued to pick through the pages.\n\n◆ \"But, yeah, I really like it. It's a very pleasant sort of weird seeing my likeness done up with such care, but... I suppose I've just never been this lucky.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Well... That's hardly difficult when you have a million good sides.\" Sprawled alongside Margo, she blithely flicked her gaze from her lover's face to the canvases in front of her. There was something strangely congenial about painting your partner in such an intimate light... And there was something even more wonderful about Violetta finally having another muse. When she got transferred to the cradle, the role had been left vacant where her brother and mother once were, and she had to be stuck with pinterest references.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ and as much as she adores pinterest; it's just not the same as having flesh and blood in front of you- to really study another person's angles, to know where the light hits, where the shadows hide away, and how precisely their eyes glimmer in the lighting.\nAnd with Margo, there was the added romance (and the 'paint me like one of your french girls' jokes, which somehow still gain a reticent chuckle out of Vi). Getting to look at Margo from so many angles, and to solidify her adoration and cherishment in oil and gouache.\n\n\nShe leaned against Margo's shoulder, hands cloaking around her waist as her head sort of perched upon her shoulder- looking at each of the paintings alongside her girlfriend.\n\"Well... Let's hope I do know you, just don't quiz me.\" Vi jested quietly, calm in that moment to let the satisying silence go forward.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Well... Now you are this lucky- and as am i. That's cheesy but... Oh well.\" Violetta shrugged delicately\n\"It's nice to have a muse again... Especially a gorgeous one- red hair is very fun to paint too... Never dye it black please-\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "○ And naturally, Margo's face flushed red once again, only hidden by the fact she had part of her cheek pressed into the crown of Vi's head as the pair chatted.\n\n◆ \"C'mon, Vi, I don't have *That* Many good sides.\" She jokingly retorted, laughing softly. \"But my ego suuure loves the attention...\" She continued, pawing through the sketchbook once more to simply admire and cherish how talented Vi was with a paintbrush. \"Anyways, man... It's crazy. The difference between us as artists, that is. You're so damn good with a paintbrush, I'm at best alright with comics, and yet I still feel like i've got so much to learn from you... Is this what relationships are all about? Growing as people together?\" Her voice trailed off, the words clearly less of a question that demanded answers and more of a self-centered utterance, a way to remind herself she was still very much figuring out the ins and outs of romance.\n\n▪︎ And thus, she had to be nice to herself.\n\n◆ \"We're both cheesy as they come, honestly, so don't worry.\" She calmly spoke, index finger gently snaking up the waist of Vi's tank top before coming to a rest tracing lazy circles on the bare skin of her hip. \"And don't worry about my hair, babe, it'll stay red as long as you want it to, alright?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Vi took a hand to Margo's jaw, squishing it and lightly moving the taller girl's head around- she then nodded, satisfied.\n\"At least 100 good sides... I hope your ego appreciates it.\" She noted, grinning daintily.\nMoments like this... Where they can joke around, compliment and appraise eachother, all while sounding at least faintly, subtly like teenagers. Teenagers Without the stupid dads and traumatic pasts- just those annoying, cheesy couples that get WAY too close in the literal hallways. Those delirious teens that buy matching rings and go on dates\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Margo... Made Vi feel normal, even if only temporarily.. Even if only for a moment.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"I... Like your art, Margo. It's passionate- you've always sort of adored it, as you could draw what you wanted. I only recently started to like what I paint; that would be because of a certain someone\"\nVi swooned, pressing against Margo's side needily. The sensation of being intertwined with someone she viewed so highly set off a bomb in her stomach.\nHaving been through this stage of romance before, she was enthralled to go through the swooning over your love era all over again, and for someone who cares this time.\n\"We're young... Everyday is about discovering eachother- ourselves and growing.\"\nShe felt herself cringe into her back intestine at her own words- but it was in essence what she believed true. Spending time with one another, finding new ways to hug, kiss, flirt and so on, and so forth... Were all new ways for them to grow in tandem and harmony with one another.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ What an embarrassing thought to have, however, it was hopeful... More hopeful than she'd ever felt in years.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ the skin of her waist, speckled with burns and freckles, the sensation of a new soft touch tracing circles upon her skin, like painting a solar system onto the cosmic map of her skin made the short girl jolt and giggle.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \" Don't... Force yourself to keep it red- you're gorgeous on any colour\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "○ And, for just a moment, Margo melted, a rare display of her guard fully slipping down into the hands of another.\n\n◆ \"Well, I... I guess I'm happy to, y'know. Be the reason you like art again. But also, you shouldn't just rely on me.\" Casually speaking, she could feel Vi shifting ever closer, wrapping her arms and her hands around the various parts of her body like a monkey. It was a little terrifying, still, being so close and so intimate with someone, but she hid it pretty damn well, keeping her own hands busy scooping cheese from her charcuterie board and lazily exploring the ways in which the skin of Vi's hip dipped and peaked as it moved over the musculature and bone beneath the surface. \"Not to be negative, I just... Know it'd rip both of us apart if we ever split up.\"\n\n▪︎ \"Fuck,\" She uttered, \"Why do those words taste so sour...?\"\n\n○ A few moments passed, in which time she fully hoisted the cheeseboard onto her lap.\n\n◆ \"Want some snacks? I can... Move it if you want a better seat.\" She chuckled, able to feel her face flushing lightly from how forthcoming her comment had been. Hopefully Vi wouldn't mind a little bit of humour with hot hibiscus honey and freakishly expensive blue cheeses. \"But yeah, cringe as it is to say, I think that's... Kinda it. I dunno. I really wish I did, but I don't... Oh well, fuck it. Did I ever tell you why I chose red? It wasn't just because I like the colour red – I actually like greens way more, if you haven't gathered from my camo jacket and shit – but I dunno if i've ever told you.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Well not just you obviously- but... The entire cradle is just so.. Beautifully dystopian I suppose. Everyone here is pretty too. You're my favourite muse, but Ive painted Gabe a couple of times... That and the outside of the cradle, streets of Isakstad. An industrial area with hidden beauty- the poetically perfect prison.\"\nSuch a thing as art was always enough to make Violetta swoon. Was it something she saw herself doing perhaps in a couple years? No. In fact, her foresight hardly imagined anything past next year.\nBut it was a way of looking at the world, and it brightened the pessimist's view on things just that little bit.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ the small girl occasionally squirmed in Margo's gentle clutch, the light and feathery touch making her snicker at times in a ticklish frenzy.\nShe remained in place however, perfectly content with the way Margo memorised the contour lines on the map of her flesh.\nShe nuzzled her head against Margo's shoulder gently, sighing under her breath.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"They feel so bitter because it's... Not something you wish to say, I suppose. Or maybe because it's a negative thought on your birthday- who knows.\"\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi hoped that area of conversation would just blow over as just another hypothetical, just another unwelcome thought here to crash the fun at the party. She sat a little more upright upon Margo's new line of speaking.\nGiving half a smirk to her partner, Vi tilted her head side to side indecisively.\n\"I'm not huge on cheese and such but.. Well I might just take you up on that second offer\" It was difficult to tell whether or not the clumsy words that spilt out of Vi's mouth a lot less smoother than she had intended were purely in jest, or if she was actually open to a change in position.. She may be embarrassed by her own flirting, but the sheepish girl at least had the joy of leaving Margo guessing.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ she shook her head, eyebrows raising on the snib.\n\"There's a reason? Aha- I just... Sort of assumed you knew it would look good on you.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Gabe, huh...? I'm sure that vain prick loved being painted.\" Margo laughed, barely an ounce of menace to her voice. \"But I getcha. Isakstad's a really nice place, honestly... Lot more greenery than the boroughs, that's for sure. Sure, you had Central Park back home, but other than that...? It all felt like urban oppressive sprawl. Also, for the love of God, be careful out in the industrial areas. Those winged freaks are still loose, plotting who knows what against us...\"\n\n□ Picking up an olive and some sort of sweet creamy cheese with a toothpick, she scraped the morsel off with her lips as if she'd done it a thousand times before. Chewing, she leaned her head against Vi's softly, feather touch like the down of the seabirds off of her ancestral home, her thoughts up in the clouds. Romance wasn't *Exactly* What she'd envisioned, but it was still something that she was overjoyed about, no matter how aloof and calm she seemed sometimes. Of course, though, the moment of calm was broken as, once again, one of her flirts got reciprocated when she wasn't exactly expecting it.\n\n▪︎ Naturally, she stiffened for just a second, then let out a surprised noise.\n\n◆ \"Jesus, Vi, you keep on catching me off guard.\" Margo sheepishly laughed, plucking another cube of cheese and holding it up towards her girlfriend's mouth. \"I keep on not expecting you to reciprocate my smooth talking, but then you do and my heart swings a kick into my ribs... It's nice, though, I guess. But seriously, you've gotta at least try this. It's a French camembert, it's super creamy and delicious.\" She'd hold it up for a few moments, after which she'd drop the toothpick, or bite the cheese off herself if Vi turned it down.\n\n-\n◆ \"So, when I was younger... About eleven? I first came out to myself. Accepted that I was *Not* Cis in the least, started trying new pronouns out, yaddiyadda. Well, part of that metamorphosis of sorts was shedding my natural hair, and I saw on a color theory site that red's kinda this mix of love and war, and... That resonated with me. **I** Am love and war in one, a lover *And* A fighter, and so I chose red as a colour to obsessively dye my hair. Miiight be a touch stupid, but... Whatever.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Oh absolutely, I chose him because I knew he'd say yes and I was anxious with everyone else. I'm half convinced he might have kissed the canvas when I left\" Vi played along, Gabe was someone that she could appreciate, but man... Was he way too self aware about being hot. Maybe Violetta was just jealous of the confidence. Maybe she secretly wished that she could hold herself to such esteem, rather than capping herself at 'average' where she apparently belonged.\n\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She looked on in esteem and adoration as Margo scrambled and flustered over simple reciprocation. A calculated risk flew over Margo's head when Violetta dared make a move back, which left Vi suitably astonished when she was hit with that reminder that Margo was so new to this.\nPlay stupid games, win stupid prizes, though Vi hardly believed a flirt to be anything worth mocking at all.\nThough the cheese offering admittedly threw Vi off.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ the world's most vague social cue was whalloped right into Vi's stomach, giving her mental whiplash, like an uppercut to the jaw, only worse.\nLiterally what is she meant to do in this situation, every blaring siren in her head indicates fight or flight, and the little spongebob esque people in her brain's filing cabinet office were running a fire drill in her skull.\nThe options were clear, yet which one she was to do was not. It was either take the cheese toothpick like a normal person, bite it off the stick how it is, or acknowledge the cheese.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ she was visibly uncertain, taking a good couple seconds of clear mental crisis to figure out what the Fuck was going on- or rather, what she was meant to actually do. Her eyes darted from between Margo and the cheese- and after a moment more she had to bite the bullet.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ still without a word, she just... Half awkwardly leaned forwards and chomped the cheese off the stick. Sorry, Margo if you intended on eating that, but you gotta be a little clear /j\nNodding in approval, Violetta swiftly got to bending her posture to be a bit more coddled into Margo's side, rather than the stoic straight and board like position she had accidentally put herself in.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"I see... I should have known there would have been a deeper meaning. That's... Really sweet actually; your journey to self acceptance partially started with well... Your hair. I was considering dyeing mine blue but black hair is a pain to bleach and dye so... God knows.\"\nVi reminisced, closing her eyes as she spoke."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Fair enough.\"\n\n□ Rather than twist what Vi had said into a ramble about somehow *Not* Being anxious, she instead was content to let her *Be* Anxious. Life was worrying, and not everyone was enthusiastic about amateur self-portraits, so all one could do was be kind to themself and push themself forward at their own rate. Watching as Vi froze up for a few good moments with the offer of cheese under her nose, Margo genuinely found herself befuddled. What had she done? Was Vi lactose intolerant and trying to find a nice way to verbalize it? Was she just not a fan of the French? These thoughts were all dashed as Vi bit, dragged, and then cuddled up into her side.\n\n▪︎ Crisis averted! Now she could lean forward and grab the remote.\n\n◆ \"Fuck, I'd imagine black hair is a royal hassle to bleach.\" Margo spoke, flicking the TV on and bringing up Disney+. \"But, if it's any comfort, your hair's absolutely beautiful as is. I've... Always had a thing for dark hair, and yours is my absolute favourite.\" Smooth. \"A lot of my journey of self-acceptance was just finding a... How do I word this? A brand of transgenderism. Kinda. It's never been so much dysphoria in the way that I want to rip my dick off, or get top surgery, but I always just fucking *Hated* Being seen, or treated, as a man, as some square-bodied bull meant to inherit the Abernathy fortune and business. I... Wanted to be myself. This *Is* Me. I'm happy.\"\n\n● \"Now...\" Predictably, she quickly navigated to The Owl House, and brought up the first episode of season 2. \"How about we watch some stuff and have a few drinks? Marge came through yesterday with that bottle on the table, and... I was hoping we could drink together. Maybe we'll get to know each other better than we ever could sober, as scary as the thought might be...\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Yes... I needn't even give it a go to know it would be a pain. I might get some strips in but... If you think it's a look then I'm perfectly content.\" Watching the TV flicker on in front of her, Vi came up with a mental prediction of what was to come. She could easily guess from the entrance to disney plus that this was an Owl House watch party.\nSeason 1... Vi had actually enjoyed- despite her uptight view on cartoons, the knowledge that Margo liked it, made the show even more illuminating and full of wonder in her view.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ she looked up at Margo for a second, catching onto the way the light hit her skin, and casted beautiful shadows upon all the girl's perfections and imperfections, every inch of what she adored to look at.\nBut now wasn't the time for Vi' internal simping, she turned her attention back to the TV, a subtle attempt at hiding her face having gone a little pink from admiring.\nIt's so hard being with someone who wasn't just the bare minimum, since now she feels inclined to stare.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta nodded with a hint of understanding at Margo's trans talk- an insight into the younger woman's thoughts and feelings was always duly noted to Violetta.\n\"Yeah... Ripping your dick off would hurt...\"\nVioletta muttered, mostly without thinking; her mind was far more focused on picking apart Margo's reasonings, and forming some sort of judgement or understanding. A jurisdiction that would put into words the feeling in a way that Vi, as a cis woman could hopefully comprehend..\n\"I... Think I understand. For you, it's more about how you're viewed socially, yes? *You* Know you're a woman, so you're insistent on making sure people view you as such? I hope that makes enough sense.\"\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta hummed quietly upon her judgement, fiddling with a stray thread of Margo's shirt. She hoped the tall girl didn't mind being leant on- it just sort of felt easier with the height difference.\n\nVi was happy to shift position if Margo wanted to lean on her instead but... It seemed alright so far.\n\"Is season two as good as season one?\" She questioned, eyebrows raising. As much as she refused to downright state that she enjoyed the show- but god she did... And god did she also lowkey have a thing for Eda. But thats a demon to confront another time.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Sounds good to me, though I do warn you, I don't get drunk easily... Which is likely for the best.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Hmph.\"\n\n□ A lazy, approving utterance left her throat, barely more than a percussive thump pressed between the different components of her necks. Just as she was willing to keep her head red as long as her girlfriend wanted it, Vi was seemingly willing to leave her beautiful dark locks alone, and that was good news for Margo given her taste in women. Able to feel Vi's gaze tenderly scanning her face, she naturally flushed salmon pink. Who could blame her? She was being admired, gazed at, as a woman instead of a man, and this soft gaze that viewed her as what she wanted to be affirmed to her that she was more than just a faggot in a dress like her father had said so many times.\n\n▪︎ And the affirmations felt *Good.*\n\n◆ \"Basically it, I guess.\" She spoke, grabbing a few different morsels and fixing herself a killer bite of food. \"I just wanted to be seen as a woman on my own terms, not by society's. Society at large expects trans women to get all sorts of surgeries, do vocal training, tuck their dicks in, present femme, but that's just bullshit.\" She continued after she'd chewed and swallowed her bite. \"It really is, man... Anyways, season two is even better than season one, in my opinion. It builds upon the first season, and man, does it get *Dark* At times. Or, well, dark by Disney standards. Fuck Disney. Also great, I get hammered way too fuckin' easy, hopefully I won't be too much of a problem to look after.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ and in Vi's mind, Margo was always a girl, did she view it as unconventional? Sure, maybe it was new to meet people like Margo, strange for such a sheltered girl but... Being trans was just part of Margo's beautiful puzzle, no matter how out of the norm it was. \nA childhood of historical texts and more books than one could count had led to at least one thing; normalisation of the different people she was bound to meet. Gay stuff confused her since she related a little too much to it but... Having come across studies of it growing up, trans people never confused or grossed her out, she never had anything to internalise.\nShe got it. Something about that expression had clicked a little earlier in the last couple months.\n\n\n\"You're right, I think... That and not everyone can afford to put themselves out there right away. I've read some of the statistics as a kid. I wouldn't want to come out either...\" Vi reflected, absentmindedly moving away from just the thread of Margo's shirt, to simply fiddling with the area of fabric as she concentrated on conversation.\nShe hadn't even noticed she was doing it, somehow.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ she let out an airy giggle, smiling halfly at Margo\n\"I'm sure you're a bareable drunk, just don't try to throw me or anything.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "○ [TW: mentions of various forms of parental abuse]\n\n◆ \"Oh fuck no.\" Margo shook her head. Seemingly, Vi mentioning the statistics behind young trans people and their oft-unfortunate fates had struck a still-recovering wound, but unlike the diner she was ready to be truthful about it all. She gently – near demandingly, honestly – pulled herself into Vi's side, tucking her knees into her chest after she'd placed the board back on the table. ||\"I... Was actually beat when I first came out to my dad. I was eleven, and... He'd never been the nicest man, but he beat me viciously. Again and again. Once he found out he couldn't beat me back into the closet he basically forgot I exist, the fucking bastard. All because I...\" She tightened her arms around her calves, pressing the bridge of her nose between her knees. \"Was a disgrace to his public image. *His public image.* I was nothing but a fucking tool to him, Vi...\" A sniffle followed. \"And even with all the beatings and neglect he couldn't fucking accept that he was in the wrong. That he was hurting me.\"||\n\n□ With those words, she'd begin to silently cry, leaning herself into Vi's side for a moment before, all at once, the dam broke and the tears came out a deluge. Pained sobs, sniffles, her body loosening up and completely melting into whatever embrace or solace Vi offered, memories of years gone by and abuses suffered flashing through her head like a torturous slideshow of where she'd been, and what had played a part in making her the person she was. Of course, though, as she sobbed profusely and kneaded the material of Vi's top she felt regret, shame, anger at herself for letting her emotions get the best of her, vestiges of male socialization she'd yet to put to bed for good.\n\n▪︎ A few good minutes of crying passed before the tears began to dry up.\n\n● \"But, I'm... Sure you didn't come here to *Hic* Hear my sob story. I'm sorry, babe, y-you didn't need to hear that, right?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "[similarly also tw for abuse/ableism, only mentioned briefly tho]\n\n\nVi instantly scrambled to provide any possible sort of comfort, shoulder to cry on, anything. She had no clue how to respond to this situation, her empathy barrels being sent bare empty at birth.\nSympathy, compassion, they'll work in tandem some form of way..\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She quickly wrapped Margo into a hug as soon as she realised that the taller girl hadn't in fact pulled herself closer for a kiss, but rather for comfort, to be closer. \nShe knew the feeling at least, to have someone you've always at least sort of looked up to, like a father figure to inflict some sort of rage, pain, the lot. And for the first time in a while, a sort of anger fizzled aggressively at her core as her arms tightly held the pent up girl next to her into an embrace that Vi hoped could patch up the dam, even if just for a moment.\nMargo... Didn't deserve this.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Awkwardly leaving the other girl twisting in her seat to make a more comfortable hug, Vi said not a word yet, simply taking it in, and giving herself a moment for the spiking anger in her stomach to rest, damn it, rest!\nMargo didn't need anger right now, that's how Vi took it, at least.. She was happy to let Margo fiddle with her shirt, cry into her shoulder (a little uncomfortable considering the lack of sleeves but... Skin is waterproof at least?) and babble about whatever trouble continued. Vi placed the occasional gentle kiss onto Margo's head while the shushing and reassurance came all the same, periodically to a rhythm.\n\nStroking Margo's hair with the attempt to alleviate, she felt the same striking rage in her stomach, that made her apoplectic at any mention of Margo's father, and god forbid she have to meet the guy ever... Realistically Vi wouldn't be able to do anything, but man would he get some cold stares!\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ the clearing of the weather to a murky cloudy made Vi a little hopeful, she reached a hand out to clear away any other tears from her lover's cheeks. Her touch lingered momentarily, and she shuffled forward as Margo began to add on some apology that needn't be there. If anyone should apologise, Vi was sure it was herself.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Oh Margo... I.. I think i did... Need to hear that i mean.\" She looked into Margo's eyes for a fleeting second, eyebrow and a half upturned in concern.\n\"Margo... I'll never understand what you went through- not fully. Not truly. Even if what we went through was similar- you need to let it out because... Who you are affected things, it wasn't just taking out anger, it was personal to your identity and.. And\" Violetta stuttered around the end, stumbling over her words and mouthing about uncertainly for a moment.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ ||\"And no matter how many times I was hit and beat for autism or.. Or for going non verbal,,, and everytime i was simply forgotten about around dinner time- it's just such a similar yet different charge i think...|| I need to be told this, if I want to be an ally and.. Well a good girlfriend, i need to get that... That we're oppressed in such different ways.\" Violetta finished her little speech with an inhale of air.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ After a couple moments of silence, Vi plucked up the courage to plant a messy kiss to Margo's lips, cupping the woman's face in her hands.\n\"I... I hope that all made at least a bit of sense as i can be a little incoherent and.. And I'm sorry for bringing up a topic like that on your birthday.\"\nHer own tears had stuck to her eyes now, a few having breached down her cheeks and smudging mascara- hey.. Vi even wore makeup for Margo's birthday.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"I... Love you Margo, i really hope you know that- and... And I'm glad you're comfortable telling me this.\"\nVi shakily expressed, her compsure still only shakily coming back into the picture.\n\"And i also really hope this wasnt a weird time to say i love you.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "○ Hands cupped her face to wipe the tears away, its twin-tone skin flushed cherry red, and in that moment a wave of relief washed over her. Maybe it *Hadn't* Been the worst thing to say.\n\n▪︎ [TW: mentions of abuse once again]\n\n□ Of course, though, Vi began to talk on her own afterwards. Initially comforting, she eventually began to break herself, admission of abuses off the back of her autism coming to light, and in that moment Margo realized just how similar an upbringing they'd had. Sure, she knew they were both from extreme wealth and dysfunctional families, but she'd have never hoped to share a history of abuse with her darling girlfriend, and though her heart still wrenched fiercely in her chest as her past continued to play on repeat she couldn't help but raise a hand back to Vi's cheek, just in time for the other to pull her into a messy kiss borne from the throes of baring traumas to each other like wedding vows.\n\n▪︎ And, naturally Margo kissed right back, stomach turning itself upside down as the three words registered in her mind; \n\n★ *\"I love you.\"*\n\n◆ \"I... Guess you – and myself, by extension, needed to hear that.\" She finally spoke, her naturally husky butch voice even more ragged and low than usual, parched throat scraping every word that left her throat as if it were lined with sandpaper. \"I'm so sorry, Vi... I. Kinda hoped we weren't similar in that way. You didn't deserve it. Neither of us did.\" Her voice dropped to a whisper, twisting her body back into an upright position with dejected shoulders. \"Also, I wasn't expecting it, but... I love you too. You didn't mean to remind me, but trauma has a funny way of rearing its ugly head, I guess... Thanks for being there for me. I just hope I'm being there for you in the way you need it.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Violetta's breathing was still shaky, partly from crying a little bit, a little bit because of the partially hungry kiss from mere moments ago, and a little bit from recovering from a very... Overwhelming experience. However, this conversation as much as it drew them closer, made Vi determined to make this birthday pretty fuckin epic. By that she means she wont stop Margo from drinking what she'd view as a 'bit much' and will watch whatever the hell Margo wants. Sounded like a solid deal in her head.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta leant in for one more kiss, far more fleeting this time, a quick peck on the lips, with far less messy desperation.\n\"Ehe... Your throat sounds like a desert, you might want to get a drink.\" Violetta mentioned, the other girl's voice reverberated with a dry and dusty tone, of which the tears had seemingly made possible.\n\"There's... Nothing we can do about our pasts, but it's good we found eachother... It's good to have someone similar standing in your corner.\" She gently brushed the back of her hand against Margo's, then reverting to being cuddled into the taller girl's side, giving her lover the impression of an early 1900s aristocrat at the races, woman in arm, cheese in vicinity...\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"I'm glad you love me too, this means I can say it as much as I want, correct? Nice...\" And now with too much power in her hands, Vi's knee bounced excitedly, despite the awkwardness in the back of her skull from the shared cry sesh from moments earlier.\n\"And of course, you're welcome- it's the least I could do as your girlfriend and all... You've been there in the way I needed since day one, I always knew you were sweet- even since like... When you came to check on me after the break up, that was just so *Kind*, and i thought about that for... A lot longer than I'd like to admit.\" Vi's hands intertwined, and she squeezed them together absentmindedly as she spoke.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"But anyways... Do you still want to put on the owl house? If its better than season one then... You've sort of caught my interest.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "○ Naturally, Margo kissed right back, mouthing some unintelligible nothings into Vi's mouth before letting go.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, I probably should, huh?\" She hoarsely laughed, relieved to finally feel something other than anger, pain, and shame. Now that she'd finally confessed that dark corner of her past, and been met with love and understanding instead of annoyance and indifference, she felt relieved – no, vindicated – and thus finally felt it appropriate to crack the bottle on the table. \"Yeah, I'd... Say so. I guess we needed each other, in a way, man... Also, say it as much as you want, I'll never grow tired of hearing those words from you.\" \n\n○ Warmly speaking in a tone she'd never found herself using, she poured about a shot and a half into each glass, filling her glass with orange juice before leaning back with an absent-minded *Pick your poison* In reference to the mixers and crossing one leg over the other in a slightly awkward move. As she did, though, she heard Vi speak, in that same slightly awkward yet genuine voice she had at all times, and the words that floated from her mouth to the other's ear were nothing short of heroin straight to the veins. \n\n▪︎ Thankfully her face was still red from crying, otherwise she'd be beet red.\n\n◆ \"I'll be honest, I... Don't quite remember why I came to check on you that day. We'd maybe talked a few times before then, but we were acquaintances at best, yet I couldn't help but want to check up on you.\" She hummed, tapping her fingertips against the side of her Garfield-themed glass. \"Maybe it was a latent crush, maybe it was divine intervention, but whatever the case, I'm glad I did. I'm glad I met you, y'know?\"\n\n● \"Also...\" A moment followed. \"You thought about that for a long time? That's touching, actually.\"\n\n▪︎ With that, she'd pop on the first episode, and take a sip. What a rollercoaster of a night so far."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ She raised a brow, and half grinned uncertainly as she watched Margo's concotion of gin with *Orange juice*.\nMaybe that was a normal mixture, but the concept of it almost made Vi imagine the cartoonish toxic cloud of a skull and cross bones arising from the glass. But.. Whatever, it was Margo's birthday. Violetta will judge her lover another time, today is not that time, the universe's cruel clockwork can wait up for that moment for now.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta picked up her own glass, simply adding lemonade. A simple start was her way of life, and there's nothing more classic than gin and lemonade, surely? She took a sip- and the sweet nectar that proceeded to bite her throat with aftertaste managed to make her feel so... *Rebellious*\nIt made her feel like a rulebreaker in the same way kissing Margo, swearing and the occasional cigarette did, so many simple things that she enjoys that make her stomach turn in excitement. Crazy what spite can do.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ The concept of it being a latent crush made Vi's already pink cheeks go a little more concentrated red- it was nice to know people fall as fast as she does.\n\"I considered you a friend at the time- just... Not insanely close so yeah, it was unexpected, but... Thanks, looking back I needed someone on my side. It made me feel very permanent when you visited- like... I spoke to someone and they *Remembered* Me, it made me realise that I'm perceived, and that if i just.. Get out there then i won't sink into the background nearly as much\"\nVi didn't mean to drone on, but the ghost of that unsteady and broad smile flashed onto her face for more than just a few seconds.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ her foot tapped along to the intro of the show, and she fiddled with Margo's shirt as she pressed her body back against her partner- because what is watching a comfort show on your birthday without some warm contact\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Eda... Is still in this season, right?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I getcha.\" Margo hummed, taking another sip of her admittedly hair-brained drink. \"At least, I... I think I do. It's hard to imagine feeling like a shade in the background, given my... Brash, proud self.\"\n\n□ Casually talking, she set her drink down into one of the cup holders that were installed into each armrest – very handy things, they went – before looking back at the screen. Now, she knew she wouldn't be talking too much, but she also didn't want to bore Vi, so... What did she do? Strike a balance? Intersperse factoids and headcanons between the episodes? Keep her damn mouth shut? \n\n▪︎ For now, though, she lazily wrapped an arm around Vi's waist. She could get used to this.\n\n◆ \"Thankfully, yeah. We watched the entirety of season one the other week, you watched her get spared at the last moment, didn't you?\" At least, she was certain they'd finished season one already. \"This season really gets dark at points, though... Fucking love it for that.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ soz meant to respond earlier but. I switched on Yakuza. Big mistake ahem anyways. Looking to the side of her at Margo sipping the drink, made her noticeably shudder with a quiet snicker. So gross... So so SO gross, Vi couldnt imagine letting orange juice and alcohol into her system. Even if in theory that was the sort of thing that would be considered actually pretty ordinary, Vi internally thought the mixture was abnormal.\nShes becoming used to the abnormal though.\n\n\nAt the command of Margo's arm draping over her waist like a layer of warm snow, Vi felt the need to snuggle up just that little bit closer, as if now attached by the hip with her lover. Head now on Margo's shoulder, Vi gazed at the TV, ears pricking up as Margo replied to her inquiry of Eda's whereabouts.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Yes yes I was... Just making sure I suppose? Sometimes shows like.. Reset casts I guess.\" I haven't watched the owl house but sure she saw Eda get spared.\nA dry laugh escapes Vi's throat.\n\"Dark..? How does a kid's show get dark?\" This bitch hasnt watched the owl house or steven universe or adventure time or gravity falls or infinity train or-\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Her eyes lay half lidded in Margo's embrace, such warmth from an idol she holds so dear was enough to put her in a dozey trance, even in early evening. And with the entire night left, maybe it was good for a little bit of alcohol to be in her system, especially if she wanted to finish the owl house (which she did, by the way!). Margo's interests were in essence Vi's interests, in the same way that the short girl was inevitably going to force her girlfriend into watching at Least the first season of Riverdale- Vi was perfectly fine with watching the (admittedly quite riveting) display of the owl house.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ she takes a sip of her drink.\n\"Forgive me for such *Risqué* Behaviour, but you have very nice shoulders\" The risqé part came out half sarcastic, a dozey smile adorning Vi's freckled and scarred face.\nFlirting before marriage... The audacity."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Well... By being created by Dana Terrace.\" A half-second of tension hung, then was snipped by a couplet of laughter. \"I kid, it's a lot more complex than that, but basically...? Disney has no dick and also no balls.\"\n\n□ Chuckling, she took another sip of her drink, a jarringly herbal glass of orange juice that just plain tasted like it'd been randomized, and set it down into the cupholders that had gained Vi's subtle fascination. Something about it all, this awkward seventeen year-old sweetheart being enamoured by a cupholder attached to a *Sofa* Of all things charmed Margo, directly into raising a hand up Vi's side and stomach before pulling her into a playfully sloppy kiss. Of course, her hand ventured just a touch further than it should have, but Margo seemed to gloss over it, or perhaps she was seeing just how close she could get before Vi set the boundary.\n\n▪︎ After all, she was having a drink, with her first girlfriend, in a luxurious rehabilitation centre in Sweden, and her favourite show was on. Life was *Good,* And a possible disappointment couldn't take that away from her.\n\n◆ \"Thanks, I... Work on them a lot.\" Of course, the transphobic devil on her shoulder attempted to remind her that her shoulders were always going to be a tell, and her amused smile took a downturn in tow. \"But also... You? Flirting with me? You *Skank.*\"\n\n○ And immediately afterwards, she let out a laugh, and leaned her head against Vi's, happy as a pig in shit and just as unenthusiastic about having to move even an inch."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ As much as she would cease to admit it, Violetta allowed a snicker from her nose at Margo's blunt way of putting it. No dick. No balls. Shes so right. Violetta didnt know much about disney, but she knew enough about corporations to know that the ever beloved animation company probably does some bad shit.\nSo she took Margo's word for it, half nodding.\n\"Noted. No dick and no... Balls.\" A surreal thing to come out of Violetta's mouth of all people, but the repetition stored it in her brain, in the little filing cabinets amongst the folds.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ In fairness, cup holders were like... MAJORLY cool to Vi, one hand remained on Margo's stomach, while the other was placing her drink into the cup holder with a *Very* Pleased look. No wonder Margo loves to sleep on the sofa so much, she would too if her's was as convenient as this! She slumped back against Margo soon after, the haphazard kiss being met with a display of equal enthusiasm.\nCan't say she minded a bit of touch either, her own hands only gliding and tracing mindlessly across Margo's arms and shoulders. It wasn't even Vi's birthday and she was *Still* Practically beaming, just to feel loved like this. Loved like a human, loved like there was no pity at all, no love formed from an apology.\nAs far as Vi was concerned, she looked at Margo like she puts the stars in the sky, and her lover seems to look on in a similar way.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta huffed an amused laugh, placing another kiss on Margo's cheek.\n\"You're no better, you utter harlot.\" Violetta teased, now side hugging Margo with her head still perched up on the taller girl's shoulder.\nTruth be told, Violetta's heart was pumping at the speed of a grade 5 typhoon, something about that sloppy, and disorganised kiss from a few moments earlier had left Violetta even more flustered, her face a bright red.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"This... Is nice, you know how to plan a birthday i think.\" Violetta complimented, the familiar sheepish smile on her face.\nBrushing her hand against Margo's hair, she stared at the TV with a feeling of unadulterated content. She fiddled with the red locks until her fingers grew tired; the taller girl was just... So so perfect, Margo wasn't even aware of how something as simple as a little extra touch or something as common as a smile could make Violetta wobbly in the knees and fuzzy in the brain.\nShe never wants this feeling to end."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Aaand no butthole, because they feed on radiation; that is to say, the hopes and dreams of unfortunate animators.\"\n\n□ A dry chuckle followed as Margo continued to let her hand drift up Vi's torso, eventually coming to a rest a bit beneath her chest balled into a fist. A touch tense, yes, but it was close to Vi's heart, and that plain felt right to the taller lass. Her attention naturally began to focus itself on the show moreso than the company, but after a few moments of silently mouthing every line of dialogue to herself she looked over at Vi.\n\n▪︎ And it was a look of genuine warmth, where a cold glare usually lay. Vi really softened her up, so to speak.\n\n◆ \"Guess I did okay for lumping this shit together last night.\" Margo casually spoke, gently tracing circles along Vi's upper stomach, a rough corner of her nail catching and tugging the material of her tank top without rhyme or reason. \"I mean, fuck, I had to order the charcuterie a few days ago, but otherwise...? All improv. Kinda.\" Silence fell over the couch like a throw blanket, and Margo leaned into the comfortable, quiet embrace as if it were fresh out of the dryer.\n\n◇ She could get used to this."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"No butthole... Sounds like a very inconvenient, and likely painful way of living.\" Violetta weighed in, nodding subtly to herself, as if making a mental note of this on her cranium's large whiteboard of information.\n\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta's heartbeat rang gently against her chest, and likely delicately against Margo's balled up fist upon her rib. With the world's most chillaxed, dopey smile, Violetta nestled her head against Margo's shoulder again. Any physical touch drove Vi crazy in one way or another, and as much as she adored the closely intimate little thing they had going on here, Violetta needed the odd shuffle and nestle every few moments. She held the fabric at Margo's shirt taut, an item to ground the shorter girl to reality, a cloth that tethered her to the right plane.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Every now and then, a breathy giggle or click of her tongue could be heard as Margo lazily traced shapes over her skin, both over the burns and over the smooth.\nHaving Margo there was helping Vi. Helping her so much, something about the way the redhead held no hesitation to touch her scars, no hesitation to tell Vi just how much she loved her.\nVi has decided she'd probably do anything for Margo. Within reason, one would hope.\n\"I suppose as you get older it becomes easier to make calm birthday plans. Instead of parties, you start to just do whatever you want to do.\" Violetta reflected, fiddling with Margo's shirt fabric inattentively.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ a couple moments of quiet, and Vi is engrossed in the show flickering on the monitor.\n\"...I like this hunter kid.\"\nBased."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I mean... That was just a saying.\" Margo let a slightly confused chuckle out. \"But yeah, that would be a... Nah, it wouldn't be shitty. No butthole, no shit.\"\n\n□ Absent-minded ramblings filled the air as Margo settled into quietly watching The Owl House again, for what felt like the millionth time and the first at once. This show, this funky lighthearted horror series, was nothing short of a Bible for her, something to obsessively pore over looking for the tiniest or largest of details, the most boring of fillers and most attention-grabbing of chapter ends equally fascinating and enthralling. All the while, her hands kept on tracing circles on Vi's skin, her demeanour oddly demure and skittish for someone who'd basically come so far off the back of being a halfway-decent flirt.\n\n▪︎ Halfway-decent, however, was only half the battle; one also needed to be able to react appropriately, and somehow she always found herself wordlessly surprised when it was reciprocated.\n\n◆ \"Guess so.\" Margo hummed, flicking the waistband of Vi's bottoms with the lazy flip of her fingernail. She'd grown accustomed to this, letting her hands mess about and explore the parts of Vi's skin that she was allowed to, or could bring herself to graze. After all, Vi was beauty in her eyes, and something inside of her told her she hadn't earned the right to cherish her like that. Self-doubt? Maybe. \"Hunter's kind of a weenie at the start. He gets better though, man... Dana actually wanted to both canonize him *And* Lilith as autistic, but Disney... You know, said *Mental illness? In our show? Fuck outta here, man!*\" She scoffed and threw her free hand up, also sending her remote soaring through the air and onto Uri's bed. \"Fuck. Whoops. Guess I gotta go grab that later.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Just... Photosynthesis.\" Violetta remarked quietly, finishing off the streamline of conversation about no dick, no balls, no butthole, no... Happy existence? The ghost of a smile flashed across the petite girl's lips when she considered how bizarre of a conversation that had been- all stemming from the unreliability of Disney..\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Honestly, Vi had never had too much of a hankering for cartoons. They felt less realistic, she felt far less attached to the characters, yet... This show managed to drag her in. Maybe it was the way Margo spoke about it as if she was going to leave Vi for Dana Terrace's character writing that made the short girl unconsciously look at it in a better light. Or maybe it was (god forbid) an actually good show that Vi was bound to enjoy.\nIt made her feel childish almost to enjoy a cartoon at her age, but if it meant she got to cuddle up to a girl with a very satisfying heartbeat rhythm (allegedly, you'd understand if you were in Vi's shoes), then perhaps it was worth embracing that inner child.\n\n>: ̗̀➛✯ the little rustled sounds that emitted as they each fiddled with eachother's clothes was a fuzzy white noise that moved to a near metronomic tempo. It was a joy to know Margo was comfortable with her, and it was a joy for Vi to know that she had gone far past beginning to trust Margo. At this point, she'd trust Margo near her diary and chinchillas at the same time.\n\nWhich is a lot, in Violetta's terms.\nShe gazed at Margo's methodic hand as the taller girl rambled, admiring the tendons and bumps that adorned the taller girl's appendages. She wanted to take Margo's hand in her own, and place delicate kisses against the knuckles but.. For now she must maintain controlled, her partner was busy with that hand. She can be cheesy another time.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ A gentle frown bestowed upon her features, and Vi shook her head\n\"Autism... Is kind of common, you'd think shows aimed at a younger audience would want to represent that as much as possible to avoid alienation of peers...\" A quiet sigh left Vi's throat, another day, another score of incompetence from a company.\nVioletta finished down the last of her drink, beginning to casually repour herself another small glass. Still no orange juice decorated her gin; she couldn't bring herself to attempt the rather absurd (by Vi's standard) mixture.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ With half lidded eyes, Violetta watched as the remote got launched onto the missing roommate's bed. Her mouth upturned a little bit alongside her eyebrows, and she hugged up just that closer to Margo.. Like a cat sleeping on your laptop, and you don't dare close it in case the feline were to be bothered.\n\"Grab that later and move from the comfortable position we're in?- might as well wait for the tv to automatically turn off from inactivity.\" From the way she drummed her fingertips against Margo' side, it was clear that she was teasing, an attempt to fluster and bluster the admittedly adorable girl beside her.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ she's pulling your leg, Margo... Feel free to get that remote if you wish."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, exactly.\" Margo casually spoke, continuing to idly flick at Vi's clothes before reaching out for her own drink. \"Like, fuck, if I'd been able to grow up with actual autistic rep on TV, I'd have... Honestly came out a little different. Maybe got diagnosed earlier. Or maybe just realized it earlier. Plus, yeah, like you said, it'd be good for... Hm.\"\n\n□ *How the hell did she word this?* Was the primary thought in her skull, alongside the creeping realization that she had bit off a bit more than she could chew with these plans. Not because Vi bored her, or annoyed her, and not because she had anything else to do. No, instead it was a creeping sedation that clued her in to one of her quirks, and this realization caused her to stiffen up for just a moment. Then, remembering how abrupt her stiffness had came on, she let herself loosen up, and pulled Vi a little closer whilst draping her drinking hand around Vi's waist.\n\n▪︎ Bam. She knew what she was going to say.\n\n◆ \"I guess, like what I was saying, it would normalize autism in those damned impressionable minds kids got. Like, seriously, there's a reason a baby's head is so soft.\" Margo chuckled. \"It's so... Y'know, knowledge can easily be imprinted.\" She continued, a pipe full of worries bursting in her chest. What if her metaphor hit off the wrong way? What if it made no sense? Thankfully, though, Vi once again shepherded the conversation back towards familiar places – warm places, really.\n\n○ \"What, you're saying we're gonna make out until the TV times out?\" Sly yet distinctly sleepy, it was clear that somehow, after just one drink, she was beginning to feel it. \"Just so ya know, babe, it doesn't time out on its own. But... Hey, I'm down to gamble on the power cutting out.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Maybe.. I don't know, I was 'lucky' enough to be a stereotypical autistic prodigy child who barely spoke or played so... I got off lucky diagnosis wise I suppose.\" Violetta spoke, her voice wavering with a giggle at each tap against fabric.\n\"Even if it's not explicitly stated that they're autistic... I'm sure a couple autistic kids will see themselves in the character... That counts for something.\" Violetta placed a hand on top of Margo's, thoughtlessly stroking her thumb over the back of the taller girl's hand. Each contact of the skin sent a dull spark through Violetta's system. She could contemplate for hours on the stupid, weird side effects of being infatuated with someone like Margo. With someone that feels just so much larger than life.\nShe breathed a laugh as Margo paused to catch the reigns back on her brain, the taller girl had gotten ahead of herself, it seemed.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Eyebrows raised in surprise when Margo stiffened up for a moment, and for half of a second, Vi had wondered if her lover had just died and entered the rigor mortis stage but... Yeah no, somehow she doubted that would take place over the span of perhaps a couple seconds.\nFeeling Margo loosen up again, Vi tilted her head, the small, faint smile masked onto her face, where she wanted to express concern, but lacked the confidence somehow.\n\"Aha, what was that about?\" She questioned light heartedly, a quiet 'ope-' sound bouncing out her throat when getting pulled closer to her partner.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta finished off her second glass, waiting for a short while to pour any more. \n\"That's a good, albeit tipsy, way of putting it, yes. Babies have soft heads to protect themselves from damage. They're new parent proof.\" She somewhat enjoyed- no.. Definitely very much enjoyed these sort of chats with Margo. The shared vulnerability of both sharing things to do with the tism was beautiful in its own way. They made their own harmony from their own experiences and knowledge, bouncing off eachother usually in expertise..\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta leans forward to pour another drink while listening to Margo speak.\nPutting it blunt like that caused a pang of butterflies to flutter about in her stomach like tv static, her hands going just that little bit nervously clammy.\nHowever, an unexpected frown came onto the short girl's face, a silent moment of thought washing over her..\n*'just so ya know, babe, it doesn't time out on its own'*\nVioletta blinked, taking a sip of her drink, before letting a mutter slip from her vocal chords.\n\"...Something tells me my tv might have comr broken then.\"\n...Whoops.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She shakes her head, deciding that the unconfirmed status of her tv was a problem for a more responsible, more mature future Violetta. For now, she wanted to mess about.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Well, it's your birthday, you decide what we do- while watching the owl house of course. Multitasking is wonderful.\"\n\nQuantity over quality hours sorry /j"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Guess so.\" Margo mulled a thought in her mouth for a moment, deciding on whether to spit or force it down. \"I mean, fuck, apparently it's a lot harder for women to get diagnosed as a kid, and given the... Uhm. Dick thing.\" She spoke with a chuckle underlying her voice. \"Why did I describe it like that...? Anyways. Given the fact I was born nerfed, and you were born in God's image, it's kinda funny that you got your diagnosis before me.\"\n\n□ Raising the glass to her lips, she drank down the herbal juice that apparently offended Vi to no end, and hummed. *This was the life,* She thought, *And it is GOOD.* They continued as her hand draped back towards Vi's waist, the bottom of her glass resting neatly in Vi's lap. \"I can already feel myself getting drunk, man, and like... How the fuck? I'm only half a glass – *One shot,*\" She exasperatedly spoke, \"In, and I'm already feeling tipsy! Fuck sakes... Kinda hate being a lightweight.\" She trailed off, a little disappointment hanging off like rotted fruit from a branch. \n\n▪︎ Life wasn't always fair.\n\n◆ \"I mean... I'm not gonna say no.\" She smirked. \"But also I really wanna just... Gush over this show and hold you and shit, so... Maybe save the lip for later?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Yes actually it is quite the difficult process\" Violetta fiddled with a tassel of Margo's hair for a moment, before stopping and placing her hands on her lap with considerable force. A quiet giggle strolled out of her throat, enough so that the indented dimple appeared beside her mouth.\n\"It was actually sort of inconvenient to get diagnosed because everyone treats you differently. They babytalk you. But the jokes on them because I know quantum physics and they don't.\" Her face went almost smug for a moment, a satisfied smile on her face as she shuffled herself back neatly into place.\n\"And if by born in God's image you mean born under scandalous circumstances then you'd be right.\"\n\n: ̗̀➛ she takes a swig of her drink, finishing it off and going for just that little bit more. What drew her to it wasnt quite sure, maybe it was just that it tasted almost purely of lemonade, rather than actual alcohol. As if her body filtered it, Vi almost forgot there was gin in it at all.\nSo far, couple drinks, a face of stone. Vi didn't seem to show any traces of being delirious outside of her usual uncoordinated self (eg. Missing the cup holder and almost dropping the glass onto the sofa, staring off into space, etc etc.) Instinctively, Vi glided her finger around the rim of Margo's glass upon her lap. Warmth radiated off of Margo, leaving a dopey smile on her face as the taller girl's arm blanketed on her waist. \n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta goes from flirtatious to mellow quite quickly upon Margo's request, mumbling out a quiet 'of course' and smushing a kiss against Margo's cheek.\nHead leaning against Margo's shoulder again, Violetta's gaze was on the TV once again.\nOwl house real."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"You too?\" Margo calmly replied. \"I mean, er. I wasn't born outta wedlock or anything, but... Never mind. I sound like an idiot. I'd imagine being diagnosed made your life harder, but... Hell, you're here, so maybe it just helped toughen you up. Little early for it, but... Life isn't fair.\"\n\n□ Self-assured in that one truth about life, she polished off the rest of her drink, and set the glass down onto the cupholder the best she could with Vi tangled up in her arms. Part of her wanted another drink, but she also didn't want to move. Who could blame her? She was comfortable, she had her favourite show on, her favourite gal curled up in her arms, and a smorgasbord of food on the table. After a few minutes of comfortable silence she cracked out a groan and leaned forward, pouring herself another drink.\n\n▪︎ Hopefully she wouldn't be a total disaster by the end of the night.\n\n◆ \"Honestly, though?\" She spoke after a few minutes. \"I don't *Know* If I even want to be diagnosed officially. Sure, I'm rich beyond words, but... If it makes your life harder as a kid, what the hell does it do to you as an adult? Maybe I should just keep it a little secret... I dunno.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Violetta chuckled quietly at Margo's little muddle, her leg bouncing up and down gently.\n\"Local wasian child being a russian government man's firstborn daughter. I was to be not seen or heard.\" She seemed to be half joking, that or she wasn't too upset about being swept under the rug for all that time.\n\"Yeah but... It's a privilege to have proof i suppose.\" The small girl mewled quietly, a delicate hand resting atop Margo's. Stifling a giggle, Vi was amused by the difference between their two hands, one much larger and rough, one much smaller and frail. Vi wondered if one day Margo would let her paint her nails... A doubt clawed at her mind, but she'll ask another day anyways.\n\"I think at that age i didn't need to be toughened up but... Things worked out I suppose. You're right that not everything is fair, whatever butterfly effect led me here though, I'm thankful for.\" \n\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ she watched Margo indecisively swipe another drink, and the corners of her lips remained raised into a humoured smile. Violetta knew damn well that Margo would be a trainwreck by the end of the night, and she knew damn well that unless Vi *Also* Ended up a disaster, that she was to be the one to sort the taller girl out. Forcing her to brush her teeth, get some goddamn pyjamas on and go the fuck to sleep once it gets too late...\nShe was pleased when Margo sank back into the girl's touch, returning to a tangle of limbs, hair and affection. Fervently, she swung a leg over Margo's, as if to intertwine her dearly beloved, like tree roots tangle amongst eachother under the dirt to keep strong.\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta hoped Margo had got the message, the message being that she was now trapped into the embrace for now, that and the message that Vi was actually *Loving* The show...\nWhat better gift could an autistic person wish for than someone thoroughly enjoying their comfort media?\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta hummed quietly under her breath.\n\"I'd recommend giving it a go. If you need to use it as a reason and someone bugs you for proof, that way you have it. And you don't particularly *Have* To tell jobs and people about the diagnosis I don't think... I usually avoid it anyways.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Right, I sometimes forget you're part Korean.\" Margo admitted with an amused huff. \"But shit, even with life being hard at home – for both of us, really – look where we've ended up. We're in a Swedish juvie watching The Owl House, drinking gin and juices, and cuddling. I couldn't ask for a better end result of years of trauma and neglect, myself...\"\n\n□ Falling back into comfortable silence, Margo leaned forward with an awkward motion and a groan to plant a kiss atop the crown of Vi's head. Lips met hair, and whatever sort of shampoo she used spat aromas back into her mouth, some muddy combination of vanilla and an herb she couldn't quite place her finger on.\n\n▪︎ Then again, compared to herself, Vi's hair felt and tasted healthy. Only God knew how much damage – if any – years of obsessively dyeing her hair had done.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Just to have it around, more or less... Not that I want to go around saying I'm autistic; lots of stigma and harmful shit around it.\" She let her discontents roll off her tongue like rose thorns given life, piercing and curly. \"But maybe it'll come in handy one day. I dunno. Also what kinda shampoo do you use?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Crazy what great things the domino effect of putting yourself in a coma does~ did I ever... Actually tell you that's how I got here?-\" Her voice turned questioning, a tilt motion swaying on her head\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi had a few more drinks in those moments of silence, a breathy giggle releasing from her throat. Violetta leaned her head into Margo's kiss, the several drinks finally making even a small dent into her.\nGranted, she had had a big dinner so... She was at least sentient. The short girl mumbled something incoherent about not having anything else to drink, and traced her fingers along her girlfriend's stomach.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"...It's good to uh.. Test the waters about people, if they seem chill with the tism then... Tell them. The stigma sucks, and I doubt it'll change.\" She seemed equally as upset to have to even humour the idea of 'testing the waters'. At what point was it decided by the cruel hands of the universe that she had to change herself as a human to cater to fussy allistics? She detested it.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Alpine Organics elderflower shampoo and then Organix Vanilla Silk shampoo and conditioner... I double shampoo. Weekly hair masks also.\"\nMfw both of my ocs have hair routines.\n\"You can.. Borrow some if you like, it's in my top drawer in the shower bag.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"No shit.\" Stunned more than mocking, she wasn't sure she'd heard right. \"You didn't put yourself in a fuckin' coma, did you? Why, babe? What even got you sent here?\"\n\n□ At ends hesitatingly brash and honeyed with concern and elderflowers, Margo's body stiffened up just a touch in reaction. Come to think of it, she'd never even *Thought* Of asking about it. Was it just an understood thing that she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to? Or was it hesitance, not wanting to risk scaring her away even after so much had happened between them?\n\n▪︎ Not even God knew.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, I just... Hate that it's even a fuckin' thing.\" She spat in discontent and malice. \"But I guess we just have to live with it. Deal with it. Power on. Also noted; did I ever mention I've still been using two-in-one? I just. I dunno what ones are good, and I don't want garbage cluttering my damn dojo. Recommendations would be sick, dear.\"\n\n▪︎ An amused giggle left her throat. She's fucking *Whipped,* Folks."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Honestly? I actually do not remember why. I never had the intent of going in a coma, I was just testing my migraine powers on myself. I knew they made me sleepy and I think I just wanted a reason to nap without scolding.\" Violetta recalled with a slight thoughtful frown, that familiar look flashing over her face when she was deeply thinking. Trying to remember an almost unfamiliar segment of her life required at least a little bit of extra energy.\n\"It was about.. A little over a week? Granted, I was very refreshed afterwards. Did you know you can still hear everything around you when you're in a coma? It doesn't feel long at all though, it's very disorienting.\" \n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta was very much a dont ask dont tell person. Lots of things like this, she would happily tell someone like Margo, just... Not unprompted. Her hands continued to dance circles on her beloved's torso, the facial expression on the short girl's visage shifted back to a more calm disposition.\nShe was alright with what Margo had done to get here, almost encouraged it, in fact. Yet... She worried at her core if the taller girl would be frightened of Vi. She stressed internally that Margo would think that Vi was dangerous, and would cease to trust her.\nHowever, she was far too tipsy to care about *That* Line of thought.\n\"But anyway, I was sent here on the notion that I was a hazard to myself and others. All that over wanting a nap.\" She rolled her eyes, her hands making their way to the edge of Margo's shirt; they fiddled with any loose threads, and twirled the fabric between her fingers like a needle through a sewing machine.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi nods at Margo's comment\n\"Just the society we live in I suppose...\" She mumbled, nuzzling her head back into Margo's shoulder with a charmed snicker.\n\"Two in one? God, babe that is sad. Estrogen changes your hair, you know? I've done my research- two in one works but it won't bring out your hair's full potential-\" Violetta cut herself off from a ramble about haircare, tapping the taller girl's abs to ground herself.\nShe goes a bit pink when remembering that the other girl had muscle, and stops tapping.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"I'd recommend alberto balsam shampoos. They smell good, and have conditioners too.\"\nSo real."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, I... I've heard that.\" Margo murmured, hesitance lacing her voice. \"It's a freaky fuckin' thought, I'll admit. Being out like a light yet still lucid is... Weird. But, the human brain's all sorts of weird.\"\n\n□ Conflicting emotions and thoughts welled up within her as she spoke. Did she show how concerned she actually was? Or did she hold back, so as to not risk seeming *Too* Worried? Whatever the case, she took another sip of her drink and opened her mind up to the suggestions her girlfriend was giving her for haircare and whatnot.\n\n▪︎ That, and she melted just a touch as she could feel Vi tapping at her abs and toying with the hem of her shirt. Now *That* Was a sensation she hadn't grown used to yet.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, I mean, shit... I noticed the change in texture, but I kinda just never bothered to research. I dunno, I guess with how regimented my life usually is I didn't want to make my showers any longer?\" She spoke, a pang of uncertainty tangled in her throat. \"Not sure. But... I suppose I'll give those shampoos a shot. Thanks. Any idea if they do a colour-safe version?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"It's very strange to say the least but... I don't know, I wasn't too frightened because I think I knew I'd wake up somehow.\" Violetta shrugged idly, her shoulders rolling in place.\nThis wasn't something she'd admit to so openly sober to be fair, yet Vi spoke on the experience with confidence and nonchalance. Was this a regular occurance in her life? Probably not, yet she managed to somehow make it seem like it was.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta noticed Margo melt into the smaller girl's touch, and decided to mess around with this information. Delicately, Vi grazed the back of her hand over Margo's abs through the shirt, not really giving it much important thought as her attention shifted back to the TV, the stroking being a background thought.\n\"It shouldn't take much longer to use the right shampoo.\" Vi went to say something, before abruptly stopping midway through the first word, like a computer tab randomly closing.\n\"I... I uh almost went to say I can help put it in for you but no. No I can not.\" She gently wacked herself in the head, embarrassed by her confession of thoughtless, dumb ramble.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"But anyways... I think they're all colour safe but I might be wrong... Must be difficult picking out the perfect shampoo with dyed hair... Maybe I'm lucky with dark hair to avoid the struggle and fuss.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Right.\"\n\n□ What did one even say to that sort of information? She wished she knew. Something about the concept of a comatose brain being aware enough to hear what was going on around it, or to perceive that eventually the dream would collapse and spit the spirit out was enough to make Margo's spine shiver. Or, it would have been if Vi hadn't been thoughtlessly dragging the back of her hand, diminutive and soft, along her abs. Clearly, she'd never felt the touch of a woman before, and so as her partner teased her lightly she tried her best to come up with a smug retort.\n\n▪︎ Did she though? *Did she?*\n\n◆ \"I. I mean... Shit, I don't *Have* To be naked, I'm sure I could just. Sit in the tub. Not that... I'd want you to. Obviously.\" The words awkwardly tumbled out of her mouth as if it were a bingo machine with a hole in one side, spitting out nuggets of thought that honestly should have remained thoughts. \"Fuck. Brain's not working with me; too busy dealing with you admiring me.\" Half smooth comment, half terrible flirt. Good thing she'd already won Vi over, huh? \"I'm just gonna shut up about that. Anyways, it's a real hassle, that's for sure. At least, it was a hassle to find two-in-one that *Didn't* Rip the dye out of my hair like bleach. Maybe that... Alberto Balsam? Balsa? Whatever its name is, maybe it'll do a better job with my hair. I dunno.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ It was almost a little funny to watch Margo struggle with Violetta's teasing flirts. Almost funny. She soon stopped dragging her hand across the redhead's torso, instead nestling into Margo's side once more.\nAlmost funny lost it's meaning as Margo sputtered out a lost response. Violetta let out an above whisper of a giggle, her eyes creasing and her dimple indenting her cheek. \n\"Sit in the tub?- like a baby in a sink?\" Violetta teased, containing another giggle behind her grin. A tender blush wandered over her cheeks as she found herself in a moment of entertainment. Not that Margo didn't entertain her usually! Far from it!- she just... Doesn't nearly laugh as much as she should- yet here Vi was, giggling like a toddler that just fell flat on their face.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Margo certainly was lucky that Violetta was already stupidly head over heels for her. Like a teen girl in a romcom, Vi found herself making an awful lot of internal fuss over Margo's impression of her. She was at that stage where looking anything other than flawless in front of Margo was actually *Jarring*. Deep down, she knew the redhead couldn't care less, but... Ugh, she couldn't explain her need for perfection, as it cannot be expressed correctly in words, it was simply a vivid feeling of wanting the best for Margo, and thus having to be the best.\nHowever, She'll be around Margo in her pyjamas and unbrushed morning hair in about a month, no doubt about it.\nShe scooped her arms around Margo, now sidehugging the taller girl.\n\"I cannot do anything *But* Admire you\" She mused, comfortably adjusting herself to look at the TV better. Even with meaningless flirtations and conversation, Violetta was following the plot with great intrigue.. It would take a lot for her to ever admit her surprising captivation with this show but... Maybe someone could torture the confession out of her one day.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Yeah... I think I'll keep my hair black for now. Both because I know you like it and for convenience.\" Taking her arm away from her partner's waist for a moment, Vi fiddled with a strand of her dark hair, before nodding.\n\"It like... Makes your hair look softer, I believe..\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, like... A baby.\" Margo sheepishly uttered, totally embarrassed at how quickly she melted into nonsense around Vi. Wasn't she supposed to be cool and collected? \"Don't... Mind me. Brain's short-circuiting; maybe it's the booze...\"\n\n□ *Or, maybe you're just violently gay,* Her thoughts reminded her soul, reaffirming that for how desperately she wanted to be the cool, collected sort she was generally far more malleable and weak-willed when it came to Vi. If anything, she could have been told to kill again, and she would have, if the words came from Vi's mouth, and perhaps that was unhealthy. Perhaps it was unhealthy, but she didn't particularly care. Love made a gal do some stupid things, and it wouldn't have been her first time making an attempt on someone's life.\n\n▪︎ But, was it worth it? Absolutely not. She let the thought slide away as another compliment hit her ears and lit her face up like a traffic light.\n\n◆ \"Hmph, guess I cut a good figure, huh?\" Half self-assured comment, half tease, she took another sip of her drink. By this point she was already warm inside, both from the gin, and from Vi's continued physical and verbal flirts. If it were physically possible, she'd already have been emanating steam from her eardrums. \"God knows I hit the gym for a reason, babe. Originally it was to get stronger, but now...? It's so I can carry you around, and look damn fine doin' it.\" She chuckled. \"But... Do what ya want with your hair. I'm not gonna control you; shave it all off if you want, it's up to you.\"\n\n▪︎ \"It's up to you...\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "YIPPEE response is. Half done but ive got 3 rps to do so 😼 real soon gay ppl will exist\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Well luckily for Margo's criminal record, the likelihood of Vi asking Margo to kill for her right now was... Quite low, after all, Vi is all for handling her own dirty work.\nNot that she actually like... Has any illegal business to deal with, but even so. She did however love the way Margo melted into a malleable clay around Vi's meek influence, it was a very new and exciting feeling to be treasured like this; the best part? It's wholly mutual. She herself was reduced to butter in a pan when Margo spoke a certain way, smiled that smug look and cracked her knuckles.\nRight now however? Unaffected.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Yes in fact, you do\" She nudged the taller girl, glancing at her other half with an eye that glimmered with adoration, even the clouded over orb managed to land on Margo like she was light in a dark winter night, or like how a star stares at the moon, envious yet smitten with it's confident size.\nAnd honestly? While the flirts were probably partly due to the whole drinking thing, there was no hiding that it was an attempt at self assurance, that mixed with a tad bit of gin going straight to her head was enough to get her flirting with Margo like either one of them was gonna die the next day.\nCheeks rosey with flustered glee, she took one more swig of drink that she had sworn not to have. Unruly teenage defiance bubbled in her chest, a strange, yet welcome sensation.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Head plonking back onto Margo's shoulder, her hands toyed with eachother as a hum of agreement arose from her throat.\n\"I doubt you'd need to get strong to pick me up, you're definitely serving though.\" Did Vi seriously just say serving? Yes. Yes she did, those sorts of slang terms had been coming up more and more often recently, as... Strange as it likely was to hear, she was loosening up. Things were getting just that bit more familiar for the short girl.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She snickered, jolting her head a little bit in the act.\n\"I'd rather die than shave my head. I'd look like... I don't know, an egg I suppose.\" Head still perched atop her lover's shoulder, she swayed her hips on the seat a little bit, then rejigging her position to be just that little bit more comfortable.\nThe confirmation of it being her choice... Was pleasant actually. After years of obedience and demand, a little bit of freedom was nice to have in mind as she let out a hushed yawn. A gentle thump is made as Violetta leant more fully onto Margo's side, attention still on the screen even in her serene lethargy\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Up to me... I like my hair... I might invest in different nail polish though soon...\"\nYippee"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Hmph.\"\n\n□ A self-assured grunt rang out from her throat, after which she took a good sip of her drink. Really, it was more of a mouthful than a sip; a good gulp of gin and juice. Setting her drink down into a cupholder, she shifted about in response to Vi also shifting around, letting her guide the whole cuddle pile thing they'd gotten themselves into. *This was the life,* She found herself thinking through a light haze of adoration and alcohol, *And I'm going to miss this when it's done.* \n\n▪︎ What a glum sorta thought for a cuddle pile.\n\n◆ \"Serving.\" Half surprised, half confused, Margo couldn't help herself from laughing softly. \"You been on Twitter recently? You're talking like it.\" She continued, the cadence of her voice lazy yet bright. \"But shit, that's fair. I was actually bald once as a kid; lost a bet, had to shave my head. Fuck, I hated that... Also is it a weird time to say I never really messed around with nail polish when I was still figuring myself out? Because if not, I guess you might as well get an extra bottle.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "And thats how she was happy to stay, Vi's arms remained wrapped around what she could only assume was Margo's waist, her face pressed sleepily against the root of her beloved's arm.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Mmmyep. I like twitter, there's so much animal crossing content.\" Vi eagerly spoke through janky mumbles, her words blending together like a thick paint.\n\"You with a shaved head... I bet you managed to make it look cool. Like some kind of trendsetter... Transsetter...\" Violetta's words were still forcing half successfuĺly through her lips in jumbled and mixed speech; a quaint smile washed over her face.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ By the second half of the sentence, Vi had perked up a tad, like a dog before an imminent walk.\n\"Are you implying that... I'm welcome to do your nails?\" Vi questioned, fruitlessly attempting to hide how borderline ecstatic she was to so much as daydream the event."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Huh.\" Margo let out a mildly surprised utterance, barely more than a throat-hum. \"I... Kinda threw that out as a joke, but I guess it was on the nose. Neat.\"\n\n□ Tapping her fingertips against Vi's abdomen, she let out a satisfied hum. As far as 17th birthdays went, this had been pretty damn good, and it was only going to get better as time went on; or, at least it'd get better until she was piss drunk and making a fool of herself, possibly in horribly embarrassing ways. Shoving that thought to the side, she reminded herself that she was in accepting, understanding company, and she could afford to be a little more genuine, a little less hidden.\n\n▪︎ After all, what kinda relationship was it if she had to hide who she was?\n\n◆ \"I promise ya, I looked awful.\" She laughed, trying not to come across as dismissive or hateful. \"Like, my head shape just... Doesn't work for that sorta shit, babe. I looked like an uncooked fuckin' drumstick sans bone. Also... Yeah. That's exactly what I'm saying. I'll wait here if you wanna go grab yours.\""
}
] | 385 | 21,329 |
138.384615 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Do you want me to go first or do you wanna go"
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "Can you go first please?"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Gabe, the fool, was in the hospital. His own fault, but the experience was no less harrowing than if he had been hurt. On the contrary, they might have felt less horribly directionless if he had. They knew how to treat injuries, clean wounds. Overworking was a foreign concept.\n\nThere was clearly only one solution.\n\nMatti reached as far as they could to place their hat on top of the refrigerator in the communal kitchen, tying their hair back (a habit Gabe had been quick to instill). They had brought with them a small sealed plastic tupperware of uncooked rice, a can of beans, and the frozen broccoli they had leftover from the last time they'd gone to the store. Sig had lent them pasta, but they hadn't yet decided if they were going to use it. They'd learned quickly that Gabe would only put up with so much of what he ironically called \"Bland-ass hospital food\", and it was better to save it for later rather than have leftovers go uneaten.\n\nMatti cleaned (one never could be too careful) a pot from under the sink, setting the water boiling on the stove before turning to grab a pan. They froze when they saw a figure lingering in the doorway. Despite being a communal space, the kitchen wasn't often used, especially in the middle of the day. Their first instinct was to snap, or to abort the process altogether. But the water was already boiling, and they'd promised to try and make more friends.\n\n\"Hello,\" They greeted the unfamiliar face, grip tightening on the empty pan. \"My name is Mattias Gates.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"WAH!\" *The figure exclaimed in surprise as he turns to see the person who greeted them out of the blue, almost dropping the cup noodles that he had carried with him from his room, he didn't expect to see anyone in the kitchen at this time of day, he calm himself down when the person introduced themselves to Indra before answering back;* \"My name is Indrawan Chairil Fauzi, it's nice to meet you!?\" *Indrawan answers back automatically with a prerecorded english answer*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti nodded, moving the pan to the sink so that they could clean it. For a few moments, the only noise in the kitchen was quiet shuffling and the rush of water. They reached forward to turn the tap off, turning back towards Indra when the silence become more awkward than casual.\n\n\"What... Brings you to the kitchen?\" They asked, drying the pan and putting it on the stove. With two out of the four burners occupied, they hadn't exactly left much space for making complicated meals. They reached over to pry the lid off the tupperware with the rice in it, and cracked open the can of beans.\n\nMatti crossed their arms over each other in an attempt to keep their back facing Indrawan while they rinsed the beans, side shoved against the counter in a way that looked both impractical and uncomfortable."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan enters the kitchen wholesale and set down two cup noodles in the cupboard of the kitchen, he notices the awkward silence between them but doesn't try to end it in fear that he would disrupt whatever Mattias was doing, when Mattias asked him the question though, he answered.* \n\n\"Oh not much just preparing some cup noodles i got from back home\"\n\n*He then looks to the sink to get some water only to see Mattias doing what he would aptly describe as an unorthodox bean cleaning maneuver, he almost let out a giggle looking at Mattias but manage to hold it in knowing it'd be rude to*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti's eyes narrowed as their gaze darted between the cup noodles in Indrawan's hands and their own, vastly more nutritionally fulfilling food. *Of course*, they thought. In the process dealing with *One* Moron who couldn't feed themself, they'd found another. \n\n\"Does that have vegetables in it? Or protein?\" They asked, judgement only slightly shaded in their voice. It probably (definitely) wasn't their place to critique the meals of a stranger, but if they were already cooking...\n\nThey sighed and pulled the plastic bag of pasta they'd gotten from Sig out of their pocket, placing it on the counter. \n\n\"If you're going to go through the process of 'cooking',\" *Not that one could really call microwaving noodles 'cooking'*, \"You should make something more nutritious, at least.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan did not expect the sudden criticism levied against him for his choice of lunch for the day, sure he knew that it wasn't the healthiest option available, but he missed the old flavored cup noodles from home and wanted to try them out as soon as one of his family members send him one back from Indonesia, the extra spicy one to boot!*\n\n\"Well, i did planned to add an egg on top, does that count for anything?\"\n\n*Eggs are filled with proteins, Indrawan thinks that this would make his lunch a little bit more nutritious, more filling at the very least*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti appeared to consider, taking a moment to add the beans to the pan alongside another can of sauce. They covered the pan and turned calculating eyes towards their bag of broccoli. After a moment they seemed to come to a decision, nodding.\n\n\"Eggs have an adequate amount of protein. As long as you don't eat microwaved meals like this too often.\" \n\nThey waited until both the beans and rice had cooked, transferring them to yet another tupperware from a small backpack at their feet. Matti quickly cleaned the pan and pot out, setting the pot aside to cool before adding water and broccoli to the pan. They gestured towards the stove, facing Indrawan again.\n\n\"I'm making broccoli. If you would like some.\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"I don't eat microwaved noodles all the time geez, it's just that i got a special flavored version back from home that i've been wanting to try for a long time\" \n\n*Indrawan isn't sure how to feel about the person he's sharing the kitchen with, i mean who else would come and criticize someone food's choices and then offers them a bunch of broccoli in turn, still the thought of someone worrying about his nutrition makes him feel looked after, and that makes him think that Mattias isn't really a bad person after all*\n\n\"Broccolis?, sure they'd go pretty good for these noodles, but now that i think about it, why are you cooking so much?, i've told you why i'm in the kitchen it would be fair to tell me why you're here\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti paused, hands suddenly still from where they had been cleaning dishes. They had no intention of sharing news of Gabriel's condition to people they didn't know, but Indrawan was right. It was only fair that they justify themself, after asking the same from him.\n\n\"I'm cooking for a friend of mine. He doesn't eat well.\" \n\nThey attempted a smile, setting out a small plastic plate of broccoli for Indrawan once it finished steaming, and putting the rest into a container. Then, turning over his words in their mind, they glanced towards the cup of noodles.\n\n\"Where is your home?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*As Mattias take a glance on the packaging of the cup noodles they would see in the packaging a large amount of chili peppers that while they would not be able to understand anything else on the packaging they would know what it's supposed to taste like.*\n\n*Indrawan nods as he listens to Mattias answers, he wasn't really trying to pry Mattias for information as much as he just wants to keep the conversation going so he doesn't really mind the vague answers given, but the answers does confirmed his suspicion that Mattias wasn't a bad person, after all no bad person would try to cook for a friend. Right?*\n\n\"Oh me?, i'm from Indonesia!\"\n\n*Indrawan answers back with a smile as if returning back Mattias own attempted one with a jovial tone that's all too familiar to anyone who know of Indra, he takes the plate of broccoli and set it aside all the while setting up a pan and a kett;e to boil water with and set it on the stove finally preparing to make his meal*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "They continued to clean dishes, drying them and sliding them back in their respective cabinets when they were done. For a moment it seemed as if they were going to say something, before they caught sight of the packaging and their mind visibly stalled. They inched backwards slightly, as if the cup noodles were a bomb about to explode.\n\n\"Is Indonesia far? Do you miss it?\" Matti asked distractedly, reaching out to pull their large group of containers closer to them and away from the stove. They added soap and water to a paper towel, beginning to wipe the counter down where they'd been cooking."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indra goes to fill his kettle in the sink*\n\n\"Hm?, oh i guess Indonesia is far from here, i guess i missed it sometimes but i like it here too so i don't mind much\"\n\n*After filling the kettle to water he goes to set the pan on the stove while putting the kettle in the microwave,after heating up the stove he goes to the fridge to pick up some egg, he cracks them by the side of the pan and set the yolk on top of the pan*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "\"Right.\" Mattias hovered in the center of the kitchen, torn between delivering their now-completed food and watching the progression of the cup noodles. With a small, nearly invisible grimace, they decided to stay, setting their food-laden backpack on the ground.\n\n\"A lot of places are far away,\" They commented, eyes still fixed on the stovetop and seemingly unaware of their own vague words. An awkward tension settled in the air, as Matti watched the kettle boil."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Mhm, but what about you where are you from?, Did you from somewhere far away too?\"\n \n*Indrawan says as the kettle starts to hiss, he take it up from the stove and put it in the counter, he starts opening the cup and assembling the noodles with the packets inside*\n\n\"I've heard people came from all over to this place, so i want to know where you're from.\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*Oh*. It'd been a while since Matti had explained where they were from. In fact, 'a while' may have been overstating it. There had been forms to fill out when they'd first arrived, and then maybe a conversation or two with Gabe, but other than that, they weren't sure they'd ever spoken about where they came from.\n\n\"Seattle, Washington.\" They paused, shifting slightly. \"In the United States. It was very crowded. And loud. What is Indonesia like?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"It's also crowded! And loud!\" *Indrawan says as he stirs the noodles in the cup together, he throws in the little bits of broccolis given to him by Mattias* \"But also it's a really pretty place, like the beaches there blows any beaches in Sweden out of the water!\" *Indrawan giggles a bit the little joke he made seem to amuse him a lot* \"Get it out of the water?\" \n\n\"Anyways did i forget any- Oh yeah the eggs!\" *Indrawan rushes to the stove and grab the now almost burnt eggs of the stove, it's a little bit burnt on the edge but it seems salvable enough, or so Indra thought, to be honest the plume of smoke coming off the egg might indicate otherwise, oh well*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "\"It's out of the water, because beaches have water. And also 'blown out of the water' is a phrase meaning 'incomparably better'. I get it.\" Matti flashed a quick smile, self-satisfied, and watched Indrawan rush to preserve the eggs burning on the stove. They had thought to warn him, but he had noticed before they'd had time to say anything. They took a step back to avoid the smoke.\n\nAs they watched the pan, and the eggs, the side of Matti's face quirked like they were holding back an amused smile. \n\n\"Do you like the loudness? Or beaches?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan takes a fork and twirls a pile of noodle inside the cup grabbing handful of noodles covered in what seemed like bright red sauce* \"Yeah, i guess i like it when there a commotion, it's like there's always a party going on!, and i like beaches too, the waves, the sand, the swinging palm trees, it's all very relaxing, oh but i also like silence too sometimes, like when you're all alone and putting all your focus in something?, yeah i guess you could say a man with layers\" *Indra says with a wink* \n\n*He takes a big slurp of the noodles and while he's accustomed to spicy food, even the extra spicy noodle seemed like a challenge for him as he start to sweat from the heat*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti edged suspiciously away from the nuclear looking cup noodles, face growing stony as if trying ward away the spice through willpower alone. With slow and hesitant hands, they picked their backpack up and began to slowly back away. \n\n\"That looks like. Food.\"\n\nClearly they had intended to give some compliment or insightful comment, but words failed Matti as they stared at the cup with visible distaste. \n\n\"Does it taste,\" Matti paused, words measured and even, the way one might speak to someone about to be mauled by a mountain lion. \"Good?\""
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"Hm?\" *Indra turn his gaze towards Mattias as he slurps down the bright red noodles down, sweats starts to rain down his chin as he takes each bite, when he finished eating and try to answer he starts to pant, taking in us much air as he can* \"I- it's great!, you can really taste the chili in every bite!\" *Indra says panting from word word*\n\n\"Want some?\" *Indra offers up the cup to Mattias waiting to see if they'll take up his offer*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "\"I'm sure.\" Matti made a tactical retreat, backing up an extra few steps. They seemed to search for the right words. \"However, spice is not. I do not enjoy spices, generally.\"\n\nIn fact, while cooking on their own Mattias had used no spices, not even salt and pepper. They didn't mind the taste, or lack thereof, though they knew it bothered others. In fact, it was a method of discouraging Gabe's self-destructive behavior. The bland meal would likely be more effective at keeping him out of the hospital than words.\n\n\"It's good that you like the spice. If you're eating it.\" The stilted words fell from their mouth like cinderblocks dropping to the stained tile of the kitchen, and Matti looked down as if to examine the floor for cracks. Without speaking, they moved farther and farther from the counter, as if physically repelled by the smell of chili."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "\"What!?, you don't like spices?, that's crazy\" *Indra would say as he retracts the cup noodle and takes another bite from the cup noodle, this time with pieces of the egg and bits of broccoli in it* \n\n\"I can't imagine myself not eating anything with spice in them, i practically add spices to everything i have, i even carry a brand of chili flakes everywhere i go!\" *Indrawan says as he takes another slurp, it seems that he's finally accustomed to the level of heat on the cup and isn't panting as much* \"But if you don't want it, than that's fine, maybe i'll get you something less flavorful if we meet in the kitchen again\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti nodded. While they couldn't understand the concept behind excessive spice (*Why hurt yourself on purpose?*), they accepted Indrawan's clear tastes and apparent ability to handle eating the food. And though they had no idea of what \"Less flavorful\" Might mean- the range of possibilities between their own \"Prison food\" (as Gabe called it) and Indrawan's nuclear red noodles left room for interpretation- it would be a good idea to test in the future. The only way to build tolerance to a poison, after all, was repeated exposure.\n\n\"Maybe. In the future.\"\n\nThe concession felt lackluster, but they were too tired to care. Matti noted with a slightly distant surprise that although a stranger, an unknown variable, had been near them while they'd cooked, thoughts of being poisoned had never crossed their mind. They'd kept an eye on their food the entire time, but- small steps. The atmosphere had been awkward, but the company had been. Tolerable. Pleasant. \n\nMatti left with a small half wave, a slight smile, and a muttered \"*Goodbye*\"."
},
{
"author": "sourfruitsliker",
"message": "*Indrawan smiles and gives Matti a small wave of his own, he appreciated the brief moments he shared with Matti, even though it isn't much, he always liked to meet new people, and Matti seems like and all around swell guy who he's excited to meet again in the future* \"Bye bye!\" *Indrawan say more enthusiastically* \"And thanks for the food!\" *Indra says as loud as Matti can hear as they left*"
}
] | 129 | 3,598 |
203.7 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "It was getting late. Fennel had been waiting all day to move in. It was kind of refreshing to get a brief day of being 'on the road' again, even if most of the time was spent wandering around what basically amounted to a government-run boarding school. *That's going to be home from now on,* Fennel thought. They didn't quite know what to make of that. At least there was no shortage of things to do on campus. Maybe they'd learn to make pottery. That seemed fun.\n\nThey hadn't brought much. Most of what they had with them was clothes. Maybe one or two crates were personal effects, with most of that space being taken up by various spiritual implements.\n\nThey'd been told who they were moving in with, but not in much detail. Something about an 'Amelie'. Something about them being disabled and needing a roommate who could get help in an emergency. Of course Fennel happily volunteered - it was a chance to meet someone, and to help someone in need. How could they say no?\n\nThey sat down on a cardboard box and looked out across the room. One half was full of what they assumed to be Amelie's things, and the other was, well, theirs. If they could use it. Maybe there'd be enough space for their yoga mat? They'd have to see once they got the furniture set up.\n\nThey decided to start by assembling whatever furniture needed assembly. That seemed sensible."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie's wheelchair was folded neatly into the corner of her bed. For she wasn't using it today. She was planning on telling Ms. Pernilla that she was going to ask for Madame Margarita. She'd seem like a well enough person to rely on this... Frankly stupid thing. She was fine on her own, she truly was. At least she somewhat knew the person she'd hopefully be rooming with despite that she's aggressively annoying. \n\nAmelie was going to fix some things out of nessesity but otherwise she was ready, somewhat. She liked to think her side was comforting, to herself really. June had told her it was slightly intimidating because she looked like she was some sort of high epsilon woman of a castle. She took that as a compliment, June looked at her weird. \nWell the only thing that looked out of place was the teddy bear June had given her. Other than that it looked true to Amelie. Rich.\n\nAmelie stopped outside of her dorm door. She felt tired. She leaned on one crutch to raise the other so she can dig through the inside pocket of her leather jacket. She pulled out her card and slid it through the reader. The door unlocks and Amelie takes the handle with her frail boney hand, twisting it before opening. \n\n*There was somebody in her dorm.*\n\n Scratch being tired when a foul shot of adrenaline hit her like a train. Her face morphed into an ugly scowl. Who was this? Do they not wait for Amelie to decide for herself? Do they think she is incapable of not making decisions for herself? \n\nSomething ugly forced itself to the forefront of her mind along with a smattering of small bones poking through the bandages on her face.\n**She hated this place.**"
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "*Click.* The door unlocked. The sound was unmistakable. Fennel had yet to even meet Amelie, so this would be the first time. They set their tools and furniture aside and stood up as the door opened, getting their first looks at who they were going to be living with for the duration of their stay.\n\nAmelie certainly looked worse for wear. Fennel had been told something about that. Something about Amelie looking injured, how it was normal. Because Amelie did look injured. Fennel decided not to ask unless it seemed necessary.\n\n\"Oh, I'm sorry, I hope I'm not too noisy, am I? I've been told I can move in...\" They cast a worried gaze down at their things. Maybe it would have to wait until tomorrow. \"Amelie, right? I'm Fennel.\" Their Irish accent seemed to get a little thicker as they spoke, as though they spoke less rigidly the more comfortable they became. Or maybe they just didn't want to bother trying to sound less Irish.\n\nOh. Amelie was scowling. \"Everything alright? You look upset.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie said nothing, to fennel as she made her way past them to her side of the room. She sets herself down on her bed, taking off her crutches and setting them down beside her. She pat down her dress before settling her hands down letting them wrap within eachother. \n\nAmelie's scowl never changed once. \n\"I vasn't told you'd be settling here immediately. You're Fennel.\" \n\nAmelie sighs.\n\"You're not too noisy, I vasn't planning on taking a nap.\"\nHer accent is much more thicker than fennel's so there was no need to hide much. \n\n\"You're my roommate then?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Oh, I see.\" Fennel had never really \"Gotten\" Privacy. Most of their life, they hadn't had much to speak of, what with being under the watchful eye of the foster system or living in the back of a van together with the rest of their community. Privacy was something they only really became accustomed to once they settled down, but that did help them realize that being left alone occasionally could be important as well.\n\nMaybe Amelie was expecting to be alone.\n\n\"Yes, I suppose I'll be your roommate for the next... I don't really know how long I'll be here, actually, so I s'pose we'll see.\" They shrugged a little and went back to their work.\n\n\"They didn't really tell me much about the... Disability whatever. Just that I need to be here. What's up with that?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie and fennel were on a strange opposite spectrum. Both experienced not having much privacy at all. Amelie has only really had privacy after she left the hospital... Though it was awful she still felt like somebody was watching her. Amelie wanted to have the room to herself for just a day longer.\n\nIt seems everything is wishful thinking now. \n\n\"Mhm.\" \nAmelie watched fennel work. \n\n\"I cannot walk and I don't have a left eye. There's certainly more than that but it is what I am willing to speak of.\"\nAmelie shrugged. \n\n\"Do you have anything you're willing to talk about? Also if you need help I'm willing to lend a hand.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel shook their head. \"Nothing much like yours.\" They continued their assembly, eventually culminating in a low, nightstand-esque drawer, not even going halfway to Fennel's knees. Fennel thought it was lovely when they bought it second-hand. Their opinion on it had not changed yet. \n\nThey looked back at Amelie. \"Oh, it's nothing. Just takes time. Don't want to impose,\" They dismissed. \"Oh, but speaking of time, it's late. Might have to tuck in soon.\" They fetched their carry-on bag from the corner and rummaged through it for their toiletries.\n\n\"If you need help with something, you can let me know. I won't bite unless you do.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie looked over to her dresser, finding papers, charts, musical charts Amelie has made herself. She leans over taking them. While listening to fennel she looks them over before folding them and placing them into an inside pocket. \n\n\"I won't be going to bed. I have things to do. Also, it dosent matter if it takes time as long as I can help.\"\nAmelie re-adjusts her jacket. After which she puts her arms back to her crutches. She stands back up. \n\n\"The same goes for me as well. If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask...\" \nAmelie squints. \n\"Fennel.\" \n\nAmelie walks back to the door. She leans against the doorframe her hand on the knob. She pauses, she dosent look at Fennel.\n\n\"Are you sure you don't need anything?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"*Aχ*, well, if you insist, there's a bookshelf that still needs assemblin'.\" Fennel felt a little rude even offering the option to help. It really should just be their problem. \"But again, it's not hard, just... Oh, what's the word, time-consuming. I'm sure I'll manage, hm? You don't have to worry about it.\"\n\nThey looked around the room. Amelie seemed to have made herself at home in the tight-ish space, with plenty to spare for her roommate. Fennel really didn't feel a need to use that space, but they appreciated it anyway. It made the room feel less close. They'd tried much the same once they moved into a permanent home, and it had helped, somewhat - so it was nice to have the space here, too.\n\n\"Yeah, no worries. I'll see you later, Amelie. Don't stay up too late.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie hums. Her drums her fingers against the knob before opening it. \n\"When I'm finished I'll come back and if you arnt here I'll finish it for you. If that's alright.\" \n\nFennel was making themselves at home in a way Amelie did as well. Compact. That's at least one thing they had in common or maybe not. She had her way and they had theirs. \n\n\"No promises, Fennel. I'll see you at a later time.\" \n\nAmelie exits the room, swiftly shutting the door behind her. \n*They weren't too bad.*"
}
] | 180 | 2,037 |
308.333333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "—\n``3:14 AM.``\n\nAnother bad night. \n\nMargo snores, fast asleep as Uriel hastily pushes their dorm door open. Another bad night, another bad dream, all the more worse by the fact it wasn't *Theirs*. \n\n*Water,* Uriel thinks, as they head to the first floor kitchen. *Nope*, they hastily realize, as the urge to vomit creeps up their throat once again. A sharp pivot into the first floor men's bathroom, and it takes approximately three seconds of panic before whatever gag reflex that flared up sputters and dies. \n\nUriel pants, closing their eyes momentarily before splashing ice-cold water on their weary, sleep-deprived face.\n\nThey catch a glimpse of their own face in the bathroom mirror, and wince. Their eyebags are larger than usual, white hair unkept from intense tossing and turning, hanging from their shoulders and falling over their face. \n\nUriel's... Messy appearance isn't helped by their attire. It's relatively uncharacteristic of them: blue, baggy sleeping pants with patterns of tiny sheep, and a too-baggy band t-shirt they'd accidentally swiped from someone. \n\nIt was *Very* Uncharacteristic, actually. Upon realizing their foolish and a bit pathetic appearance, their gaze nervously flits around the bathroom. \n\n\"Uh, hello? Anyone here...?\" Uriel's voice is dry and cracked, and they externally cringe as their voice rings out hollow against the tile.\n\n*Please be empty, please be empty, please be empty...*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The washroom creaked open with the foreboding sound bounced from the tile walls. Then subtle steps could be heard walking down the lane between the stalls divided on each side. \n\nClick!\n\nThe lightswitch turns off leaving the entire bathroom devoured in darkness. Now leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest was Vance. Still cloaked in his veil, he couldn't help himself from shaking his head at Uriel. Compared to them, he was appearing much healthier and calmer since he visited the doctor. The last time he had seen Uriel, they were in a better shape with less baggage under their eyes. Vance observed them where he stood silently while debating whether he gave in to his mischief or showed them mercy. \n\nAfter mulling over his decision, his index finger flicks the switch back on with the lights flickering to life. Vance already got over the intranet spat with Uriel which made him not want to have anything to do with them. It wasn't his business about their condition and their situation. He left Uriel to marinate in silence before he felt ready to talk to them. \n\n\"You've seen better days...\" His tone is nonchalant and dripping with sarcasm. \"Staying out of trouble I hope? Like that's any of my business.\" Vance shoves his hands into his coat pockets. \nHe sounded different. There was a loose carefree indifference in his tone that held a spiking charm to it. \"Well then... Much as I wish to grace you with my company, it's best that I go on my way now. Later dumpster yeti!\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Click*. \n\nThe lights stay off for long— too long, really, long enough to where Uriel might've wondered if the power went out— before they turn back on. Vance is leaning casually on the wall behind Uriel, only visible from the bathroom mirror they had been looking through.\n\nThey're not one to be taken off guard easily. Perhaps it's due to the late night, or even the cognitive haze they'd found themselves wading in, but upon the sight of a figure behind them Uriel *Squeaks* In a decidedly uncool way. \n\nA beat. Two. Uriel waits with baited breath in uncomfortable silence before Vance begins to talk. It's a welcome noise— his low voice comes in one ear and out the other, the first pleasant sound to drown out the ringing noise still rattling around in their head. \n\nPerhaps a bit too welcome. By the time Uriel remembers to focus on the content of his words, Vance is already starting to leave.\n\n\"*Cher dieu*,\" They mutter, and tug lightly on the back of his shirt. Not nearly enough to hold Vance back, but enough to send a very simple message: *Wait.*\n\n\"I've been trying to stay out of trouble, but, ah — you know what they say about the best laid plans.\" Their heavily-accented voice is barely above a mumble, and the weary polite laugh they give sounds more empty than anything. \n\n\"You're, um. You're up late, though... Shouldn't you be asleep?\" \n\nUriel would be lying if they didn't still remember their intranet spat— it was awkward, and they weren't too sure if Vance wanted to talk to them. It didn't seem like it, from how eager he was to leave, and yet... Even if they didn't know what to feel about that whole argument, they didn't want to leave things like this."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Just when he was close to reaching the exit, he felt a meager tug on the back of his jacket. \"Ya boggart, what's with you no-\" He paused when Uriel spoke to him with a little energy for their character.\n\n \"Kinda figured that you step in some nasty shit... It's none of my business what you do. I learned that and I'm sorry for trying pry because you were a bit stubborn trying to help me with my problems. Thought I'd try to understand you better and figure out how to help.\" \n\nVance shrugs with indifference before he fully turns to Uriel's direction. \"I didn't intend for the conversation to turn out that way... But it did. I'm over it but it doesn't change the fact that you're still a dork.\" The look he gave them was lacking interest but there's a pleasant scoff in his tone. And when he looked at Uriel again to see their pitiful complexion, he let out a slight annoyed sigh. \"I take night classes because I have trouble staying awake in the daytime. It's a condition. Now maybe you should be the one getting some sleep at this ungodly hour.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Ah. So Vance *Was* Going to talk about it. It was to be expected, but it still brought an unwelcome tingle racing down their spine— although, his tone seemed far lighter and less hostile than it did moments prior.\n\n\"I... Do apologize. It was a bit hypocritical of me to get mad at you for that, wasn't it? You just wanted to help, after all. It, um. It got resolved, but... I didn't really want to talk about it at the time.\"\n\nUriel crossed their arms over their torso, dominant left hand rubbing their elbow awkwardly. Vulnerability was never their strong point. It was a bit ironic, they inwardly mused, considering their current unkempt and frazzled state. \n\nThey really *Didn't* Like talking about it, if they were completely honest. It was equally unpleasant and completely humiliating, being toyed with like a doll in a realm they were practically native to. Deeply, deeply, humiliating, and the ice-cold shame of being helpless and subjected to someone else's whims made Uriel's ears run hot. \n\n\"I'm not too skilled at that talking about those sorts of things, unfortunately.\" \n\nTheir voice is hoarse and crackly, and as the silence rushes to fill the air after they finish speaking, Uriel is met with a deep discomfort growing in their chest. Sudden ice in their veins makes them once again realize how *Little* They wanted to talk about this, and they finally give in to the desire to change the topic.\n\n\"Ah, em, but, your condition. Yes, your heritage, right? Is it... You know, part of being not fully human?\"\n\nThe change in topic is abrupt, noticeably so, and Uriel inwardly cringes at their lack of tact. They cough into their elbow, and the slight echo from the bathroom tiles makes the silence seem more unbearable. \n\n\"It's, well, it's been a while. What have you been up to? I feel like I haven't seen you around, either. Even on the rooftop smoking, or around the halls.\" Uriel brushes the ends of a couple unwieldly strands of hair, and puts on a soft smile."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Vance watched Uriel embrace themselves with one hand rubbing their elbow. Then he takes notice of their ears burning red hot. He watched them stand sheepishly as they explained their side. Their voices crackled like rice crispy cereal popping off from the tile walls with their hoarse tone.\n\n*'Jesus says go take tylenol cough syrup, you sound like you drank bile in the seventh circle of hell...'* Vance thought, finding Uriel's crackle voice grating. He doesn't complain about it due to trying to be polite about it. Then something that he had not expected to hear from them had made him feel uncomfortable. Vance never felt a heavy weight press down onto his chest when the question echoed in the dark spaces of his mind.\n\n*\"Ah, em, but, your condition. Yes, your heritage, right? Is it... You know, part of being not fully human?\"*\n\nIt was the first time he ever looked like he was hit by a massive bombshell. The revelation drained the color from his flawless skin. His eyebrows pulled up and together when his eyes slightly widened. He was staring at Uriel like they just sprouted another head. \n\n\"Not... Being fully human...?\" \n\nEverything else Uriel said after didn't register to Vance who was still trying to process the thought. He knows very well that he has human parents who raised him under their care. It was in records that they're his biological parents! What does Uriel know about his heritage? \n\n\"I think you made an error... Both my parents are just regular people,\" Vance said, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. \"Is it because of my ears?\" He subconsciously runs the tip of his fingers behind his left ear. The quartz crystal earring glinted light when it moved from his touch. Deep inside he felt very confused and startled at the thought being half something else. While on the outside he's holding his panic under control with an iron grip. \"I guess that could be it?\" And his hand returns back into its pocket. \n\n\"Uhh... Yeah... What was that you were saying again?\" Now it's his turn trying to change the subject."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Erm. \n\n\"Yes... Not being fully human. I mean, I just assumed, because of the... You know.\" Uriel points at their ears for added effect, the gesture making up for their awkward trailing off. \n\n\"I suppose we're all not really human anymore... It's probably nothing to worry about. We're all considered 'something else' by the state. I suppose some people are just, ah, more visibly not human.\" \n\nSomething about their statement seemed to upset Vance, even if he didn't comment on it. They'd perhaps be a bit better at comforting the boy, if they had all of their thoughts in order. \n\nUnfortunately, their abrupt awakening left them in the midst of a mental haze; strings not cleanly severed found themselves tangled and attached to Uriel, the bits of pieces that were someone else still tied to them. \n\nThey wipe the sleep from their eyes and yawn. As they cover their mouth, another arm extends to gently— and slowly— pat Vance on the shoulder. \n\n\"...Don't worry about it, oui? 'S too early for that type of talk.\" \n\nUriel looks around the bathroom, suddenly very aware of where they duo found themselves. You know, in a public bathroom, too vulnerable to someone else waltzing in and being *Very confused*.\n\n\"Why don't we... Head elsewhere. Perhaps make some tea and talk, maybe.\" Uriel's eyes flicker down to Vance's hands briefly, a mixed expression on their face. \"Ah, but— do please wash your hands before you leave.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "The ramblings of a sleep deprived chowderhead wasn't making Vance feel any better. It was the being of not being really human anymore felt like a massive degradation of being a lesser being. From his point of view he sees this as just people having an oddity that they have to live with. Still human with a touch of supernaturality that just happens to develop during times of stress. \n\nBut there was one known fact that he was afraid to not think about was Solaritus, his former guardian and nanny, who was a real entity. He doesn't trust the system one bit when talking about touchy subjects like this. She's not human but it doesn't make her any less of a person to him. Solaritus was a god blessing spirit who was ten times better than his biological parents. Every night when darkness washed across the land, Solaritus would always come to visit him at night to look after him. With his experience, spirits don't follow human regulations by their own rules and preferences. It's something alien about Solaritus and how she views things is what makes her a little difficult to understand at times.\n\nShe's very different.\n\nSo different that she wouldn't fit in with human society because of her appearance, abilities, different views and opinions. And knowing how fucking ugly humans can be.\n\n**Here's a list of why they can be so damn horrible:**\n1. Experimenting and collecting data on a newly discovered entity.\n2. Murder\n3. Murder and gaining glorified fame\n4. Enslaved supernatural for a weapon of choice\n5. A cult formed to worship something they don't understand\n6. Or some jackass with a monster kink wanting a pet\n7. Gaining shit ton of money to make profit from said creature\n8. Usually degrading and suppressing the entity\n\n\n\n\nUriel isn't making much sense at this point after their rambling gleam down to their dumb assumption. He couldn't help himself from flicking their forehead to their response. \"You dope, I was answering text messages on my phone when you arrived gagging in here,\" Vance scoffed at them. \"Look, I don't think you're able to function properly with that clammy complexion. Go try get some sleep.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "The flick on the forehead is unexpected, and the perpetually-sleep deprived Uriel doesn't brace themselves nearly in time before it comes. \n\nTheir surprised French yelp comes out multiple seconds delayed, in tandem with their gentle rubbing of the now-red spot on the center of their forehead. \n\n\"I... Perhaps you're right.\" Uriel takes another look in the mirror— god, they really did look miserable, didn't they? Talking to Vance of all people looking like this was a bit embarrassing— perhaps it was a saving grace Vance was giving them an out. \n\n\"I, ah... We're alright, then?\" Uriel rubbed the sleep from their eyes, nervously shifting their weight from one foot to another. Their dark grey eyes fluttered over at Vance's, the sleepiness not fully hiding the hope in their gaze."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Oh no,we're good... Good enough to have your pale ass resting in a dumpster...\" Vance said sarcastically, his expression not changing. Looking at Uriel again, he couldn't help but sigh at their pathetic complexion. \n\n\"We're alright for now unless you decide to be a dick,\" Vance said, feeling the corner of his mouth turn upward. There was a cheeky smirk that only a wisecrack fox would make. \"You really should sleep before your powers decide to mutate. With that unruly appearance, it's a sign that you might lose control of your abilities if you lack that much rest.\" \n\nHe didn't mean to chide Uriel at this point. They look as if they'd just crawled out of a coffin from a restless sleep. The heavy bags under their sad gray eyes with sagging cheeks of a boxer dog breed, it was a pathetic sight. \n\n\"I have class in half an hour... If you got anything else to say it would be a good time to talk before I must leave.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I tried to sleep, but... Ah, I'll try again. Nothing else I can do at this hour, anyway.\" \n\nIt was... Interesting, seeing Vance talk about their powers. He was wrong, of course, but Uriel wasn't too keen on correcting him about the nitty-gritty of powers they didn't truly understand. \n\n\"Oh, you mentioned night classes— I feel sorry for your teacher, honestly. I suppose I'll leave you to that, then.\" They say, in the midst of washing their hands. They didn't need to, of course, but something about leaving a restroom without washing your hands felt... Unnerving to them. Sleep-deprived hands picked at their arms, attempting to roll down non-existent gloves. \n\nIt takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for them to realize their mistake. God, were they tired.\n\n\"... Thanks.\" It's muttered under their breath, before Uriel clears their throat and repeats it louder. \n\n\"Thanks, Vance. Take care.\" A soft smile, and they leave the bathroom."
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "This was a lesson his guardian told him about his abilities if he grew too exhausted to train his thoughts on his powers. It was that one time when he was glitching between being visible and invisible until he succumbed to a terrible fever. He was pushed towards exhaustion studying tirelessly to try to get perfect grades at school. \nThis was something that he assumed that everyone has similar effects like his? \n\nHe watched Uriel wander out of the washroom muttering 'thanks' that his elven ears picked up. Soon as he is alone... Vance washes his hands. He didn't use the washroom but he knows how fucking dirty people can be.\n\n====================="
}
] | 324.5 | 3,700 |
203.875 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "A girl stood in the hallway to her dorm, waiting for the person with the felt bear to arrive. She messed with her hair, twisting the strands of her black hair together and running her gloved fingers through it, breaking knots. Nakanishi had nervously pondered earlier if they should accept the offer or not. It certainly was a difficult decision for her.\n\nNakanishi didn't want to be rude and accept the gift, yet she felt at the same time that the person with the felt bear should keep it instead as they probably put lots of time and effort into making it, and she wanted them to keep it as an achievement, a momento of their work.\n\nHowever, she had been persuaded after she was told that the person with the felt bear could simply make another one, and she realized they would likely insist on wanting to give her the bear, so to spare the time and effort to try to convince them to keep the bear, she decided to accept their offer. Now she was anxious, as she would be meeting another new person in the Cradle, a near total stranger."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Three knocks sounded on the door. \n\nA fairly androgynous figure stood in front of Mamoru and Nakanishi's shared dorm, clutching a small polar bear plushie with gloved hands. They wore a knitted violet poncho over a white button up and dark slacks, with long, white curly hair tied into a braid that dangled off their shoulder. \n\nUriel put on a calm, polite smile— although, the bags under their deep grey eyes made them look more tired than anything.\n\n*Hopefully, the bear would be comforting to the new girl...* Uriel mused to themselves, fingers tapping it's plush surface. She seemed new, and homesick, and *Afraid*— and while Uriel couldn't do much, they could do this.\n\nA strong language barrier existed between the two, but actions can transcend what words cannot... Or so they hoped."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The sudden knocks startled Nakanishi, who quickly calmed down and realized that it was the person with the bear. She stood in front of the door, took a deep breath to calm herself down (which didn't work, haha loser /j) and twisted the door handle slowly.\n\nThe door was then released from it's frame, now being able to swing open. The girl opened the door so that she could only see a sliver of light coming through and peeked out the crack, seeing a person standing in front of the door. She looked down and noticed the bear made of soft felt. It reminded her of Sazaki-chan.\n\nThe girl then opens the door some more, revealing herself to the person standing in front of the door. He could see the anxious expression plastered on her face. And she was anxious indeed. She had the same worries about him as she did with her roommate, Mamoru."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "They waved. The figure was... Surprisingly tall, coming in at around 6'. It didn't exactly match their appearance— the height made them look awkward with their skinny frame, and they seemed to be uncomfortable with the amount of space they took up. \n\n\"You are... Nakanishi, yes?\" Uriel's breathy and soft manner of speech was difficult to parse through their thick French accent. \n\nA moment of silence passed as it took Uriel multiple seconds to remember she didn't speak English. Their tired eyes looked down at their phone, before they slowly — *Very* Slowly— typed something in Google Translate. \n\n*Hello. This is for you. :-)* Appeared on their phone in Japanese."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi returned a tiny wave. She couldn't understand what Uriel was saying at all, she even seemed a little surprised that one's voice could sound like that. When Uriel began to type on the phone, she watched the sluggish typing taking place in front of her eyes. She could see it in his face too, he seemed exhausted. She remained patient and let Uriel finish typing before reading the translated message.\n\nThis is what happened when she and Mamoru were trying to conversate, she remembered. She quickly pulled out her phone and began to use it's dictation feature to say something into her phone and put down a text message that way. Her voice was soft and whispery, which was typical of her when meeting new people. She didn't want to raise her voice at all, thinking she'd be rude by doing that, but she was forced to do so after her phone's mic failed to pick up on her soft speech, twice. A simple message appeared on her phone after the third attempt:\n\n`Thank you.`\n\nShe then held up the phone to Uriel, covering her mouth with it as she kept eye contact with him. Her cheeks were mildly flushed, signaling embarrassment from the girl. She then awaited a response from Uriel, whether it be AI translated words or universally understood actions."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Good night!!! BTW, Uri uses they/them pronouns :-3"
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "Good morning!! :D\nAnd alright, ty for letting me know!\n\nHi there! How are you doing this afternoon?"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Just woke up \nDo got a lot of stuff to do but I'll churn a response out"
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "Alright, take your time!"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel extended the bear out towards Nakanishi, making the creature 'wave' at her with one of its paws. \n\n*Ah, but it is rather delicate... You probably shouldn't move it like I just did, on second thought.* The phone says. \n\nWithout another word, Uriel plops the bear onto Nakanishi's outstretched hand, and attempts a soft smile at the girl. \n\n*What will you name it?* Appears on the phone after another series of slow, drawn out typing."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi geeently takes the bear from Uriel and slowly brings it closer to her until she could hold it with both hands. She noticed the message typed out by Uriel and nodded in acknowledgement.\n\nShe loved the bear. It's fur felt soft all around, it seemed like it would be a great friend if it were alive, and she could look at it as much as she wanted whenever she went to sleep. She might even make it Sazaki-Chan's sibling.\n\nWhen she looks at the second message on Uriel's phone, asking what she would name it, she began to think about it. There were lots of things she could name it, and after a moment of thought, she decided to name it after the stray cat she would visit often in Koriyama. \n\nShe pulled her phone out and softly spoke a message into it, hiding her head behind the door so her voice would be muffled, then peeked back at Uriel and showed him the message.\n\n`Is Mr. Muto a good name? It's the name I gave to a stray cat that I'd visit often.`"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*If you think it's a fitting name, then by all means, use it.* \n\nMr. Muto... Yes, they mused, Nakanishi did mention the name before in the intranet. The recollection made something sweet blossom up in their chest, the corners of their tired face briefly lighting up. Something they made, being given such an important name... It made them giddy. \n\nUriel pats the bear on the top of its head. It was soft, even though their gloves— the girl also wore gloves, they noticed, but they didn't comment on it. \n\n*Perhaps I can make some accessories for it, if you'd like? Like a scarf.*"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "The girl nods, deciding to keep the name Muto-San (the -san honorific in japanese names is essentially the equivalent of mr/ms/mrs in english) as a reminder of the stray cat she once visited. Perhaps she would find a new one in Isakstad in no time.\n\nNakanishi noticed Uriel reaching his hand out to pat the bear and kept her hands absolutely still, not wanting to impede the bear patting in any way. When he was done patting, she looked down at the bear and gave it some soft head rubs with her index and middle fingers. She wished she could feel the fuzziness of the bear with her bare hands, but she would end up freezing it.\n\nWhen she was asked if she wanted any accessories for it, she thought about it for few moments, then typed into her phone and showed Uriel a translated message.\n\n`I want to keep Muto-San warm, could you make some winter clothes for him?`\n\nShe worried that the request would be a little too much, considering they were near-complete strangers, but she had some faith that he would be able to do it for her."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "I have... Another test on Wednesday 💀\nI can churn a response out in the AM tmrw!"
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "Bruuuuu 💀\nGood luck on your test, though! And take your time if you need ti!"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Winter clothes? Of course. I wouldn't want him to get cold now, wouldn't I? Perhaps he can have a scarf, a hat, and a cup of hot chocolate? It might seem light to you, but a bear had a remarkably easy time keeping warm. :-)* \n\nAs Uriel listed more and more possibilities for the bear's assorted garments, a smile blossomed on their face. Someone was actually *Accepting a gift, from them, and requesting more.* It was music to the ears— loud, intense organs blaring in an echoey room, filling up the cold, empty crevice of their heart with sound and joy and *Feeling.* \n\nWas this what is was like to have younger sister? Something to dote on unconditionally? Uriel didn't know— but a tinge of envy soured their mind as they thought of the people able to experience this daily. \n\n*You can always come to me if you need help adjusting here, alright? I've been here for quite a while, and I enjoy being of use.*\n\nThey tilted the phone screen to her, a sweet smile on their face.\n\n[[end here maybe?]]"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi read the message typed and translated through Uriel's phone and nodded in acknowledgement, hiding behind the door again and softly speaking a message into her phone before coming back around the door and showing him a translated message.\n\n[I think a scarf and a hat would suit him nicely, though hot chocolate would burn his mouth. Thank you for allowing him to stay warm this winter, and I hope you can stay warm too.]\n\nNakanishi wondered if this was what it is like to have an older sibling who is calm and caring. Uriel reminded her very much of her father, Oshiro Yusuke. She held up a finger for a second, telling him to wait before hiding behind the door and speaking a message into her phone. When she was done, she showed him another translated message.\n\n[You remind me much of my father. Would it be okay if we took a walk together and got to know each other?]"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "At that, Uriel smiled. Nakanishi was nice— sweet, too sweet for the Cradle, perhaps. Was her sweetness a forced one, a survival mechanism to stay alive? To keep others happy, even at the expense of herself?\n\nUriel couldn't tell. \n\n*I actually run rather cold, if I'm being honest. It's why I wear my poncho all the time, as well as my gloves and a long sleeved shirt. Touching my skin can be a bit unnerving, if you're not expecting it.* \n\nAh. The *Cold*. While they did grow up in France, they grew up in Provence, a region which rarely became cold. They didn't much enjoy the people there, but they couldn't say the same about the scenery— bountiful lavender fields swaying in the wing, knee deep yellow-green grass and a sun rising over a sleeping village. They were a bit thankful, to not need scarves and mittens all year round like they did at Sweden. \n\n*I'm fatherly? That's a bit amusing, actually— I have little idea of how those behave, but so long as it's a compliment... Perhaps it's a good thing? I wouldn't be able to tell. I haven't met many people here who like their father.* \n\nThey thought of Owen, with two mothers, Margo, with a dad she tried to murder, and Finley. \n\n...Did anyone here have a good father? Hopefully Nakanishi did, or else that remark perhaps wasn't so kind as it seemed. \n\n*I would love to go on a walk and know you better. Lead the way— we can go wherever you so desire.*"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi's sweetness wasn't forced. It's her nature. She was taught to be polite growing up, her parents constantly remarked it would get her far in life, but she also had a sweet side. Polite and sweet. She seemed like she wasn't fit for the Cradle life, but she was unfortunately forced into it because of her elemental powers. Despite the predicament she is in now, she still maintains her politeness.\n\nNakanishi grew up in the city of Koriyama, sitting in Fukushima prefecture in the country of Japan. It did get cold in the winters and it snowed, but the summers were warm and humid. Nakanishi hated how humid the summers were, though she didn't mind the heat much.\n\nHer father is a sweet man who cared for her as best as he could. He is a hard worker, providing for his family with a job that pays well, which is also one he likes. He sometimes would take up knitting and tried to make scarves for Nakanishi, though he wasn't very successful.\n\nNakanishi seemed surprised that there weren't many people at the Cradle who didn't like their fathers, at least from the people Uriel has met. She spoke a message into her phone before turning it to him, showing him a translated message.\n\n[How come people don't like their fathers?]\n\nThen, when she was told that Uriel would love to walk with her, she nodded and slowly stepped out of the door, eventually closing it behind her. She looked at Uriel for a moment with a nervous expression, then turned down the hall. Nakanishi hadn't explored the Cradle and was afraid she'd get lost, but since Uriel was older, she hoped they would know how to get back to her dorm in the case they did get lost. She also wondered if she could go out and explore the city of Isakstad. She wouldn't be able to read anything or understand anybody, but if she could explore, she'd be content with that. She began to walk down the hall with Uriel, constantly looking back to make sure he's following her."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*How come people don't like their fathers?* She had wrote, and Uriel walked alongside the girl in silence before they could properly form a sentence. \n\n*Not everyone is nice, unfortunately. It seems one doesn't gain a sense of morality just by siring a child.* \n\nA moments pause, phone still in hand. It was an interesting question to ask, and Uriel had little idea of how to answer. Why *Were* Humans mean? It was a question they asked themselves often. It was something they thought they could answer, and yet... All the explanations didn't seem proper for the ears of a child. \n\n*Although, I do believe you're asking the wrong person. I neither have a father nor hate him, so... Perhaps someone else would be better suited to that question?* \n\nTyping while walking was hard, Uriel thought, as the pair set off into the depths of the Cradle's concrete walls. Perhaps Nakanishi would enjoy the garden more— or maybe the rooftop would better suit her interests. Choices, choices... \n\n*If you'd like, we could go to the garden or the roof. There's a nice crows nest that gives one a good view of the city. Feel free to ignore me, if you have a destination in mind. :-)*"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi walked alongside Uriel, her shoes clicking down the hall as the dorms of descending numeric order passed. 123... 122... 121... 120... They sorta felt like they were counting down to when Nakanishi and Uriel would leave the dorms one way or another.\n\nWhen she was shown the message, she nodded, acknowledging the translated message. She thought about what Uriel had said about not gaining sense of morality. She then understood the message. I think a piece of her childhood innocence just got ripped away from her. When she was shown the second message about someone else being better to ask, she typed a message into her own phone. Typing while walking was a little difficult for her. She showed him the message after she was done typing.\n\n[I don't really have anyone better to ask right now. I apologize if the question bothered you.]\n\nShe put her phone down for a moment before she was shown yet another message. *If you'd like, we could go to the garden or the roof.* While both of those options sounded nice, she did want to explore the city and the Cradle and get to know her surroundings. She then stopped and began to think of a plan where they could explore all of those places in one day.\n\n*What could we do first? Is there a route that Uriel prefers to take? What if we get caught up in something? What if there's distractions? Will we spend any money on the trip? Is there a place that Uriel wants to go to first? What if we want to go to different places at the same time? Will we have to split up during our trip? What if we get cold?*\n\nThoughts ran through the mind of the girl. Her gaze affixed to a light mounted to the ceiling, her head tilted upwards and her hands still being held to her chest, clasped together. She seemed to be in a trance of what-ifs and plans about their journey."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*No worries. I have no ill will towards my father for leaving, and you for asking such a thing.* \n\nUriel gives the other a reassuring smile, tilting their head to meet her eyes. Their grey dream-catcher earring made a *Clink* As it lightly impacted their jaw. \n\nOh, right. Speaking of reassurance... If they were going to go on a walk with Nakanishi, they should probably mention *That*. \n\n*Ah... Alright, although, I should warn you ahead of time that I do have a tendency to... Fall asleep with little warning, as it were. If I unexpectedly faint, please do not worry. You can call one of the staff to assist.* \n\nUriel hoped the other wouldn't react too poorly to news of their condition. It was a disclaimer people didn't hear often, and they've garnered a wide array of responses to said heads-up. They usually range from 'Oh, wow, that's kinda weird', to 'I can't handle the responsibility of dragging your unconscious body back home, maybe I'll ask someone strong to come with us.' Perhaps they should change the conversation to something lighter, a small voice in their head said. \n\n*Now... Tell me about your father. You seem to like him, no?* \n\nThey had to admit, they were curious about the other girl— although, it was more due to a place of concern for this girl. Anything they could know could be useful in anything they could do to help her survive the horrors of being shipped off to a foreign country, alone."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi suddenly snapped out of her trance when she was shown the message from Uriel's smartphone. Her head tilted down and her eyes locked onto the other's smartphone to read the message, which told her that they had nothing against her for asking such a question. She nodded, feeling relieved.\n\nShe caught up to Uriel and continued to walk with them, her eyes facing forward. They were nearing the end of the dorm hallway, and Nakanishi figured now would be a good time to ask if Uriel had a place they wanted to go to first. She pulled out her smartphone to type (using the dictation feature) a message to him when Uriel showed her the message about his condition.\n\nNakanishi seemed surprised that Uriel had his condition of randomly falling asleep with little warning, she'd never heard of it before. Instead of typing (again using the dictation feature) her question of where the other wanted to go first, she wanted to show them that she would help if he ever did fall asleep.\n\n[If you do fall asleep, I'll try my best to catch you. I don't want you to get hurt.]\n\nShe tried to crack a smile to reassure Uriel, though she wasn't able to make it look genuine. Despite this, she hoped that the other would feel better about her wanting to make sure he will be okay if he ends up falling asleep. When she was asked about her father, she immediately spoke a message into her phone, then showed Uriel another message.\n\n[My father was a good man. He worked hard for my family. He loved everyone equally. I miss him and my mother a lot, though we do get to message each other every night.]"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "[He sounds like a lovely man. I'm glad to be compared to him, then. :-)] \n\nUriel hums cheerfully, the compliment clearly brightening their mood. Nakanishi's offer to catch them (although most likely in vain— they doubt she'd have the reflexes or strength to catch them, even if they were remarkably twig-like) sent a warm feeling through their chest. It felt like drinking warm tea, or resting by the fire— a pleasant warmth, one that made the bags on their eyes lighten up and the corners of their mouth turned upward in a soft, neutral smile. \n\n[You message him? That's nice to hear. I see my mother in my dreams, and so I suppose I'm lucky in the homesickness aspect— However, I do sympathize with you, Nakanishi.] \n\nAnother pause. They were walking to the garden, Uriel supposed— subconsciously, their feet had guided them towards the familiar green grove. It was for the best, a small voice in them thinks. They've never been the best with heights. \n\n[I'm glad you seem... Relatively normal. I'm still doing my best to adjust to talking to so many people, and the ones at the Cradle are no shortage of oddballs.] They chuckle at their own (typed out) remark, before resuming their feverish texting.\n\n [I don't exactly know what normal is for most people. I'm eager to find it out.]"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "[He is a lovely man. And I'm glad that you're glad to be compared to him.]\n\nNakanishi noticed the cheerful hums coming from the other person, which made her smile a little. She hadn't figured out that it was because of their brightened mood yet, but she just liked the way the humming sounded. It reminded her of her mother humming to her softly whenever Nakanishi hid from a thunderstorm. Her mother's humming always calmed her down, and she felt like Uriel's humming was calming her down too.\n\n[I think it's wonderful you see your mother in your dreams. I'm sure she is a nice woman.]\n\nNakanishi suddenly heard the ground underneath her begin to sound like grass. She looked down and realized quickly that she *Was* Standing in grass. She looked around and found that she and Uriel were now in a garden. While she was texting responses to him, she'd been subconsciously following him, not paying attention to where she was going. It was a wonder she hadn't bumped into anybody or hit any poles.\n\n[You also seem normal to me. I like that you wear gloves just like I do. Though, nobody at the Cradle is normal, so it would be reasonable to say that.]"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "[Sit next to me, Nakanishi. Let's enjoy the scenery together.]\n\nUriel smiles. As they sit down on the garden bench, they pat the spot next to them in a warm invitation. \n\n[Normal? I've never been called such a thing. It's a bit funny... Even here, where everyone else is 'not normal', I've been called as such.]\n\nEven while typing it, Uriel let out a small chuckle. *Normal*? What an odd thing to be called... Truly. It was a word that could only be explained by Nakanishi's general lack of understanding of them. Ares, Valio, Amelie, Hatzume... All were keen on reminded Uriel just how weird and strange they were. \n\nThey didn't mind it, of course. It was true after all— they *Were* Strange. Foreign. Different. Inhuman, even. Not a part of general society, but an observer lingering on the sidelines. A narrator, even.\n\n[These gloves are because I get rather cold. My body is colder than most people's.]\n\nUriel pulls their gloves off, revealing surprisingly sturdy yet pale and smooth hands. They touch the pad of their fingers to Nakanishi's wrist, and her skin meets their own cool, pale digits. \n\n[It unnerves people, so I'm told.]"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi reads the message and nods her head slightly in confirmation before moving to the side of the bench that Uriel makes room for her on and sits down, keeping her posture straight with her hands softly resting in her lap. There was no wind, no birds chirping, yet all of this greenery existed around them. It all felt very artificial. Despite that, it helped to ease Nakanishi's worries a little, as shown with a soft smile from the little girl.\n\nShe reads the messages presented to her by Uriel. She nods after each one, confirming her understanding and acknowledgement of said messages. She's gaining some form of understanding of the people here at the Cradle, which she appreciates, though remembers to make sure not to associate all Swedish people with that understanding. Just the ones at the Cradle.\n\nShe then reads the message about Uriel's colder-than-usual body temperature. She watches them pull off their gloves, revealing the pale skin underneath their hands, which unnerved her a little bit. Then. She kinda just allows them to touch her wrist with ther cold fingers. Upon contact with her soft, smooth skin, the temperature difference immediately surprised her and caused her to immediately bring both of her hands back towards her body. She picks up her phone and softly speaks a message into it before showing it to Uriel.\n\n[Sorry, the temperature difference surprised me. My hands get cold like that too, especially around winter time. They also get cold as ice forms inside my gloves from holding them still for too long.]"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "[You have ice powers, then? You'll be happy to know there are similar people here. A man here named Cas can manipulate ice— it might be worthwhile to talk to him, if you'd like.] \n\nFinally! Some actual advice they could give the new student. A sigh of relief escaped from Uriel's lungs, and they could feel *Something* Out in the universe praising them for their suggesting. \n\nIt felt warm. They closed their eyes and shuddered. \n\n\n[I think that is a very interesting power. It's rather cool, no?] \n\nUriel gives a reassuring smile to the other— it was true, they *Did* Find such an ability rather fascinating. \n\n[Is there any way I could see your powers in action?] The tip of their gloved index finger rests on their chin, tilting their head in curiosity."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi read Uriel's message and felt a little relieved that there were others similar to her in the Cradle, perhaps she could make friends with them and explore her powers that way. Nakanishi always wanted to make friends, that's why she made her blanket a lifelong \"Friend\" Of hers, named Sazaki-Chan. She held that blanket dear, but she felt like she could let go of that relationship sometime soon when she made some *Real* Friends.\n\nEven though Uriel didn't sport any ice powers of their own, she felt that they were a very kind person, one she could always go to in case she was getting overstressed. That would definitely help her, considering she'd only been forced into Sweden just a few days ago. As Uriel showed her another message, asking if they could see her powers in action, Nakanishi hesitated, thinking for a split moment that Uriel would have some sort of negative reaction or make fun of her for her weakness, but she reminded herself of their kindness and decided to try.\n\nShe slowly pulled off one of her gloves, then used her bare hand to pluck a blade of grass from the ground. Immediately, the blade completely froze, becoming very brittle. Nakanishi could balance it on a finger and use two others to snap it in half with ease, which she did. She put her glove back on and used her phone to once more communicate with the other.\n\n[How was that? Was it good?]"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "At the display of her power, Uriel's eyes widen briefly, mouth forming a perfect *O* In awe. \n\n[*That was wonderful! :-)))*] They type, but the sentiment is clear enough from the expression on their face. A polite clap rings out from Uriel's hands, and they give her a small cheer. \n\n[*It is getting rather late, Nakanishi. Perhaps we should head to bed now, yes? I wouldn't want to hurt your sleep schedule while you are adjusting to the new time zone.*] \n\nThe tall, pale figure stands up from where they had parked themselves on the bench, and they offer Nakanishi a hand to help her up. \n\nAn outstretched hand from a stranger in a foreign country... The first sign that things will be alright in this new place."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "Nakanishi watched their eyes widen, and their mouth form a perfect \"O\" In awe. Nakanishi's eyes also slightly widen for a brief moment, which showed surprise that Uriel would be amazed at her weak powers. As the polite clap rang out across the garden, a smile formed on the girl's face once more. She was happy that Uriel showed them this kindness when nobody else outside of her family would, merely because of her gloves.\n\nShe read Uriel's messages, telling her that her display was wonderful and that they should be heading back, for it is getting late. Nakanishi nods and gently grabs Uriel's hand as they stretch it out towards her before standing up with their help. She knew that she would have to take Swedish classes so she would be able to communicate with Uriel (assuming they're communicating in Swedish).\n\nAs the two began walking back to the dorm hallways, Nakanishi picked up her phone and softly spoke another message into it, using the dictation feature to type a message using her soft, whispery voice, which it would remain for a while until she became truly comfortable around Uriel. Once she was done, and the message was correct, she held up the phone, holding it by the two bottom corners with her hands and covering her mouth.\n\n[Can we be friends? You're the kindest stranger I've ever met.]"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel smiles at her. \n\n[Of course we can be friends.] One last display from their phone, and they escort her back to her room.\n\n—\n\nEHEHEH THAT WAS FUN\n\nEventually, of course!!!!\n\nIn a lot of rps rn 💀"
}
] | 224.5 | 6,524 |
294.45 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ She swallowed a knot, nervous and pervasive, that had formed in her throat. Even now, Vi made her nervous – in a good way.\n\n□ The intermission between Christmas and New Year's Eve had blended into itself, Wednesdays confused for Sundays and so forth. In those days Margo had been mostly working, studying, and caring for her reptiles, a regimented life like the one she loved to lead, but now it was time for festivities. Dressed casually, she had her trademark military brat fit on, except with a heavy flannel under her open-faced coat to apparently make up for the lack of shut zipper, and she stood outside Vi's dorm tapping the heavy steel toe of her combat boot against the linoleum floor of the second floor dormitory.\n\n▪︎ She could hear Vi moving around, yet no sign after a few moments. She took the chance to fish out her pack of tobacco and papers; forever a creature of habit and vice."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Violetta was actually a bit nervous, if she *Had* To speak the truth. It was a jittery feel to spend her first christmas and new years away from home. To video call her family was definitely something, more than some at the cradle get but... It still didn't feel the same.\nHer little sister was growing already, she's scared to miss all that. With a shake of her head, Vi huffed as she took one final look in the mirror. Augh, was she trying too hard with this look? The jacket felt like she was overdoing it... But it was a bit late to straight up change- her makeup was fine, no complaints there but... Mmm.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She accepts her fate, jumping a foot in the air when the knock rings out. Fluffing up her hair one final time, Vi dashes to the door and fiddles with the knob.\nFinnicky little thing for the nervous girl, there's about 30 seconds of frantic shimmying of the lock and handle before it swings open. She had been trying to open it backwards, it's a push door.\nHow *Embarrassing.*\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Margo!\" She quietly calls out to the girl afront her, quickly taking the gal into a hug and a light kiss on the cheek."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Heya, Vi.\" Margo warmly spoke back, a jubilant note underlying her voice. She sounded happy. \"Sounds like someone's happy to hear that knock.\"\n\n□ Letting herself be pulled down to Vi's height, she felt the familiar warm tingle of affection pulsing in her chest like dodgy luncheon meat. Lips pressed against her soft cheek and she grinned a genuine grin, taking her chance afterwards to plant a few soft kisses along Vi's cheek and chin with her cracked yet soft lips. Rising back to her full height, she wrapped Vi in a hug and took her with her, effectively lifting the shorter girl right off the ground into a hug for a few seconds before letting go.\n\n▪︎ Ah, the wonders of young love.\n\n◆ \"Also, I heard the lock jiggling for, like... 30 seconds? Were ya having trouble with it?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Vi huffed in Margo's scent, sending a weird and unexpected fizzle of catharsis down her spine.\nKisses that trailed down her jaw and cheek left Vi leaning in towards the taller girl's face with pure content.\nA small squeak/squeal escapes her throat as shes lifted into the air, drowned out by Margo's shoulder.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ But alas, soon she's lowered to the floor.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Uhhhh maybe. Maybe not. No. Yes.\" Vi sputters out, embarrassed by the fact she will Not be becoming a locksmith any time soon.\n\"Doesn't matter. You excited?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Pfft.\" Margo exhaled with a laugh. \"You totally took thirty seconds on that door. Dork.\"\n\n□ Now standing with her left arm around Vi's waist and her right hand gently patting Vi's back, she could have been drawn in forever, doomed to starve and dry out. She could have, and it would have been easy, given the texturally agreeable jacket she wore, or the plain pants, or the vaguely floral scent of her in general. Instead, though, she took a step to the side and draped her left arm around her girlfriend's waist a little more naturally, also putting all her weight on one hip for a few moments and humming.\n\n▪︎ She had a question to chew on.\n\n◆ \"Yeah, I'd say so. I got earplugs just in case it's a little *Too* Loud, but... I'm a drummer. And autistic. My ears are *Shot.*\" She chuckled. \"But I'm looking forward to the fireworks show. Hopefully it's worthwhile; God knows I'm gonna be let down if this is my first year away from Brooklyn and all we get is a wet fart of a show.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Woww, bullying a disabled person? That's so classy\"\nOk Vi you can't use that for everything. She giggled quietly, feeling the position shift to something much easier to walk with, Margo's arm curtained around her waist. Her love wore the same 3 outfits, so to see a minor change (woah, new flannel variation?) in her partner's arsenal of fashion was definitely an excitement for the night, too.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"If i play violin for you will you play drums for me?\" Vi questioned quietly as they began to walk, she expected the fireworks to be loud, and she expected them to fuck her up had she not brang protection. She could have sworn she had put some earplugs in her pocket! What a genius she is.\nShe lets out a short snicker, grinning incessantly.\n\"*You're* A wet fart, hehe...\" Woah get roasted margo. How is she gonna recover from that one.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ As vi locks the door behind her and begins along the way, a pair of earplugs lay neglected on her drawers. Whoops."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"What are you gonna do, huh? Write a callout post on Twitter?\" Margo teased back, gently poking her finger against Vi's cheek. \"Grade A goof. But for real, we should probably get going. No telling whether they're gonna jump the gun or not.\"\n\n□ Realistically speaking, the chances of the Cradle's pyrotechnic crew somehow bungling the timing on the fireworks display was exceptionally low. Margo was at least somewhat aware of this. Mostly she just wanted an excuse to whisk Vi off to the roof to ring in the new year together, so once her girlfriend locked the door to her room she took a few steps, trailing her hand up Vi's back, down her arm, and softly grasping her larger hand into the spaces between her girlfriend's spindly fingers.\n\n▪︎ And so she led them down the hall.\n\n◆ \"Totally would.\" Margo casually spoke. She seemed almost excited at the mere prospect of being able to show off on the Cradle's one less-than-stellar drumset to her wonderful girlfriend. \"Maybe we could even jam together a little. Though, I think you'd need to play it more like a, erm... Fiddle. Yeah. A fiddle.\" She continued, a touch embarrassed she'd stumbled that hard while speaking about something so simple. \"Also... Me? A wet fart? Fat chance. I am the *Shit,* Thank you very much. As if I'd be the fart...\"\n\n▪︎ What a totally dorky couple.\n\nHold up, making this a little better"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"You know what? Yes, maybe I will.\" She teased, eyebrows furrowing in mock offense at the notion of being poked.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Tingles chased the trail Margo's hand led with a second or two delay, leaving a lingering sense on the surface of her skin. Part of this led her wanting to go back into her room and just... Lounge around like idiots like they usually do, maybe play animal crossing or mutually infodump but, well, what is there to say? It's their first new year, had to make it special one way or another.\nThe fireworks were soon, her hand clasps onto Margo, her fingers locking into place around her girlfriend's\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Jam out... How very homoerotic, hehe, we could try though... I've never done much outside of gentle classic- let alone like a fiddle.\" She giggled quietly, trying her best not to make it obvious she noticed the dorkishly abnormal delay of 'fiddle'.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She broke out into another chuckle, gently swinging their interlocked hands as they began to walk\n\"Ah, my mistake, senator of shit.\" Boom. Plan backfired Margo she really got you there...\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ im so normal abt them"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Hey.\" Margo retorted with a dash of swagger and a throaty tone. \"As a senator of Shitsville I can and *Will* Scatter all of Soup and Spoon's crap in your rug. Better have your vacuum ready.\"\n\n□ Maybe she was a little goofy, but that was okay. She was simply being herself, feeling herself, trying her best to not let the words get utterly tangled in her mouth. She found these little moments rather sweet, nonstop jokey banter between two otherwise oft-quiet gals, and as the pair walked and chatted she tapped her thumb against the back of Vi's hand. Tapping, tracing circles, adjusting how she held onto her girlfriend's hand... Eventually letting go at the elevator due to sweat. \n\n▪︎ An apology was thusly uttered.\n\n◆ \"Anyways, think it's probably better to take the elevator up to the third floor. Way up's closer to the elevator than the stairwell, and honestly...? I'm already shit tired. I might actually stop by my room for a Monster... I keep a couple on hand now for when my sleep schedule gets totally thrown to the side.\" She spoke as the light on the elevator sank all the way to the ground level, then began to rise again. \"And that means you get to see Sadie's new skin. He just got done shedding, he's grown so big and so damn cute... Did I tell you he crapped in my hair the other day?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Augh, no fair, they're such a pain to clean up after sometimes...\" Vi whined in jest, drooping her head on Margo's shoulder as they walked. Soft fabric touched at Vi's cheek, the flannel that Margo bore seemed to well loved and worn out with such, broken in flannels were such a gentle joy...\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ And so they walked, a quiet noise of distaste reverberating from Vi's lips when Margo's clammy hands detached from her own.\nThe elevator cometh, and the two pile inside of the life saving machine, Vi listening to Margo with an attentive gaze.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Mhm, energy drinks just taste like battery acid, not sure how you do it.\" Quietly, a short chuckle intertwined with a wheeze escaped her lips at the news of sadie. It was exciting about the news of a new skin but... The hair note elicited a giggle\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"All over your luscious locks, I wouldn't allow that.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I just tough it out.\" Margo casually spoke, wrapping her arm around Vi's waist and flicking her fingernail against one of the belt loops of her pants. \"They taste kinda shitty, but they keep me up something goddamn fierce, so... It's worth it. Kinda like cold medicine: tastes like shit, does wonders.\"\n\n□ As the door slid closed and her finger absentmindedly flicked against Vi's waist, Margo pressed the button up to the third floor and plopped herself right next to her. \"Yeah, babe, like... I was laying on the couch, watching Columbo, and I had Sadie and Lapis out. Lapis was, er... Actually not sure where he was. Probably on the coffee table? But Sadie was slithering all over me, and of course I don't mind it at first because he's a lovely little guy, but... Then I smell it. I knew immediately what happened because snake shit *Stinks.*\" She almost sounded annoyed at the reminder of the smell. \"Like. I sat up slowly, picked Sadie up, and *Immediately* Put his ass in gay baby jail. Took me a while to wash out all the smell... Royal pain in the ass.\"\n\n▪︎ \"Your chinchillas ever do that?\" Margo looked down at Vi, tapping her foot. *Slow elevator,* She thought. \"Because I've been shit on a lot by my reptiles. They kinda just... Go when they need to, and sometimes I just end up in the crossfire. But do chinchillas do that? Or do the damn things have at least a little decorum?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"I don't mind the white monster, but the rest are gross; don't get me started on redbull...\" Vi complains quietly, silently noting to herself how surprisingly profound the cold medicine comparison was. She placed her outermost hand on Margo's arm, mostly just so she was doing something with it, theres truly nothing worse than looking stiff on a date.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta had already forgotten how this line of conversation had even began, and to be honest, a couple months ago she would be wuite grossed out by it but... Something about the world's most awkward conversations played off in comfort were what made Margo all the more sort of enthralling. Appropriately timed snickers released from the chasm of her throat.\nIt was hard to form words through the sounds, but she can always find a way.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Augh, i would have- hehe- never forgiven him!- On a dead mouse diet I can only imagine how gross that is.\" She half shudders, just imagining the scent was enough for her. How lucky she was to not own reptiles sometimes... Usually the reasonings would be the stress of maintaining the constant type of heat and whatnot, but now? Now she had a whole other reason to not have a scaled friend to bless her room.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Soup and Spoon are okay with it, not quite so inconvenient I don't think- I'm so glad I got convinced out of getting a pet bird of all things... As cute as a parrot would be-\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, Red Bull tastes like curdled piss.\" Margo remarked with a chuckle. \"But I've never actually *Had* The white Monster... Just the original can, whatever flavour you wanna assign to it. Shit tastes like the sound of the word *Uranium,* And that might sound weird, but. I'm not *Wrong.*\"\n\n□ With a telltale *Ding* The elevator doors slid open, beckoning the pair in with its empty interior, ripe for whatever goofy stuff they might've been able to get up to. Strolling in, she waited until Vi had joined her before pressing the shut button – the *Shutton* – and once again draping an arm around Vi. \"Yeah, it wasn't pretty.\" She casually spoke. \"But that's just part and parcel. It's one of the many weird quirks about reptiles, y'know? Like... They also don't sweat at all. They're dry all the time, and it's honestly kinda funky, even after years of owning and caring for 'em.\" She continued, knees buckling lightly as the elevator lurched to action. \"But shit in my hair or not, I wouldn't trade 'em away for the world. I love my boys.\"\n\n□ \"Anyways... Gotcha. Then again... Actually, scratch that. I doubt we wanna talk about animal shit all of tonight, huh?\" She remarked with an amused tone. \"Anyways. How's your day been?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Curdled piss... Thats an expression\" She snickered\n\"The original sucks, I don't think anyone actually enjoys it- you should try the white or pink ones.\" She enthused, gazing on as the elevator doors slid open. Hobbling in alongside Margo, she was that little bit giddy to be attending fireworks with her *Girlfriend...*\nConstantine would never, fuck that guy.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi stared at the two of them in the elevator's slightly smudged mirror, the corners of her mouth lifting up into a smile almost against her will. Shamelessly, she side hugged Margo without a word to elaborate. She loves her girlfriend, she loves new years, why was she only just realising how goddamned beautiful it was to love?\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Yeah actually, I... Never actively noticed that but- they *Are* Very dry. I guess in the wild it would be to stop sand from getting stuck to them? Weird guess, but sand *Is* Uncomfortable. That or to preserve water.\" She shrugged, not yet allowing Margo an escape from her embrace as the elevator's ascent began.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi hummed, how had her day been? The age old question! Though she wasn't so certain on an answer.\n\"It's been... A day- homework and animal crossing, you know how it is... Gave my sons a little extra food today for new years... Not that they have any concept of it. Called my mother- my baby sister is learning to walk really well these days.\" She almost looks a little sad for a hot moment there near the end- if only she could meet the little goober.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯\"Anything exciting on your end?"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"White one's good? Neat.\" Margo commented as Vi joined her in the elevator. \"Then again it's not hard to beat the original. Goddamn sludge... But sludge that keeps me awake something fierce. I'll live.\"\n\n□ Also looking into the mirror, her gaze was fixed on a pimple along her jawline. Who had gave it the right to defile her fine chiseled jaw – itself a survivor of the hormone-induced far redistribution that'd taken a significant portion of her previous physique with it. She was snapped out of her thoughts by Vi wrapping her in a side hug, and she returned the favour with her free arm, tapping her fingers against the curve of her girlfriend's waist.\n\n▪︎ The elevator continued to slowly lurch upwards. She wished it could have lasted forever.\n\n◆ \"That'd make sense.\" She gently nodded, her voice a touch softer than usual. \"It's kinda funky how they evolved towards dust. Natural selection heard *Ashes to ashes, dust to dust* And went to fuckin' town on the little guys.\" She continued. \"Anyways, that sounds kinda nice. Bittersweet, gotta be, to only be hearing about her growing up, but at least you won't be here forever. Silver linings, babe.\"\n\n◆ \"As for me...? I've been up since 4:30. Ate a lemon, hung out with Cosmo for a bit, went for a run. It's been mostly the same as usual.\" She casually spoke as the elevator dinged and came to a stop. \"But I did work. It was nice. Slow. Mostly I just deep cleaned a bunch of enclosures while Dammig hung out in my hair. Her and Cosmo are the same, y'know? Goddamn same.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ She should take a picture of her and Margo at some point that night, that's what couples do, right? Violetta had a lot of thoughts about the new year ahead, and a lot of thoughts about how wonderful Margo looked right now; she barely noticed the pimple, in fact, the only thing dragging any attention to it was how potent Margo's awareness of it was.\n\"Babe... Babe you look fine..\" She alerted through a snicker. The hug came to a close due to how inconvenient it was to hug with her cane accidentally bumping Margo's leg in Vi's shaky grip.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Indeed, their dust baths are a damn pain to clear up but... Augh, anything for my ugly little babies.\" Vi mused, suddenly all too aware of her oversight... She forgot to give them a goodbye kiss! She doesn't voice this concern, knowing the fluoride stare she'll recieve when she returns to her dorm will be enough.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"You're right, but it may be a little weird... Assuming I leave through age instead of graduating then I'd meet her when she's 3- she'd be semi sentient at that point... Weird as fuck...\" She shudders, tapping her finger against the cane in hand- Vi idly listened to Margo's recollection of her day, which elicited a small hum of acknowledgement at all appropriate points.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"You're way too attached to that gecko, it must be awful to force the self control to not just take the baby home...\" Vi snickered, having heard more about dammig in the past week than anything else.\nSounded like a solid lizard, in fairness to Margo"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"You still got time to be her cool older sister, I'd say.\" Margo hummed back. \"But yeah, gotcha. It's weird knowing that by the time you see her again she'll be eating bugs and throwing tantrums and walking around, huh?\"\n\n□ As the conversation veered towards siblings and the elevator stopped, Margo's mind veered back towards her family. She didn't have any *Young* Siblings, yet she understood how Vi felt just from the way she sorrowfully spoke of all she was missing at home. \n\n• \"But, seriously, I feel it. I have to clean all three of my sons' enclosures once a week or so, and even now it's... Basically going wrist deep in lizard shit and piss.\" She spoke as she stepped out of the elevator and extended her arm so she wouldn't have to leave go of Vi's hand. \"It's nasty work, but it's gotta be done. Otherwise they'd be living in their own shit and piss and I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Is shit like that for you too? Like. Losing sleep over your pets. I lose that shit sometimes.\"\n\n◆ \"Also, yeah... It takes a lot of willpower to leave her behind. But I guess it's easier knowing she's always gonna be at the shop. She's actually apparently pretty good for business, if Elias is to be believed.\" Margo hummed as the pair lingered around the elevator, hand in hand, plainly chatting. \"But, like. When I'm out of here and I have an apartment in town I'm 100% adopting her. It's really just the lack of space that's keeping me from taking her home...\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Yeah... I am a cool older sister.\" Vi declared; after all, this wasn't her first rodeo in younger siblings! That said, she doesn't like her russian sister out of a bitter jealousy- which she needs to work on, because one sided beefing with a 14 year old is seriously not a good look.\n\"Apparently she's quite a quiet baby but... That usually changes, i was a super loud baby but a quiet kid so... Super quiet baby equals super loud kid?\" The mental gymnastics is astronomical, her theorising filling up space in the conversation\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Is our conversation always going to come back to this?\" Vi giggled at Margo's mention of cleaning out enclosures- she'll say this much, thank fuck her chinchillas weren't terrible to clean out. Could be leagues worse it seems...\n\"Not with soup and spoon, I know they're fine because I can hear them and such. But when I was a kid uh, I'd visit my mother for christmas and my birthday, and I used to stress so much about how this stray cat that I used to feed was doing in my absence.\"\nThere wasn't a lot of good to recall from her childhood, sure, but... The memory of that uptight calico made the corners of her mouth lift into a wry smile.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Awh, Dammig is like a little mascot, aha\" She chuckled, imagining the gecko on some sort of merchandise- maybe she should custom print a shirt for margo one of these days... That would be a funny surprise...\n\"Exciting, does Dammig recognise you or..?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"There's the spirit, babe. Also... Maybe you're right. I was a loud baby, though, and that never changed. The loud part; i'm not exactly a baby anymore.\"\n\n□ A light smile across her chiseled feminine features, Margo nodded along as Vi spoke. She could have listened forever, in all honesty, and never grown tired of hearing her girlfriend's voice, but conversations weren't just one way. The difference between speaking to the wind and speaking to a person was pretty distinct.\n\n◆ \"Sorry, kind of habit to go back to talking about my sons and the pain I go through to keep them comfortable.\" She chuckled. \"But that aside, that's sweet. I'm sure that cat appreciated you... Stray cats don't exactly have an easy life. I actually had Cosmo's enclosure by my window back home for a while, and I only stopped because I'd left my window open a crack and this fuckin' stray cat was trying to get in so it could snatch Cosmo up as a snack. Kinda shows how desperate those cats get.\"\n\n▪︎ \"Anyways, gimme a sec. Or you can just come in. Whatever suits ya.\"\n\n□ Popping the door to her dorm open, the smell of fresh-cut citrus, strong tobacco, and herbal tea flowed out from the doorway like miasma, an invisible haze that was almost intoxicating in its exotic strength. Margo seemed totally unaffected by it though, and she strolled in casually before kneeling down by her mini fridge and popping it open. Digging through it she produced a can of Monster, black and green, and she stood up afterwards and turned to face Vi wherever she happened to be.\n\n◆ \"She does. I see it every morning when I clock in, actually. She notices me and immediately runs to the edge of her enclosure and stares at me until I pick her up.\" She fondly spoke. \"Kinda like Cosmo, except he's a little lazier so he gives me like. A fuckin' fluoride stare until I pick him up, like he's... Doing now.\"\n\n▪︎ She pointed to Cosmo's enclosure, and there was the fellow. Staring intently, yet lazing in the sun. What a charming man."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "YYEA ill get a response to you in a bit im jus watching puss in boots w my family real quick :3"
}
] | 312 | 5,889 |
181.666667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Three knocks sound on Ryuu's dorm door. \n\nFrom behind the wooden door, a lone figure stands. They're pale, with their long, stark white hair tied into a braid dangling from their shoulder. Heavy bags hang from under their stormy-grey eyes, and they're draped in a lilac-colored poncho. \n\nIn their hands is a knitted scarf, with shimmering blue and gold yarn. It's long, and ornate, and there are patterns woven into the wool.\n\n\"Hello, Ryuu. Are you there?\" Thickly accented English seeps through the cracks of the door."
},
{
"author": "Ryuu Sayori Ando ||Doyle",
"message": "*Ryuu sat there in his room, kinda lonely as he was looking at the wall. He was sitting on his bed with softly Mexican music playing on his radio. He was humming with it as he yawned. Someone was going to help ryuu? Or just give him something, ryuu forgot already.*\n\n*Ryuu was freezing though, in Mexico it's never cold and he really has to change to this cold weather in Sweden. He is shaking a little and has a cold at the same time. He hears someone call his name, that must be Uriel.*\n\n*He opens the door, standing there only wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie.* \"Amigo come in, take a place to sit. You want anything? Drinks or food?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel blinked twice at the reception. For someone who was lauded as dangerous by the Cradle, it was a... Strangely warm and inviting atmosphere, especially considering the offer of food and drink. \n\nThey smiled softly. Perhaps rehabilitation wasn't past Ryuu, after all...? \n\nThey give a slight bow of their head before stepping into the threshold of the room, humming cheerfully as the anxieties they had prior to this melted into the ground. \n\n*Friend.* He had already called them a friend. Finley was right, it seemed. \n\n\"You have a nice room.\" They say, blank eyes taking in the sparse decor. Outstretched hands place the scarf into Ryuu's hands, before they lean against his bed. \n\n\"Drinks or food...? That's very kind of you. I would love to stay and chat, but— please do try on the scarf, first. If you want, I can make more clothes, or I can exchange it for a color you prefer.\" Their low, soothing voice is akin to a stream's flow, and they make sure to give a reassuring smile towards Ryuu. \n\n*A living weapon, and a delinquent... I wonder how this will go,* A voice in their head muses.\n\n——— \nJust gonna officially"
}
] | 155 | 545 |
449.333333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Blankets upon blankets, yet somehow it still never felt like enough to warm her up- she could literally *See* Her breath clouding up the air in front of her, the five layers she had hastily thrown on just doing enough to shield her.\nIt was armando, she could tell that much, both by the circumstances, and the way the freeze abruptly stopped by her guinea pigs.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ She shuffled over, reaching out a shivering hand to her little munchkins.\n\"Ohhh hush hush sillies. I'm fine.\"\nThey aren't quenched, still shrieking in their alarm.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Hatsume sighs, clinging the duvet to herself as she approached her little cd player- the tall girl wont lie, it made her feel damn cool to have a CD player...\nSlipping a disc in the machine, she returns to her seat, a couple feet from her guinea pigs. Emotions bubbled to hear the disc of her brother's mixtape play Siouxsie and the Banshees in the background of her thoughts\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Dramatic ass poltergeist... Goddamn.\" She mutters to herself, crossing her arms. The green line freaked her out enough for a frown to form. At least it ignored the oigs...\nHopefully if Hatsume ignored it, that would teach it it's place...\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Stumbling back in her seat, Hatsume dodges away from the static's trail. It resided upon her desk... Her frown never faded, a hand reached out to her guinea pig's enclosure- their master's hand quietening the beasts for just a couple of moments.\n\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ For a couple moments she just stares at the essence, venom on her expression.\n\"You're not fucking funny, whatever your name is.\" She mutters, standing up once more and approaching the aching noise- the cries of her oigs resuming upon her approach.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ She fumbled with the CD player, the noise *Hurt*, to hear her brother's favourite song butchered like that.\n\"Can you seriously just leave us all alone? Move to Canada or something? I'm sure there's even more youths to go harass over there.\" She growled, making an attempt at flicking the small green static.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Like.. I'm not usually this pissed. But gabe is my friend, you loser.\"\nWow sick burn Hatsume\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Eh?\" Hatsume raises a brow at the display (or at least, as much as she can- shes not trained in raising her eyebrow).\n\"I won't lie. You're not making any sense. Basil or Levi or whatever your name is. I think those piss you off... Armando it is.\"\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"You're such the mean enigma... How are we gonna crack you..?\" She crosses her arms atop the desk, resting her head upon the nook of her arms. Armando is sideways in her vision, the green static buzzing beside the now quiet cd player.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"If that CD's fried, I'll hunt you down.\" The tall girl mumbled, returning upright and removing the disc from the slot with baited breath.\n\"Necessary... Required... Ugh, you're confusin me. No surprise there.\"\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Eldritch cat indeed... Hatsume contemplates trying to pet it; that is, before remembering that armando was in some way, human... And petting humans is a little bit absurd and off putting, even for her.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ She sighs in relief like a mother finding her lost child to see the disc safe and sound. She was freaked out at first, especially after gabe but... This was surprisingly non violent.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Where's your counterpart at? Can I ask why you're wreacking havoc, or would that be far too easy?\" She tilted her head, placing the disc back inside of it's case, a photo of herself and her brother on the front.\nA ghost of a smile, she looked so silly with that lost tooth.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"I uh... Thanks for not freezing my guinea pigs. They don't like... Know anythin' about uh... Anythin' so... Yeah.\""
},
{
"author": "archived_account145B",
"message": "``'I Like Your Music'``"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"I uh. I figured that out... So you're fused n stuff but... Are seperate too? Like uhhh... Bound?\" Hatsume pondered, pulling out a seat and tapping her finger against the table.\n\"Yeah... They're my babies, I dunno what I'd do without em to keep me in check\" She snickered, tapping rhythmically\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Her eyes scan over the words and a confidence takes over for a couple a' moments. Before remembering...\n\"Ah- thanks!- though... Well, its not really mine. My older brother made it for me when I was like. 14 because I said I wanted to be cool like him\" She grinned down at her hands. Oh how simple things were.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"We could totally jam out if you weren't a trapped soul. I can guess something not so savoury happened to you guys.\""
}
] | 231 | 1,348 |
351.2 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*There was quite a stir going on in the dorms as movers from the cradle helped bring in Ostan's stuff. In Ostan's mind is was such a hassle. He had his own small army of movers who he trusted, but the Cradle's security was tight. They had to bring two dollies just for Alexander, Ostan's giant cauldron. He brought his own bookshelves and desk, aswell as his own bed. To him it was the basics that would be needed to live comfortably here, though to others it would be an excess. He stood outside, overseeing the moving process with an imperious gaze... Though as the movers brought Alexander towards his door... It was obvious the cauldron was much too large to fit...*\n\n*He leaned down, pulling out a piece of chalk and began to draw on the cauldron. With precise detail, he drew a circle across Alexander, detailing it with sigyls and glyphs. After a few minutes he was done. He reached a hand to his wrist, and a small drop of light collected on his fingers, before he moved them to the circle. After a moment it flashed, and the cauldron changed. Iron became rubber, and he stood back as the staff were now able to squeeze the cauldron past the door. Once on the other side, he drew a finger across the circle, breaking the chalk line and returning Alexander to his normal form.*\n\n*Ostan walked back outside, returning to overseeing the process. He held an imperious air, wearing a long black and violet gown which contrasted with his floor length hair. His skin looked deathly pale, and his dull violet eyes watched intently. His right hand toyed with a bracelet on his left, with a large silver medallion at its center. The medallion was a magic circle of great detail, etched in silver for longevity.*"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ It always struck Hatzume by surprise when there was a ruckus that she wasn't involved in- that said, there was one large as life right in front of her eyes. Propped up against a wall with a can of pop in hand was Hatsume, dressed to the 9s for a simple day (which was quite an honour to see actually, she hadn't overdressed in a while).\nChunky platforms, a face of exaggerated makeup and an outfit what could only be described as if 80s goth was fighting to the death with 2000s scemo. It blended together yet clashed in such conflicting ways.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ And this overdressed, pretty young lady wanted to know what the big deal was, her gaze followed movers dealing with helping a newbie into their dorm. She remembers arriving with not much outside of a suitcase, it was almost surreal to see rookies arriving with such dramatic haulage\nAs out of character as it is, Hatsume was relatively quiet outside of the hiss of an opened can of dr pepper and some slurping.\nAnd then some sputtering on the said drink when she sees the ever... Romanticly eccentric new neighbour. He bore a *Robe*, like some kind of wizard, Hatzume wouldnt be surprised if he pulled a violet hue pointed hat out of his ass and told her she was a wizard too, harry. Not that JK Rowling would ever allow that.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ She makes eye contact, and has to force her jaw to hinge back together from her formerly surprised gape.\n\"You uh... Got a lot of stuff, newbie.\""
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Ostan stood tall... Though his height was diminutive at 5'4\", he used every inch and held himself regally. You could practically feel the old money dripping off of him. He turned to look at the newcomer with a sly smile. He didnt wear a robe per say, more a Victorian gown. Black, with purple accents, the only think more surprising would be his hair. It literally came down to the floor and if it was fully straightened it would probably go over a foot further. He walked towards the newcomer with graceful steps, before extending his hand.*\n\n*His fingers were... Black? The ends of his digits looked darkened... And the black nailpolish didnt help. He appreciated that someone else here was dressed properly, and his dull violet eye examined her outfit critically.* \"You are well dressed. What is your name?\" *He asked softly.* \"I am Ostan Tei Sheios\" *He added, looking up at the woman.* \n\n\"And of course! I am going to be here for awhile afterall, I might as well be comfortable! Plus, I needed to move my whole laboratory here, along with my study. Trust me, for every one thing I brought there are 10 more at my home. Except Alexander, I only have one of him\" *He said with a sly smile*"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Somehow Ostan's opulence made Hatsume feel inferior in her clothing, like a hooker or something- which was weird, considering thats an aesthetic that the tall girl usually admires. She was about 2x the extravagant dude's height, yet he was cradled by himself with far more height than her measly 6ft and 3 inches (well, 6 inches with the shoes) ever could. She looked herself up and down as best she could as if to make sure her outfit was as good as she remembers it being.\nAnd for the good of her health, it was.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Shit man thanks- I'm Hatsume Setsuko, Hatzume if you're so inclined; Subtle but important difference.\" She continued to gaze on at the plight of the movers trying (and probably struggling) to relocate an entire village into Ostan's room.\nChrist, this new dude was peculiar, a word that Hatsume can barely pronounce.. She repeated Ostan's name to herself under the hush of her breath- his existence now even more solidified in her brain.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"I guess? I mean, when i hauled ass here I only had a suitcase and backpack. Theres mkre furniture going into your room than in my entire childhood home\" Hatsume snickered, taking a sip of her dr pepper and surveying the objects going in.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Alexander? You got a pet or somethin'?\""
},
{
"author": "raventiel",
"message": "*Ostan smiled with a Cheshire grin, looking up at the newcomer while still somehow managing to look down his nose at her. It was a strange dichotomy, with such an obvious height difference between the two that she was literally more than a foot taller, but the dominant attitudes totally switched. Ostan was a pillar of refinement in such a way that it seemed to make all of Hatzume's flaws even more apparent.* \n\n*Ostan looked up at her, tilting his head momentarily... Before his posture shifted. He went from perfect nobility to... More casual? He changed the angle of his gaze, and somehow it no longer felt so... Hostile. He walked over to wall beside the door and lounged back, letting his perfect posture drop even further as he leaned back. He looked up at her with a knowing smile before speaking*\n\n\"Well, I assure you it is all needed. And Alexander is my cauldron! Remarkably sturdy invention, I have been with him for almost 12 years, he has lasted through even the worst of my experiments, no way in hell I wasnt bringing him here.\"\n\n*He pointed inside of his room to the large cauldron, which was currently being lifted off of the dolly with great effort.* \"Im sure they can handle the rest\" *He added with a small sigh before leaning into the room.* \"You can just drop the rest off. I will organize it.\" *He said in a commanding tone. He then turned back to Hatsume with a small smile and a very different attitude* \"Now... I normally wouldnt ask this of the first person I met, but I would appreciate even the briefest of tours.\""
}
] | 366 | 1,756 |
219.818182 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Reverberating through the third-floor dorm well were two sounds- battered high tops hitting the floor, and one concerned voice, juvenile and out of breath, crying out,\n\n*\"UuuUUUURRRIIIIIEEEEEELLL!!!\"*\n\nTheir knight in battered jeans and a green hoodie skidded to a sudden halt- almost dropping his precious cargo- and knocked very politely on a familiar door."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Three knocks later, and the sound of shuffling feet and sniffles gradually gets closer before the door opens itself. Standing in front of Owen is a *Comically* Sick Uriel— swaddled in blankets, red with fever, eyes drooping with fatigue. \n\nIf they looked pale and sickly before, it was nothing compared to how they looked *Now* — it was a bit ghoulish, actually. A comparison to a zombie wouldn't be... Inaccurate. \n\nThey eye Owen and the goods up and down, looking a bit like a confused puppy. \n\n\"Come in.\" They wheezed, and stand to the side to allow him to enter. \n\n\"You, *Cough*, arrived pretty quickly.\" Uriel gives a small laugh, and it's even more breathy than usual."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Aw, Uri...\" A small giggle, just at the *Sight* Of them- a sorry sight indeed, that tugged at his heartstrings and the corners of his mouth alike. \"I speedwalked!\"\n\nHappily padding into their room, he gave a nod to the lizard giving him stinkeye for disturbing the quiet, and nudged the door closed with his hip. If Uriel had ever met his mam, they would have snickered at the resemblance.\n\n\"Soup! Fresh garden stuff. More on the stove. And sit *Down*, love!\" \n\nOwen gently but insistently thrust a bowl, wrapped in a soft potholder and covered by a plate, containing something hot and savoury-smelling into their horribly weak-looking hands. A shaky smile for them as well, the glimmer of sympathy (and a little humour) behind his eyes."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel's brain was too tired, too foggy to do anything besides comply with Owen's motherly demands. (A lot like their own mother, actually— but missing the telltale smell of cigarette smoke and garden herbs, as well as the bite all French people had.) \n\nAnd so, Uriel *Plops* Back onto their bed, legs dangling off of the side to face Owen. \n\n\"Soup...\" They mutter absentmindedly, eyes entranced by the meal in front of them. Almost on cue, their stomach rumbles, *Loudly*.\n\nUriel's already red face grows redder, and they look down at their toes, slightly embarrassed. \n\n\"Ah... T-thank you, Owen.\" Another sniffle. \"Apologies for the, um...\" \n\nUriel rests the soup on their lap and gestures to the swaddling of blankets around them. \n\n\"Unseemly appearance.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Don't even think about it, Uri.\"\n\nA just-barely-held-back chuckle escaped Owen's throat as a faint wheeze at their total wet-cat demeanour. Looking at them like this, practically blinking one eye at a time, he just wanted to squeeze them so tightly-\n\nPerhaps he should put himself to work doing something else helpful, rather than stand there and stare at them staring at their spoon. At the very least, he moved to kick his shoes off by the door.\n\n\"Sheesh, mate, you're still all done up- you want pyjamas? Tea? They're both somewhere in here...\"\n\nOver in their closet, where they kept the boxes to tea that helped the most when they would be sick, and the soft fluffy sheep pants that would feel nicer than the uncomfortable sensory clashing of outside-pants and blankets. He knew, he'd seen them rummage around here before-\n\n\"Hmm!\"\n\nOwen leaned on his back foot, rested his hands on his waist, and stared in disbelief at a month of missing T-shirts."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel's sin was caught. Perhaps the cold was karma for their parasitic conquest of Owen's wardrobe... \n\nAt Owen's shocked expression, Uriel began babbling whatever incoherent explanation they had told themselves over and over while cladding themselves in reminders of their dear friend when their nightmares took a turn for the worse.\n\nNot that they would ever tell him that, how they felt stronger when he was around, how it was easier to withstand the *Bad* When he was by their side... \n\n\n\"You lended them to me when I was sleeping over. You didn't explicitly state I had to return them, so I...\" Uriel trailed off, looking around the corners of the room. \"Didn't.\" \n\n\"I was going to return them. Eventually. And wash them, too...\" \n\nUriel snuffs the sheepish, embarrassed expression growing on their face by shoveling as much soup into their mouth as quickly as possible. \n\nThey swallow *Way too much soup* At one time with a loud gulp. Cold, shaking hands place the now-empty bowl of soup on top of their nightstand, and swaddle themselves farther into their blankets to avoid meeting Owen's gaze. \n\n\"And, in my defense... They're comfortable.\" A sly smile at that. It was clear they felt little remorse at their scheme."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Th-that they are, comfortable, t-true...\"\n\n...\n\n\"*Fiend!* Oooh, sneaky diawl, *You*,\" He squeaked out between peals of crackling laughter, after two solid seconds of contemplation (and almost-audible static). His palm was hot near his face as he covered half of the no-doubt stupid-as-all-hell look on his face, which in return was hot near his palm.\n\n\"Y-you could've-\" He spluttered- \"Asked? I would've-\"\n\nWould've *What?* Smiled and said, *'oh yeah, no big deal, you can have one of these, take your pick!'* The thought itself wasn't even all that amusing, but combined with the look on their face (of someone who would *Totally* Have gone along with that, he realized), it killed him for a second round of giggles.\n\n\"Contest bloody faerie logic, I can't,\" He wheezed, selecting one of his artfully 'borrowed' treasures from the drawer and chucking it lightly at their face. *Surely I have thoughts about them stockpiling my clothes. Somewhere in there. Later! Later.*\n\n\"Before you get too comfy like that.\"\n\nHis eyes flushed with warmth. They really did make him smile."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Fairy logic... It's helpful in some circumstances.\" A twinkle in their eye, the corner of their mouth turning upward in a smile. \n\n\"Uweh—\" A surprised noise wrangled itself out of their mouth as the familiar shirt hits them square in the face.\n\nIt wasn't painful, but is certainly was *Startling.* They fall over on their back, mockingly pretending to be gravely wounded by the article of clothing. \n\n\"But, alas... Your strike has brought me close to deaAAA*Achoo!*\" A sudden, high pitched mousy sneeze interrupts their monologue. It's almost... Cute. \n\nThe tips of their ears turn red, the sudden wind out of their sails causing them to falter. \n\n\"I'll... Go put this on...\" They mumble, wrangling their poncho and button-down off. They almost look like an inflatable dancing noodle, with the way they wiggle into the shirt thrown their way."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Alas, deft and clever one, so young, so beautiful... A tragedy I'll never forgive myself for,\" Giggled he, chucking the pants with the jumping sheep pattern at their chest this time.\n\nA snort, and a bit-back remark about their ridiculous sneeze. *How are they* Even *Real.*\n\n\"Yeah, yeah,\" He sighed, through an audible grin. To give them some privacy, he turned back into the closet and found something with lemons and ginger printed on the box, and picked through his brain for the memory of how to operate the electric tea kettle. Humming something idly in the pleasantly quiet room, Owen padded about, doing laps around the room like he *Totally knew where everything was*. He found the cups easily enough, didn't he?\n\nA palm, warm and solid, plopped down on the top of Uriel's head as the familiar noises of the fantabulous tea machine started up. It rested there, not really inclined to move; its owner kept humming."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Now changed into the horrible clashing patterns of a shirt emblazoned with some sort of graphic cover on it and their usual, sheep adored pajama pants, Uriel was Properly Snug (TM). \n\nMargo's electric kettle was humming quietly, Owen's hand was on their head... Uriel was *Content*, and something warm in their chest felt happy to be doted over like this. \n\nWould they have ever trusted anyone their age to do something like this for them, in the past? Uriel didn't know. The shapes and crevices of their personality had molded and changed with age— they were smoother now. Now, they were able to enjoy simple pleasures, like not feeling afraid when someone *Looked* At them, or waking up and knowing you were safe. \n\n*Taking a nap...* Uriel's eyes follow the contours of Owen's legs, before they make the split second decision of resting their head on his lap. \n\nThey looked a bit like a cat, curled into a ball and resting on his leg. A softly sniffling, sick cat... But a cat, nonetheless. \n\n\"T-thank you.\" They mutter, interrupting themselves with tiny sniffles. \n\nHe was warm... And more than that, he was comforting. A part of them ached at just how desperate they were for comfort— a familiar door in their head once again threatened to open, the rusted hinges keeping the memories from spilling out from where they laid, hidden away in closets and places-to-not-be-seen. \n\nA flutter of white eyelashes, and they gently closed the door. Not now, during such a good moment— maybe later, but not now."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "There was a warm pile of something precious in Owen's lap. As one was compelled to do when caught in situations like these, he scooted a little closer, and then the warm weight of his hand on their head found its place again. The green-clad boy's heart warmed every time they did this. The gentle pressure, the trust in his hands, and how casual they were about it- he felt loved when they flopped over onto him, and he savoured it deeply.\n\nHe knew that sometime soon Margo would be back, perhaps with Vi on her arm and an eyebrow cocked at his predicament; or the kettle would whistle, and he would try to operate it without moving and shake them awake anyhow; but, right now, there was a warm pile of someone precious on his lap, and the feeling was good.\n\nTheir soup-bringer and apparent night shirt-supplier wasn't thinking much, really, when he planted that light kiss on their forehead, but that was probably why he did it. Right behind their hairline, on a little downy curl, where it felt right to do so (and where, perhaps, they might doubt they felt anything at all, if they weren't yet asleep). \n\nOwen adjusted a pillow behind his back, relaxed against their headboard, and felt loved."
}
] | 213 | 2,418 |
44.170213 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*After some time after Silas helped Penelope move into her room, or at least get all the boxes into it...*\n\n*She's been getting everything out of her boxes and setting everything up while thinking about everything here in this... Prison? She's kinda forgotten at this point, it looks fine, but she keeps hearing people call it a juvie*\n\n*She takes out a framed photo of one of her childhood friends and sighs* \n\"I wonder how Luna has been doing recently... I hope she's alright... I don't think she'll be happy with the fact i got sent off to this place, hehe.\"\n\n*She places it onto a desk and keeps unpacking, getting clothes, figureines, etc.*"
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "Amelia still new here herself wants to meet some of her neighbors and on the Realization there is a newer girl than herself goes to knock on there door to introduce herself"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*Penelope jumps a little from the sudden knocking, but she gets up and answers the door*\n\n*She opens the door* \"Hello?\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"Hya, I heard you were new and and *Nervously laughs* I am pretty new here myself\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"Oh!-\" *She opens the door fully for you, not wanting you to stay out there* \"Well hi, i'm Penelope! What's your name?\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"I'm Amelia I'm nice to meet you, it's a little overwhelming here huh\"\n\n\"Also It looks like you have something on the shoulder of your jacket\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"Hm? Oh-\" *You see she's actually pretty self-concious about that and is pretty insecure about her vines as she adjusts her jacket so you won't be able to see it* \"I-Its a part of my abilities...\"\n\n\"W-Why not come inside? I do h-have several boxes you can sit on\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"Sure I'd love too\" Amelia walks inside and stands in the middle of the room waiting to know where to sit"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"J-Just sit on that one right there, its empty.\" *She points to a decently big one right by your feet, its as big as a regular chair*\n\n*She goes over to the box she was unpacking earlier* \"Wanna see a cute little thing i brought?\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "Amelia fixes her skirt and sits down looking at all of the boxes and zones out for just a second in thought before looking at Penelope \"Of course I'd love too see what you got\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She pulls out an adorable plush of a husky and holds it out, pretty giddy about it* \"Its a husky plush! Look at its adorable little face~\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "Smiling and looking at the plushie she laughs and says \"Aww its cute just like you, do you like dogs?\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"I loooove dogs! I wish i could have one though, we never could have one back at home!\" *She puts it down on a desk nearby*"
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"I like dogs, I had a cat back at home.\" She pauses for a moment and smiles \"Her name was Lucy\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"That's a cute name for a kitty~\" *She goes over to her bed and sits down on it*\n\"So, what's brought you to Newton's Cradel? Petty crime or did you get sent here by your parents?\"\n\n\"I'll go first if you don't want to! Its fine if you don't want to say why you're here\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"Well my father suggested I go and try and figure out how to stop it or control my *Gift* And to get away from the kids at school.\" \" I guess when you go inside a mirror at the mall by mistake kids take video's of it and blackmail you to do things or spread them all around.\n\n\"Its fine I don't mind talking about it plus I came into your room\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*I try to make a joke to lighten the mood* \"You use your gift one time and suddenly they have the ADUDACITY!\" *I chuckle a little*\n\n\"Well, i'm here because i got caught doing some frankly amaizing graffiti, and on the camera t-the vines on my body were seen, so i got sent here\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "*She laughs* \"Now As the daughter of an ex cop and now detective I have to say what you did was wrong, but was the art cool?\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"Oh absolutly, it was this huge thing of like- a huge garden, and in the middle of it was a tree and a silohete of someone sitting next to the tree sitting in the fetal position- it was a huge thing and i loved making it!\"\n\"Peer pressure sucks though, i didn't really want to do it initally, but my friends kept saying i should...\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"Oh that sounds pretty\", *Her tone of voice changes to a more serous and less lighthearted one than she's had* \"But kids are stupid sometimes you need to say no even if your friends get upset. I could of stole things for friends or snuck into concerts, but I didn't sense I knew I'd get caught. *She sighs* Sorry I'm talking to you like an older sister\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*She recoils a little from the sudden tone shift* \"U-um... O-okay... Its okay that you talked to m-me like that... M-my real friend used to be like that...\"\n\n*She just so happens to be looking into your eyes as she says that*"
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "*After getting hit with a wave of regret and self hate Amelia starts to cry a little bit* I'm sorry I made you feel like that, I... I was only trying to help, but I always tend to make things worse. *She looks down at her feet after saying this*"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*I realize that you start crying, and i get up immetietly and go over to comfort Amelia, embracing her* \"I-Its okay! Y-You did help! D-Don't worry, y-you didn't make anything worse!\"\n\n*She got the wrong interpritation on why you're crying, she thought that you just read Penelope's body language, not actually reading her emotions, so she tries to lie to her about her emotions*\n\n\"I-Its okay, i-i was only a little startled by you getting so stern, t-that's all!\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\" You lie, you were upset and you have every right to be\" *She starts to regain her composure*\n\n\"I felt it, I didn't mean to it just happened\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"I-I'm so sorry, i didn't mean to make you feel that...\" \n\n*She keeps holding onto you, holding you in the hug*"
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "*She hugs back and breaks back into her happier voice* \"It's fine, I can reflect strong emotion's so it can make things awkward at times. Your a really sweet kid.\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"W-Well that must be more of a curse than an ability... A-At least you can tell if someone needs comforting!\" *She still has her conforting voice on, hoping that she can help Amelia a little more*"
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"Enough about me, you ok?\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"I-I'm fine! D-Don't worry about me!\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "*Standing up and smiling she says* There is still a lot of stuff to unbox do you want some help?"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*I let you go finally* \"Maybe a bit, but i still have my vines i can use to help me~\" \n\n*I decide to take this opurnunity to show off my plant controling ability, and two small vines come up out of the ground next to me and grow to my hight, suspending themselves in the air without the need of anyone holding them up*"
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "*Looking at the vines she says* \" Oh my you just made those from nothing huh? That is impressive, also makes the tree motif in your drawing make more sense.\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"Technically not nothing, but whatever, its still pretty cool, right? I can make lots of things grow extremely quickly too if i focus on it! If you want and have the things for it, i could prove it!\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"So its it only vines?\" *Amelia goes to touch one*"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"Its not **Just** Vines, i can make any plant grow, its just that vines are the quickest and i've had the most amount of practice with them\"\n\n*It... Feels like a vine, i don't know what you expected.*"
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"Its real too, do you like plants?\" *She puts her hand down*"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"Yea, i've developed a liking to them.\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"So weird question how old are you?\"\n\n\" You look rather young to be here i thought\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"14, and its a juvie- or at least people say it is- so there's no such thing as being too young to be here\" *The vines go back into the floor*"
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\" Just thought they would be nicer to younger kids, guess I'm only 3 years older but still crazy to me. *She gives a little wave to the vines*"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "*I giggle at the little wave* \"Well, a super-powered kid doing a crime is still a super-powered kid, so they go to Newton's Cradle.\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\" Yeah they hate us sense we exist, hey its not all bad we get to me new people\" *She gives you a wink*"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"That's true, i love meeting new people! Especially you, you're an amazing person!\"\n\n\"And your hair looks absolutely fucking amazing, is that a natural hair color?\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"Yeah it is\" *She twills a piece of her bangs in her hand* \"Your hair is more fun than mine thought, with that touch of pink\""
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"Awww thank you!\" *She'd blush a bit* \"I-I've always thought it looked weird...\""
},
{
"author": "topmaki",
"message": "\"Its got a special flare to it, it makes you unique\" *She gives you a thumbs up*"
},
{
"author": "motherpuro",
"message": "\"T-Thanks! Y-Yours does too, you look a lot like Yuri with the outfit too\"\n\n`RP is ended, Responder abandoned it`\n\n*After Amelia left, Penelope finished unpacking her things and now everything is all set, but the room is still filled with empty cardboard boxes*\n\n*She eventually left her dorm as well to go out and explore Isakstad, she's never really actively tried to explore the place*"
}
] | 34 | 2,076 |
459.2 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Hey guysies guess who it is, it's Hatzume, unsurprisingly. Leaned against the counter, the tall woman had a pretty blank, wide eyed face of boredom adorning her features. Or at least, there's definitely not much going on up there- but thats just the usual for the girl.\n\n\nShe eyed them in the corner of her vision, almost drooling with urge to take another one. Surely Hatzume had the right, right? I mean, she made them after all! But with a sigh, she reminded herself that they were made to share..\n\nShe wondered if anyone else was coming to have some, she was gonna give it a couple more hours before she just shoved em in her bag and ran for the hills, having herself a mini picnic in her dorm- except instead of a picnic, its just cookies.\n\nHatzume's shoes made a satisfying click as she tapped her foot against the floor, anticipating anyone's arrival.. She really needs to start actually seeing people in person.. Touch some grass maybe."
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\n```Onizaki. A schoolmate has baked some biscuits and is distributing them for free. Come downstairs to the kitchen if you'd like to try them. ```\n\nAs Haoran made his way downstairs after texting his newly acquaintanced cousin, he'd tuck his phone into his pocket. He had been the one waiting for the biscuits since the very beginning of the baking process, so he was more than happy to get a taste of them as soon as he could. Eating food baked homemade tasted differently than when he bought the food from a restaurant or a store, for reasons he couldn't explain. Objectively, it didn't make sense. Subjectively, he just wanted to get some pink biscuits. \n\n``\"Hatzume-san, was it?\"``\n\nA voice in Japanese would call out as Haoran revealed himself to be entering the kitchen, his eyes darting towards the rather large tray of (you guessed it, pink biscuits). He assumed from her name that she would be Japanese, but as he watched her expression carefully, he would soon find out if he were correct or not. There was a subtle accent to it - Chinese, evidently - but it was still fluent and comprehensible. \n\nHis eyes stare at the biscuits. They look judging, condescending even..- With a cold look, he'd face Hatzume. \n\nAnd yet his words contradicted his expression almost entirely. He wasn't kidding when he said he didn't look too friendly over text earlier. \n\n``\"Thank you for baking the biscuits. They look delicious. I hope you won't mind me taking a few so I could give them to my roommate. I'm sure Jones would appreciate them as well - you two just cooked together recently, right?\"``\n\nHe commented, glancing about to see if Uriel was there yet. He knew that they were narcoleptic, so the chance that they perhaps had another one of their sudden attacks of sleep didn't leave his mind, yet he still hoped that the white-haired indivdual would arrive. Realizing that he hadn't introduced himself properly though, he'd turn back to her to face her. \n\n``\"My name is Wan Haoran. It's a pleasure to meet you..- and your biscuits. I've invited a friend to come as well, if you don't mind.\"``"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Upon seeing the biscuits were ready, Uriel smiled. It would be a lie if they were to say they weren't feeling the least bit nervous; after all, they had neither met Hatzume nor Haoran, and even if they were nice online, there was a ghost of a chance that behavior didn't translate in person. \n\nHowever, that was all it was— ghosts. Uriel shook their head as they walked to the kitchen, and the specters of past anxieties began to crawl back to the dark recesses from whence they came. \n\nMoments later, the kitchen door opened with an almost obnoxious creak, and the new person enters — perhaps a bit timidly. \n\n\nThey're tall, around 6 foot, with stark white hair pulled into a braid on their shoulder. Pale skin, an androgynous build, tired grey eyes, an ever-dead expression— yep, it's most certainly Uriel. \n\nThey adjust the neck of their poncho, gently picking up a biscuit with a gloved hand as they attempt to join the group. \n\n\"Haoran and Hatzume, I assume?\" Uriel's eyes look over each person respectively, their French accent *Strong* In comparison to their light and airy way of speaking. Haoran did say he looked intimidating, and as Uriel meets him face-to-face, they muse that the description wasn't necessary inaccurate (even if it was a bit harsh). \n\n\"And... You are Enma. I heard while I was walking in. New, then?\" Uriel's eyes scan the trio's appearance, quickly taking in all the visual information they could. \n\nHaoran and Hatzume both look like how they expected, but Enma looked a bit... Unusual compared to the other people at the Cradle.\n\nNot that unusual was bad. It was, well. Just unusual. \n\n\"It's a pleasure— both to see a new face, and to see finally meet you two in person. My name is Uriel Melançon, and I'm delighted to make your acquaintance.\"\n\nThey take a bite of the pink biscuit, almost like punctuation."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Hatzume... Had expected the people of Newton's Cradle to be eccentric- a group of misfit teenagers with powers, it only really made sense that they'd all be exciting in one way or another- but these guys really seemed to be something.\nHaoran seemed a pretty normal guy though, she gave him an active wave as he came in- completely disregarding how he didn't particularly look very friendly- a cover isnt the book, right?\n\n\"Yep yep! Thatsa me! Hatzume, pleased to see ya. Help yourself to aaaa pinkscuit!\"\n\nShe was indeed Japanese! Accent and appearance matched as such anyways. She smiled brightly at Haoran, stealing a glance at the biscuits.\nI feel i should warn she's canonically a very subpar chef.. Feel free to dislike them- she hasn't really done a whole bunch of cooking in the past.\n\nIt's the thought that counts, anyways.\n\nNormalcy wasn't maintained- not at a school for troubled parahuman youth. Upon Enma rushing in, she was surprisingly unfazed by the pure frantic nature of him, the absolute state of him.\nHatzume gave a short wave to him, sheepishly tilting her head\n\n\n\"Yep, distributin', nice to meet you by the way, Hatzume Setsuko at your acaintase\" ...She can't pronounce acquaintance.\n\n\n\n\"You assumed right! I think\"\n\nOh they're french. She could make out what they were saying anyways, excitedly bouncing on her heels, tray of biscuits in hand for people to take out of.\n\n\"Hihi! Good to meet everyone too! Everyone havin' a good day?\"\n\nCurrent mission: small talk"
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\nHaoran turned around to see the certain Onizaki arrive.\n\n *...I could've sworn I had just sent the message not even 2 minutes ago..?* \n\nWell. He wouldn't be the one to question the heir to the Onizaki legacy - they were all martial artists, and pulling such feats wouldn't be unheard of. He spared Enma a glance (an attempt to show him that he had acknowledge his presence, albeit a pathetic one). He'd turn to face Hatzume once more as she confirmed that he had gotten her name right, and would nod. With a slight bow, to both Enma and Hatzume, he would pick up one of the biscuits. \n\nNow. Haoran wasn't too used to eating food cooked by acquaintances, and as he took a bite out of the pink biscuit, he would quickly realized the difference between eating at the restaurants he was used to and eating something homemade. Sure, they tasted.. Questionable, but they tasted a lot less dull than what he was used to being served, at the very least. Before he could comment on them, however, a peculiar figure would reveal their presence by the door. \n\n*Ah?* \n\n\"Uriel?\" \n\nWhile his tone was relatively friendly, what would be shot Uriel's way would be a look that held resemblance to a cold glare, and his words contradicted his expression almost entirely. \n\n\"You would be correct. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. You look -\" \n\nHe scans them up and down, before holding his palm to his mouth as he silently chewed on another bite of the biscuit. \n\n\"A lot more different than I expected, though I don't mean that in a malicious way.\" \n\nHis Chinese accent would contrast against Hatzume and Enma's Japanese, and Uriel's French. He expected.. Someone blonde, for some odd reason - but Uriel's pearly white fascinated him just as Enma's crimson eyes did, finishing his own pink biscuit with one last ginger bite. \n\n**\"Hihi! Good to meet everyone too! Everyone havin' a good day?\"**\n\n. . . \n\nWell, the last day had been eventful enough. Meeting with Enma, and then seeing him cry because of Raizel almost immediately after - his hands were quite full with juggling his project work as well. He took one more from the tray - he didn't even know why he wanted more. While he had forgotten to comment on the biscuits after all, him taking the biscuits was saying enough that he enjoyed them. \n\n\"I am doing just fine. There aren't many assignments this week, I believe. I've been working on my own things is all. The rest of you?\""
},
{
"author": "makisaka_",
"message": "After a slight bow and lowering of his head, he'd quickly arise standing up and walking towards the pinkscuits. With haoran being so nice as to acknowledge his presence with a quaint glance, Enma would smile with a slid eye and a warm flowery aura surrounding him, nodding back politely. Turning his head towards Hatzume this time, he'd politely take up one of the *Fabled* Pinkscuits, taking a bite out of it whilst covering the sight of him eating.\n\n *\"S'cuse me- Itadakimasu-\"*\n\n*He whispered in his mother tongue as he ate. The cookies, while they weren't store bought quality, Enma still found them to be satisfactory, brightening up with a smile as he'd savor them.*\n\n**\"Yep, distributin', nice to meet you by the way, Hatzume Setsuko at your acaintase\" **\n\n*Hmm?*\n\n*Hatsume... Setsuko?*\n\n💡 \n\n \"By any chance, are you also Japanese Setsuko-san?\"\n\n Spoken in his mother tongue, making him sound much more natural. However, he still spoke with a hint of respect, using polite language above casual. His eyes widened at the revelation as he'd hold another pinkscuit in between his finger and thumb. Looking towards Hatsume, she fitted more of the gyaru aesthetic than the traditional one, though Enma wasn't quite as knowledgeable as others when it came to pop trends or anything of the sort. \n\n**\"Haoran and Hatzume, I assume?\"**\n\n*...!?*\n\n Rather quickly, his attention was already brought towards an unknown guest. Well, to be frank he himself rushed in hear only due to Haoran's recent message 2 minutes ago. Enma's mouth had already be stuffed with pinkscuits, a few crumbs remained on his cheek as they puffed up like a chipmunk. Scanning the person up and down, Enma would quickly realize it was a girl who had approached them. \n\n**\"And... You are Enma. I heard while I was walking in. New, then?\" **\n\n*Gulp!*\n\n*Audibly swallowing all the cookies upon his name being mentioned, he'd cough a bit before clearing his throat and chest.*\n\n \"Ah- Yes, that is me. You are...?\"\n\n**\"It's a pleasure— both to see a new face, and to see finally meet you two in person. My name is Uriel Melançon, and I'm delighted to make your acquaintance.\"**\n\n \"Ah- Ms. Melancon. It's an honor to meet your acquaintance as well.\"\n\n Bowing slightly to give his respects towards his more experienced schoolmate. Despite any form of age difference any of them may have with Enma, the man viewed all of them as his senior due to having been here earlier than he did. \n\n**\"I am doing just fine. There aren't many assignments this week, I believe. I've been working on my own things is all. The rest of you?\"**\n\n\"Ah- I've been struggling a... Few of the assignments. I mostly spend my time training to be frank. Ahah...\"\n\n*Awkwardly laughing at his own academic struggles and then to how he spends most of his time training instead of doing normal teenage activities. Enma was certainly weird among weird.*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "The biscuits were a kind gesture. While not as good as the ones their mom would make for them, it was still endearing to eat someone else's cooking.\n\n\"They're lovely.\" \n\nUriel swallows, and sends a soft smile to Hatzume's way. The statement was... Perhaps a bit of an overstretch, but a little white lie never hurt anyone, no?\n\n\"I'll make some tea for us all. Something to drink is always appreciated when eating, after all.\" \n\nThey stand up, taking out a kettle from one of the top shelves of the cabinet. It was... A bit small and *Very* Old-timey, with a wooden handle and a map of the stars adorning its side. \n\nIt was one of their possessions from home, an item their mother had given Uriel on their 14th birthday and described as a \"Future family heirloom\". \n\n\"You would be correct. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. You look— a lot more different than I expected, though I don't mean that in a malicious way.\"\n\nUriel gives a polite laugh at Haoran's words, and sits down on one of the kitchen seats. \n\n\"Ah, yes. I do get that a lot— I did tell you people tend to call me 'uncanny', right? I suppose you're seeing the merit of that descriptor.\"\n\nThey take another bite. Haoran was.. Perhaps the person Uriel knew best here, and while both Enma and Hatzume were kind enough, there was always comfort in the known. An ally, as it were.\n\n\"Ah- Ms. Melancon. It's an honor to meet your acquaintance as well.\"\n\n\"Ms. Melancon? Please, that's my mother. Uriel is just fine, thank you. You're very well mannered, though. But, please— tell us more about yourself. You are new, no? I'm sure everyone here is interested in you.\" \n\nEnma seemed nervous, or at the very least rather jumpy. Whatever they could do to ease the other's nerves seemed to be a rather prudent course of action. Uriel placed the kettle on the stove, and waited."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Oh boy assignments- forgot about those\" She gritted her teeth for a moment, before shrugging with a giggle.\nHatzume lazy on main... She definitely didnt seem the type to care too much about academics, if you will.\n\nShe turned to look at Enma with an inquisitive look, listening to his question.\n\n>'by any chance, are you also Japanese, Setsuko-san?'\n\nShe perked up, like an alarmed cat, or a dog that had heard its name called. That's either a good thing, or a bad thing- but from her docile attitude and appearance, it's likely good.\n\"Yep! Well, last time i checked anyways! My genetics are kinda all over the place but im at least half\" She mused, grinning.\n\nThank you everyone, for pretending that the biscuits are anything above subpar, Hatzume'll remember that.. Or at least, she would if she were a bit more self aware.\nInstead, her ego has been fed.\n\nShe remained with a large grin as the people around her chit chat, and she was okay with that.\n\n\"Ooh tea?? Lovely! I've actually never had tea before\"\nWith a hint of embarrassment, Hatzume confessed to her tealess crimes, living a life w no leaf water... It wasnt something she cared too much for though.\n\n>'I'm sure everyone here is interested in you'\n\nHatzume nodded at this, leaning against the counter and beaming at Enma\n\"Yeah! Yeahyeah, like uhhh, favourite animal, go! All of you, even!\" \n\nThat's one way to get information out of people, i guess..."
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\n\"Ah, thank you, Uriel. Hm, yes I suppose so.\" \n\nHaoran would politely nod just slightly as they gestured to make tea for them. It really came off with a side glance of judgement though (God knows how his face pulls these kind of disasters so often), one that Haoran would be the last to notice. \n\n...No, he didn't mean it. Though, as Enma greeted Uriel, Haoran was the first to frown. \n\n\"*They* Go by they and them pronouns. So if you did want to use a formal prefix you would use —\" \n\n*Wait, what would you use?* \n\nHis expression morphed from a light frown of concentration to confusion, focused thinking as his gaze bounced from one point to another almost as if he were scrolling rapidly through a dictionary to find the prefix for a gender neutral individual. \n\n\"M... No.. Er, I'm actually not quite sure what you *Should* Say. Perhaps you can educate us about it.\" \n\nHaoran decided after a moment's too long of pondering, a second too long of a struggle to find.. The gender neutral version of mister and miss. As both Hatzume and Enma expressed their lack of diligence when it came to their assignments, Haoran would give them.. Some sort of look. It really was a confused expression, but he looked like he was questioning them instead. \n\n\"If you're struggling with those, I am always available to assist in any way I can — Especially you, Onizaki-san. I doubt your family wants you to falter in academics.\" \n\nHe would offer, his gaze landing on his cousin after he met eye-contact with Hatzume. He knew that the Wans were pressuring with their expectations, and he highly doubted the Onizakis had lower standards either even if they were as different as blue and red. As Uriel made to fix the group of pink-biscuit-enjoyers some tea, the crazed inventor would glance at the oncoming question. \n\n**\"Yeah! Yeahyeah, like uhhh, favourite animal, go! All of you, even!\"**\n\n...*Huh?* \n\n *What an unconventional way to start a conversation. Is that the formality in Japan?* \n\n (He had no right to comment on that. He was a lot weirder than the people in the room, especially Hatzume.) \n\n\"....I do like penguins, if that was the answer you were looking for.\" \n\n_ _"
},
{
"author": "makisaka_",
"message": "**\"Yep! Well, last time i checked anyways! My genetics are kinda all over the place but im at least half\" **\n\n*...!*\n\n \"Oh, I see! It's very assuring to know I'm not the only one who's Japanese.\"\n\n Spoken in his mother tongue with great fluency and aptitude. A soft smile would be flashed towards the audience, holding a hint of warmth and the aura of spring around him. His flowery expression as well as soft-spoken attitude was respectful and polite, he seemed a little stiff, as if he wasn't conversing casually. \n\n**\"Ms. Melancon? Please, that's my mother. Uriel is just fine, thank you. You're very well mannered, though.**\n\n \"Ah, I see...-\"\n\n*...!?*\n\n**\"They go by they and them pronouns. So if you did want to use a formal prefix you would use —\" **\n\n \"They and... Them?\"\n\n Enma perked a confused expression, tilting his head just slightly at an angle as his eyebrow arched up with a widened eye. His lips curved downwards on both ends as he wondered what exactly did that mean. It seems like his cousin was irritated, which heavily worried the man on the inside. Maybe he had said something wrong? Uriel looked like a woman no? He was confused to say the least.\n\n**Especially you, Onizaki-san. I doubt your family wants you to falter in academics.\" **\n\n \"Ah- It's fine really. I've always been a bit sluggish in none literature based academics. My family knows this.\"\n\n Raising his hands and facing his palms outwards, shaking them side to side, he'd dismiss Haoran's help as he didn't want to bother his cousin with meticulous and frivolous activities. Though on the flipside, luckily Hatzume was quick to change the subject anew. \n\n \"Favourite animal... Well, I do quite fancy cats!\"\n\n Just the thought of a kitten pulled the heartstrings of Enma's soul. A rosy blush surfaced his face as he dreamed of one day owning a cute pet cat, taking care of it and its needs. The fulfilling act of raising and preserving a life!."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "The kettle began to whistle, and Uriel turned the stove-top off with a deft flick of the wrist. They poured the hot water into four waiting cups, and slid each towards its respective owner. \n\n\"Ah, yes, I do go by they/them pronouns, instead of the usual she/her or he/him. I don't know how that would translate into a formal title, but I don't see that to be too pressing of an issue— after all, we're all students here, no?\" \n\nHaoran's rebuttal was surprising for Uriel, but not unwelcome— in fact, it was sorely appreciated. They had come to dislike correcting other people in group settings, all the well aware of how defensive some could be when faced with the possibility of changing their initial assumptions.\n\nUriel would have to make sure Haoran had a pleasant sleep tonight. It was the least they could do, really— but Uriel couldn't help but be unsure if the boy *Actually* Slept at night. It didn't seem so.\n\n\"I might be mistaken, but Haoran, you act as if you already know what Enma's family desires. Have you two already met?\" Family was a personal subject— either the two were related somewhat, or already good friends. Both outcomes thoroughly piqued their interest.\n\nEarl Grey tea. It was one of Uriel's favorite teas, to most people's surprise— when pressed, people usually assumed a chamomile would be their favorite, but Uriel found that assumption silly. They already slept in excess— why would they consume a tea designed to lull one to a peaceful rest?\n\nUriel mulled over their answer to Hatzume's question as they dunked the teabag in and waited for their tea to steep. They often took animal forms when acting in other people's dreams— perhaps one of those would be their favorites?\n\n\"A goat, most likely. Although, I do also prefer lamb and sheep. I'm rather fond of adorable farm animals, to be completely honest. Bunnies, too.\" \n\nA through appreciation for cuteness was not something one could easily gleam from Uriel's demeanor, but it was present nonetheless."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"Methinks... Some people go by mx?\" Hatzume suggested, raising her brows in a sort of 'I'm not sure if what I'm saying is correct at all' way\n\"But yeah i mean, why suffer over it when we all classmates anyways.\" Hatzume smiled, taking a subpar pinkscuit into her hand and biting down into it with ease, and likely no second thought.\n\nHatzume's japanese had gone... Rather rusty over time, dare i say. She hadn't needed to speak it much recently, but the tall lass had retained enough memory to respond to Enma.\n\n\"Yeah, I never expected any other japanese people than myself\"\n\nFrom there, she stayed observing for a little while- a consistent default smile on her face until there was something relating to herself- or rather, the animal question answers\n\n\"I see i see.. Pretty solid choices, mine personally is probably pandas or puppies..\"\nShe pondered, hand on her chin in thought\n\n\"But hey see, ain't that a good conversation starter?\"\nManifesting her success, Hatzume confidently swung her arm to the side, dramatically smiling\n\nSorry 4 bad reply guys brain fry /j"
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\n** \"They and... Them?\"**\n\n\"Yes, it's like how Mela— *Uriel* Has explained it. Instead of using she or him, you use the singular application for 'they'. They're neither man nor woman.\" \n\nHaoran would offer his own explanation, albeit he was somewhat new to it himself. And.. Uriel wasn't wrong to have their suspicions regarding his sleep schedule — despite his prim and proper appearance, Haoran didn't exactly have the *Ideal* Schedule of sleep (merely because he was far too busy up and about tinkering with his projects and what not). He wouldn't dare to burden Uriel with the task to get him to sleep (not because he couldn't sleep, rather he refused to sleep leaving his work uncontinued). \n\n**\"Methinks... Some people go by mx?\" **\n\n\"Mx? I see. That is interesting, thank you for your guidance.\" \n\nHaoran acknowledged Hatzume's two cents, nodding when they brought up the point regarding the fact that they were all classmates. He was fine with not using formalities, but he was still getting used to not referring to others with their last names. It was a work in progress, and he definitely had made some progress with it. \n\n** \"Ah- It's fine really. I've always been a bit sluggish in none literature based academics. My family knows this.\" **\n\n\"Hm. Alright then. The offer is still up if you ever need it, Onizaki-san.\" \n\n *?* \n\nUpon Uriel asking him, Haoran would turn to Enma to see if he wanted to answer before he'd be the one to respond to the question on his cousin's behalf. \n\n\"It is quite the long story, but our families are related. We're cousins, though we've never met before we were enrolled into this academy.\" \n\n \"Both of us share the same... Role in our families, so to speak.\" \n\nHaoran would explain, picking up one teabag to dip into his own teacup - he gave a brief yet noticable bow of his head when Uriel would offer him his cup. Their group certainly was interesting - a penguin enjoyer, a fan of cats, a lamb and sheep fan, and a panda lover. Even in favorite animals it seemed that none of their answers had matched up whatsoever.\n\n\"..I suppose so. There is a question I'd like to ask, though, for the sake of this not falling to silence and to quench my thirst for curiosity - - I've recently noticed that many of us receive a different.. Hm, how do I put this.. *Front?* Of Newton's Cradle. I know some were told that it was juvenile prison, some actual prison, and some schools. What was it for all ofyou?\""
},
{
"author": "makisaka_",
"message": "*They/Them?*\n\n \n\nA slight tilt in his head as his finger gently placed on his chin. His eyes would narrow just slightly, eyebrows arching and furrowing as he held a confused expression. Mustering his 53000000 IQ ( 53 ), his brain racked up every thing he knew about society to understand this new change in... Gender? Or was it something else. Targets, analyzed. Info, processed. Conclusion?\n\n*He had none.*\n\n*Ehhh...? Not a he... But not a she...? Does that mean Melancon-san has both... Or has none...?*\n\nYeah no, he had the complete opposite idea of what was true.\n\n**\"Methinks... Some people go by mx?\" **\n\n \"Mx...?\"\n\nFor Enma who had grown up in a sheltered position, raised in a formal setting with only his literature and warrior training in mind, Enma was far from ignorant, if anything his experiences in the modern world were like that of a baby. Truth to be told, he was still adjusting to having a phone, owning the miraculous music playing device known as \"Earpieces\" And many other technological items. Safe to say, this was a whole new term he had never heard of.\n\n*Guess the western culture is much different than I had anticipated...*\n\n*No it isn't. You're just weird.*\n\n**\"Hm. Alright then. The offer is still up if you ever need it, Onizaki-san.\" **\n\n \"Ah, of course. I appreciate it!\"\n\n**\"I might be mistaken, but Haoran, you act as if you already know what Enma's family desires. Have you two already met?\" **\n\nOf course, the million dollar question. Thankfully, Haoran had taken the liberties to clear up whatever misunderstandings the others would have of them.\n\n \"Ah yes... It is as Wan-san depicts. We both are the heirs to our family's legacies. However... Ah- Nevermind!\"\n\nNow was no time to bring down the mood! He didn't want to share his story, not if it meant that it'd eventually have others feel sorry for him or Haoran. No! Being the heir of the Onizaki was an honor! A great honor in fact! He cursed himself knowing he had almost let his inner thoughts break out. Taking a cup of tea, Enma took quaint sips of the relaxing tea. Its fragrance and taste was simply sublime. \n\n \"Well... For me, I deemed it as a correctional facility... I manifested these powers... A long time ago. I guess they've recently found me!\"\n\n*He said with a casual smile.*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"It was a good question to ask, Hatzume, one I hadn't considered myself. Thank you for your assistance.\" Uriel flashes a small smile, as if to tell the girl her efforts didn't go unnoticed. \n\nEnma was... Well, it seemed as if he understood enough of the concept to not dwell on the subject, although whether that silence was out of a genuine understanding or social nervousness was debatable. Still, Uriel seemed satisfied with his response, and hummed idly to themselves. \n\nHe'll get used to it, anyhow. No reason to dwell on it. \n\n\"Hm... Haoran said you both share the same role, so I assume that title of heir to family legacies belongs to both of you.\"\n\nAn interesting conundrum. Two people in front of them, both carrying around the brand of a last name. \n\n\"You both have to bear the weight of your family's sins on your shoulders, and attempt to not collapse under the burden of decades of mistakes. It seems like a difficult task— I'm sorry for you both.\"\n\nTheir voice dropped low at that, turning softer and full of sympathy at the struggles that came with the title of heir. Sleepless nights toiling over inherited endeavors, wishing to be free from conflicts you were born into... Imagining Enma and Haoran going through such turmoil made Uriel look at the two with sad, slight puppy-dog eyes. \n\nUriel cleared their throat, and the brief moment of sympathy was gone. Instead, they turned their attention towards their half-empty teacup, idly dunking a pink biscuit into the dark liquid and taking a bite. It was a tasty mix— one of their better ideas, then.\n\n\"Ah, well— technically, I'm here on a charge for disturbing the peace. The charge was more of a reflection of people's dislike of me, rather than any actual reason. The evidence and the details of the so-called crime weren't even agreed on, but it was still a unanimous conviction. I suppose they just wanted me shipped off, funnily enough.\"\n\nA small, polite smile.\n\n\"However, this place is rather pleasant— even if I do miss my mother. Perhaps I'm grateful for the whole affair, at the end of the day.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Hatzume didn't really know much about all this heir business, being new here, she didnt really know much about a lot, to be honest.\nShe leaned against a counter, hyped up little smile on her face.\n\n\"Woah, heirs? God thats riveting! Do you have to like.. Fight over the legacy? No- that would be stupid..\" Her question began with a bright confidence, though faded with a dash of hindsight into how unlikely that scenario is.\nBeing lost in a world of your own can have it's flaws at the best of times.\n\nHatzume didn't know much about heirs outside of movies, her mother calls her an 'heir' sometimes, though it feels more in jokes than anything.. She figures in her mind the heir is just the new generation, or something along those lines.\nMaybe inheritance expands outside of money and stuff, she wondered- can people inherit objects and names..? Friends and emotions..?\n\nThis was too much thinking for one day.\n\nShe shook away her overthinking of legacy, far too busy being the hottest person alive to worry about that!! \nBefore long though, another question dangled in the room.. Something about a front.\nAh yes, the illusion of Newton's Cradle, just what is it that you were told you were attending? A school for troubled? A getaway? A-\n\n\"Oh yeah. My mum didn't sugarcoat it at all. No one did. She was kinda just like 'oh yeah, by the way Hatzume, you're off to a prison school thing'\" She paused, biting into a biscuit, almost in time with Uriel.\n\"Well she didn't say Hatzume but anyways! Yeah i got told it was a prison- but this doesn't feel like a prison at all!\"\n\nHatzume giggled, finishing her biscuit, tilting her head at Uriel all in the process, her hands clasped in an awkward position on the counter she leaned on.\n\n\"Oh yikes, disturbance of the peace.. You don't look very disturbing! I just yelled so loud i broke like. A shit ton of windows at my school. I was really overwhelmed after a.. Not so happy time\" She shrugged, still practically beaming.\n\n\"But whatever, I'm like. Over it\""
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \n\n\"You would be correct, yes.\" \n\nHaoran would nod at both Uriel's and Enma's statements, taking a sip out of his cup of hot tea. He briefly noticed that Enma seemed reluctant to discuss the topic; whether or not it was because he felt the need to be humble or he didn't like the idea of talking about it Haoran wasn't sure. (He had completely missed the point.) What he didn't expect was for Uriel to change to a softer tone, sympathy (and pity?) lacing their every word. He frowned slightly in confusion at first, but then he understood why Enma didn't want to talk about it. \n\n*Maybe we are more alike than I previously thought.* \n\n**\"You both have to bear the weight of your family's sins on your shoulders, and attempt to not collapse under the burden of decades of mistakes. It seems like a difficult task— I'm sorry for you both.\"**\n\n\"That's one way to put it. But —\" \n\nHe raises his cup to his mouth once more, before exhaling. \n\n\"I shoulder the title so my younger siblings can live without worry about the family company. That way, it feels lighter.\" \n\nHaoran half-wondered what it will be like running the organization, but he also knew how much burden he would be able to lift from his siblings' own shoulders if he took the responsibility to himself and kept himself from running away from the title. That was good enough for him, even if it meant he had to sacrifice a few things. He couldn't help but feel comforted by the gaze Uriel gave the two of them though: it felt as if the dream weaver understood what it felt to be in their positions, though he stiffened upon seeing the sad puppy-dog eyes they gave them. \n\n\"...It's alright, Uriel. Being a heir has its own advantages as well, so it's not all too horrible.\" \n\n**\"Do you have to like.. Fight over the legacy? No- that would be stupid..\"**\n\n\"No. We're both from different branches of family. He is the heir to the Onizaki, and I am the heir to the Wan.\" \n\nHe reassured Hatzume that there would be no family feud over any title (hell, if there was it'd be a battle over who would be able to get away from 'heir' position, not who would get it). \n\n. . .\n\nThen, there were the answers to his question. Enma considered it a correctional facilitiy, Uriel was sent here on a charge for disturbing the peace and Hatzume.. \n\nHatzume sort of destroyed a school. \n\n *Fascinating.*\n\n**\"I guess they've recently found me!\"**\n\n\"It's the same for me as well. I was brought into court for throwing one of my robots at a mugger. It was deemed as self-defense, but I was sent to an 'institute for the troubled' regardless.. I'm also not sure why people would dislike you Uriel, but maybe it was the same reason I was sent off even with a 'non-guilty' verdict. Actually — are your abilities related to sound by any chance, Hatzume-san?\" \n\n_ _"
},
{
"author": "makisaka_",
"message": "**\"You both have to bear the weight of your family's sins on your shoulders, and attempt to not collapse under the burden of decades of mistakes. It seems like a difficult task— I'm sorry for you both.\"**\n\n \"Ah- There's no need M- Mx. Melancon.\"\n\n*He almost fucked up there.*\n\n \"The Onizakis have been deemed noble samurai throughout the ages! Despite the decline of Budo... I am proud to be the heir of such a legacy...\"\n\n*Pride doesn't equal happiness however.*\n\n Seeing how Uriel had such amount of sympathy towards them, Enma could not bear to let the person feel grief over his situation. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, being the heir of an esteemed family meant to inherit their legacy, their greatness, and at the same time.\n\n*Their expectations.*\n\n \"As with Wan-san said, there are quite the benefits!\"\n *\"I get to eat all kinds of different ice cream no matter what~\"*\n\n The man would almost start to drool over the thought of it. Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, coffee, rocky road, minty chocolate, rum raisin... So many different varieties! Well... It's all lost now that he's sent here. Before long, the man's once drooling smile turned into a frown full of despair, his eyes dull like a dead fish. \n\n**\"Woah, heirs? God thats riveting! Do you have to like.. Fight over the legacy? No- that would be stupid..\"**\n\n \"Oh! You got it absolutely right!\"\n\n*Raising his finger to confirm her suspicions despite how odd it was amidst the normal crowd of people.*\n\n \"Although I was chosen to be the heir, I actually was not in the front running for many years!\"\n\n*He'd take a bite of a pinkscuit, before sipping on his tea quaintly to refresh his palate.*\n\n \"In the Onizakis, capability trumps all! Literature, athletics, mannerisms, traditional and historical knowledge and most important of all, swordsmanship!\"\n\n \"I had quite a lot of cousins who were candidates alongside me. As per tradition, I defeated all of them to claim my spot as the heir!\"\n\n*Thus ended Enma Onizaki's weird tale of how he became the heir of his clan.*\n\n However, now that he was hearing so much about how everyone else had been admitted into the facility, he felt as if he got it off a bit easier. The man had only used his powers once in his entire life, and that was the night his mother died. Only years later was he confronted and sentenced to attend the correctional facility. However, the heartbreak he felt was certainly one thing he could not forget."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "What an odd bunch of characters. \n\nHaoran and Enma were talking as if they were ancient samurai, not like teens in the present era. And, well, Hatzume was Hatzume. It was... A bit shocking, in fact— Uriel had never met anyone with such strong personalities. \n\n\"Well she didn't say Hatzume but anyways! Yeah i got told it was a prison- but this doesn't feel like a prison at all!\"\n\n\"I think viewing this place as a prison is a bit... Reductive. I suppose we should try and take this place at face value, and not try to assign it any labels it doesn't quite fit. After all, if this place is going to welcome us with open arms, it would be a shame to decline out of paranoia. \n\nThey lean a tired head against their palm, eyes half-lidded as they begin to drift off both figuratively... And a bit literally. \"I've heard rumors this place has a pool— I don't know how to swim, but I've never been in a place with facilities like these. And the library...\" Uriel gives a dreamy sigh. \n\n\"I shoulder the title so my younger siblings can live without worry about the family company. That way, it feels lighter.\" \n\nAt that, Uriel perks out of their daydream, and turns to look over at Haoran. It was... A noble answer, one that endeared him to Uriel greatly. A small smile, a fond look— they didn't attempt say anything and dwell on the subject of family any longer, but from their brief glance it was evident that they appreciated Haoran's devotion.\n\n\"I had quite a lot of cousins who were candidates alongside me. As per tradition, I defeated all of them to claim my spot as the heir!\"\n\nUriel put a hand on their chin, deep in thought. \n\n\"Defeated? In... What way?\" \n\nIt was safe to assume it wasn't cold-blooded murder— after all, Enma didn't particularly strike them as one with blood-soaked hands, with what their demeanor and all. Still, the question of how samurai decided which among them was the most talented was a bit interesting to someone born in France. Perhaps via chess?"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "At first, Hatzume just seemed a little amused- a small smile adorning her features when Haoran denied her movie esque theory revolving around the titular question of How Does The Whole Heir Thing Work.\n\n\"Makes more sense, i guess. Your siblings are lucky i think- sounds like a butt ton of work\"\nShe chuckled at her own stupid assumption- before continuing to eavesdrop, of course dropping comments where it seemed fit.\n\n'i get to eat all kinda of different ice cream no matter what'\n\nAnd suddenly, she felt like a child with strict parents again. Like when you ask another kid in dumbfounded intrigue and surprise when they say their parents let them play GTA, that sort of amazement.\n\"Waitwait- ALL different kinds!? What about cookie dough?? My mum never let me have that stuff because it cost extra but god did it look good!\"\n\nHatzume was practically starry eyed, hands clasped together as she bounced forward ever so slightly.\n\n\"Wow... Defeating your cousins for ice cream... I'd deck my little cousin for a scoop too...\"\n\nShe has COMPLETELY misinterpreted the benefits here. It's almost as if she's forgotten about the whole heir thing, what with the business and that.\nNow it's watered down to ice cream. But she does really like ice cream though.\n\nShe nodded at Uriel's next words, made enough sense.\n\n\"Yeah, i like it here personally. I dunno what face value means, but if this place had a face I'm sure it would be lovely.\" Thanks for that Hatzume what would we possibly do without you.\n\"OOH A POOL- this place would definitely have a good face! I love swimming- the library is nice, i like stacking the books on my head. And like reading them sometimes.\"\n\n'defeated? In... What way?'\n\nHatzume nonchalantly hummed at this\n\n\"I assumed a battle, personally\"\nWell"
},
{
"author": "chahei",
"message": "_ _ \nThat was right — the Onizakis were a noble clan of samurai, last he heard. He didn't know much beyond that fact nor did he practice their customs, their families only held together by one marriage and a consistent flow of donation. He raised a brow when Enma would suddenly cheer about being able to buy all sorts of ice cream regardless (somehow that was an advantage of being the heir to a long dynasty of warriors — he himself had no idea what he was on about). Unlike Enma, Haoran didn't have to fight over the legacy at all. In fact, it was really a fight on who would be able to live their lives without it. A fight that never happened due to his sacrifice, but one that could've happened. He eyed Enma curiously as he talked about how he had to.. Literally fight to decide who would be the best heir. \n\n *I'm not quite sure why I didn't expect that.* \n\n**After all, if this place is going to welcome us with open arms, it would be a shame to decline out of paranoia.\"**\n\n\"I suppose so. I doubt we have any choice to decline anyways.\" \n\nHe agreed, tilting his head when Uriel mentioned that there was a pool somewhere. He didn't often swim, but he was given swimming lessons so he knew the *Bare* Minimum at the very least. At the sight of Uriel letting out a dreamy sigh at the thought of using the facilities, Haoran took a sip of his tea. \n\nA library, huh? Maybe he would have to pay it a visit sometime. Maybe he should invite Uriel while he was at it too. As Hatzume chuckled at her own sentence, Haoran could only give her a silence nod. He did notice that she didn't end up answering his question though, which he nearly questioned himself but decided against last second when the other Japanese jumped at the mentioning of the creamy cold dessert. Her eyes gleamed brightly like the stars in the night sky, radiating brightness just like a certain other Japanese when he was given an ice cream.. \n\n*...Do all Japanese people like ice cream?*\n\n**\"Wow... Defeating your cousins for ice cream... I'd deck my little cousin for a scoop too...\"** \n\nHaoran lets out a stifled snort. It's extremely uncharacteristic of him to show even a slight sign of laughing, but something about the comment was so hilarious to him he actually let out some form of sound in reaction to it. \n\n**\"Defeated? In... What way?\" **\n\n\"Possibly in duels, no? Spars?\" \n\nHe tries to answer, eventually finishing his cup of his tea and placing it in the sink when he would feel his phone buzz in his coat. \n\n *Bzzt!* \n\n*Hm?*\n\n The inventor seemingly picks up a call of some sorts, hushed responses a slight distance away from the group before he ends it — temporarily. Sliding a few pinkscuits into an empty tupperware, he would give the other three a slight brief dip of his head and with an expression as questionably apologetic as you could get Haoran's face to hold.\n\n\"Apologies. There's something I need to tend to, so I'll take my leave here. Ah, I hope you don't mind me taking some to give to my roommate later Hatzume-san. Thank you for the chat, you three.\" \n\nAnd with that, he takes his leave."
},
{
"author": "makisaka_",
"message": "**\"Waitwait- ALL different kinds!? What about cookie dough?? My mum never let me have that stuff because it cost extra but god did it look good!\"**\n\n*Hmm?*\n\n \"Cookie... Dough— No haha... Just ice cream! I really, **Really** Like ice cream!\"\n\n \n\n It really seemed like many were befuddled by Enma's past—the upbringing of a warrior was one that was uncommon. Traditions were born of the lingering past, many of which are outdated; unbefitting of the current era. However, the Onizaki's stayed strong, their powerful traditions stayed intact even throughout the centuries. Whether or not it was good or bad... Well only time would tell.\n\n** \"I've heard rumors this place has a pool— I don't know how to swim, but I've never been in a place with facilities like these. And the library...\"**\n\n*...!*\n\n*Face brightening up like a super nova, his image emanated the radiant shine of a flaring sun.*\n\n \"Really!? That's great, I actually really like swimming! It's very effective for the body.\"\n\n*He says so as he raised to flex his arm. His muscles were quite defined, lean and soft yet held impeccable density.*\n\n \"If you'd like, I could well—teach you how to swim?\"\n\n Being not able to swim was quite the detriment of course. In a life or death situation, the ability to swim in water is a necessity! To be prepared at all times, that was something Enma also stood for. The boy couldn't let the idea that his schoolmate may die at any given moment when placed within a deep pool of water. \n\n**\"Wow... Defeating your cousins for ice cream... I'd deck my little cousin for a scoop too...\"**\n\n*Ehhhhhh—*\n\n \"Well... It's not just that... But I guess you could say that too?\"\n\n**\"Defeated? In... What way?\" **\n\n \"Well, Wan-san is correct! In a spar. We cousins are put into a ring with armor where we must strike each other's weaknesses in order to win the match!\"\n\n*\"Not to sound arrogant however—\"*\n\n \"I did not get hit once during the entire tournament!\"\n\n \n\n His lips curved into a wide grin, one which pride and satisfaction was held closely in an embrace. For someone like him who was once deemed the weakest to pull such an upset in the face of his family's elders, it was something that made him the unanimous heir of the Clan!\n\n*Insert ringtone music.*\n\n \"W-Woah! Wha- Oh, it's my phone. Sorry, haha. WAIT! IT'S THIS TIME ALREADY!? I'M GOING TO MISS THE ICE CREAM TRUCK!\"\n\n*\"I mean—\"*\n\n \"Forgive me, I must go attend to important matters.\"\n\n*DASH!*\n\n And just like that, the boy ran away in hopes of catching the ice cream truck before it left for good. What an odd man he was, running away like that. However, at the same time it was a quirk that was quite hilarious to see. Enma ran at supersonic speeds, chasing the truck from the outside of the school with great vigor. \n\n*In the end he got his ice cream.*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel blinks, twice. \n\n\"If you'd like, I could well—teach you how to swim?\"\n\nThey didn't expect to be treated with such kindness, which, upon further examination, felt a bit foolish. Enma was nothing but kind and outgoing— of course the samurai (?) would offer to help someone out when prompted. It was... A nice reminder, and Uriel smiled softly at him.\n\n\"I appreciate the offer. You're a rather kind person, you know.\" \n\nNot as if such an offer would be acted upon; at least, not for a long time. They didn't believe Enma would be too keen on rescuing a sopping-wet narcoleptic from a pool, even if the prospect of being in the water seemed fun. Plus, they weren't comfortable wearing a swimsuit. The thought of the revealing attire making a lump crawl in their throat, and Uriel pulled at the fabric covering their fingers in dismay.\n\nStill, they smiled anyway. \n\nAnd suddenly, both Haoran and Enma ran off, without even giving Uriel time for a goodbye. Well, there would have been ample time, if they were someone else— but by the time Uri could process the sudden change, the door was already swinging shut behind the duo. \n\n\"Oh dear. I suppose it's just us, then?\" They turn towards Hatzume, gathering the teacups hastily left behind and stacking them on top of each other. \n\n\"In that case, let's have a nice, long talk about your emoti—\" \n\nIt's like a switch is flipped. One moment, they're standing in the middle of the kitchen, reaching in a cabinet for some dish soap. The next, Hatzume sees their grey eyes dull, whatever light previously present in them vanish, and Uriel drops like a rock onto the floor. \n\nOne second, two seconds. They don't seem to be getting up, but they're not injured, either."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Hatzume didnt have words to really say on the other's conversation- just listening with a chilled out smile from then on.\nBecause despite always talking, she actually had to charge that stuff apparently- or at least, when it came to crowds anyways.\nI'll be honest, she was still reeling over the concept of this place having a swimming pool... She cant WAIT for top surgery just for that- but anyways.\n\nAnd before she knew it, they had vanished aside from Uriel. Surprised for a moment, she turned to look at Uriel.\n\"Yep yep! But i haaave... To cleeeaan\" She drawled, sighing afterwords in a sort of disgruntled annoyance.\n\n\"Oh boy yeah i love du-\" Oh\n\nOh ok Uriel is on the floor.\n\nHatzume has to take a moment to comprehend, simply staring down at them with wide eyes and a little bounce of surprise.\n\"AH- Uriel!?-\"\n\nPanicked, the tall girl fervently stumbled to kneel beside Uriel- and decided like the idiot she was that the best course of action would be to apparently slap them.\n\n\n\"Hellooo? Deaad?\"\n\nThere's Hatzume's ever appropriate use of morbid joking- if she was even joking at all.. In fact her face had even turned a confused pale."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "They're still asleep. It doesn't seem as if they're going to wake up any time soon.\n\nPerhaps you should just... Leave them there."
}
] | 464 | 11,480 |
518.285714 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Чему́ быть, того́ не минова́ть.\n*You can't avoid that which is meant to happen.* \n\nRain patted lightly on the large facility windows, the air of the common room cold as the fallen autumn leeched the remaining heat towards her chest. Danica breathed slowly in a quiet serenity, a murky blue dusting everything around her in stillness. Thick clouds blocked the sun, though she still felt its flame; beating as if her own heart. It was a sunday, and 6:47 to most would have been ridiculous to be awake at. Even still, a warm mug of tea and freshly washed hair kept Danica company as she sat tucked into an armchair, her gaze turned to the view. She'd always loved to sit and watch the rain when she had the time. The tall fences outside though, felt like a knife to her back. \n\nIn New York, back when she was still too short for almost everything, Danica would sit out on the rusted fire escape outside her window and try to catch the raindrops in a paper cup like it was a game. Her plan was always to turn it into a sugary soda once she caught enough, but it was that part she never managed to figure out. It was odd thinking of herself as a child. Even odder how she always tried to convince herself she didn't miss that city. Danica loved it. She loved New York. Something about that felt like a betrayal, and lots about it made her mad. Maybe one day she'd figure out how to turn rainwater into cola, just not right now. \n\nPulling herself out of her own thoughts, Danica sipped her tea and just let herself be soaked in the atmosphere for a moment. She'd cut her run a little short today, so she had time before she had to start moving again. For now, it was just her, the blue, and the rain. *Pat pat pat*"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The night was slowly coming to an end. Morning dew and promises of day began to whisper over autumn rain, and sung softly through Dae-hyuns ears. The boy had been tucked into bed for well over twelve hours, and so he decided that early morning reading was in order. It would hopefully drag him out of his tired state, giving him a good start for the coming day. \n\nThe boy didn't have a reason for his urge to sit in the common room. The chairs weren't as comfortable as they could be, and the facility drinks were subpar, but something about the empty atmosphere drew him in. Something about the silent, sleeping building painted in foggy blues and overdue morning moonlight. He wanted to just get out of his dorm, be somewhere- anywhere. Sun soaked grass on a breezy summer afternoon was his personal favourite, but with the heavy splashes of rain outside, that definitely wasn't happening. \n\nHe was frankly cold enough as is, getting frozen to the bone with sky water was not on his agenda for the morning. \n\nA tote bag full of items rested on Dae-hyun's shoulder, securely tucked under his arm. Inside were various books, pain meds, chargers, his laptop, anything he could need. Quite the odd habit, Dae-hyun always made sure he had everything he could possible need. He slid his cane out of its resting position against his bedside and felt the familiar ache and groan of his tired bones. He swore he could hear a *Creaking* Sound when stood up from his bed and began to walk out down the hallways, Dae-hyun quietly snickered at that thought. He was lucky enough to be on the same floor as the common room, so the trip was rather short. Less strain on his leg was always the better option. \n_ _\n\nWith a very obvious limp, using his cane to stabilize himself, Dae-hyun found himself in the entry way of the common room. It was silent as expected, and empty to his knowledge. The boy entertained the thoughts of ghosts in his mind. Maybe the empty chairs weren't empty at all, maybe they held spirits. Victorian ghosts having tea parties during early morning rainfall almost made him laugh. He would have to make sure to not steal someones seat. Dae-hyun was a common guest for these ghostly meetings. He played them music for their ballroom dances, and sat beside them for tea. The boy often entertained the idea of loneliness. It wasn't lonely with imaginary ghosts, he figured. \n\nThe sound of his cane tapped along side the rain that pounded on the roof and windows. A melodic tune of silent symphonies."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "She could hear someone coming. Like the dripping of rainwater from a faucet, Danica heard the cane coming, its dull pats to the floor inbound slowly. The girl was tired, and frankly more than a little annoyed at the world as she often was, so the sounds of people coming were less than exciting. It had been so wonderfully quiet on her own. Logic knew she needed socialization to function, but Danica very much begged to differ. Curse people. Curse them and their unfair invasion of her peace. She'd at least hoped she'd reach daylight before anyone else crawled out of their cells. Wishful thinking. Maybe she shouldn't be so sour all the time. Then again, maybe she didn't care. \n\nLetting dark lashes close down towards her cheeks, Danica drew in her last few breaths of solitude, the slow beat of aided footsteps acting as a countdown on her time alone. When she opened her eyes again she let her gaze shift to the droplets rolling down the window, the world all fuzzy behind them as the clear streams diverged. She scowled. Being in the common room made her feel like she was taking handouts. Most of the time. Morales had seen to it that she knew it wasn't entirely terrible. *Pshaw.* \n\nShe listened as whomever was coming rounded the windowed corner, coming from the same direction as her room by the nest. The rain chattered its greetings amongst itself. After a moment, Danica tilted her head to glance backwards, trying to see if this was anyone she knew. Hm.\n\n_ _\nIf Dae-hyun was thinking about ghosts, he would have certainly seen one initially; though a second more and the undeniable aliveness of the girl way across the room sitting tall would have debunked that theory. Danica honestly did very little to not make herself look dead. Platinum blonde hair, pale complexion, fluffy white pull-over and darkly stained under eyes meant she looked something like a modern-day white queen with a hangover. Though, Danica wasn't hungover. She had pretty eyes and a long thin nose, and was tucked up rather awkwardly in one of the chairs with a mug, though her sure posture and expression made the contortion seem poised. Like how a ballerina would sit. \n\nDanica blinked, turning to look at the boy more properly. He made a different impression in the gray light, but she knew him. She remembered him. The tousle of his hair and soft features rung chiming bells. \n\n\"You.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun let himself wander a little. He was never someone to try and stay stagnant, and although spending most of his time in his dorm since his injury, he always adored being able to just sit in spaces; taking in everything about the surrounding room. The common room was one thing, bathed in dark blue light and dripping with an alluring mystery.\n\nEverything was silent, nothing but the rain and quiet ring that buzzes in your ears when things are *Too* Quiet. It held in the air like an ominous tune, whispering ideas of new harmonies into Dae-hyun's brain. He tapped the top of his cane with his finger in a certain pattern, a meticulous and calculated rhythm. A new song floated around in his brain, and he let himself tap out the song with a soft hum. Slowly figuring out how the notes would swing into one another; what the feeling of the song would be. \n\nDae-hyun was very frequently in his head. It was a wonderfully vast world up there, so he didn't see it as an issue. His thoughts were interesting, deep and nuanced, philosophical sometimes... Other times purely imaginative. Sometimes they held the thoughts of ghost tea parties and talking birds, and other times they held the swinging harmonies of new piano songs and poetic lines from the novels he so frequently loved to read. The council of thoughts up in his mind brought him company, they understood each other. It was easy, why change what he was doing when he found such interest in exploring his own ideas?\n\nThis solitary silence didn't last long. It was interrupted by a voice, a voice that immediately stretched its cold hands down into Dae-hyun's core and pulled out a bright light of recognition. The hands were soft, far from malicious, Dae-hyun could hear it in the way her voice hit like a note being plucked from a harp string. His eyes immediately turned to the source of the familiar sound, and there she was. The girl he was certain he made up. \n_ _\n\nShe was sat there, folded like a dancer and staring at him with the same heavy eyes. Her presence brought in the chill of winter, like it had done before. Her hair held over her shoulders like snow on top of pine trees; her eyes frosty like cracking ice. She was both cold and undeniably breathtaking. Dae-hyun couldn't find any way to string together his words, he just looked at her for a second. Standing there, still, with wide eyes that saw into her core. Yet, they weren't frightening. Not the kind of eyes that hunted, or meant harm, they were soft, kind and welcoming. His eyes brought in silent vows of safety and comfort. \n\nThe lanky boy tilted his head to the side with surprise, and held his mouth open for a second before finally speaking. \n\n\"...Me?\" \n\nHis voice was quite the contrast to hers. It was deeper, softer around the edges and far less raspy from the new morning. He almost whispered, breaking the silence was difficult and he definitely didn't sound sure of himself, but there wasn't a hint of anxiety in his words. Nothing about Danica intimidated Dae-hyun."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Unlike Dae-hyun, Danica would not so easily admit to being in her head. Thinking too much didn't earn you medals or master impressive jumps. If she spent too much time imagining doing things instead of doing them, it meant she didn't know exactly where she was going and what she wanted. Danica would rather warm her hands on a bag of dog shit than give in to being uncertain. She knew her path. Though, whether she liked to admit it or not, Danica was quite a thinker. She thought a lot about people; watching them interact, assessing and judging traits, recognizing how they moved to find the best routes, and hearing their stories when she had the time. She'd been thinking a lot about New York. About Brighton Beach, and Brooklyn as a whole. She thought about the subway, about her old job, the alley cats. Moscow too, but mostly just the private rink sessions and local signage. She missed her grandmother. \n\nThe piano player seemed warm. Warmer than sun-tanned beaches and with the same flush as air off a pier. Sweet. And kind. His eyes glistened as if they'd never seen anything but stars. Danica thought appearances were important for a person; that you should choose who you're going to be and look it, and this boy seemed himself. He seemed homey and quiet. He looked like fresh bread. Something about his gaze peaked Danica's interest, but she couldn't quite pinpoint it. At the very least it seemed like he was looking for something inside her soul. She couldn't tell if that was fine or not. \n\n\"Who else?\"\n\nHe sounded like a soft wind through cat-tails in the brush. His voice pillowed around itself in swirled drizzles of aerated honey, the perfect sound to narrate raindrops. \n\n\"You played piano. Last week. I heard you.\"\n\nShe sounded as if she were giving him a corporate rundown. She paused, her demeanor softening just a hair. \n\n\"You play well. You're very talented.\"\n\n_ _\nEver the tortured artist, Danica could recognize and appreciate when others had put in the time and dedication to produce beauty in the world. Of course she was as competitive as she was passionate about her work, but outside of her own field she was quite the delightful connoisseur. \n\n\"What is your name? You're new.\" \n\nHer rapid-fire questions got to the point in a flash, her words streaming measuredly. Danica was intrigued. She sipped her tea."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Dae-hyun studied her face with careful eyes. He watched the way her gaze flicked from his face, to the swirling tea in her cup, then back towards the window she had been staring at before he had made his presence known. The quiet sound of rain tapped against the glass; both inviting and repelling. Dae-hyun would gladly take the opportunity of being soaked to the bone by freezing rain, then continue to be scrutinized under her cold gaze. He shuffled awkwardly for a moment, spinning his ring around his finger down at his side. \n\n Her voice felt like the cracking chill of ice. The sting of snow against reddened skin and the pain of water that had been kissed by winter. She was a presence that hung like fog, an all encompassing mystery that drew you in with slow beckoning hands. Her December freeze called with a voice so sweet, yet so haunting. Danica was nothing short of alluring. Yet alongside Dae-hyun's urge to sink into the pillowing snow that fell softly from her fingertips, there was the undeniable sense to run for cracking embers and summer fire. Escape the freeze, and protect his core from the chill. \n\n Perhaps it's unfortunate that Dae-hyun has always loved the winter; perhaps its something that will play in his favour. Only the tick of time will tell. \n\n \"Oh. Yes... You did. I saw you watching.\" The pause lent itself to uncertainty, yet the smooth flow of his voice covered any tracks of nervousness. Each tone struck with the echo of a piano chord, a soft melody that bent around the curves of the freezing wind and found home in the centre of the mind. His words resonated with the same feeling as a symphony. \n_ _\n\n_ _ _ _ \"It's nice to hear you enjoy my music.\" The uncertainty, however unnoticeable, was beginning to fade. After a while, the cold will always shift into something you forget to feel. It simply exists alongside the gorgeous sights of snow and midnight evenings. \"It's been a while since I have played for someone... Even if it was by accident.\" His voice almost hit a note of pain, a strained sort of effort to avoid sinking into a melancholy topic. It ached with despondency and stuck like nails in his sides. His beloved stage, now empty. \n\n \"Ah yes... My name is Dae-hyun.\" This introduction was softer than his other words; it was a beginning. \n\n The boy's deep midnight eyes flowed to the area across from Danica. There were four seats, all neatly organized with a small table in the middle. Dae-hyun sat across and diagonal to the other. Leaving a polite distance between them. He almost shrunk into the fabric of the seat, placing his cane against the arm rest and appreciating the slow disappearance of the steady ache in his bones. Once sitting, Dae-hyun's presence wasn't nearly as haunting. He wasn't simply standing against the black of an empty room, painted by the purples of the early morning. Now, he was a member of conversation. \n\n \"What's yours?\" The question came after silence, and tapped like the soft beads of rain outside the window. Dripping down the glass, and falling onto the plants below in light morning dew."
},
{
"author": "mochiizzco",
"message": "Danica could feel his analyzing, but she couldn't entirely bring herself to care too much. She knew what she was presenting to the world. Granted she wasn't and pristinely groomed as usual, but it seemed neither was Dae-hyun. It was too early to be caring so much. At the very least he looked tired. \n\n\"Dae-hyun.\"\n\n She repeated after him, a slight Russian accent sneaking its way into the unfamiliar word. She smirked slightly and turned her eyes back to the window before rising from her seat. Danica unfurled like a swan; her strong limbs following each other gracefully to a stand. Her piercing gaze seemed much more potent properly face to face. She studied Dae-hyun more carefully in the dimmed light. \n\nHe spoke like warm bread. He moved like a barn mouse. His eyes seemed to hold wisdom. She noted the softness of his nose. He wasn't an eyesore at all. \nHe seemed to relax immensely once sat down, and Danica decided it was his turn to enjoy the rain. She'd had her fun. \n\nAfter a paused moment more of looking at him, she spoke again and took a sip of her tea. \n\n\"Dani*K*A.\" \n\nThat was what she'd said phonetically. \n\n\"Danica Belyaeva. Maybe I'll be seeing you.\"\n\nDancers strides lead her towards leaving the kitchen."
}
] | 521 | 3,628 |
279.466667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel hadn't aged. They'd been walking the wastes for years, or what felt like years, but they were as tall as ever, as agile as ever, as sturdy as ever. No matter how many kilometers they walked, they never seemed to get any stronger, nor any weaker; neither wear and tear nor training made their mark upon them.\n\nOnly now have they noticed.\n\nA long, long time ago - so long ago Fennel can't remember - they encountered someone else in the wastes. A slight, wispy figure, who made them see things, who claimed they were asleep and dreaming. They'd decided not to try to wake up at the time, and they'd shoved the experience to the back of their mind. They didn't want to think about another world being outside somewhere.\n\nBut they were starting to realize that there had to be. Nothing ever seemed to *Change* In Fennel's world. They'd injured themselves once or twice, and managed to rip a bit of their clothes off once. But the surfaces everywhere were rugged and rough - surely a smaller version of all those rips were being made on their shoes as they walked? Surely that would add up over time?\n\nWear and tear, they remembered. That was called wear and tear. And it was real, and it wasn't happening.\n\nFennel was dreaming. There was a real world out there, and they'd left it behind. They could no longer pretend otherwise.\n\nThey sat down on a rock, closed their eyes, took a few slow, deliberate breaths, and they sat on a windowsill in a room they didn't recognize, with things that looked soft and vibrant colors and even something actually alive that didn't look like it was fake.\n\nThey'd found reality. They remembered little, but something told them that what they were seeing was real.\n\nSomething also told them, however, that they themselves weren't real. They hadn't made it into reality - they'd made it into a real person's mind.\n\nLike Uriel had done to theirs.\n\nFennel didn't recognize the person whose mind they'd entered. But they didn't remember anyone, so they had hope that this person might at the very least know them.\n\n...\n\nDae-hyun, for his part, couldn't know much - apart from the fact that Fennel had just appeared on his windowsill, and that they looked a little bit... Implacably *Off.*"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Dae-hyun had been appreciating the calm evening. A fresh cup of coffee sat on his bedside table, small steam puffs rising from the warm drink. His entire room smelt like a café, it was a comforting smell. Sort of warm, and overall suiting the rather neutral brown colour palette he had decorated his dorm with. \n\n Everything was silent, it was like every other evening. Weeks in between the few interactions he had with others, where he would just sit comfortably in his dorm. He didn't mind the loneliness, in fact it was far too familiar to dislike, but there was something itching in his brain. This wasn't unusual, Dae-hyun was often in his own head. He sat on the edge of his bed, watching the steam rise from the cup, almost completely drawn into the way the small clouds billowed over the rim. \n\n A small sound snapped him out of it. His deep midnight eyes rose to look towards his window, the source of the sound, and he nearly fell over at the sudden sight. \n\n His open window now had a person sitting in it, except this wasn't a stranger. Dae-hyun knew them, and the last time they had interacted it wasn't exactly the sweetest. Not necessarily bad, Dae-hyun didn't hold any negative feelings towards them, but they looked even more off than the first time he saw them. Fennel, was tucked against the frame of Dae-hyun's window, staring at him. \n\n Dae-hyun reached for this cane, and stood up to meet their gaze. \n\n \"Fennel... Right? What're you doing here?\" His voice was uncertain, in a way his smooth tone couldn't cover up this time. He wasn't expecting a guest, let alone someone coming in such an unexpected manner. It was unsettling, but the boy wouldn't let that get to him. Their presence was haunting, they didn't look like they were even comprehending the fact they were in his dorm, let alone the fact Dae-hyun was standing in front of them. \n\n \"I heard you where in the hospital for a while... Are you doing better now?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel glanced blankly at Dae-hyun... Or rather, *Past* Dae-hyun, as though he wasn't there at all. The spark of recognition that one might expect from seeing someone they recognized wasn't there either. It was as though Dae-hyun were faced with a Madame Tussauds-esque wax effigy of Fennel rather than the real thing.\n\nThey blinked, slightly too noticeably, as though it were deliberate. \"Do you know me?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Dae-hyun felt himself want to lean away from them, they had a certain feeling to them that was just— *Off.* They weren't look at him, they were looking *Through* Him. Clearly something was wrong.\n\n \"Yeah I do— We met a while ago, in the music room. You're Fennel... Right?\" He asked for clarification again, despite getting none when he first asked. This entire situation was strange but he wasn't about to just leave them or scream and demand for them to leave. Something was off, and Dae-hyun was the only person around to help.\n\n His phone rested neatly beside his cup of coffee, it was there if he needed extra assistance but he doubted that would be necessary. Did this have to do with The Distortion? Dae-hyun had heard Fennel wasn't in the best conditions but didn't know why. Maybe this had to do with their powers? The last time he was around them they gave him a nasty hallucination. Where they facing a sort of reaction from their powers? Dae-hyun had no clue.\n\n \"Are you alright?\" He already somewhat knew the answer to this."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Music room...\" Fennel echoed flatly. They nodded. \"Yes, I'm Fennel.\" They stared at Dae-hyun for a few more moments, then grasped their head between their hands and vanished, only to reappear on the bed behind Dae-hyun a moment later. \"No, I'm not Fennel,\" They said. \"Fennel is dreaming.\"\n\nThey had no weight - they were an apparition lacking physical form - so the bed didn't warp beneath them. They sat on a pillow as though it were solid rock. They wouldn't know any better anyway - pillows had been solid rocks to them for the past thousand years.\n\n\"I am...\" They paused. \"...Not sure. I don't think I'm in danger.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Dae-hyun turned his head around to follow them. What was this— how did they do that. He blinked and felt his face scrunch in confusion. This was all so strange. \n\n \"Its nice to see you again, Fennel.\" He sighed, and then processed their next words. \"Dreaming?\" His eyes were fixated on the space where they sat. The way the sheets didn't bend to their weight, the way they were able to just blink and be somewhere else. He knew this place was full of paranormal people and magic, that this wasn't completely out of the blue for what was average around here. If anything could even be considered *Average.* Even then, Dae-hyun couldn't help but feel confusion and uncertainty cloud his mind.\n\n The drink continued to steam on his bed, it was growing colder. \n\n \"Im glad you aren't in danger.\" He looked around for a second before letting his gaze fall back on Fennel. \"Is there anything I can do to help? If... *The other Fennel* Is dreaming— surely there is some way to wake them up, yes?\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"Yes. Dreaming.\" Fennel tried nodding. Their head bobbed in place and their neck didn't follow it. They stopped before it looked too unnerving, but it could still be noticed. \"I am Fennel, but... I am not actually here. You are talking to yourself. But I appreciate the company.\"\n\nThey paused and glanced at the coffee. It did not look healthy or tasty - tar-black and smoking - but Fennel had a vague idea of what coffee was, still, so they didn't question it. \n\n\"I don't know how to wake up. I'm sorry. I don't remember much.\" For the first time, Fennel's facial expression looked natural. Dae-hyun had seen it before - quiet remorse. \"If you would like to help me, be there when I wake up. Find other people I knew and have them be there too. I think I will need time to adjust to reality again.\"\n\nFennel paused.\n\n\"Who are you?\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Dae-hyun had a sympathetic look on his face. He was listening to what they were saying and couldn't help but feel bad for them. He took a seat next to them on the bed, leaving a polite distance between the two. The blanket bent under Dae-hyun's weight. Unlike the empty space that was holding an apparition beside him. \n\n \"Yeah. I appreciate the company too. Even if you aren't really here.\" He gave a wry laugh, a sort of pathetic expulsion of air, it was almost a scoff but without the passive aggressive tones scoffs usually come with. He reached over and took a small sip of his drink, he wasn't really tasting it. He was distracted.\n\n \"Okay, I can do that. Are you still in the infirmary?\" Dae-hyun spoke with soft concern. He tried to think really hard about people Fennel knew, but he barely even knew *Them,* So how could he know who they knew. *Valio would know.* Of course, its always Valio. Why does she always manage to be a totem of so much information. She seems to know everyone and everything, while also giving no information about herself. She was a mystery that eluded Dae-hyun. No matter, he had other things on his mind. \n\n \"Im Dae-hyun. I'll try my hardest to help, okay?\" The tension in his shoulders relaxed. \"The state you're in doesn't seem— the most pleasant.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "\"I don't remember.\" And that was that.\n\nFennel vanished again, then appeared with their hand clipping inside the birdcage, gently stroking Miso - who, of course, did not react on account of Fennel not having a physical form. \"Thank you, Dae-Hyun,\" Fennel said. Their voice was emotionless, but the words were genuine.\n\n\"It is lonely,\" They admitted, \"But it is not painful. I think I can show you a bit, if you want to see it.\" For a brief moment, Miso seemed to lean into Fennel's hand. \"Maybe it would help you if you would try to wake me.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ \"Thats alright.\" Dae-hyun gave a weak smile.\n\n He watched as Fennel appeared beside Miso, and didn't make any efforts to get up. Some people may have been unnerved, uneasy about a stranger immediately leaning towards a beloved pet, but Dae-hyun wasn't worried. He just felt no reason to distrust them. Miso was fine, in fact the small bird was surprisingly calm. This was most likely due to the fact that Fennel wasn't *Really* There, but Miso was terrified of strangers. It was almost nice seeing another person be able to put their hands near the bird.\n\n \"Of course. No problem.\" This entire situation was difficult to process but he found the less he tried to make sense of it, the less strange it seemed. Maybe it didn't have to make sense. \n\n \"Thats good, that it's not painful.\" He tilted his head. \"Show me?\" Dae-hyun was confused, with a tilt of his head he considered what that meant. \"If it'll help, then sure.\" Maybe he would regret that."
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel vanished.\n\nThen the room vanished.\n\nDae-hyun saw what Fennel had been living in for millennia - a desolate world of stone and plastic and ash, rugged and harsh and lifeless and somehow still beautiful. And he saw Fennel sitting next to him, looking more alive than they did in his room yet less... Themselves. Fennel had lost something, without a doubt - something that made them who they were. They would need to adjust not only to reality, but to who they are.\n\n\"Hey Dae-hyun. This is it. You can stay here as long as you like, just close your eyes for a couple seconds and open them again and you'll be back in your room.\"\n\nThey paused.\n\n\"But I won't be there. I have to try to wake up properly soon.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Dae-hyun looked around. He was rightfully dumfounded. He looked at the swirling blue and yellow sky above him with wide eyes. The stars that found home in the midnight black had been covered by the reflection of the patterns above him. This place was different than anything he had ever seen in his entire life. Yet, he wasn't afraid. He wouldn't describe the dull ache in his stomach as fear. It was more along the lines of confusion. \n\n He looked around, saw each rock and scanned the desolate landscape. This place looked like a very aesthetically pleasing hell, catered for Fennel themselves. *Did Dae-hyun have one? A sort of Limbo space?* He hoped he would never have to find out. Fennel looked worse for wear, and Dae-hyun wasn't sure how they were able to last in such solitude. Dae-hyun had known loneliness but not to an extent like this. It was only here that he felt truly sorry for Fennel.\n\n He leaned down, resting the rough ground against his knees. With the hand that wasn't holding his cane, he picked up a rock and surveyed it. It felt different than what he expected a rock to feel like, but he couldn't place exactly what was wrong with it. Everything here seemed wrong to an extent he couldn't place, like the uncanny valley but far less frightening. \n\n \"Does this all have to do with The Distortion? I vaguely remember someone saying you were severely hurt by it— but I wasn't sure.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel thought about it for a moment. They didn't know anything about any The Distortion. They didn't remember being severely hurt, especially not by anything like that.\n\nBut there was an intruding thought they were getting over and over again that said otherwise. \"Yes.\" They said it out loud. \"Yes.\" They didn't know how they knew that, but they did. Or maybe they didn't know and had been compelled to lie.\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about, but... Yes.\"\n\nFennel paused.\n\n\"I don't remember anything, Dae-hyun. This is all I've ever known. I don't know how I answered your question just now, but I probably can't answer more. I'm sorry.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Dae-hyun looked over at Fennel sympathetically. They had been through so much— and Dae-hyun couldn't think of many ways to help. Straightening himself upwards, he stared at the ground in thought. He rolled around as many ideas in his head as he possibly could, any way that he could help tie Fennel back towards the real world. They seemed so far gone— everything seemed like a lost cause.\n\n With his good leg, Dae-hyun kicked a small piece of rubble against the dirt. A small dust cloud billowed against his foot. With a dejected sigh, Dae-hyun joined Fennel on a rock. The rough surface beneath him contrasted his bed, and was far to uncomfortable to forget. \n\n \"No. This isn't all you've known. You gotta remember who you were before. Remember how kind you were to me in the music room. The way you immediately apologized and said your name in the softest tone.\" His speaking voice was a little desperate, only the slightest bit. The more time he spent here, the more he felt the ache of empathy drip into his core. \n\n Suddenly, something hit him. An idea, a thought, something that could help.\n\n Dae-hyun looked down at his hands, stared at each individual finger. The way his long slender hands held bandaids and piano callouses. He thought fondly of every time he struck the chords— a symphony of his own personal making. On his left index finger, rested a silver ring. With his opposite hand, he slowly pulled the ring off his finger. \n\n \"Here. Take this. Think of me when you wear it. Think of the piano you heard me play, and how you were feeling in that music room. Think about your past if you can— your home and where you came from. I wish I could remind you what that was... But sadly I didn't get to know you well enough.\"\n_ _\n\n_ _ _ _ Dae-hyun handed Fennel the ring. It was a steel grey, with intricate swirling designs around the band. It depicted plants and ivy vines, small flowers and greenery. It rested neatly in their palm, and held a certain realness to it. Unlike everything else in this hellscape that felt wrong and fake, this was *Real.* Undeniably real. This would be a decent enough anchor if Fennel could figure out how use it properly. \n\n \"When you wake up— find me again okay? Let me get to know you better this time. Look forward to that.\" Dae-hyun gave Fennel a sweet smile. It wasn't wry, or strained, it was genuine and gentle. It was the smile of someone who wanted to know them— and who cared genuinely about their well being. \n\n \"Don't let yourself be trapped here. You've been through quite enough friend.\""
},
{
"author": "radikale",
"message": "Fennel smiled a melancholic sort of smile, the kind brimming with pity, with the knowledge that the moment, no matter how touching, can't save you - or change anything at all. They let Dae-hyun speak, and accepted the ring without a word. It was, undeniably, real. Too real. It was a real thing, trying to intersect with a world that never was. Fennel concentrated as much as they could, trying to keep the appearance that it was held in their palm up, but when Dae-hyun stopped speaking, they let it clatter to the ground.\n\n\"This isn't real enough for that, Dae-hyun. You're hallucinating this, all of this. It's not another world, it's a vision. The ring will be on the floor when you wake up. I can't keep it. I don't even know if I'll remember any of this when I wake up.\"\n\nThey paused.\n\n\"But you're nice. I'd like to see you again.\"\n\nThey stood up and walked a few paces away from where Dae-hyun had sat down. They looked away from him, up at the bright yellow sun in the sky, and kept walking. \"I think I know what to do. But you can't stay here in the meantime.\" Their voice projected directly to Dae-hyun, as though there were no distance between them at all.\n\nFennel turned around one last time, said a quiet \"See you, Dae-hyun\", and waved. Dae-hyun's vision went white, but in the very last few moments before he found himself standing in his dorm room again, he could swear he saw a silver band resting on Fennel's ring finger."
}
] | 237 | 4,192 |
276.64 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Another day, another dollar.\n\n□ The hallways sat relatively quiet, the prisoner body primarily gathered in the cafeteria to eat. Groups sat around tables, odd ones out stuck together, weirdos looking after weirdos. Margo was one such weirdo, but rather than find others to band together with she was focused on one thing and one thing only: getting the hell out. It was too loud, the hum and oppressive glow of the lights too bright, a sensory hell of the architect's doing, and she needed to get out fast. Quickly grabbing a deep-fried burrito, she stuffed it into a Tupper container and sprinted out of the door, nary bothering to thank the lunch lady, or the tall cook in the back.\n\n▪︎ Her sensory needs showed themselves, and she knew better than to object.\n\n◆ \"Phew, good- oh.\" Pushing the door open, she lurched inside, expecting to see an empty room and spotting her roommate, on their bed. \"Hey, Uri. You're actually here... Huh.\" She gracefully jumped over the back of the couch, wincing as the springs screamed murder. \"Oh God, I just bought this couch... Why the fuck did I do that? Anyways, what's poppin'? They got deep-fried burritos in the cafeteria and I've rarely been this scared of a food.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "How quiet. How peaceful. \n\nUriel didn't often spend time in their room— it was far more enjoyable to spend whatever waking hours out and about, enjoying the Swedish scenery or even making pleasantries with the other students. \n\nOn this day, Uriel couldn't help but notice the edges of a knot in their stomach. The idea of being outside only caused whatever pit inside of them to dig deeper, gnawing and consuming whatever thoughts they had. Everything was so... Loud, with lights too bright and people too confusing. \n\nThey desired peace. They desired *Quiet*. \n\nThe door opens, and Marg bumbles in. Uriel jolts, putting down their book. It's one of the books Margo allowed them to borrow, something on psychology— either way, she's only able to get a glimpse of it before the offending item is placed on their bed.\n\n\"Ah— yes, I am here. I suppose I enjoyed the notion of finding some time for myself.\"\n\nMarg's sudden appearance didn't seem to worsen whatever sensory issues buzzing in Uriel's head. In fact, as they began to speak, the world seemed to come back in focus, the ever-present white noise in their head becoming all the less loud. Marg's presence— loud, but not to the point of being insufferable— felt more like an anchor than a burden. \n\nIt was a pleasant feeling. Uriel bookmarked their page with a loose sting, a gentle touch moving the analytic piece of writing away from arms reach... If only to signal that Margo had their full, undivided attention.\n\n\"Oh, but no need to worry— I've been spending the whole day holed up in here. Some pleasant company is not unwelcome.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Felt.\" She'd awkwardly croon from the sofa, its plain black leather giving way in all the right spots for her body to sink in. \"Cafeteria was way too loud, man. Like walking into a fucking war zone.\"\n\n□ Two weeks after arriving, her demeanour had shifted a tad. Less defensive with her tail puffed up to look intimidating, now it was just her and her undisclosed awkwardness, and also the deep-fried black bean burrito she'd nicked from the cafeteria. Popping the top open she set the lime Tupperware container onto the other cushion, beside her hip, and propped her head against her flattened palms as the weight dug her still-tender knuckles into the armrest. It didn't seem to bother her, though, as she lounged, seemingly giving her food time to cool. Or, perhaps she was debating on whether she had it in her to eat something so wildly unhealthy, a testament to American excess and the national pastime of deep-frying anything that'd fit in a Dutch oven full of peanut oil.\n\n▪︎ As she sat, she listened to Uriel talk, the snow-haired narcoleptic's words the soft noise she needed.\n\n◆ \"Saw you had one of my books.\" She commented after a few moments. \"Psychology... Let's see where that came from. Oh, The Private Life Of The Brain... Fuck, that's heavy reading. I still haven't got around to getting through it myself, but it's University of Oxford reading material, so it's good stuff. Got an interest in psychology?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Ah, you saw that.\" A small shift, a little twitch as Uriel drew their arms closer to themselves, eyes darting around the room— were they nervous? \n\n\"I still do not... Really understand people. Sometimes, I find myself at a bit of a loss when talking to others. I can grasp at the *Theory*, but actually applying it can be... Difficult.\" Their eyebrows knit together in frustration, and their head gives a short shake to clear whatever thoughts running wild. \n\n\"I'm planning on being a therapist when I'm older, therefore learning these matters now seems wise. But... Why do *You* Have these books on your shelves? What about the subject particularly draws you?\"\n\nMargo was a bit abrasive, yes, but she didn't give off the appearance of someone particularly interested in other people's emotions. The aspiring detective seemed interested in others affairs, their secrets, yes— but was she the type to desire understanding others? Uriel was unsure."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Felt that.\" She lazily spoke, her eyes trained on a spider on the ceiling. A snack for Cosmo... She'd need to grab him quick. \"I honestly don't understand people that well either, man. Like, I have a sense of myself, and all the parts that make me up, but *Others?* I can only guess where they're gonna go, how the parts are gonna be arranged.\"\n\n□ An odd moment of solidarity between roommates, but one regardless. She hadn't the foggiest clue what really, truly, drove people, or the parts that made others up. It was decidedly a critical flaw for an aspiring future private investigator, and so she attempted to fill the weakness in the best way she knew how: learning. Finally working up the courage to grab her burrito she scooped it out from its container and raised it to her mouth, curiously inspecting it's cylindrical blistered surface as if trying to figure out how to bite into it.\n\n▪︎ And that was *Exactly* What she was doing.\n\n◆ \"Good God... That's better than you'd think.\" She uttered between bites and breaths. \"Go get yourself one, Uri. Shit's delicious. Anyways, erm... Like I said, I don't understand people all that well, but I also just love to learn. Academia's one of my big passions, so I love to just... Read. Learn. Anything and everything. I guess.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I suppose that's just another part of living here. So many outliers, so many oddballs... It feels like a trial by fire, honestly.\"\n\nA small hum, and they sit up from their bed to instead perch next to Margo on the couch. It was nice; whatever airs that needed to be maintained around polite company seemed to dissolve when talking to her. Uriel couldn't help but be relieved she shared their feelings— it often seemed as if they were alone in whatever social struggles they faced, and the refutation made something warm and fuzzy blossom in their chest.\n\n\"Oh, I'm not particularly hungry— sleeping most of the day doesn't particularly work up an appetite.\"\n\nThey dip their head politely at Marg's prodding, as if to thank her for the concern. It was far different than how she acted on the first day, and the new-found development made a small smile grew on their face. \n\n\"I should ask— It's been a couple of days since you've arrived. How have you been faring?\"\n\nA low, melodic tone. They lightly tapped the spot next to them on the couch, a silent invitation in the air. *Come, stay a while.*"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"And also the weirdness gives us a unified sense of identity.\" She lazily spoke, bits of burrito still in her cheek. \"We're all parahumans here, so...\"\n\n□ Piping up in her own accented drawl from the couch, she took another bite of burrito, the spicy and juicy insides a damn shade different than the relatively dry food she'd had the past couple of days. Of course, there was also something about it that tasted off – a soapy flavour under a lot of the other stuff, she managed to deduce as she chewed – but overall it was damn nice. Able to tell that Uriel had taken a seat simply by looking at her feet, she tucked her socks up into the couch itself, giving her roommate some more room to sit.\n\n▪︎ It was only the right thing to do; she *Was* Taking up the rest.\n\n◆ \"Fair enough, man. Fair... You sleep like a cat.\" She commented, possibly a bit weirdly. \"But I've been... It's been a shitty go. Jetlag's not beating my ass anymore, thankfully, but overall I still dunno how to feel about this place. It feels a bit more homey now, though, which is... Nice. I kinda miss home.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Ah. The pang of missing home. \n\n\"I think... Everyone here misses home.\" Their tone is soft and wistful, and Uriel's gaze seems to drift off onto the distance as they continue.\n\n \"I know I still miss my mom, and the familiar shops and scenery. Some of the people back home were rather kind to me— not many, but I do remember the ones who were. And there was this one bakery I'd frequent after school...\" Uriel trails off, smiling fondly. \n\nIt would be foolish not to recognize the good within the bad. Every coin had its two sides, kind smiles of the rare adult cooing at \"Sophie's little kid\" All the more valuable when compared to the relatively harsh treatment from everyone else. Uriel made sure to treasure these little memories like tiny trinkets, their (albeit small) presence in their life bringing the occasional burst of joy.\n\nThey were rare, and all the more valuable as such. Uriel made sure to thank them for their kindness.\n\n\"You miss home, too? From what you've told me of how you're here, I didn't think—\" An awkward cough. \n\nWhat did Margo try to kill her father for, if not a sordid history? As Uriel thought more about it, they knew startlingly little about what Margo treasured in her life; they figured her past to be a touchy subject, and avoided it as such."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Right.\" She bit into her burrito again, awkwardly trying her best to prevent its innards from spilling all over her t-shirt. \"I think you don't realize what you've got until you're shipped halfway across the world against your will. Or, something.\"\n\n□ Another bite, and a hum followed in its wake. For a moment she could see it in her mind's eye, Uriel roaming around some non-descript French town, loathed by most but appreciated by a few, balancing the swell of emotions of being loathed and loved with no middle point. It sort of mirrored her life back home, except instead of being seen she often felt invisible against the endless urban sprawl of New York City, a place where one could be murdered and not be noticed for a week. Another bite down the hatch, chewing slowly and softly, mulling the words in her mouth alongside the warm juicy fillings of the burrito.\n\n▪︎ Whoever had decided to deep-fry a burrito, in her mind, was a saint now.\n\n◆ \"I don't miss home in a proper sense. My house hasn't been home in a long time... But I miss my siblings. My mom. The bodegas back home, Master Gendo...\" She trailed off for a moment. \"Just because my father wronged me bad enough to warrant murder doesn't mean I don't miss home. I just... Miss it in a weird way. The smell, the little Italian-run joints, the shitty subway system... All that.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "A quiet pause between the stories shared. The two took a moment to ruminate in times long gone, sharing solace in each other's company. They lived far from similar lives, and yet the small kinship between the two misplaced teens bloomed ever strongly.\n\nNew York City, hm? Uriel didn't know too much about the place, but they've heard enough from various shows. A city larger than life, where flashing lights and glitz and glamor hid a dirty, crime-infested underbelly.\n\nUriel didn't think they could handle such a place, honestly. With so many people around, they doubt they'd ever get a wink of sleep again— even if the relative anonymity was appealing. Margo, though— it seemed perfectly within her capabilities to navigate swaths of dirty alleyways and suspicious glares. \n\n\"Would you mind telling me about them? Your siblings, mom, and Master Gendo.\" Their voice is soft and careful, a bit apprehensive to ask such a personal question. \n\n\"From my experience... Talking about them usually helps. The homesickness, I mean.\" \n\nSure, Uriel was curious, and wanted to learn more about the girl they lived with. But more importantly... If Margo wanted to talk about whatever thoughts came to mind, they wanted to make sure to provide a safe and comforting environment to facilitate. \n\nIt was the least they could do. And besides, they enjoyed watching other people talk about the things held dear. \n\nSeeing other people grow a soft expression as they recounted those whom they loved... It was nice seeing them happy. Another trinket to hold dear, as it were."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Maybe in a bit...\" Honestly, she still didn't exactly *Want* To talk about her home life. Or Master Gendo, really. At least, not quite this moment. \"This burrito got hands, fuck.\"\n\n□ Falling silent, the next couple of minutes would mostly be quiet, with Margo tucking her legs up and balancing her phone against her thighs so she could watch an episode of some show – Uriel would notice a suspicious amount of frogs, if they were to look over at her phone – that seemed to make her happy. After about four minutes of quietly eating she finally had her fill, and with a groan sat up. Setting the remaining third of it onto her desk she finally sat up, dusting crumbs off of her clothes and plucking out little bits of okra and chicken that had fallen out.\n\n▪︎ To be fair, those little morsels were packed full of a surprising amount of flavour.\n\n◆ \"Apologies. Don't usually like eating and talking; something about it feels rude.\" She spoke, snatching a hair tie from her wrist and beginning to tie her hair up again. \"Anyways, where are you from, man? Like, I know you're French, but... Aside from that, where? I have a sister, she's, erm... A nun in a convent in southeastern France. Outside of some place called Aix-en-Provence? I dunno if that's how it's pronounced, never bothered to learn French. Anyways.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "As Margo mentions the town name, the dream-weaver laying across from her... Stills. Not the same stillness they usually carried themselves with— no, the poised, graceful movement is completely replaced by a deliberate stillness. A *Guilty* Stillness.\n\n\"A... Sister... Who's a nun in Aix-en-Provence, and originally from Brooklyn.\" \nTheir face was completely stone still, but their body language managed to convey what words could not—arms pulling closer to their torso, gloved fingers rapping against the sides of a porcelain tea cup.\n\n\"That's... Hm. That's...\" Uriel swishes the thoughts around their head, taking a small drink of their tea whilst they ruminate on whatever thoughts plagued them. \n\n\"That's interesting.\" They finally settle on, downing the cup to re-hydrate their suddenly dry throat."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Unexpectedly rigid, almost as if this new information troubled the snowy dreamweaver.\n\n■ \"Yeah, her name's, get this, Mary. Fucking. *Mary.* Father set her up from day one to be a sister.\" Margo scoffed in a humorous manner. It was how she had felt about the matter since her elder sister, tall and thin, had proclaimed she'd be devoting her life to God in a convent in France. Perhaps it was that religious influence that had led her to taking an interest in world religions... Who knew? \"But man, the way you went stiff as a fuckin' *Board* When I mentioned where she stays. I'm... Not great at reading people, but you've gotta be the most calmly guilty person I've seen in some time. What's up?\"\n\n▪︎ Maybe it was a weird question, but... She could deduce as much from how they'd reacted to what she'd told them, so might as well ask."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel attempts to take a sip of their empty cup, looking a bit foolish as nothing but air slides down their throat. \n\n\"I... Hypothetically, did she mention having an intense religious experience a couple of years ago? Around five or so?\" A small cough into the crux of their arm, and they quietly fiddle with the edges of their poncho. \n\nIt was... An interesting coincidence, but Uriel couldn't help but internally wince at whatever reaction Margo would have. People tended to be quite protective over their family members, and it would be very easy for Margo to feel threatened at the accidental invasion that took place a long time ago. \n\nIt would be very, *Very* Easy. Their shoulders hitched the tiniest bit upwards, as if bracing for an explosive reaction. \n\n\"Something about... An angel from God visiting her in her dreams...\" Uriel trailed off, hoping the rest of the tale would come implied."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Not exactly? She was always religious.\" Margo casually spoke, crossing her legs as she finished tying her hair up. \"But, yeah... About five years ago, maybe five and a half, she had a vision while she was on a trip to Nice with some of her classmates. Said it was from God, of an angel, and after that she was absolutely fuckin' *Convinced* God was the true lord of all creation. Are you insinuating that you messed around in her dreams?\"\n\n□ Voice dropping as the words slithered out of her mouth, she couldn't help but feel conflicted. It was the answer that Margo had been seeking out for years, but at the same time, what the hell kind of business did a French kid have monkeying around a seventeen year old's dreams? *Whatever,* She scoffed internally. What she now knew was that Uriel had been, or at least was heavily implying that they'd been in, her sister's dreams, irreversibly changing the trajectory of her life from Catholic schoolgirl to devout nun, and this knowledge sat about as well in the pit of her stomach as a cheesecake made out of Vick's and lead solder.\n\n▪︎ That is to say, it was eating her alive.\n\n◆ \"Uri.\" Her voice now dripped with uncertainty, but no malice. \"What the hell were you doing in Mary's... Oh. You. You probably connected to her when she was in Nice for Spring Break as a senior. Surprisingly lively for her, but I guess she just... Wanted to experience it?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "A moment of deafening silence— long, almost unbearably so, before Uriel looks down at their feet and *Sighs*.\n\n\"I've had my abilities since birth, but it takes a certain degree of skill to wield them with any sort of intention. More often than not, you just wander aimlessly.\" They stand up from their position on the couch, back turned towards Margo as they pour another cup of tea from the simmering kettle.\n\nIt's a familiar motion, and Uriel barely has to think about their actions as they fix themselves another cup of tea. Nice and familiar, soothing rituals calming whatever jumpy nerves currently coursing with energy. \n\n\"Doors open both ways, unfortunately. People able to pull at strings are just as prone to being pulled by them. It was... An accident. I didn't mean to—\" \n\nDeep breaths. Margo didn't seem angry, not like most people would. Confused, yes, but not violent, not yet. They throw out their tea bag and turn back towards Margo, solemn face judging hers in quiet contemplation. Watching, waiting, for any hint of action on her end. \n\n\"There are good reasons I wasn't well liked, you know. It wasn't intentional, but it didn't make my accidental wandering less harmful.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"So the strings, or whatever they are... They're like doorways, that both you and they can traverse?\" Piecing words together on the fly, it was clear that Margo didn't *Quite* Get it yet, but also wasn't immediately offended. Good for Uri, perhaps? \"That sounds confusing as hell. So, you sort of have a second self that traverses those dreamscapes while your physical body stays anchored?\"\n\n□ Something about this whole dreamweaving thing sounded like a key lore point for a sick fantasy show, but the moment of cartoon-oriented awe passed and she was left with the sour reality that one of her sisters had met Uri, in one way or another, before Margo ever had, and had mistaken their angelic features for those of an actual angel. Somehow, things just kept coming full circle in the weird, wild world of Newton's Cradle, and her brief silence showed that she was cognizant of that inescapable pattern.\n\n▪︎ What a weird coincidence.\n\n◆ \"It's just weird to me. Not the dreamweaving itself, it sounds sick, but... You directly altered the path of my sister's life. If you did that to her, then... The fuck is in my near future? Just make it a tale to tell the grand-kids, if you would.\"\n\n• What a grim joke."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "At Margo's attempt at a rationalization, Uriel furrows their eyebrows in disagreement. \n\n\"In a basic sense, yes. But I only say strings because that's how I personally rationalize whatever... *Thing* Connects all of our minds together. I think it makes sense that strings attach things together, and therefore I weave. It's not a science, more a leap of faith. Whatever you *Think* It is, it becomes.\"\n\nThe exact nitty-gritty of whatever art Uriel and their family had usually wasn't discussed— it was something beyond logic, where outsiders couldn't help but scratch their heads at the circular rationale. Even the most logically sound oneiromancers had to concede when it came to the inner workings of their craft. It worked because it did. \n\n\"Metaphors become interfaces, which become reality. It's best not to apply logic to such a thing.\" \n\nMargo was smart, but intelligence usually became a hinderance when dealing with... Well, unintelligent things. Even if she wasn't able to understand, hopefully she'd be able to set aside the paradoxical nature of Uriel's craft. \n\n\"You're asking what's in your near future?\" \n\nAn interesting question, one Uriel was unable to answer. \n\n\"I don't know. I can't know. What do you think? Something good, or something not-so-much?\"\n\nThey hummed under their breath and waited. Perhaps their lives truly were intertwined, woven against each other in an inescapable dance.\n\nWere they an angel? A harbinger? Or maybe, just maybe, only a human? Time would have to tell."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"...Huh. So, it's sort of formless, and ultimately perception-based? That's, erm... That's neat.\"\n\n□ She could read the faint sense of hopelessness Uri seemed to feel as she rambled on with her theories, the result of a logical mind needing to make a connection, make this otherworldly dream soup make sense in her normal old mind, and she couldn't quite get herself to stop. At least, not for a few more moments, before her throat began to dry and she had to take a sip of her tea to deal with the dry patch. That out of the way she cleared her throat and looked over at Uri again, who'd taken her moments of silence as an opportunity to talk about their views on the hereditary gifts they'd been bestowed with.\n\n▪︎ It all sounded so wildly interesting... The kind of mystery she could tumble into headfirst, without a care in the world.\n\n◆ \"It was rhetorical.\" She clarified. \"Like, a *Huh, if that happened to my sister, then what about me...?* Sorta deal. Questions to keep you up at night.\" She continued, now reaching out towards her newly-installed record stand. What to put on...? \"I just hope it'll either be memorable or just kill me outright. Snap every synapse in my brain like pretzel sticks, just don't leave me alive and disabled, for the love of God.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"I...\"\n\n*Did she really think I would do something like that?* \n\nUriel shifted uncomfortably under the weight of those words. It was an unfortunate reminder of the ever present gnawing in their skull, anxieties about hurting those closest to them bubbling up to the surface once again. \n\nThe worst part was that they *Knew they could.* \n\nEven the rule of the strongest king sat upon a throne of cards. The tiniest of pushes could send someone's entire being tumbling, down, down, down, whatever fragile foundation crumbling underfoot, the mind turning against itself as strings pulled one's footing out from under. They knew they could, because so many others with their abilities *Did.* \n\n\"Nothing is going to happen. I promise I'm not a danger to others, or a monster, or... I'd never do something like that. I'm not *Like that*, like *Them*, I'm not...\" A small, pained noise escapes from their throat. \n\nThe room is the same size as it was before, but Uriel suddenly feels very small, like Alice after eating one of her cakes. \n\n\"Is there anything you need to feel less ...\" *Afraid? Nervous?* \"Less... Less. I'll do or take anything you want, if it makes you feel better.\"\n\nFamiliar ghosts pestered Uriel's thoughts, and they take a shaky sip of water. Another. They're sweating, gaze once again looking both directly at Margo and somewhere far, far, away."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Uri, shit. Are you okay?\" Catching onto their shift in expression and tone of voice almost immediately, she turned her head to face her roommate, who by now seemed to be shrinking into their shadow. Was it something she'd said...? \"Nonono, it's fine. It's fine, man, shit... Didn't mean to dredge up any bad memories or whatever's goin' on in your brain.\"\n\n□ Understandably, Margo felt a pang of guilt. Her plea for the story of a lifetime or death was all meant in jest, as a joke, yet it had apparently flipped a trauma switch in Uriel's head, sending them into a tailspin, voice growing quiet as they curled up into their shadow. It was her fault, and she had to fix her mistake somehow. Honesty? Maybe the best policy.\n\n▪︎ She let out a sigh.\n\n◆ \"Uri, man. It was a joke. I say that about anything and everything that could leave me paralyzed or mentally retarded or whatever else would rip all my agency from me.\" She spoke. \"I didn't mean to... I dunno, insinuate that you're a weapon? Whatever I said. I dunno. Emotions aren't my strong suit. Anyways, want me to leave ya alone for now?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "A voice. Margo's voice. The trailing tone of a question vaguely registers in their head, and they remember where they were. Ah, yes, they were in a conversation. How impolite of them.\n\nUriel snaps back to reality, blinking a couple of times to fully readjust to their surroundings. *Yes, I'm at the Cradle.* Their spine stiffens, and they try to cobble together what little composure they could muster up— readjusting their braid, tilting their head back down to meet Margo's eyes.\n\n\"You think... You really think I could do that? Paralyze you, or rip your agency away? I am one of those 'anything and everything', in your head?\" \n\nThe words were meant to soothe them, but the painful insinuations couldn't help but burrow themselves deeper in their mind. Uriel didn't know what would be worse, though— they didn't want to be lied to, and Margo going back on her words would be nothing short of hollow. \n\n\"I need nothing. You, though... You feel unsafe? Or you worry about what I could do? I, ah— I don't know how I can help alleviate that, but I'm willing to try anything.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I dunno.\" Eggshells spread out beneath her feet, uncomfortably so. \"Like... You... You deal with dreams, man. That's the mind right there, and who's to say what happens if a dream suddenly tangles something up in there? I don't think you'd do it, at least not willingly, but...\"\n\n□ Heat rose up the back of her neck, embarrassment and also the expectation of anger or distrust forming between her and her roommate. Maybe this was why Uri had been through multiple roommates; something like this always happened, like clockwork, and the aftermath always pushed their roommates out into newer rooms less fraught with dream troubles. For now, though, Margo finally grabbed a record, a Can record from the mid-70s, and she began to dig it out of its sleeve.\n\n▪︎ Then again, why was she even bothering? She'd probably just be walking out soon to give Uri some space.\n\n◆ \"Uri, I don't feel unsafe.\" Margo let out a sigh. \"You don't have to worry. Fuck. I'm... Just gonna go. I've already messed things up enough.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"No, this is — I should go, you're eating, and it's mostly your room, anyway. You're here more than I am, so...\" Uriel scrambled to their feet, meandering in the space between the door and the couch. \n\nThey shifted their weight from foot to foot, toiling over their words and actions from this point. A pained wince grew on their face as they did so— god, this was *Awkward*. Margo looked upset, and Uriel couldn't for the life of them figure out why.\n\n\"Just, uh, text me when—if— it's alright for me to come back, and...\" They trailed off, getting lost in whatever continuation they were initially aiming for. \n\nUriel pauses briefly at the doorframe, looking back at Margo with an embarrassed, sheepish expression.\n\n\"And, I'm sorry about all of this. I'll just... Go.\" The words are clunky, and don't exactly come out right; too French to sound exactly intelligible without careful parsing. Too jumbled, with syllables crashing into each other haphazardly. \n\nA white braid disappears from view, and Margo is left alone, the only signs of Uri's presence being the still-bookmarked book laying face down on their bed."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Nah, man, it's –\" She let out a hurried gasp as she twisted around on the couch, a weird sense of panic brewing within her as Uri skittered towards the door. \"It's fine, you don't gotta go anywhere. Fuck. It's. Fine.\"\n\n□ Well, shit. Shit, shit, shit. This was about as bad as her little joke could have went, and she could tell she'd be dealing with the blowback for the rest of the afternoon. So, with a guilty sigh she set her record onto the player, dropped the needle, and began to think on how she could make it up to Uri. \n\n▪︎ After all, they were her roommate, and she didn't exactly want to hurt them, so... All she could do was try to apologize and make it up."
}
] | 286 | 6,916 |
84.805195 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "With an ear pressed on the cool door, Raizel was listening in to try hear if Mark was in the room. Nervous, timid as she is, it didn't stop her from being forward. Mark was easy prey after interacting with him enough to understand that she can probably get away with some things. Knock! Knock! Knooock! And she waits for a second before she says,\" Maaark, I'm lonely! L-Lemmie in!\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "With an ear pressed on the cool door, Raizel was listening in to try hear if Mark was in the room. Nervous, timid as she is, it didn't stop her from being forward. Mark was easy prey after interacting with him enough to understand that she can probably get away with some things. Knock! Knock! Knooock! And she waits for a second before she says,\" Maaark, I'm lonely! L-Lemmie in!\"\n\n*Mark was silent at first. He was listening to music as he drew. He was in his own little world. Having a good time. This was interrupted by the knocking of his new friend. He takes an earpiece off and listened in. He then heard Raizel's voice. He stands up and turns his music off. He walks to the door and opens it*\n\n\"Oh... Hello! Come in, Raizel!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She was excited to come walk inside the room. \"Whoa, you r-really do stay in here,\" Raizel said, looking amazed. \"I knew your scent is around here but I wasn't to-too sure.\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "She was excited to come walk inside the room. \"Whoa, you r-really do stay in here,\" Raizel said, looking amazed. \"I knew your scent is around here but I wasn't to-too sure.\"\n\n*She followed his scent here!? His eyes widen as he wonders if he smelled good. He hoped he did...*\n\n\"O-Oh... I hope I don't smell bad... But uhm... You're welcome here any time!*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Huh? Very humany but you use other chemical pr-products... And it depends what you eat!\" She chimed with no hesitation. \"S-so, you haven't really been here all that long, huh?\" And she is looking around his room curiously."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Huh? Very humany but you use other chemical pr-products... And it depends what you eat!\" She chimed with no hesitation. \"S-so, you haven't really been here all that long, huh?\" And she is looking around his room curiously.\n\n*Mark just shuts up. He didn't want to know anymore-... His room was nice and neat. It was nice and cozy. He didn't have that much in the room, but it was nice*\n\n\"No... Heh...\"\n\n*BTW, Mark has a duo dorm, but no confirmed roommate. I just remembered this*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"So... It looks like you're looking for a second roommate? O-Or already have one? I-I took a single room... It felt weird sharing space with a h-human creature.\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"So... It looks like you're looking for a second roommate? O-Or already have one? I-I took a single room... It felt weird sharing space with a h-human creature.\"\n\n\"I am, yes! I don't have one yet\"\n\n*Mark wondered why she thought of humans as creatures... Yet again, he saw her past form as a creature. Not much of a difference...*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I hope they're going to be nice... If they give you problems, I can let you stay over at my pl-place,\"Raizel said, now looking out from the window to check out the view."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"I hope they're going to be nice... If they give you problems, I can let you stay over at my pl-place,\"Raizel said, now looking out from the window to check out the view.\n\n\"I hope so, too. And... Let's hope there are no problems!\"\n\n*Mark smiles, then turning to her. He had cookware in his dorm, because he knew how to cook. But he didn't have a kitchen in here I don't think... Idk how dorms work*\n\n\"Would you like something to eat?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Her pointed doglike ears popped up from her head when she heard the mention of \"Something to eat\" Made her look chipper. \"Foodi!?\" She spun on her heel to look at him with a delighted stare. A wooden, pliable dog tail wiggled behind Raizel gleefully."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "Her pointed doglike ears popped up from her head when she heard the mention of \"Something to eat\" Made her look chipper. \"Foodi!?\" She spun on her heel to look at him with a delighted stare. A wooden, pliable dog tail wiggled behind Raizel gleefully.\n\n*He only now noticed her ears and tail. As she turned to him and exclaimed 'food', he couldn't help but blush in how adorable that was*\n\n\"Hehe... Yes. Food. I don't have a kitchen, but I have these microwavable Korean dumplings! They are very good!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"N-never tried them! Let's go get some good eats!\" She almost seem to almost want to jump in joy at the thought of new food. Her ember eyes twinkled, looking so forward to the korean dumplings. \"I was al-always so scared to make myself food here. It's all so new to me so I don't bother. Using ovens and microwaves are too w-weird!\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"N-never tried them! Let's go get some good eats!\" She almost seem to almost want to jump in joy at the thought of new food. Her ember eyes twinkled, looking so forward to the korean dumplings. \"I was al-always so scared to make myself food here. It's all so new to me so I don't bother. Using ovens and microwaves are too w-weird!\"\n\n\"It's more of a snack than a meal, so I hope you're not *Too* Hungry... Hehe.\"\n\n*Mark takes them out the box and puts them in the microwave. In time, he takes a box out with 6 Korean dumplings and hands it to her*\n\n\"Here you go!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Hmm... I'm always hungry? S-Sometimes I just go out and eat a deer or find some other animal to m-munch on..\" She followed him to the kitchen where she sits on the counter, swaying her legs as she watched him. Raizel couldn't help but watch the dumplings twirl in the humming microwave. When she gets her dumpling, she sips in the scent of its aroma before taking a hefty bite. Contemplating on the flavor, she decides that she lives it. And takes another hefty bite with a \"Nyom\" Before chewing it more slower to savor the taste."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Hmm... I'm always hungry? S-Sometimes I just go out and eat a deer or find some other animal to m-munch on..\" She followed him to the kitchen where she sits on the counter, swaying her legs as she watched him. Raizel couldn't help but watch the dumplings twirl in the humming microwave. When she gets her dumpling, she sips in the scent of its aroma before taking a hefty bite. Contemplating on the flavor, she decides that she lives it. And takes another hefty bite with a \"Nyom\" Before chewing it more slower to savor the taste.\n\n\"Haha... Big eat, eh? I don't eat too much... Just enough, yknow?\"\n\n*Mark was glad that she liked it, and he had his own dumplings*\n\n\"Wait... Do you eat them raw?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Well... I-I need a lot of energy to get around in the w-wild... And I do have a massive form that requires it.\" Raizel finishes her first dumpling but doesn't take the next one unless Mark gives it to her. \"Mhm...? Wh-why?\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Well... I-I need a lot of energy to get around in the w-wild... And I do have a massive form that requires it.\" Raizel finishes her first dumpling but doesn't take the next one unless Mark gives it to her. \"Mhm...? Wh-why?\"\n\n\"Yeah... Your big form was cool... I like this one, too. In this form you're pretty, but in the other one, you're more majestic. Oh- uhm, here.\"\n\n*Mark stabs into a dumpling with his form and he points it to Raizel so she can eat it*\n\n\"Raw meat? Oof... I guess your form gives you a better immune system, because a normal human can't do that or their stomach will flip.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Her cheeks flushed pink while her mouth was full after taking a big bite from the dumpling. How to react to the compliment only made her swallow her food down. Gulp! And she looks down bashfully, rubbing the back of her neck. \"I-I guess? Al-always did have to go hunt food... I sometimes cook it because flavor. Or go out to the r-reservation to steal some stuff to live\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "Her cheeks flushed pink while her mouth was full after taking a big bite from the dumpling. How to react to the compliment only made her swallow her food down. Gulp! And she looks down bashfully, rubbing the back of her neck. \"I-I guess? Al-always did have to go hunt food... I sometimes cook it because flavor. Or go out to the r-reservation to steal some stuff to live\"\n\n*Mark was innocent enough to have said that only as a compliment, so he thought nothing of it*\n\n\"I see... Well, you won't have to do that anymore... I could cook for you!\"\n\n*Mark smiles kindly to the girl*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"You would?\" Raizel look surprised, nibbling on the korean dumpling. \"Th-that's a little odd... I don't think I remember anyone cooking for me before. If you want me to kill s-something for food, I will do it.\" This girl isn't afraid to get her hands dirty."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"You would?\" Raizel look surprised, nibbling on the korean dumpling. \"Th-that's a little odd... I don't think I remember anyone cooking for me before. If you want me to kill s-something for food, I will do it.\" This girl isn't afraid to get her hands dirty.\n\n\"Yeah! I actually like to cook, so it wouldn't be a problem!\"\n\n*The amazing combination of a person not used to kindness, and another person who is super kind. Lol*\n\n\"Maybe I'll take you up on that offer. One day you can hunt and I'll cook what you bring!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Okay, I'll be l-looking forward to it!\" She was now hyped since after eating the dumpling, it confirmed that she still has a chance to try out modern food. \"Okay. Name the target and I'll go kill, clean and bring it in!\" She was pretty good at hunting, especially killing a critter for food to bring back. \"O-Or I can just surprise you with what I bring?\" And she thinks on the things that she could catch in the woods."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Okay, I'll be l-looking forward to it!\" She was now hyped since after eating the dumpling, it confirmed that she still has a chance to try out modern food. \"Okay. Name the target and I'll go kill, clean and bring it in!\" She was pretty good at hunting, especially killing a critter for food to bring back. \"O-Or I can just surprise you with what I bring?\" And she thinks on the things that she could catch in the woods.\n\n\"Mhm! Now... Wanna finish the dumpling?\"\n\n*Mark points the fork over at her again with the dumpling. He was waiting for her to finish it before he ate another*\n\n\"Hmmm... A surprise would be nice. I mean... I'm surprising you with what I cook!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Nyom!\" Her mouth widens and closed over the dumpling as she pulls back to munch it. There was a tingle in the back of her jaw where she placed her hand over it. A faint blush spread across her face from the yummy flavor. \"Mhmmm..\" She says, looking distracted from eating the dumpling."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Nyom!\" Her mouth widens and closed over the dumpling as she pulls back to munch it. There was a tingle in the back of her jaw where she placed her hand over it. A faint blush spread across her face from the yummy flavor. \"Mhmmm..\" She says, looking distracted from eating the dumpling.\n\n*Mark smiles, then stabbing his fork into a dumpling and popping it into his mouth*\n\n\"Hehe... The sounds you make are funny... In a good way, of course!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Pfft!\" She says after swalling the dumpling. \"I don't make those sounds!\" She covered her mouth, blushing as she now tries to remember about making them. \"Do I make them?!\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Pfft!\" She says after swalling the dumpling. \"I don't make those sounds!\" She covered her mouth, blushing as she now tries to remember about making them. \"Do I make them?!\"\n\n\"Yeah... The little 'nyom' noises, hehe! It's not a bad thing of course!\"\n\n*After eating one more dumpling, he grabs the last dumpling with the fork and points it to her*\n\n\"You can have the last one!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "There was no hesitation from Raizel when she nyom on the last dumpling. It was one of the few, rarest best modern snacks she had so far. After finish eating, Rai couldn't help but gave a genuine smile. \"Thank you, it was a good meal,\" She said, wiggling her tail."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "There was no hesitation from Raizel when she nyom on the last dumpling. It was one of the few, rarest best modern snacks she had so far. After finish eating, Rai couldn't help but gave a genuine smile. \"Thank you, it was a good meal,\" She said, wiggling her tail.\n\n\"You're welcome! I enjoyed it too.\"\n\n*Mark set threw the fork away, for it was a plastic fork. He just noticed that they used the same fork... Well... She didn't notice so he shouldn't make such a big deal about it*\n\n\"So... Anything you wanna do?\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Raizel is a healthy girl, she didn't think anything of using the same fork. And it won't occur to her if Mark would mention it. \"Wanna make an outdoor s-swing? I wanted to make one but material is a little harder to get... But I got em n-now.\"\n\nShe takes out her cellphone, fumbled with it, took her a bit of time until she found a picture that she is looking for. \"I-It would look like this?\" Of course, she plans on making two swings."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "She takes out her cellphone, fumbled with it, took her a bit of time until she found a picture that she is looking for. \"I-It would look like this?\" Of course, she plans on making two swings.\n\n\"Okay, sure! I'm not very good with making stuff like that, but I'll help all I can! I can paint them, too!\"\n\n*Mark smiles, giggling a bit he stumbled a bit, making sure she didn't drop her phone. He was overjoyed... Who wouldn't be with a new friend?*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I got it in my room, it will be a moment to g-get them,\" Raizel said, not sliding off from the counter to land on her feet. \"Fix swings and paint them later? I saved up my a-allowance money to buy paint. Wanna pick out a color?\" She asked."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"I got it in my room, it will be a moment to g-get them,\" Raizel said, not sliding off from the counter to land on her feet. \"Fix swings and paint them later? I saved up my a-allowance money to buy paint. Wanna pick out a color?\" She asked.\n\n\"Actually... I have paint! I practice many forms of art, including painting!\"\n\n*Mark smiles, nodding his head. He was amazing with many types of art*\n\n\"You have an allowance? Cool!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Oh! That solves it, thanks!\" And she was already walking out from the kitchen, peaks in to look at Mark, as if expecting him to follow. \"M-mhm! I get it once in awhile, I-I prefer to save it unless I want to use it.\" And she is going to her room to get the sack of materials to make the swings."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Oh! That solves it, thanks!\" And she was already walking out from the kitchen, peaks in to look at Mark, as if expecting him to follow. \"M-mhm! I get it once in awhile, I-I prefer to save it unless I want to use it.\" And she is going to her room to get the sack of materials to make the swings.\n\n\"Mhm!\"\n\n*Mark smiles, immediately following Raizel. As she looks back, she would find him right behind her*\n\n\"Ooooh cool! And now I get to see your dorm!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Her single room bedroom smelled of cedar, slight hint of white sage and other ritualistic spices. The floor had a cedar woven carpet with a fure bed. A literal, furred bed with its own pillow. The actual bed was left untouched with some school books and a backpack. From the ceiling there are a lot of handmade ornaments of bones, bone carvings and other trinkets mixed in with some dream catches. Instead of mundance curtains, they got replaced by a weaved cedar mat and a thick blanket with native designs. Along the walls there's frightening north american indian masks that seem to stare at Mark. What stood out was the bentwood box sitting beside the dresser near her bed.\n\n\"Okay, I got the stuff!\" Raizel said, slinging the sack over her shoulder."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "Her single room bedroom smelled of cedar, slight hint of white sage and other ritualistic spices. The floor had a cedar woven carpet with a fure bed. A literal, furred bed with its own pillow. The actual bed was left untouched with some school books and a backpack. From the ceiling there are a lot of handmade ornaments of bones, bone carvings and other trinkets mixed in with some dream catches. Instead of mundance curtains, they got replaced by a weaved cedar mat and a thick blanket with native designs. Along the walls there's frightening north american indian masks that seem to stare at Mark. What stood out was the bentwood box sitting beside the dresser near her bed.\n\n*Mark was not prepared for such a sight. He stares at the decorations, then at Raizel as she dug through her stuff*\n\n\"O-Oh...\"\n\n*Mark stated back at the masks with a scared expression. He then nods with an awkward smile to Raizel*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She hums to herself happily as she leaves her museum-like room. The girl didn't seem bothered to be living in a rather creepy room, but to her, it was just like home. When she turned to Mark, the girl stared at him with a questionable look. \"You're n-not use to culture?\" She asked bluntly."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "She hums to herself happily as she leaves her museum-like room. The girl didn't seem bothered to be living in a rather creepy room, but to her, it was just like home. When she turned to Mark, the girl stared at him with a questionable look. \"You're n-not use to culture?\" She asked bluntly.\n\n\"Hehe... Not yours, at least. Its an amazing room, though!\"\n\n*Mark smiles, chuckling awkwardly. He liked his room better lmao*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "When they head out to the woods, Raizel would make sure to triple check the strength of the branch before beginning to make the swing. \"So, t-tell me if the seat is balanced while I am up here.\" She, of course, is on the thick branch, making sure she has the knots right."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "When they head out to the woods, Raizel would make sure to triple check the strength of the branch before beginning to make the swing. \"So, t-tell me if the seat is balanced while I am up here.\" She, of course, is on the thick branch, making sure she has the knots right.\n\n\"Right... B-Be careful!'\n\n*Mark was worried for her, but trusted in her skill. If she fell, however, he would try his best to catch her. For now, he watches the seat*\n\n\"I believe in you!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"O-Okay! Is the seat in equal length!? L-Like balanced!?\" She asked, looking down at him. It look like she had good balance for now."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"O-Okay! Is the seat in equal length!? L-Like balanced!?\" She asked, looking down at him. It look like she had good balance for now.\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\n*Mark smiles after checking the seat. He then looks up to Raizel with a thumbs up*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Okay!\" And she makes sure she got the knots properly secure before she comes crawling down to inspect the swing. \"H-hey, it looks even! Good job!\" And she tests its out to make sure it can handle her heavy weight."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Okay!\" And she makes sure she got the knots properly secure before she comes crawling down to inspect the swing. \"H-hey, it looks even! Good job!\" And she tests its out to make sure it can handle her heavy weight.\n\n*Surely she wasn't that heavy, in human form, at least*\n\n\"Its okay! You're the one who did it!\""
},
{
"author": "yaboiender1832",
"message": "Oh that is a tiny response. Sorry"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Did you pick out the color you w-wanted to paint it?\" Raizel asked, looking over her shoulder at him."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Did you pick out the color you w-wanted to paint it?\" Raizel asked, looking over her shoulder at him.\n\n\"No, actually! I have more than one color, and for you... You get to choose! You can get Red, Blue, Green, Purple, Yellow, or Pink!\"\n\n*Mark smiles, patting her shoulder*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Hmmm... I think... Blue!\" She looks excited as she remove herself from the seat of the swing. \"What color are you p-picking?\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Hmmm... I think... Blue!\" She looks excited as she remove herself from the seat of the swing. \"What color are you p-picking?\"\n\n\"Green!\"\n\n*Mark paints the seat with the blue paint. He was sure to paint every part of the seat*\n\n\"Dont sit down here, okay? The paint is wet!\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Ooo, green... Its going to match the blue s-seat,\" Raizel said, taking a seat on the mossy part of the ground. She is curiously watching him paint. \"We got a spot to h-hang out now.\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Ooo, green... Its going to match the blue s-seat,\" Raizel said, taking a seat on the mossy part of the ground. She is curiously watching him paint. \"We got a spot to h-hang out now.\"\n\n\"Yeah! That's good!\"\n\n*Mark sits down next to Raizel, smiling softly. He thinks for a bit, then turns his head to Raizel*\n\n\"How nice... A place we can just hang out.\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"The school is a little bl-bland, the kids can be d-destructive sometimes... Having a small place to relax would be nice,\" Raizel said, still looking at the swings. She was admiring their handiwork."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"The school is a little bl-bland, the kids can be d-destructive sometimes... Having a small place to relax would be nice,\" Raizel said, still looking at the swings. She was admiring their handiwork.\n\n\"Yeah... How long have you been here?\"\n\n*Mark leaned on a tree behind them. He hummed softly and quietly after he talked*\n\n\"Relax time is the best time...\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Two summers I think?\" Raizel said, watching the swings slightly move from a breeze. \"I haven't been keeping much track of the time. When they found me, I-I don't even know my own age. They-They kinda just gave me an identity and put me here.\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Two summers I think?\" Raizel said, watching the swings slightly move from a breeze. \"I haven't been keeping much track of the time. When they found me, I-I don't even know my own age. They-They kinda just gave me an identity and put me here.\"\n\n\"Oh... So like two years? At least you're used to it. You know... The whole thing with your form... It's so cool. I wonder... Which form do you like more?\"\n\n*Mark tilts his head as he asked*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I like to take on the form th-that looks like mum...\" Raizel said, a sad smile could be seen."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"I like to take on the form th-that looks like mum...\" Raizel said, a sad smile could be seen.\n\n\"...Mum?\"\n\n*Mark turns to Raizel with a confused look. He tilts his head as he saw her somber smile*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Mhm... Mum, she was much, much bigger than th-that form. She took care of me and t-taught me how to live. She died along with the others who look like me but... Not in this soft form.\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Mhm... Mum, she was much, much bigger than th-that form. She took care of me and t-taught me how to live. She died along with the others who look like me but... Not in this soft form.\"\n\n\"Oh... I'm so sorry. ...Do you want a hug? I don't know-...\"\n\n*Mark had a sympathetic look. Like he truly cared and worried for her*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"A hug? I-I don't know... Haven't really properly grieved about it...\" Raizel admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. \"They took me away f-from my home when I tr-tried protecting it..\""
},
{
"author": "Martin Garza",
"message": "\"A hug? I-I don't know... Haven't really properly grieved about it...\" Raizel admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. \"They took me away f-from my home when I tr-tried protecting it..\"\n\n*Mark blushes and faces away. Wrong move. Got it.*\n\n\"You lost your mother and your home... I'm so sorry to hear that...\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"It's okay... I-I make sure they won't take their bodies away to a m-museum... A lot of humans don't have respect... A lot of my stuff got stolen. It wasn't all that fair for them... T-to do that to me..\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"It's okay... I-I make sure they won't take their bodies away to a m-museum... A lot of humans don't have respect... A lot of my stuff got stolen. It wasn't all that fair for them... T-to do that to me..\"\n\n*Mark started crying. No noise, just tears. He felt so bad for her... Tears fell as he looks to Raizel*\n\n\"Y-You have gone through so much... How could they...\""
},
{
"author": "yaboiender1832",
"message": "I just noticed I used the wrong Tupper up there. Lmfao"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "She look surprised when Mark was starting to shed tears. \"Gah?!\" She quickly turns to wipe away his tears with her sleeve. \"I-It's a long time ago! I-I mean, I buried my entire family in a avalanche s-so it should be okay!\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "She look surprised when Mark was starting to shed tears. \"Gah?!\" She quickly turns to wipe away his tears with her sleeve. \"I-It's a long time ago! I-I mean, I buried my entire family in a avalanche s-so it should be okay!\"\n\n\"B-But you're so kiiiiind... I'm just thinking about how you could go through such a thing...\"\n\n*More tears fell as she wiped them. He wanted to hug her, but she didn't take up his offer. He didn't want to do anything without permission yknow?*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"I-It's called life? I-I'm okay, Newton Cradel didn't kick me out yet? Th-think I am still young still to b-be here?\" Raizel said, looking more worried as he cried. \"Umm... Uhh... Here..\" She pulls him into a hug to try make him feel better."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"I-It's called life? I-I'm okay, Newton Cradel didn't kick me out yet? Th-think I am still young still to b-be here?\" Raizel said, looking more worried as he cried. \"Umm... Uhh... Here..\" She pulls him into a hug to try make him feel better.\n\n*Mark was confused... She was so... Fine with it. She was over it all. Maybe he was the only one overreacting. He stops crying and wipes his tears away*\n\n\"Y-Yeah... I'm sorry-\"\n\n*Mark gets pulled into the hug unexpectedly. His face goes red, and he hugs her back. His body was warm, and rather soft...*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"It's okay... I-I think I haven't told anyone about it? It was kind of h-hard to talk about it, then,\" Raizel said, comforting Mark. He was so soft and squishy like a baby otter. She couldn't help herself but cuddle this little creature."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"It's okay... I-I think I haven't told anyone about it? It was kind of h-hard to talk about it, then,\" Raizel said, comforting Mark. He was so soft and squishy like a baby otter. She couldn't help herself but cuddle this little creature.\n\n*Mark blushes even more as she cuddles him, but he just wipes his tears and hugs her sincerely*\n\n\"Yeah... I'm sorry I cried. I'm just too sensitive... But I'm glad you're okay right now...\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Time heals... I know mum doesn't want me to-to be sad all the time,\" She said, now cuddling him like he's a little puppy. \"It's okay. I didn't realize how sad it is.\""
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Time heals... I know mum doesn't want me to-to be sad all the time,\" She said, now cuddling him like he's a little puppy. \"It's okay. I didn't realize how sad it is.\"\n\n\"Mhm...\"\n\n*Yeah there was no way he was gonna get used to this. He just smiles softly and giggles as she does what she does*\n\n\"This feels nice...\""
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "\"Mhm... I'm getting really sleepy, is it okay we nap here?\" Raizel asked, petting the back of his soft hair."
},
{
"author": "Mark (Esteban) Dominguez",
"message": "\"Mhm... I'm getting really sleepy, is it okay we nap here?\" Raizel asked, petting the back of his soft hair.\n\n\"U-Uhm... Sure!\"\n\n*Mark's hair was soft and fluffy. Curly hair is fuckin magical. Mark's body seemed to get warmer as he got more relaxed*"
},
{
"author": "thescythe3354",
"message": "Raizel was much bigger than Mark, he just held him in her arms as she leans her back against the tree. \"Things are going to be alright..\" She yawns before closing her eyes."
}
] | 78 | 6,530 |
224.545455 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "Hehehehhehehehehehehe"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*Cough, cough.*\n\n*Nakanishi laid in bed quietly, trying her best to stifle the constant coughing which had been going on for the last few hours now. It was too early in the morning to be waking up Koyama-San because she was sick. Cough. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, and no amount of crisp tap water would soothe it. She put the back of her hand to her forehead. Unfortunately, she couldn't feel its warmth under her insulating gloves, so she decided to put her hand down and returned it to her mouth to block some of the noise of her coughing. Nakanishi laid with her back facing towards Koyama-San's bed, coughing quietly into her gloved hands.*\n\n*Nakanishi is covered in the thick blanket was included with the bed, with Sazaki-Chan, the blanket she has owned and loved since she was much younger, underneath the bed's blanket. She wore her coat and long pants as well, as she didn't have the energy to change into different clothes. As Nakanishi tried to sniffle some snot back into her nose, she suddenly sneezed loudly, spraying mucus onto the palms of her gloves. Worried that she might've just woken Koyama-San up, she slowly turned her head as her eyes gazed as far as they could into the corners of her vision to watch for any movement from her green-haired friend.*\n\n*After staring for a few moments, Nakanishi sighed with relief as Koyama-San still seemed to be sleeping, and slowly reached over to the night stand next to her bed, feeling around until she found a tissue box. She then wiped her gloves clean with a couple wads of tissue paper and placed it in the trash can before she snaked her arms back under the two blankets as an unending string of coughs continued rocking her poor lungs.*"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "Bold of you to assume he was asleep, Nishi. Moru struggles to sleep, and he can't just ask Uriel, as much as he would want to. It... It doesn't feel good, to always ask them for everything, while having very little to offer in return. He doesn't like feeling like he's *Using* Uriel. And he doesn't want them to get that impression either.\n\nIt's in this moment of consideration and anxiety that he hears a little cough. He tries not to think too much of it at first... Then it sounds again. He turns on his side, facing Nishi's side of the room.\n\n\"Hey. Uhm... What's the phrase... Daijōbu desu ka? Did I- I think that's right..\" He has picked up- or has tried to pick up- a few phrases. He sits up with a yawn.\n\nShe seems to be not the most okay, to be honest. \n\n*Oh. She's sick.*\n\nHe reaches forward, turning on his lamp, showing that he is in fact awake and he will be remaining that way."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*When she suddenly hears Koyama-San's voice break the silence of the room, Nakanishi gasped as her eyes shot open. An unfamiliar tongue belonging to a familiar voice, only to hear him ask if she was alright in a language she understood. She slowly turned onto her back, then onto her other side, facing his side of the room. She heard the shuffling of blankets, then a click. She squinted a bit as the lamp's yellowish light flooded the room in an instant, bombarding her eyes with photons as her pupils shrank.*\n\n*It was comforting to finally see Koyama-San's familiar green hair again. Another string of coughs escaped her mouth, which she tried to cover with her hands. Now that she knew he was awake, she wasn't trying as hard to stifle her coughs anymore. She slowly reached for her smartphone, her Samsung Galaxy A20, and turned it on before unlocking it and opening her translation app.*\n\n*She spoke in Japanese.* `\"Ka-Kaze o hiita... M-mitai...\"` *Despite her voice being quiet and somewhat hoarse, her phone managed to pick up on her voice and translate it into the language that her grass-colored-haired friend understood. She turned up the volume to its highest setting, flipped the phone around to face its screen towards him, and allowed the app to speak to him.* [I think I caught a cold,] *The phone parroted in Swedish.*"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "\"Sorry-\" He smiles a tiny bit, trying to be reassuring. He should have warned before turning on the lamp, but it's too late now. \n\nHe does not speak Swedish, but luckily Japanese is pretty phonetic, so he can easily put it into his own phone, which is probably an android. \n\n\"Oh, shoot. Uhm.\"\nWhat does he do. What does he do. She's sick. And he feels terrible. How does he help. He wants to help so bad. \n\nHe types into his phone, and it repeats in Japanese: \"[Can I get you anything? Water or Aspirin or something?']\""
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*Nakanishi listens carefully to the monotone voice from across the room. Water, or aspirin. Nakanishi knew the answer already, so she spoke that into her phone and allowed the app to translate. She turned the phone back to Koyama-San once again and allows the app to speak to him. This time, in English.* [I would like some water, please.] *Her own phone had that same synthetic voice, one of many nearly identical ones out there. She can't even remember the last time she was able to hear her own voice at a higher volume than a whisper. Her phone had been her voice this entire time.*\n\n*As Koyama-San went to retrieve some water for Nakanishi, she allowed her arm to go limp, kind of dropping the phone flat on its face on the bed, which allowed it to simply shut itself off. Cough, cough, cough. Nakanishi regretted spending so much time out in the rain looking for Muto-San yesterday. She just wanted to be loyal to her beloved stray cat and help it find some shelter. Perhaps it already had found shelter, even before she started looking for him...*"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "\"Right. Yeah.\" He nods. \"Uhhhh...\" \"[Be right back]\"\nWith that, he slides out of bed, puts on some slippers, and hurries off. Water. Water. \n\nOooough he's nervous. He's so very nervous. He can't explain *Why.* It's not like this will actually, like, cause permanent harm to Nishi. But still, he worries. He can't help but worry. It's what Mamoru does best.\n\n\nShe must have caught a cold from the rain the day before. Moru remembers that it rained. And she really loves that cat. So... Probably. But he can't be upset with her or blame her at all. He always wanted a pet himself.\n\nMoru is back in a few minutes with a cool water bottle, opening it and crouching in front of Nishi's bed. His hair is pulled into a scrunchie, but it's become messy overnight. \nHe also needs to retouch the dye... Another thing to worry about, just later.\n\nHe holds it out to her. This is tugging at his heart strings. Damn.\nHis face is concerned."
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "Heeeeeeeeehehehehehhehehehe"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*As Koyama-San got up to fetch a bottle of water for her, Nakanishi immediately began to feel bad for troubling him this early in the morning with her sickness. It's... What was the time again...? Nakanishi checked it on her phone. It was two o'clock in the morning. Right. Another string of coughs temporarily derailed her train of thought, only for it to magically float onto its tracks again. Now she somewhat regretted going out to find Muto-San. Cough, cough cough. He probably would've been fine anyways. Now, it was having an effect on Koyama-San's sleep. She wanted him to take care of himself first.*\n\n*But that isn't to say that Nakanishi wasn't grateful that he wanted to help her out; she was actually very, very grateful. Nakanishi closed her eyes for a moment, only to hear approaching footsteps and water sloshing within a plastic bottle. Her weary eyes opened up again to see Koyama-San crouching down in front of her with a bottle of crisp water in his hands. Once he holds it out to her, she slowly reaches for the bottle and gently takes it with both of her hands. When another string of coughs came up, she turned her head away so that she wouldn't be spraying germs at Koyama-San.*\n\n*Then, when it came time to drink, it was only then that Nakanishi realized how thirsty she really was. Without a second thought, she put the mouth of her bottle to her lips and began to sip it. Her gentle, ladylike sips quickly turned into a chug as she tried to hydrate herself as quickly as possible. When the bottle was about half empty, she stopped, pulling the bottle away from her lips as she let out a sigh of relief.*"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "Moru? Awake at 2 AM? It's an almost daily thing, not that he's really let Nishi in on that. He'd feel bad, troubling her with his mental health issues. She's a lot younger than him, it wouldn't be right.\n\nEvery time she coughs it feels like something is squeezing his heart. He never had any siblings. He never had a younger sister. But it feels like he does now. And god is he worried for her. It's probably just a cold or something, but *Still.*\n\nHe smiles a bit as she goes for the chug. \"Careful..\" He murmurs, not wanting her to drink *Too* Quickly. But she seems fine. That's good. \n\n\"Uhhh..\" He quickly types into his phone. \"[Anything else you need? I was awake anyways, I don't mind at all.]\" It's true, though he won't go into the reasons why his sleep schedule is such a fucked up mess right now."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*Nakanishi is about to chug some more water when she stops herself and realizes that Mamoru was still right next to her. She remembered her parents and how they used to remind her not to chug her drinks from time to time, stating that it would be quite boorish to drink so quickly and noisily. As her parents' constant reminders and teachings of politeness and being proper were ingrained into her mind, she lowered her water bottle and broke eye contact with Mamoru while her cheeks flushed a slightly brighter shade of red out of embarrassment.*\n\n*When she heard Mamoru's phone speak again, she turned to him, her large gray eyes' gaze fixing onto his. She thinks for a moment, lowering her head slightly and averting her gaze downwards, though her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a loud sneeze, which she makes sure to trap in her gloves to prevent herself from spraying germs at Mamoru, just like her coughs. She sniffled, then looked at her night stand to make sure she had her box of tissues. It was still there. A white sheet stuck up from the box. She picked up her phone and opened the translator app before talking quietly to it, her voice somewhat hoarse still. After that, she turns the phone around and lets the app parrot away.* [I do not think I need anything else at the moment, but thank you very much, Koyama-San. I am very sorry for chugging my water earlier, it was impolite of me.]"
}
] | 241 | 2,470 |
369.058824 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "I type in a second, just getting painting stuff set up <33\n\nLate nights bled into early mornings without changing their shape, hours melted away into the soft blanket fibres, forgotten kernels of popcorn, and long, even breaths taken in Owen's room. The machinations of the swiftly turning planet were all the same to the boy sprawled out on the dark sheets, arm slung over his dearest friend beneath all the cold twinkling stars, warm and softly dozing.\n\nOutside the window, cracked open just a couple of centimetres, the sun was rising late; it reached languid golden fingertips through the mist between the trees to touch every star, sending them off into the morning. Beneath a layer or four of heavy blankets, another set of warm fingertips drummed against the side of a silvery figure much closer to the earth.\n\n\"Hey.\"\n\nA whisper, barely-there, husky from a stretch of deep sleep. Owen's crooked smile stretched across his face before he groggily wiped the sand from his eyes, heavy head dropping back to the pillow just a breath away from Uriel's.\n\nLegs tentatively brushed somewhere out of sight, and a knot mewled in Owen's stomach— he had something for them. He needed them to open their silvery eyes, and respond to the gentle squeeze at their arm.\n\n*\"Hey!\"*\n\nWide, gold-flecked doe eyes peered almost unblinkingly up at their face.\n\n*\"Uri!\"*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "A dignified awakening might have been what one would have expected from the dream-weaver; instead, at the insistent noise, Uriel let out a small whine from the back of their throat.\n\nImages of their mother having a tea party with them in a forest clearing, talking about how they've grown up to be a fine young person and, oh, you're almost twenty, how old you've grown since you were a child who would make sure all of your stuffed animals had equal cuddle time— those images faded away from their mind, a dark room and a sunny face looking down at them. \n\n\"Mmmm,\" Uri sighed, grabbing the arm draped across their chest and pulling it higher up, like one would a blanket. Their eyes blink open, not dissimilar from a newborn kitten opening it's eyes for the first time, and Uriel turns to face Owen. \n\n\"Mmmphm?\" They repeat themselves, wiggling around a bit to shake off the sleep from their joints and satisfy the primal urge to be covered by copious amounts of blanket. \"Mmmpgmh.\" They follow up. \n\nOne. Two. Just when it seems as if they fell right back asleep... \n\n\"Owen? What.. Time is it?\" Their eyes are fully open now, and they're close— scooting to be pressed against his chest, blinking up at him with a confused expression."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"MmnnnhhhIdon'tknow,\" He mumbled back, blinking slowly as a groggy wave of heat crawled to his face. Though there were still cobwebs aplenty in his brain, the redhead's heart picked up the pace under theirs. For a moment, he felt bad he woke them up on their birthday, but their sleepy eyes blinking at him so perplexed and cuddly, and their soft pressure on his chest just— it summoned the urge to crush their ribs.\n\nHe pulled his other arm, still tingling and half-asleep, out from wherever it had been before and pulled them yet closer to his warm trunk, pressing their faces together. Owen couldn't give an explanation for what he did next, beyond the inexplicable fact that it needed to be done.\n\nOwen kissed the soft part of their cheek once, twice, three times. His nose poked their cheekbone, soft puffs of air dusting their downy curls. He had had *Something* To say, surely, but it was of little importance under pressing a proper 'good morning' into their sweet, discombobulated face. Invisible hints of stubble grazed the rumpled sheet-pattern pressed into their skin, and a pleased hum rumbled from his throat.\n\n\"Goodmorn... Hellobirth-day...\"\n\nWhoops. That was supposed to be.. Only one of those things at once drowsily murmured into their ear, but the boy's brain floated in molasses and so, it seemed, did his tongue. Anyone else would find it difficult for a punctuating grunt to be bashful somehow, but Uriel might not find it so hard.\n\nThe world was late pink sunlight and mist and groggy affection, all tangled together with the nibbling excitement in his stomach. His hold around them tightened."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "In the morning haze and thick air, Uriel felt something they had never felt before. \n\nA squeamish feeling— one that made their knees feel like jelly, a feeling that tightened around their chest like a noose. It brought a needless heat to their cheeks that was *Certainly* Visible thanks to their albino complexion, and their breath came out in shaky, uneven exhales. It made their chest rattle, and Uriel only grew more red at the very visible effect that suddenly encased them.\n\nHis lips were chapped, and his stubble felt a bit sandpapery.*Ticklish*, they thought, and wished he could do this forever. *Him*, they continued, their every senses focused on Owen's puffs of breath against their skin, and the flutter of eyelashes on their cheek. \n\nHe was strong, too— he squeezed them as if he never wanted to let go, as if they were **Important to him.** *Don't you see?* A little voice in their head piped up. *That's all I've ever wanted to be.*\n\nAt the little noise he made, a new and foreign thought bubbled to the top of their mind. It was *Want*— for someone who had sworn themselves to a duty far grander than they could ever hope to achieve, Uriel had long since removed any sense of deserving anything they desired. But there the thought was, basking in the open in the morning fog. Whatever logic and rules they had bound themselves and their thoughts to were unable to function at such early hours. \n\nAnd so Uriel wanted, without remorse. \n\nTheir paper-white hands rose from their side, cupping his cheeks. He's already so, so close, and they'd hate to pull him away— not when they could see the flecks of gold and green in his sleepy, half-lidded eyes. A sweet sigh, a gentle tilt of their head... \n\n...And their lips kiss the tip of his nose."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen's wide-eyed, mildly dazed expression lagged a minute behind the rush of heat that pushed from behind it; faint trails of gold twisted in the deep bloom of red behind his suddenly giddy smile, a wave of heat like a bonfire emanating from his skin and the strong hands on their back.\n\n*Oh!*\n\nThe hum in his throat seemed to reverberate through his whole body beneath them, as though a much greater creature were soaking up the feeling of their eyes on him, their hands cupping his fever-hot jaw, their weight on his chest. \n\nIt was a happy sound.\n\n They conjured it up like it was nothing at all; a lure pulled from a pond of distant noise, heavy with the tips of his every nerve, and the two black pools trained solely on *Them* And their eyelashes like powdered snow and their cheeks that were as pink as sunrises and the gravity around them that made his head blissfully heavy as sweet dreams beneath a rainstorm.\n\nThe gesture made his heart flutter a little, was all.\n\nOwen considered saying something cheeky like *\"Is that all, then?\"* Or *\"Your birthday,* You *Get the kisses,\"* But all that fit was a simple\n\n\"C'mere, *You*...\"\n\nFour, five, six, and seven peppered their face across the splash of pink under their skin, the soft hollows beneath their cheekbones, the tip of their nose that turned up like a last little flourish a sculptor would place on a masterpiece. How lucky he was, to be holding them like he was, playfully rolling them both onto their sides, cupping their jaw and pressing the side of their head deeper still into his barrage of pecks and little puffs of laughter. The boy who hardly even noticed the dark strands of copper in his eyes boiled over with wordless adoration, and Uriel made giving in to such a feeling so easy.\n\n\"If you- stop- being- so- bloody- lovable- for- *Five-* Minutes- andthirty-threeseconds on your *Birthday*,\" He managed between exaggerated pecks, \"I might have something for you.\"\n_ _\n\nAnd with that he pressed his wide, nervous smile into them one more time before pulling away to face them, *Appropriately* Sheepish about such a brazen display."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Bloody loveable*? Kisses on the face? \n\nSomething inside of Uriel stopped functioning in that moment. \n\n\"You have something for me..?\" Their face flushes. \"I— I didn't expect...\" \n\nThe words die inside of Uriel's throat. They swallow, and they still can't find their train of thought, instead opting to look at Owen with round, shining eyes. \n\n\"I...\" They try to find words, but instead a whine escapes from their throat.\n\nThis was too much. Surely, there was a threshold to these kinds of things— they were getting too excited, too happy, the foreign feeling in their stomach too bubbly to make sense of.\n\nOwen pulled away bashfully, and Uriel did the same, face beet red with blood rushing to places it shouldn't. \n\nInstead, Uriel collapsed into Owen's chest, murmuring something soft into his skin. \n\n\"Show me, then.\" They whispered, hands clinging to the skin on his hips, head in the crook of his neck."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen breathed deep, composure slipping like his heavy head back into his pillow. The request seemed almost a million miles away, despite its importance barely a minute ago. He was wound instead around strong hands riding up the hem of his shirt and *Gripping* Him where it would normally be unthinkable, the tickle of a sigh against his collarbone; the curve of them against him, over his chest, enveloping him in their scent of lavender and sleep.\n\nHe exhaled and the thing in his chest hummed under his weak sigh, his heart and its formless passenger thumping miserably against thick cages of bone, muscle, flesh. If he stayed for another breath, his eyes might flutter closed, not to open again, and he would go weak all over— he would surely perish, he thought, leaning helplessly into what he feared was surefire disaster, into what he knew deep down to be bliss.\n\nThe edge of an old conversation bubbled up to brush against his lips, before flying away again; he only knew what to say in hindsight. *I'll be devoted to you too. I already am, if this is how it feels— anything, to stay like this forever.*\n\nA warm, callused hand stopped tracing circles in the downy curls at the back of their neck beneath their fluffy cascade of bedhead (when had it moved there?), hovering for a moment.\n\n\"Shove over for a second, and I will\" Was a betrayal, just barely deemed necessary to quell the sickly hot feeling squeezing his insides. His face was redder than his hair as he sat up just a little to feel around for his phone, and his headphones, and that same audio file he had been obsessing over in one form or another for months.\n\n\"I, I um,\" He stammered, any line he had rehearsed for this reveal flying straight out into the mist. He fiddled with his headphones.\n_ _\n\n\"W-when you were in my dream. Or, ah, when I woke up, I.. I couldn't forget the stars. I could still f-*Feel* You, when I started writing this, um...\" Owen took a swig of water, and felt the cold splash down into his stomach. \"I got Ares and Fin to help, but. This is, I wanted it to be for you. F-felt right.\"\n\nHis doe eyes were wide and darting madly from place to place, but his uneven smile stayed put, digging giddily into his burning cheek."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*One, two.* Slow down, pause your thinking. It was a tactic Uriel often employed when they felt too much— the waves of something bubbling in their chest were strange and terrifying, but they needed the conduit of Uriel's hands to do anything. So long as their body remained frozen, the swarm of unknown filling their chest could hurt no one besides themselves. \n\nBeing deprived of Owen was a comfort they quickly realized they were ill-suited to live without— his hands in their hair, the rise and fall of his rapidly-increasing breathing against their cheek. He spoke, and Uriel saw stars. \n\nHe *Felt them*. He couldn't forget their vision, the shared dream they so intimately enjoyed together forever ago. Uriel saw his mind bloom under them, and he was elated at their incessant eyes watching. \n\nLong ago, they would have wondered if he would feel the same about them— if their patch-work quilt of a psyche riddled with stains and holes and moths chewing the edges would scare off the man with downy fluff as a heroic cape. \n\nThey didn't worry about that anymore.\n\nUriel's heart hammered in their chest, gingerly taking the headphones from Owen's hands and placing them over their ears. Their already messy bedhead was made worse by the guest sitting around their head— strands of fluffy white hair curled down their face and tangled in the headphones, and they eagerly awaited for the dulcet tones of Owen's playing to reach their ears.\n\n\"I'm ready when you are\", they whispered, clasping his hands in their own."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"O-okay.\"\n\nOwen swallowed hard, and willed his thumb to press *Play*. If they weren't so comfortably draped over him, his leg would be bouncing madly, but the only outlets for his last few months of madness were the speakers in his headphones, resting securely over Uriel's head.\n\nHe could still feel the odd melody rumbling in his chest, digging into his fingers through all those late nights holed up in the music room, perfecting the layered collage of strange, lilting chords, sour notes bringing out the sweet, his fingers inevitably tripping over themselves in every take.\n\nThe song, as was his memory of the unfathomable sprawl of nebulas and the gravity of the universe shifting around him, was more full of energy than one might expect— it wasn't incredibly long, but it was a firestorm melting into mist, the mad world whirling back into the place their hands met in the centre of everything over the dreamily waving grass. There were no words— that would have been impossible. An odd distortion coloured the familiar low current of his Rickenbacker, blurred and organic. Almost a heartbeat, layered overtop.\n\nThey inspired all of it, every ripple in the strange dream-flowers, every corresponding flare of a guitar, every drop of sweat in his sea of madness that was *Worth it*. Their sweet face rested close enough to his heartbeat to practically taste it, the heatwaves pressed into their snow-framed cheek through his shirt. Even with no lyrics, there was little he could hide from them here. \n\nAt least, that was what he hoped. It was what he tried to make it. All the gods he had cussed out while shaping it certainly knew he had heard it too many times to say for certain anymore.\n\nIn the silence of the morning, the boy with all those clusters of stars still burning away beneath his skin sank back down to his pillow and busied himself with their hands, woven into his. \n_ _\n\nHe was fascinated by them, even when he wasn't looking for a distraction from time moving so very slowly; they were strong, and cool, and they felt good to press between his own. He gently pulled on their fingertips, traced their tendons, rubbed circles in their palms where he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that muscles tended to ache. His warm, callused fingertips marvelled at the difference between them. *Soft...*\n\nThe copper-haired composer once again fell into the orbit of their hands in his, and a strange smile reached his glittering earth-and-turmeric eyes.\n\nTime passed, or it didn't— maybe the file had looped, maybe it was longer than he remembered, maybe the turning of the planet happened slower when he stared."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Waves of notes crashed over Uriel's ears; a beautiful tapestry of sound, noise emblazed with a single sentiment, one they had never heard before. Uriel barely remembers closing their eyes— their head was too busy reeling from crashing of musical tide against their ears, the silent sound of their heart melting and solidifying just to melt again.\n\nThe song was beautiful. It was a musical blanket that covered the two lost souls laying in the Swedish dawn. To the dream-weaver, nothing else existed save for the rapidly-heating fabric beneath their palm and the steady, freckled hands idly playing with their own. \n\nIt was just Uriel, Owen, and the music. The music and that *Sentiment*, the one that carried itself in every twang of the bass that ricocheted between their ears. \n\nThe sentiment that he loved them. \nHe really, really did.\n\nIt made sense, then, what they did next— the barest breath escaped from their lips as Uriel's chin tilted up towards his in a silent plea, headphones still askew on their head.\n\nThe song looped. Uriel didn't notice."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The strong hands tangled in Uriel's fingers and in their hair weakened so when they looked at Owen like that, like he was strong and captivating and everything he ever wanted to be. He felt their breath on his face, so *Close*, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to breathe them in, for them to fill his shuddering chest.\n\nHis strong arms had no purpose now other than to loop under theirs, around their back, one hand curling down over their waist and the other tenderly spreading over the back of their neck.\n\nOne heartbeat passed, the smallest scrap of a breath hitching in his throat. He glanced at their lips and nearly saw stars.\n\nAnd then he realized that it was *Uriel* Who was looking at him like this, Uriel who he loved as easily as as smiling at the sun after a long winter, his dearest friend.\n\nIt just barely counted as a kiss when he closed his eyes, tightened his hold on them and pressed them into their goal. He was rusty, lightheaded, and his nose poked their cheek at just a slightly awkward angle, but he was determined. \n\nTheir lips were a little dry from sleep, and their eyelashes brushed against his cheek like butterfly wings, and they were soft and solid and warm in his arms where he silently begged them to remain until life was sweeter than even dreams. \n\n*If only that accursed grin they drew out of him would relax a little, so that he could do this properly...*\n\nThey pulled apart, but barely by a hair's breadth. Not even that. His warm, glinting-firelight eyes opened halfway, blinking slow."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Ah. So this was what it was like to be kissed.\n\nIt was barely anything, really— if they were distracted for even a moment, they would have missed it. But how could they be distracted, when Owen looked at them as if they deserved every ounce of love he poured into them? \n\nIt didn't matter how it felt, physically. Uriel melted all the same, a small noise escaping from their lips as Owen's contacted their own. They couldn't decide what the kiss was trying to convey; was it a *Thank you for loving me* Kiss? Or perhaps a confirmation of a fact Uriel had always known, deep down, that they adored him in every possible way.\n\n\"You... You have my first kiss, then.\" They uttered, fingers tracing their bottom lip as they settled into his chest. \n\nMore room was needed in the ever-expanding shelves in their heart. Rows of good memories since arriving at the Cradle now cluttered the once-barren walls; Watching television with Margo, drinking tea with Haoran in the early morning, and now... \n\nAnd now the sensation of lips on theirs, and a smile pressing into their skin. \n\n\"Promise to keep it safe.\" Uriel whispers, digging their quickly heating face into the crook of his neck. The words aren't meant to be bashful, but it can't be helped— after all, Uriel only had one first kiss to give, and it now laid in the hands of the man in front of them. \n\nHe had a part of them, forever. Something they could never take back... And something they would never want to take back."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Wide, shining eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling above the lovingly tangled pair. Owen's lips remained incredulously parted as his head swam and his hands grasped at Uriel's hair, their (his) shirt, their waist pressed over his own. *Their first kiss*. He was wrapped around his dearest friend and the ghost of their *First kiss* Lingered on the tip of his tongue, buzzing through to the tips of his fingers and toes.\n\n\"I promise,\" He whispered. What else could he say? What cascade of stammered words could say how much he would treasure such a thing, that rendered them a blushing mess just to speak of?\n\n*\"Fy anwylyd,\"* He murmured into their temple, just barely reachable at his angle. A reassurance, a relief, a truth that made him shiver like the tickle of their heavy breath on his neck:\n\n*My beloved.*\n\nA hiccup in such a warm and perfect moment, though, nibbled at the front of Owen's mind. The rush of red returned to his face tenfold as he grabbed the sides of their face, turning them to face his. *Esgob annwyl, this is silly.*\n\n\"Hang on, um...\" *Gulp.* \"Th-that was. That wasn't my best- I could- could I, may I kiss you properly?\"\n...\n\"Please?\"\n\nHe leaned in, and their noses brushed together; he breathed them in, deep through his lungs, until he was certain they reached every part of him. A strong, softly trembling thumb brushed a coil of silk from the corner of their mouth, and he stopped dancing around it.\n\nThe second kiss he gave them was long and sweet, and the deeper it got the more it drove the truly hopeless romantic out of his mind. All the love they'd given him, all the rainbows he saw in their eyes, and all he could do was kiss them silly? It didn't feel like enough. Their teeth clacked together awkwardly, their noses got in the way, his hands clumsily pulled them too close to breathe, the edges of that smile nearly stopped him again before the both of them figured out a rhythm.\n_ _\n\nHe wanted to do this properly, and he wanted to devour them, and he needed to thank them for loving him like they did, so gentle and tangible and unapologetic.\n\nFamiliar floods of humming ether pressed at the insides of the fingers weaving through their bangs, trying to reach their cheeks in his palms, desperate to *Hold them* In every way the boy possibly could. Owen wanted them under his skin, safe and warm, a piece of him curled up under his ribs.\n\nWhen he finally pulled back again, his hands were curled miserably deep into their fluffy mane of snow and silk, an errant tooth caught on their bottom lip, a weak gasp and a shuddered exhale dissipated into the air between them (what little of it there was).\n\nFire bloomed in his chest, alive enough to melt the frost on the windowpane."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Two whole kisses?* Uriel's head swum as hungry lips took their own in embrace. \n\nFate, Uriel had realized, had finally rewarded them for their hardships. The lips of their dearest friend were worth it all— every bruise or stab wound they had suffered for the sin of being born was worth it, so long as they were in the arms of someone who loved them. \n\nAnd he did. Sweet nothings in a language they couldn't understand left his lips, and Uriel sunk into the kiss. He was eager, breathtakingly so; their brain was still attempting to process the first kiss before he came back once again, and the little braincells they had melted in heat that could rival their bright-red cheeks. \n\n*He held you so sweetly*, a voice in their head whispered. *And you don't even deser—*. The thought was cut off by his teeth catching on their lip, eliciting a noise they'd seldom admit making to anyone else. \n\nA glimpse of honey-colored eyes shifted behind long eyelashes, and Uriel looked away just in time to avoid eye contact. \n\nIt would be disastrous, they reasoned, if they felt the tidal wave of emotions he did. He felt in mountains compared to their molehills— and the buzzing sensation in their ribs was already too much to handle, threatening to spill over with needy noises and grabby hands and long pauses of leaning close and just *Breathing him in*. \n\nUriel was certain they would die if they felt what he did. Not only because it was strong, but because it was love *For them.* \n\n\"T-thank you for the gift.\" They gulp, wiping at the edge of their mouth. \"The k-kiss, I mean. I'll treasure it forever.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"O-okay,\" The now-reeling boy murmured after a second, gently rubbing his cheek into theirs before resting his head back against his pillow. He sank deep back into his bed, heavy arms now resting over their back. Closing his eyes once more, Owen's head spun. It was a minute, or an eternity, before he could piece anything else together.\n\n\"Happy birthday, love.\"\n\nHe wondered how he should feel about it— *Kissing Uriel*— and came up with nothing but that happy, swirling buzz in his stomach. Should he be worried that he had ruined the unspoken thing they both had built up over the months? Was he truly afraid that they had changed for the worse, that once this high wore off they would shy away from his eyes, brush off his touch?\n\nNo. *Maybe?* \n...Nah.\n\nAny worry that might have made sense to a different boy in a different time felt forced, unnecessary. He didn't have a word for what exactly they *Were*, but he wasn't for want of one— it wasn't needed to feel at home in their embrace, to know that they loved him like he loved them, and *What a thing that was*. \n\nA dreamy hum escaped him, light and blissful.\n\nHere in their cocoon of hazy heat, where the taste of them lingered on his lips, their weight pressed his guts into place, every sound they had made echoed in his skull, turning it to hot lead, Owen closed their fingers that were folded around his heart and kissed their knuckles. \n\nAs though it hadn't already been there for months, cradled in their cool and soothing palms, murmuring to them dreams of stars and cocoa and jagged scars and laughter.\n\nCallused fingertips lazily scratched at the impossibly soft, downy curls at the nape of Uriel's neck. His voice rumbled low and raspy in his chest below them, words meant only for their ears.\n\n\"I could stay here forever, like this. With you.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Staying like this forever... It truly would be a dream come true.\" Uriel admits. Their sweet sigh spilled out like honey, rolling over his chest and tinting the air sugary. \n\n...And yet, all dreams came to an end. Morning would come eventually, and Uriel and Owen would both have to wake and face the day ahead of them— a joyous one for the both, but not nearly as enchanting as the moment they had shared in each other's arms. \n\nMorning would come, and Uriel would think about their sweetest birthday gift of theirs yet. Their eyes would catch his across the table, perhaps— Finley and Ares would be too absorbed in their usual banter to notice how they bashfully looked away at the hint of emotion in his speckled eyes. Margo and Violetta would be holding hands, of course, unable to spot how Uriel's hands lingered on his when he handed them a present just out of their reach. \n\nAnd yet— despite being utterly infinitesimal to everyone else in the room, it would be the one thing Uriel's head would keep coming back to. \n\nMorning would come. But, for now, they decided, snuggling closer into the curve of his abdomen, this was enough."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen nearly thought the early morning a dream, when he groggily awoke to full sun filtering through the window, illuminating the rest of the world that existed beyond their tangle of limbs and blankets. Only Uriel could have woven a dream so wonderful, their practiced hands picking only the softest threads from his mind. They wove gentle touches out of moonlight, sweet nothings from daydreams, kisses out of sparks leaping from his chest.\n\nThe feeling of them curled into his body remained, long after they eventually pried themselves apart; their hands over his sides, their breath on his neck, their smell of clean sheets and taste of sleep. He would close his eyes when they vanished from his sight and feel their heartbeat in his chest next to his own, and silk would spill from between his fingers.\n\nOne last bleary look at their pale form melted over his chest, and Owen's sweetly burning eyes went out in the darkness like embers wrapped in a blanket of stars, endless stars."
}
] | 340 | 6,274 |
292 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "***January 6th, 2023.***\n\n*It was the middle of winter in Borå- I mean Isakstad. As far as the eye could see, the Swedish landscape was covered in a thick, white blanket of snow. Despite the fact that the Sun hung so low in the sky, the snow reflected quite a lot of sunlight, giving the impression of a glowing surface. It was only 1:13 PM, but there were only a mere 2 hours left of sunlight, due to the high northern latitude of Isakstad.*\n\n*Inside of a second floor dorm, inhabited by two people, a painfully shy Japanese girl and a relatively more outgoing, green-haired man of the same ethnicity. The girl, Nakanishi Yusuke, was waiting patiently for her friend, Mamoru Koyama, to change into warmer clothes. Just a few minutes ago, they both had agreed to go outside of the Cradle and play in the snow together for the very first time since they met. While it was a mostly safe activity, definitely fun but cold, Nakanishi couldn't help but worry about what could go wrong. What if Mamoru got buried? What if he gets hurt in some way? What if they get lost and separate? What if they get hit by a snowstorm?! These what-ifs have plagued her mind ever since they agreed to go.*\n\n*However, her train of thought was derailed when she heard the sound of a door unlocking. Nakanishi sat up just in time to see Mamoru walk out of the bathroom, wearing clothes that looked very suited for the conditions outside. Nakanishi was a little less prepared; all she had was her gray coat with a skirt of the same fabric that flared about 10 centimeters outwards while extending down to her knees, and black sweatpants that covered her legs down to her ankles. She had no scarf, or mittens/gloves, or hat of her own. For some reason, she still has not learned any Swedish despite spending months in the Cradle, so she could not buy her own with the savings she had.*\n\n|\n*Realizing it was already time to go, Nakanishi hopped out of bed and put her shoes on. They were still her standard-issue slip-on shoes that came with her highschool uniform before she was transferred to the Cradle. They were small, of course. They made clicky sounds whenever she stepped, which Nakanishi liked. When she felt like she was ready, she pulled her phone out of a drawer next to her bed, a black Samsung Galaxy A20, and opened her translator app. She typed into it for a few moments before facing the screen towards Mamoru. In the output box, displaying English instead of Japanese, it read:* [I am ready whenever you are, Koyama-San.]"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "He's never really played in the snow. Sure, he has *Sometimes*, but never for *Long.* Always just a short snowball fight or two in a season. \n\nIt's cold, very cold, but he's loaded up in jackets and scarves to defend against it.\n\nCalling Mamoru \"Outgoing\" Only works when you compare him to someone like his roommate. He hurries out to meet up with her once he's changed. He finds himself being really excited- almost childishly excited- about this.\n\nSeeing Nishi's lack of winter clothing causes him to worry a bit. *Maybe her ability gives her a lot of resistance. It's fine.*\n\nThis is one of those activities that can be enjoyed despite a language barrier.\n\nBut it's still good to have that app.\n\nHe grins, typing into his phone which was also at the ready:\n\n\n[Ready when you are, Nishi.]"
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*Nakanishi put her phone down slightly so she could see the translated message that Mamoru had typed on his own phone. \"[Ready when you are, Nishi.]\" Nakanishi wasn't sure what it was, but having been given a nickname like that made her smile a little bit. A genuine smile. She nodded and placed her phone into her coat pocket for safekeeping. Her arms returned to a resting position, with her hands holding each other one-over-the-other just in front of her waist.*\n\n*Nakanishi was ready. She thought there wasn't much she needed to play in the snow, thinking it was simply a matter of dressing warm enough to keep you from shivering when outside for long enough. The winter day in Isakstad was much colder than usual - her weather app reported a chilling -8 degrees Celsius. However, Nakanishi had never experienced temperatures that low compared to her more temperate home city of Koriyama. On cold days, she would bundle up in a few blankets and a plate of hot food to keep herself warm.*\n\n*And now, she was willingly going out into the freezing cold. Nakanishi shivered at the thought of it, but what could be so bad about it when she's going to play with her current best friend (deepest apologies Uriel)? When Mamoru turned to the door and began walking out of the dorm, Nakanishi followed closely behind him until she exited the room, which permitted her the space to walk alongside him, and so that was what she did.*\n\n*The view out of every window was a dull shade of gray. The sky was overcast, and the snow was, of course, still blanketing the ground. The Cradle was a little colder than room temperature, but her coat was able to keep her perfectly warm. Her shoes clicked along the hallways as she walked alongside Mamoru at a slightly sluggish pace. Each click echoed through the hallways a few times. A childish urge overcame Nakanishi - the urge to speak and hear her voice echo. She remembered what the English word \"Echo\" Sounded like from her past. Her parents spoke in a place where their voices echoed, and she copied them. She inhaled, cupped her hands over her mouth to form a \"Megaphone\", and...!*\n\n「エ、エコ。」\n\n\n*Her soft voice, lined with a very obvious Japanese accent, echoed only once, but that was enough to satisfy the girl, who smiled once more as she heard her voice reverberate through the hallway, just like her shoes were. She didn't seem to mind her stutter too much.*"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "Moru debates pulling his hair up or not. He ends up just deciding to not do it, but he has the hair tye on his wrist just in case.\n\nHe likes being able to make Nishi smile. She's a sweet kid, and she gets so caught up in her own head when it comes to things. Plus it gives him a sense of *Importance,* Feeling at least somewhat responsible for keeping her happy. \n\n-8 Celcius is around 17 degrees F. Kentucky winters aren't as cold, but it's only like a 10-20 degree difference so he figures he probably won't die.\n\nHis coat *Mostly* Keeps out the chill, but it's probably not going to be enough. Oh well, it's not like he'll get sick.\n\n\n\n\n\nRight?\n\nAnyways, he also had the urge to say something that would echo. Who doesn't? He smiles. Echo and Ekō sound similar enough so he knows exactly what she was trying to do. He inhales, but can't bring himself to, so he just grins and gives a thumbs up. \n\nHe wants to say it but that self consciousness- even though it's just Nakanishi- doesn't allow him to. He's happy she did.\n\nHe goes a bit ahead to open the door and hold it for them both."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*Nakanishi hoped she would be able to grow her hair long enough to put it into a low bun someday. She always thought that a bun would look cute on her. However, her jet black hair would never really make it past her neck due to her parents arranging periodic haircuts for her, if you could even call them that. They were more like trimmings, only cutting off a few centimeters at a time. She felt a tiny bit envious of Mamoru's long hair. She wondered if his parents never got haircuts for him, or he made the choice on his own to grow it out so much.*\n\n*Anyways, when Mamoru held the door open for her, Nakanishi turned her body towards him and bowed for a couple of seconds as a non-vocal way of saying \"Thank you\" Before continuing out the door. Unfortunately, as soon as she took a few steps into the crunchy Swedish snow, a chilly gust of wind blew through the town. When the wind hit Nakanishi and Mamoru, a few shivers ran down her spine as she felt the frigid, dry air blow into her face. In an attempt to regain some of her warmth, Nakanishi began to do that one thing where you'd hug yourself in the winter to keep yourself warm - I don't know what it's called or how to explain it, but I think you know what I'm talking about, right? Anyway again, hugging herself barely worked, but it would satisfy her as she felt her body warm itself back up, just a little bit.*\n\n|\n*Nakanishi had never experienced temperatures this cold before. Sure, sometimes it would go down to freezing in her home city of Koriyama, but it very rarely snowed, unlike Isakstad, where it was a seasonal occurrence. The air she now breathed made her lungs ache from a lack of moisture. Not a pleasant feeling at all, but one that Nakanishi could just ignore so that she and Mamoru could play in the snow. She turned back to him, making sure he was following her out of the building before she turned to the right to see the pedestrian gate. Nakanishi was starting to become nervous to go out of the gate with Mamoru, considering they both were Paranormals. However, Nakanishi would always be let out for a while so she could go find Muto-San, so what would be so bad about going with Mamoru? She turned back to Mamoru again as he walked up next to her, waiting for his confirmation that he was ready.*"
},
{
"author": "nazuwasan",
"message": "Hey uh\nQuick question"
},
{
"author": "sapphic_spidy",
"message": "SOON. Sorry for taking so long w this writing long stuff is hard recently"
},
{
"author": "Mamoru [Moru] Koyama",
"message": "The truth is that Mamoru's parents never cared to try to cut it. And he's glad of that, but it really is just another instance of them ignoring him. Whatever.\n\nHe smiles at her little way of saying thank you, then going out himself and- *Oh my god that's cold.* He lets out a nervous laugh despite the chill. Ohhhh boy this better be fun. And he's sure it will be.\n\nHe leaves the gates with no issues at all. Mamoru doesn't feel nervous about their status at all. He never has. In fact, he goes out to town often when he doesn't feel like shit.\n\nSo he knows a good field they can play in- open, and safe most importantly."
},
{
"author": "Nakanishi Yusuke",
"message": "*Nakanishi followed Mamoru to the gate silently. The white, powdery snow beneath them crunched satisfyingly under their shoes with each step they took. Footprints outlining the shapes and designs of their shoes and outsoles were left on the ground behind them. Nakanishi watched Mamoru pass through the gate with ease, using his ID card. Nakanishi took her own ID card out of her coat pocket and scanned it. The gate unlocked for her, and she was allowed to exit with him.*\n\n*Now outside of the Cradle, the environment was already starting to feel noticeably colder, despite the air temperature having mostly remained the same. Nakanishi tried to preserve more of her own body heat by embracing herself a little tighter. Unfortunately, this didn't seem to help at all as Nakanishi had only partially dressed properly for the southern Swedish winter. Coat? Check. Long, somewhat insulating pants? Check. Socks? Check. Nakanishi did not have a scarf, mittens or gloves, a hat, or a thicker coat to insulate herself further, however. All that Nakanishi could hope for is that she would at least make it through an hour or more of playing time.*\n\n*With every visit to Isakstad, Nakanishi always went into the inner city just so she could visit her beloved Muto-San, and that was it. Nakanishi didn't know of any good places within the city where they could play in the snow in peace without the fear of being judged, leaving her feeling a little worried about where they would play. She trusted Mamoru's judgement though, so she thought that he'd be able to find them a nice spot.*"
}
] | 273 | 2,628 |
374.125 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"—Hey everyone! It's nice to see you all again and be able to have a Live, but life's just been so busy at acting camp...\" \n\nIt was a fine day, and Gabe was spending the cold Swedish afternoon in his room and live-streaming with his fans. It was something he'd often do back home, spending most of the time chatting and overall entertaining the online masses. \n\nIt was fun, and since it was related to his social media presence, he could say it *Technically* Wasn't a waste of time. He could indulge himself in some good company, just this once.. Especially because his new roommate didn't seem to be around. \n\nHe sat by his window, using the Swedish city as a backdrop for his live. Gabe was dressed well, too— a classy white button up that was a *Bit* Too low and light brown slacks made him look nice, but not overly so.\n\nThe comments began to pour in, and he got to work, spinning even the most mundane things into intricate stories. Heart emojis, comments drooling over his appearance and complimenting his laugh and the perfectly constructed smile he'd honed over the years... It was a spotlight, and Gabe was basking in it."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*SMACK.*\n\nIt was times like these when one normally stopped to ridicule themselves for their situation, or perhaps laughed a little, in the *I'm-so-fucked* Fashion popular with teenagers clinging to walls. This particular instance of that no-doubt *Very* Wide demographic, however, was too busy focusing on the daunting task at hand. Or, perhaps, she was already way past it. \n\nA brief, flat sting, as her arm smacked hard into the rain-dampened concrete by the window, and then the taste of wet rocks ran on a high current through a distant river of nerves. Sigrún's grip held true as she launched herself upward- slipped- and caught herself with human hands on the ledge of the window. *Welp. Now or neverbeforeIslip-*\n\n\"GA-*HHHaaaaaabe-*\"\n\nThis one had better be hers. Her lair, the Cavern Unfindable, the Door Unshakeable, the Goddamn Closed Window, the Home-Place That's Two-Thirds Empty. It was a nicer place to feel sticky inside than the lingering, stubborn sun, if only for the evidence of another presence. Sig clamped down hard on the plastic shape wedged between her teeth, and pushed off once again from her precarious position, willing said presence to stand close enough to the window to pick up on the dull *THONK* Her palm made as it hit the glass full-force. \n\nHer face, just high up enough to peek over the top, was streaked in its usual dried black-green tears; hopefully, she wouldn't be mistaken for a bird or something. Better let him know she wasn't , just in case he thought that.\n\n*\"GAAAABELETMEIIIINNNNNN I FORGOTMYKEY-\"* Another jump- *\"GABRIEL MY SWEET CHEESE YOU'RE MY ONLY HOOOOOPE!!!\"*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Gabe's eyebrows furrowed as... Some noise outside the window began to yammer on and on. Truthfully, Gabe did not care about things that did not pertain to him, and would have been happily content to ignore the banging on the window... \n\n...If the livestream chat wasn't going *Fucking crazy.* \n\n*Is that a monster??* \n*GABE WHAT THE FUCK IS BEHIND YOU* \n*No he can't hear us he has AirPods in 🚶♀️🚶♀️🚶♀️* \n\nSimilar messages began to flood the chat of his Instagram live, and Gabe panics, turning the damn Live off with a confused stammer before opening the window, if *Only to give Sigrun a piece of his mind.* \n\nHe opens the window, with an over dramatic, wayyy too forceful push. \n\n\"*You.*\" Was that the older brother voice, out in full? His southern twinge was stronger than usual, the crashing tides of mild annoyance letting his usually taut reins slip. \n\nA sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, as if contemplating every action that made him sent to the hell that is Sweden. \n\n\"...I was *Doing something,* You know.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"And I am a *Foooolllllll*,\" Wailed she, something twisting in her stomach. She adjusted her hold on the ledge, and swung herself up so that they were at eye level, elbows locked and hip bones pressed into the jut of concrete.\n\n*Gulp.*\n\nAs funny as his ruffled feathers were, Sig did feel a *Tiny* Bit bad about getting on her roommate's nerves quite so often as she did. She sort of hoped that they could skip the part where he was mad at her for being annoying and be the best of friends, but here he was scowling at her while she wondered what his favourite colour was. His voice seemed tangier now, though. Had to be something.\n\n\"..Sorry.\"\n\nNot one to feel too sheepish for long, Sigrún melted onto the floor of the dorm. \n\nGabe didn't leave her much room, but she made do. The colossus was a child once; children know how to bend space and physics to their devilish whims, pushing walls and branches aside and willing their little arms to fit through cracks they could barely peek through. Most grow, and forget. Sigrún did grow, but she never forgot. Blank-faced and strategically tangled, the amateur wall-climber and her mottled-grey tentacles squeezed through the space between the wall and his arm, a river of unnervingly mobile flesh trailing along its path to the floor. Blink, and miss the little trick to it.\n\n\"Glad this was the right one. Gave this little redhead a heart attack- what's the ambulance number here? I feel like I should know that. This is a place unworthy of what will be my no-doubt legendary death. Can't be stuck here, people to haunt elsewhere.\"\n\nAnd she was up, dusting off the front of her bespiked leather jacket. A siren, painted across the back panel in curling strokes of crimson, jabbed her trident at him. A small, nearly inaudible sigh, under the *Pop* Of a knuckle.\n\n\"Can I make it up to you?\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Sigrun *Sulked,* And... \n\nAnd Gabe's expression shifted, for barely a microsecond. An ounce of remorse crossed his face— the same feeling of regret when he's pester Blanche about her chores, only for her to send the puppy dog eyes his way. \n\nCurses. He's too weak-willed. His father would chastise him for acting like this... \n\n... But his father Gabe was not, and so he plopped down onto the couch. Any remorse present on his face contorts into a smug grin, and he shoots a winning smile Sigrun's way. He puts a hand on his hip, and poses in a position he's clearly pulled thousands of times. \n\n\"Well, if you're *Reallly sorry*....\" \n\nHis accent was thick with southern drawl as he dragged the really out. Sure, Gabe felt bad about being upset with Sigrun— but he wasn't just going to *Turn down an opportunity like this.* He felt bad, but he wasn't stupid. \n\n\"Draw me.\" \n\nHis eyes, half lidded in an unusually smug manner, gazed at Sigrun as if challenging her to say no. It was an unusual expression on his face— for someone who pasted on generic pleasing smiles via paint roller, openly showing his teeth and the mischievous twinkle in his eye was essentially unheard of. \n\nIt didn't help that the situation was the perfect cover he needed to learn more about Sigrun. The burning desire to pick apart her art piece by piece, examining every sliver of her sketchbook for more about her, and the self-driven egomania of a portrait of him combined into a concoction that would certainly cause nothing but trouble."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"*Oh*, tricksy bastard, *You*. Waiting for an *In*, were you?\"\n\n*Faen*, a devious little trick, but that was certainly something Sigrún could do... And, in the coldest truth, there was no way to get to know someone quite like staring at how his shadows and contours intersected, how every muscle tightened and twisted beneath his perfect (*Perfected*) glowing expression. Oh, what fun it would be, to push those things past their limits and see what she could make... It was rude to stare, she had been told, but not when she had a good reason. Getting a good look at this prick was reason enough. An equally toothy grin spread across her face, reaching her eyes a heartbeat after her black-streaked cheeks.\n\nIt was a good thing she was an artist, or else she would just be a lunatic for no reason, which is no fun at all.\n\n\"Strike a pose, Gabriel.\" \n\nShe shrugged off her jacket, slinging it across the back of her chair; she was wearing a tank top today, black, the tattered image of a green album cover printed across the front. Looped and layered trails of red stretched and warped as she stretched her long arms out above her head, listening for a *Pop*; the light of her desk lamp caught her skin in a strange way. Faded stretch marks sliced across her cold skin like silvery fish darting through shallow water in a manner of elegance unique to the girl-shaped creature rummaging around in a (somehow already disorganized) drawer for some paper.\n\nA twirl of her favourite pencil- 2B, the end gnawed to hell and back- and she was sat facing him with the most battered, stuck-back-together-with-glitter-glue, utterly-totalled and well-loved pad of paper leaned against her propped-up knee, her tentacles lazily draped around her arms.. Her pride and joy, with just enough room for her roommate's proud show of sharpness and pomp. And the hidden tale of teeth, blood, muscle, and silver beneath it.\n\n\"Finally, the opportunity to draw someone else's boobs for a change.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Waiting for an in? What do you take me for, a *Schemer?*\" He scoffed. \"Never.\" \n\nThe sarcasm was overt, but Gabriel was never one for subtlety. Those fishy irises staring back at him were a bit unnerving to some— and perhaps in a different world, he would join the crowd of those awed by the kraken, but to Gabe it was just another audience member (even if she had a backstage pass). \n\nIf it was anyone else— literally, if *Anyone else* Was the subject of Sigrun's foul comment, a sexual harassment case would be coming her way faster than you could say calamari. \n\nFortunately for the fishy friend, it was *Gabe*, and at her joke he bursts into a cackle. \n\n\"If you wanted *Boobs*, you should have said so.\" A smug grin slides on his face as he undos the top two buttons of his shirt."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "The snicker that ran under Gabe's flashy, gleaming-toothed cackle was nothing short of sinister; Sigrún's low, scratchy voice didn't cut cleanly through the air like his did, but the grin curling into her cheeks was unmissable. *AHA! Funny-haha indeed. I am a genius possessed of unflappable charisma and this encounter is going well.*\n\nAnd hey, the man's boobs were indeed immaculate. From a purely objective standpoint. Not that he seemed unaware.\n\n\"Nice-nice,\" Giggled she, kicking off her boots and assuming the horribly shrimp-like position that pretty pictures just flowed so nicely from. \n\n\"Really, though! I get that I look like I'm staring into your soul, but I swear I'm not going to devour it or anything.\" A quick, broad bunch of lines, and then she gnawed on her lip as she leaned closer to render something more finnicky. \"People stop posing for you so much when they're convinced you're a devil.\"\n\nAnd Sig was rambling, her racing train of thought sending sparks off the rails into memories from back when her pupils were first splitting, and that somehow changing everyone else's sights. Her lightly-accented voice, though, wasn't laced with airborne bitterness or lingering hurt beyond playful annoyance. *'Ha! Kids told me I was a demon. Funny schoolyard rumours, ah?'* Then again, with the strange creature she was, who could really tell."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"Devils don't look like you.\" Gabe scoffed, shifting his weight onto his elbow and turning his face the other way, his body turned to emphasize his muscular build. A light palm brushes a curl from his forehead, and his eyes flit from Sigrun's hunched pose to the spot in the wall he deemed as worthy to hold his gaze. \n\n\"They look like swamp creatures. *Rougarou*. Boogeymen. People say demons don't exist, but they *Do*. Ghosts. Ghouls. People say they believe in astrology and tarot cards, but none of 'em know the *True* Magic of hoodoo. They don't have to conflict with the Man up stairs, you know?\"\n\nWith Sigrun's silence paving the way for one of Gabriel's classic monologue, his posture and expression fell into a more comfortable position as he spun conversation like gold. \n\n\"You believe in any of that stuff, Sigrun? I don't talk about it too much, 'cause people here don't understand the culture. They'd just mock it like they do any form of religion, you know?\"\n\nHis accent began to slip through at the oddly personal talk, but words of demons and monsters always piqued Gabriel's interest. Besides, Sigrun was a good listener— and he had nothing else to do while posing for her."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Oh, I believe,\" Sigrún confirmed, lifting her eyes from the trouble spot currently being attacked by an eraser. *This* She could work with. \"All sorts of 'stuff'. I'm the flesh and blood of legends, ah? My brethren in the sea, the shadows of the old sagas- I've seen things, with my own two eyes...\"\n\nThe imperceptible flames of a campfire, surrounded by imaginary spectres with wide eyes and ears nipped pink by the cold lapped at her face as shadows spread across it in a familiar pattern. Figuratively, and then literally, as she adjusted her posture and willed shifting greenish-black shadows to dance in the hollows beneath her eyes and cheekbones.\n\n\"My mother's people are wary of something like it- the *Stállu*, cannibal-giants. From the days we mounted sacred bears' heads on trees, and knew not to whistle beneath the Aurora Borealis.\" The two loose tentacles absentmindedly coiled around her arms, legs, and chair rippled with the colours of cold earth and blood. \"They slaughter and devour children, and try to force a man's knife on himself. Remains of their houses are far north of here, can go see them!\"\n\nThe twinkle in her eyes was something as real as the beasts she told of. Stories for stories were the best trades, she thought, and a connoisseur couldn't help but tap its feet excitedly at new lore to drink in. \n\nExaggerated in her retelling as she was, Sigrún truly believed. As she said, she was living proof that theirs was a world of creatures beyond the confines of cold reason, and she knew for facts as alive as the wind in her hair that her kin jumped from their songs and carvings to dance in her blood and in the shadows of her wandering paths. She wanted desperately to know more about the things that crept in the shadows of Gabe's faith- and to keep him this relaxed, for it added just the right curve to his spine- and figured she'd press further. Stories for stories, after all. As was the way of things.\n_ _\n\n\"My father's people were wary of *Draugr*, nasty folk too stubborn to finish dying and stop guarding their precious things. 'S why you've got to tie the dead's big toes together. Else they cause all sorts of problems.\" \n\nShe turned to rummage through another box, and produced a thin, blackened branch. It left dense, creamy dust on her fingers and paper.\n\n\"Folk from beyond and within *Noreg* And *Sápmi* Cast ridicule and scorn on the old things, but- *Hah*- I need not lecture an American Southerner on what the pale and pushy fellows from elsewhere wielding crosses and their own inflated self-importance think of old magic.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Bonk responding soon\n\nSigrun began to wax the tales from her homeland, and Gabe... Actually *Listened intently,* Looking at her with a half-surprised, half- interested expression. \n\nTruth be told, he hadn't really thought Sigrun to be someone capable of conversations like this. She seemed too... Flighty, too absorbed in the moments of the present to particularly give thought to the surrounds around her. \n\nIt was a pleasant surprise, alongside the portraiture. Perhaps he hadn't pinned her down as well as he assumed. \n\nAt the *Pushy fellows wielding crosses* Comment, Gabe's eyebrows furrow. It's a comment he had received many times at the Cradle, and shrugging it off was almost second nature. Still, she could see the change in his posture: the slight tenseness, the hand twitch as Gabe stilled his sturdy fingers from fidgeting with his necklace. \n\n\"Can't exactly pronounce any of the names you just said, but... I agree somewhat.\" A moment passes, and he's back at his relaxed state. \n\n*Drat*. He can't use his powers to keep his focus on something, not with Sigrun in the room— the familiar nagging of ADHD manifests in the tapping of his fingers against the covers of his bed, and the slight rocking of his ankles side to side. \n\nFive minuets drag on, and it feels like *Torture.* \n\n\"Well,\" He says, after the staying still becomes unbearable. \"Are you done yet?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Huh.\"\n\n*These things take time, Gabriel, you know that. Sheesh.*\n\n...\n\n*SHIT IT'S BECAUSE I HAVEN'T LET HIM MOVE-* \"Oh yeah, yeah, I've gotten what I needed, just... Ah. Embellishments now.\" \n\nEmbellishments indeed. Sig was on a roll, rooted to the spot, which was rare for her- strange visions were locked behind her silvery eyes, and the keys to all her lockboxes full of articulate bones and shadows falling *Just so* Smudged the side of her hand pitch-dark, not that she was aware.\n\nShe was, though, aware of a moment of tension that was definitely her fault. She stopped for a moment, to make it more sincere, as she had been snapped at to before, fiddling with the arm of her chair with a hidden sucker on a limb now patterned the colours of the carpet. \n\n\"And, ...Sorry. I didn't mean it like that- I say rude things, and I see myself doing it, and I don't stop and then I've said something unsavoury and..\" *Ghh.* \"I mean no ill, is all. To your faith.\" \n\n*Sigh.* Awkward to address, uncomfortably gnawing to leave be- for someone who hated being misunderstood like she did, Sigrún sure did say ..Everything half-baked that crashed against the barrier between her head and her mouth. Stern lectures on *'times and places, vennen, times and places'* Haven't been completely for naught. Anyway.\n\n\"To take away from me having one foot in my mouth and the other on the gas pedal. Tell me more about your ghouls, Gabriel..\" \n\nWithout her looking, a tentacle loosened from around her chair to wrap around a book from her desk and bring it toward her lap. Its cover was a collage of old-looking medical illustrations of bones.\n\n\"..While I remember how.. Finger bones, uh, work.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "At Sigrun's stammering, Gabe waves a dismissive hand at her. \n\n\"'S no worry, Siggy. *Siggy? When did I start calling her that?* You were eighty percent not an asshole in your monologue, so I'll round up and give you an A.\" Said dismissive hand pushes aside away an unruly curl, the metaphorical spotlight in the room intensifying on himself at the motion. It *Oozed* Confidence. \n\n\"Seriously, don't worry about it.\" He reassured the other, \"And don't worry about *Me*. Do you really think someone like me could be doing anything less than fine? The world isn't your stage— you have to make it your own, and that takes *Effort*.\" \n\nIt was a provocative metaphor that was sure to dazzle anyone in earshot, even if the sentiment behind said statement was *Utterly empty*. In actuality, Gabe was doing worse than he'd like to admit, the strain of work and anxieties and stages of grief manifesting like cracks in an otherwise flawless marble statue. \n\nNot as if he'd ever admit that, though. Please. He'd rather die. \n\nAnd so, just like the state directions he was so used to — *Turn downstage, pivot the waist, shoulders to the audience*, — he deftly manipulated the conversation away from himself. \n\n\"Actually, the only ghoul I want to address is your medieval speaking patterns. Why do you only call me *Gabriel*?\" He raised an eyebrow at her, straightening his back tighter to make up for his brief moment of doubt."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*Kool aid man entrance. I just stand there staring, unblinking*\n\nAt that, Sigrún grinned, differently this time. Her twisted-ribbon pupils glittered with mischief; there was practically an icon of a padlock floating above her head, snapping open and fading into the cacophony of horrors and bones behind her. She swiped her stick of charcoal against her bottom lip, pretending to ponder something thoughtfully. Oh, this was already well-baked.\n\n\"Heh. Your world's a stage, is it? Hard-won, viciously held? Interesting.\" She turned toward one of the corners of her growing masterpiece with her other hand, holding something red. It seemed that switching to her left didn't faze her. She continued, fiddling with an earring; it made a very satisfying sound, knocking against the silvery ring on her pointer finger, she thought.\n\n\"Mine is an epic. The age of stories, Gabriel, is still unfolding around us, though the new epics aren't carved in stones as they once were, nor sung around fires in sacred places...\" She cocked her head to the side, delicately considering something he couldn't see. \"We're both named for very old stories, yeah? An archangel, and a valkyrie- did you know that? I think it's neat.\" A dimple creased as she squinted at something else; her scratches grew faster, covering more ground. \"Somewhere back through time, someone looked at us and decided they wanted to see an angel's brilliant strength, or a valkyrie's roaring victory.\" \n\nVictory, for which she was indeed named. \n\n\"The old stories in the new, splashed together in a place as electric with potential as this- a Valkyrie and an Archangel meet on a stormy day, and the chorus swells in the distance...\" Sig fidgeting grew incessant. \"Despite the circumstances, which... *Grr*-\" She wrinkled her nose, and then looked back up to meet his eyes- \"What an opening.\" \n\n\"Also, it just rolls off the tongue real nice, don't you think?\"\n\nSigrún flipped her page around, and pushed long, loose curls back from her forehead with slender, cool fingers. *Done.*\n_ _\n\nGabe's likeness, rendered in black, white, and something reddish and dense; his shining smile curled a touch more devilish than it might have really been, and the curl he so pointedly swept away was marked stubbornly across his forehead. Vintage horror comics and Sigrún's own home-spun lunacy had wrought the skeleton behind him, grinning and glowing, three hearts latched together in its ribcage. Her hidden signature, coiling red tentacles curled by its feet, was opposed by a wheel of feathers, perhaps muscles. \n\nNothing horrifying, like he had joked about dreading, but her love and care always did seem to contain someone's insides. Just part of the deal.\n\n\"Your bone structure really is exquisite, by the way.\""
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Words detailing the tales baked into the clay of tradition washed over Gabriel's ears, leaving him momentarily stunned. Imagine that— an actor made to dazzle with his words, with the air sucked out of his lungs by the crooning of a certain squid. \n\n*An archangel and a valkyrie...* \n\nGabe hadn't gave his name too much thought. It was something his mom picked out for him long ago, and she'd told the story to him many times when he'd crawl on her lap and beam whenever she mention her sweet little Gabriel to others. \n\nThe story went that he was originally going to be named after his mother's brother, a man named Darius he never had the fortune to meet. On the day before his mom went into labor, she told him that she saw a vision— an angel, watching over her, smiling fondly. *A guardian angel, like he was destined to be.* \n\nSometimes, Gabriel wondered where that smiling angel went. It certainly wasn't watching over Désirée Trahan anymore. \n\n \"It's beautiful.\" He swallowed something crawling itself up his throat, gingerly taking the page. It was *Him,* And yet... It was something more, a broken skeleton at his side. Something about the portrait made his heart churn, and his eyes fluttered to Sigrun's nervously. \n\nIt was revealing, terrifyingly so. He felt sick, but he felt seen. \n\n\"An angel and a valkyrie, hm..?\" He mused, tilting his head every which way to view the drawing. \n\n\"I like the sound of that.\" He flashed a grin at Sigrun— this time, a genuine one."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Sigrún would be telling a lie if she claimed not to be worried about the reveal. She told tales, yes, however true they needed to be, but the girl did not lie. That was cause for much trouble, she had found, and it bled into everything she made; the portrait was a tale indeed, but not a tall one, and that was a risky thing to just hand to someone. That rarely stopped Sig, though. Yet more trouble.\n\nFortunately for the both of them, though, the storytellers appeared to have an understanding- whirl in enough loops, always come back to what was real in the end. That was the truth of both of their art, plays and pictures, making sense of the world by distorting it, and making it more beautiful all the same. \n\nAs Gabriel turned the page this way and that, his roommate's uncoiled limbs may have shifted in the corners of his vision. They quietly wrapped around her legs and torso, turning the colours of her clothes- they were very convincing. So convincing that all one would need do was to blink and they would vanish, absorbed neatly into the folds of her camo pants and vine-patterned tank as though they were just a figment of anyone's imagination. She stretched her long, red-swirled limbs, sinking in her chair.\n\nWhen he deemed it right to look back at her, he met the eyes of someone startlingly human; her eyes, of course, still were not human eyes, but they glittered with recognition. Perhaps, affection? By now, he had likely seen stranger things on her face.\n\nAn angel and a valkyrie, on a day a little less stormy, smiled at each other."
}
] | 349.5 | 5,986 |
558.181818 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Another evening, stretched long and strange by the ever-present static in Owen's gut. Today, it was little more than a whirlwind of dust, a dry pile of leaves kicked up into a little tornado scraping across the concrete, but he could feel it nonetheless.\n\nThe tunes did help, though. His trusty '70s playlist, playing on a surprisingly low volume from the Bluetooth speaker sitting on his still perpetually messy desk, brought the static comforts of the room to life. The soft orange Christmas lights strung just above eye level bounced off of walls of posters, the bed made with blankets still fresh from the dryer, the deep red carpet spread over the cold grey floor to make it just a little less so. It's the same hard box as the rest of the dorms, but it's been lived in, softened ever so slightly by the boy sat in the middle of it.\n\nSaid boy was hunched over sitting backwards in his chair, his legs stuck through the spaces between the arms and the back, toes digging into the carpet and idly pushing him from side to side. Spinning chairs were irresistible, even when he was focused. Slung over the back was a heavy black leather jacket, being lovingly attended to by a microfibre cloth dabbed with an odd-smelling goop. \n\nWeather-proofing his dear jacket was long and repetitive work, but Owen was happy to just zone out and do it. No thoughts whatsoever besides his practiced (and borderline obsessed) technique, and perhaps how nice the light from the setting sun was filtering through the window.\n\nThe words of the familiar song playing softly warbled from his mouth, filtering through the atmosphere along with the lazy dust particles."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "Yarimiel had been broken by, something. Perhaps it was the self-realization, coming to terms with her trauma, facing it head-on. It was too much for her dumb little brain to handle, and so for the next few days she'd holed herself up in her room, barely subsisting off of snacks. By the time she got out, it was dark, quiet, and most were asleep, and if not, in their rooms at the least, it was raining, the weather couldn't be more perfect for a cold night in.\n\nShe crept past the door of her room, opened by a crack, which she didn't even bother to close, leaving it open, prone to letting others the absolute mess the room had been made into. Her face ran cold and rough from all of the inky tears and wounds gained in the sheer confusion that made up her post-realization lunacy. Her clothes had gained massive black stains, and this time she had worn a short-sleeve shirt, which made her arms visible, exposing how they have darkened near the hands, giving her an even more ghoulish appearance than usual. Aside from this one change, she looked the same, long pants, barefoot, etc.\n\nIn a moment of silent, overpowering clarity, she had decided to go to the one person she knew better than just a small talk and a wave goodbye, but thinking back on that, she found it all to be fake, all were just actions performed by a mask, an intruder created by herself, to kick her from the wheel and regulate the true self.\n\nWeakened by these few days of manic rages within her room and the lack of food and sleep, she hobbled over to where she remembered Owen's room being. On the outside, her face was blank, stone cold, but not in the bug-eyed way she'd presented herself usually, it was cold like frostbite, a glare equivalent to a razor-sharp icicle, and a face telling of what was, or what is to come, perhaps both.\n\nShe got there, and knocked three times softly and slowly, but audibly enough to shoot through the already existing noise in the room. She began to tear up as she waited."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*Knock?*\n\nThe soft singing stopped.\n\n*Knock.*\n\n\"Hm?\"\n\n*Knock.*\n\n\"Hello? Uh, now-now inaminute-\"\n\n*Who on Earth could that be?* Uriel normally texted first, Ares knocked a lot louder and called him some names, Fin's knocks were firmer... Owen pondered who else would need him at this hour while maneuvering his legs out of his chair- falling out of it and landing flat on his back in the process. A muffled *Oof* Could be heard through the door, and then the muted scrapes of his limbs figuring out how to right themselves on the soft carpet. Straightening his *Diamond Head* Shirt and, er, *Comfortable* Old-ish shorts, he padded toward the source of the unfamiliar noise.\n\nWhen the door clicked open, Owen was surprised by a familiar mess of thick black curls. \n\n\"Yarimiel? E-evening!\"\n\nOwen stepped back a little, so that he could look at her face rather than the top of her head. She was small, almost frighteningly so; he worried sometimes that he crowded her, his own figure tangibly denser. Perhaps he was just unused to being taller than someone here. Pressing the tips of his fingers to his thumb in a familiar pattern, Owen got a better look at her face. The dust cloud picked up as his heart dropped into his liver.\n\nWas *\"You don't look so good\"* Too obvious? She was probably more than aware; *\"You feeling okay?\"* Was also off the table- the answer practically radiated from her cold, dark eyes and subtly drooping posture. Owen decided to skip the pleasantries. He doubted either of them particularly liked them anyhow.\n\n\"Come in.. Ah, sit anywhere, I'm just conditioning my jacket-\" \n\n*Come on, a little more affection couldn't hurt.*\n\n\"Do-do you want a hug? Or to talk, or..?\"\n.\n\nThe boy's voice, though uncertain, was gentle and genuine. He knew faces which had just shed tears and would again soon, and kids who just needed to be held; he didn't necessarily know what to *Do* About those, but he aimed for his best. The sight of his odd friend like this turned something in his chest, the concerned-older-cousin instinct kicking in despite not knowing her as well as his own back home. Out of habit and perhaps their own free will his arms opened in her direction, a warm invitation for her to take with no questions asked.\n\nHe hoped the gesture wasn't unwelcome- some people appreciated it, others didn't, but it was all he really knew that worked."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "She could only stare back at him with her cold, pained eyes under the net of curls. Her mind began to fill with fog again, she tried picking up the shards of what remained of herself in her head, but there were too many, scattered and fragmented, some pieces were fine grains instead of shards. She could not hops it back any longer, the emotion began to overcome her once again, and with nothing left to hold it back, she slowly wrapped her arms around Owen, her grip on him was weak, concerningly so, and her hands seemed shaky, but as she began to cry again, the tears began to smear both all over her face and his shirt. A mixture of various inky liquids of baryig consistencies would begin to spread from her face. She didn't even let out a sound, only quiet sobbing and an overflow of tears from the girl.\n\nShe found solace in his warmth, and let herself melt away in it, remaining in this hig for as long as Owen physically allowed her to, she even began to rest her weight on him, but by bit. She did not speak, either, as she did not need to communicate what is already visible, but after a while, her hug began to get tighter, as if she really was trying to hold on to him and never let go, her arms holding him tighter and her hands holding fistfuls of Owen's shirt. Her heavily knotted hair gsve off an odd, scalpy odor, telling to her *Subpar* Hygiene.\n\nOne thing was obvious, she needed to rest, because whatever caused... This, needs to be dealt with as soon as possible before it gets worse. It needs to be dealt with, before the environment and possibly people around her suffer, but more importantly, her."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Oh, oh dear, let-let it out, love,\" The startled boy murmured, strong arms wrapping around her; one hand reached around her shoulders and the other fell gently on the back of her head, instinctively creating a nice, small space to curl into. The tears (*Tears?!*) soaking through his shirt and into his chest didn't feel like normal tears. He shifted under the slight discomfort at the sensation, but for Yari's sake he stifled his squirming. He could manage.\n\nThe ache to ask what was wrong, what shook her frame and twisted her face and stopped any words dead in her throat was strong, but he knew better than to press it right that minute. Owen managed to close the door with his foot, careful to move as little as possible. \n\nShutting his eyes to concentrate, he pulled the rivers of heat running through his body toward his chest; though he was incapable of feeling it from any perspective but his own, Owen imagined a blossom of hearth-flames blooming across his chest, tender and all-surrounding. That seemed to work.\n\nOwen's heartbeat, she would likely notice, ran with more force than most. Not faster, or more erratic, just *Harder*, thumping against her cheek like a red-hot metronome. He hoped it didn't freak her out- gods only knew it unsettled *Him* Enough.\n\nHe stumbled back half a step with the force she was putting in, a surprised noise rumbling in his throat- he never quite expected people to lean into him like this, especially not in a prison-not-quite-prison such as this. It, *This*, required a lot of trust, trust that he was flabbergasted that she or anyone would find in him so quickly, disregarding how easily he trusted others. Or perhaps he was just the nearest set of arms? That was.. An acceptable explanation. Reasonable, at least. He could be content with that.\n\n*Stop rummaging around your own head, spacey fool, there are more pressing things to be thinking about,* Quoth a nibbling bug in his head. \n.\n\n\"Rough time lately?\" A dry gulp. \"You, um, haven't been doing so good, have you.\" \n\nWell, that was an attempt. She could take it or leave it as she pleased; he had to test the waters somehow. Would she snap at him? Pull away? Go quiet and still, or turn into a sleep paralysis demon? He had seen her, haunting the intranet at odd hours, sinking deep into whatever this was, and he just hadn't known what to say. How could he assure her that he did care? What did she *Need?*\n\nThe befuddled boy let out heavy sigh that faded into a low hum, quietly rocking on his heels as a sweet, bluesy guitar melody drifted through the air. He would let Yari decide when to wrench herself out of his arms, he decided. She was the one who needed this comfort, right? *..Please answer me*, he thought hard. *Any sign you'll be alright...*"
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "She continued crying softly into Owen, turning her head to feel the warmth and oddly comforthing thudding of his heartbeat on her cheek. Her hold on him weakened again, and she brought her arms closer to herself. She found comfort in Owen, obviously it was mostly physical, but she found a deeper comfort, the warmth, the embrace, it was all she longed for, and now that she wasn't tearing herself at the seams in a confused rage, she could fully appreciate the moment, and truly let her emotions be free in a healthy, non-violent manner. After about a minute of her progressively calming down, she let go, her face now fully black, but not from the stains, it seemes to be her power, with a set of teeth and two eyes being the only visible features. She backed away to create some space, wiped her eyes, then simply asked, \"Owen. What am I?\"\n\nAll she wanted was a simple answer, she wanted him to look at her and answer that no, she wasn't a monster, but deep inside, she knew that the scars would remain, and that now, she was unfixable, she couldn't undo what had been done to her. She could move on, but that seemed impossible to her. She was too far gone to even see a path, so she hoped that wading through the fog and stumbling into the right path would work.\n\nShe looked up at him a few seconds after asking, more of her face visible, but there was still little to no detail asides from the purr white eyes and teeth that stood out from the black face, which seemed to have took on the shape of a human skull judging from the features.\n\nShe was baring her most honest question to him, and she wanted him to answer honestly. \"Don't think about it for too long. And do not hesitate to answer.\" She spoke in a low, flat voice, almost as if she had rid it of all emotion, or rather, herself, for this brief moment. She wanted the comfort his embrace but now she also craved the truth of his perspective.\n\nWhat does someone like Owen think of her? What does someone so kind hide behind their warm eyes and welcoming air? She had no expectations of this situation and was simply staring him in the eyes, not blinking the entire time until he answered, remaining as still as a statue.\n\nI have decided to lie"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "After a certain point in the embrace, time melted into the lazy stream of setting sunlight filtering through the room, his breaths becoming slow and even against the frail girl's cheek. When she wrenched herself away, his arms took a moment to detach; they had settled in their places around her, reluctant to release the centre of their attention.\n\nShe spoke, and Owen felt a single drop of cold sweat run down his spine.\n\n\"W-what? Uh-\"\n\nShe spoke again, and threads of nauseatingly prickling electricity wound around his torso. *This is ~~too much~~ a lot of pressure I'm already hesitating she thinks I'm lying shit shit her face is melting she's getting worse what does she need* **Say something-**\n\n\"You- you're a person, um, a para- a parahuman, ah,\"\n\n*Nonono too surface level it's meaningless it's not helping it's not what she's looking for what is she looking for I'm making it worse I'm making it worse I'm-*\n\n\"You're- you're my friend, I- I hope, and and odd soul, but, a kind one,\" He stammered, finding anywhere to look but her eyes. Owen didn't know what she could *See* With them, in this state, but he didn't want her to see him struggling with this. That was irrelevant here, and would only unnerve her- Yari had come to him for comfort. He would give it, the best that he could.\n\n\"I'm sorry, love.\"\n_ _\n\nA queasy gulp, as he tried to find somewhere to look that wasn't Yari's eyes. He had no idea what she could see with them, and would rather she not be aware of how much he was struggling with this, if that was at all possible at this point. He felt a familiar thrum, the echo of his heartbeat, rushing throughout his body, forceful enough to make him waver ever so slightly before readjusting his stance. It crackled insistently through his blood vessels, waves of heat sliding through all his systems, unwittingly colouring his cheeks a deep red-orange as it pushed along his barrier of speckled flesh.\n\nHe had been called a liar before, many times, when he fiddled with his hands and averted his eyes and stammered and hesitated like he did, but the watery shine in his long-lashed doe eyes betrayed earnestness behind the jitters.\n\n\"I-I don't.. Know what you need to hea-hear right now, but, but I don't think you're bad, or monstrous, or- or anything,\" He stammered, his hands (trembling, but strong nonetheless) making their way to Yari's shoulders. \"You- ah, you hurt- you're hurting, and I feel that, I um.\"\n\nSomething twisted in his stomach when he recalled doing something similar mere days earlier, his own tears dampening Uriel's shirt as he clung to them for dear life in a dark hour of his own. This kind of vulnerability, the soliloquies spoken by white knuckles over clothes that muffled sobs, the trust, the shame. His heart felt squeezed, and a hot teardrop ran unhindered down to his faintly shaking jaw.\n\n\"I understand, is- is all. It's hard and it sucks and I can't *Say things that help* But.. But I'm here with you, I, I care.\"\n_ _\n\nOn that last word, Owen's voice faltered, slipping beneath the weight of a truth so dense it sucked the wind from his lungs. The sweet melody drifting in the background mercifully masked the sound of his hitching breath as he squeezed his friend's shoulders in an attempt to drive his point home and tie it to her frail frame that might just melt away in his hands."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "She only watched him with the stone cold expression, the sheer lack of strong emotions being clear behind her face, but this wasn't a mask. The flood gates were open, they were just dry. She watched him crack, she knew he was, she'd seen it before, she'd *Felt* It herself. Those few moments before the world decided that it hated you, those moments where you can't take it anymore and the fractures, they... They Just. Keep. Growing.\n\nHer face slowly faded back in through the darkness, as if it was seeping into her skin, the eyes and teeth returning to their normal state, not luminescent and hidden behind proper flesh. She recognized the feeling, and she began to feel, for the first time in a long time, the need to put another's happiness over her own. In this case, she had nothing to be happy about her sense of self was shattered nearly completely, and the only person she felt truly safe coming to was cracking as well.\n\nIt took her a few seconds of watching him progressively crack more and more, watching miniscule pieces fall from him, until she could say something back, something not so direct, but still carrying that brutal honesty that came with her words. \n\n\"It's okay, Owen. I've put too much on you. Let me mend your cracks.\n...\nHm, one second.\"\n\nThe music was still playing in her head, but it was distracting her, it was blocking her thoughts, it was becoming far too loud inside her mind to be able to think properly. All she needed, was some *Silence*.\n\nShe raised her arm towards the radio and her forearm quickly closed the gap before gently turning the volume down before it returned to her. It was an eerie display, but the pacifity and harmlessness of the action preceded all forms of shock, despite the look of her arm and hand. \"I couldn't think clearly... There we go.\"\n.\n\nShe looked up at Owen with her eyes, now filled with the sheer blankness in her mind, but they had a glare to them, they didn't quite look dead like usual, there was *Life* In her eyes. She opened her arms and stepped towards Owen again, giving him a tight hug, using her uncanny ability to wrap her arms around him a few more times, rhe left one going around twice and the right three times with both meeting at his back, of course. \"It's your turn to catch a break... You don't need my problems bogging you down, my friend. What you need, Owen, is to break that glass. Let it out, all of it. I can take it. *Also this is an optimal time, I'm really feeling that supportive kick so take advantage of it*.\" She whispered at the end, the emotional, tender air breaking a bit, but still having the feeling of Yari's presence, her odd (maybe unnerving, even) but comforting presence, as if no worries were to be had around her, at least once she opens her mouth.\n\nWhile yes, she had indeed felt a deep emptiness inside, this did not break her humanity, her will to see smiles, this did not break her wish to be happy, and make others be so in the process. She'd survived before, she can definitely pull through this time, *She knew it*, and it felt good to know that. And it felt good to let other know that as well.\n\n\"Owen. I know you have survived much worse, otherwise you wouldn't be here now. I know you can pull through, buddy. I'll be here waiting for whenever you do. I haven't known you for long, but you're the longest I've known anyone here, and I think that merits me helping you, even in my own worst times. Seeing the people I care about suffer creates a level even under my lowest states.\"\n.\n\nIt was so different, she had felt confident in her words, and even she was surprising herself. Yari's voice profile was very deep and powerful for someone her size, and even then she usually spoke in high tones, but now? She was using low, soft vocals to soothe Owen, it had a new air, a comforting one, scary at first, but like a soft wave over your ankles, cooling you down amidst the blaring heat. All of this surprised even her, but she was ding this for Owen. This is the first time she had to comfort someone like this, but she still somehow knew what to say and what to do, and *How* To say and do those things."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen could only really stand and watch as Yari *Re-grew her face* (???) and then casually stretched to turn the volume of the Bluetooth speaker down; if his face weren't red and streaked with now-steadily welling tears, he would have looked mightily confused. He felt a need to turn it back up, but apparently it had the opposite effect on his friend. Fair enough.\n\nThe words *\"You don't need to-\"* Formed in his mouth, but there was no wind behind them. \n\nSilently, he cursed the way his throat ceased to let him speak when he got ..Like this. If only he could explain himself in a way that satisfied, that *Really* Convinced people that it looks worse than it is, that he was already feeling better. Because he was, wasn't he? *Crying is good. It's healthy, it's evening me out. Breathe and wait..*\n\nOwen knew that well, at the very least. \n\nHe had seen people who didn't, heard them from behind the bathroom stall doors in the split-second between him walking in and the other noticing; boys who had been afraid of being vulnerable, refusing to show weakness even when obscured by the layers of metal and chipped paint. He recalled the time when he thought they would appreciate being asked what was wrong, and the snapping it took to convince him that sometimes it was best to leave it alone, do do his business and leave the sore spot untouched.\n\nThe boy's mothers had made sure he knew for certain that it was okay to cry, and he internally kicked himself for the times he had forgotten that. A sea away from them, he had sworn that he wouldn't let the salt and frost scrape them away from him, and it summoned another wave of sobs to think that their touch was fading from his back. The arms winding around his shuddering frame crushed tighter, and he let them, silently, gratefully.\n_ _\n\nYari spoke, so much better than he could, and he let the hot streams of salt drip down his jaw and the back of his throat. Not a word passed his lips, reined in by the twisted knots in his stomach, the last bit of composure remaining for her own sake. \n\nIt would feel wrong to dump any of this on her, regardless of what she said she could handle; he had to admit, he viewed her as a strange little sister in a way, and with that attachment came the instinct to protect. One of the only times his heart and his power resonated in the same key, and he held it, *Her* As close as he could.\n\nAfter a few minutes, locked in this pocket of quiet storms and *Accursedly* Loud thoughts and strange shadowy arms, the pressure pushing at Owen's eyes and chest and mind slowed in its unforgiving pulses of static. Deep brown pools of cocoa and embers pulled themselves open, bloodshot but clear, and.. He figured that he should probably say something.\n\n\"Th-thank you, Yari.\" \n\nHe cleared his throat, his voice still streaked in mucus and uncertainty. His voice, tired but surprisingly even, still formed its odd little curlicues- she would notice that the *R* In her name rolled ever so slightly.\n\n\"It means more than you realize. Or, maybe you do realize? I, ah, have a hard time keeping it down, *Hah*.\"\n\nA forced laugh from his chest, to punctuate a statement that was probably concerning. *Was it? Don't think so. Maybe?*\n\n\"You, um, you've got to put yourself first during your worst times though, yeah? I'll, I'll be alright, ah. I'm.. Getting help soon. Proper help. I care a lot, and I don't want you worrying too much about me, okay?\"\n_ _\n\nA deep breath, his ribs pushing against his lightless ties. A warm and callused hand gently clapped her back, hoping to reassure her that he indeed would be alright. He spread his weight evenly across his feet, stable and solid, more than happy to hold his friend as tightly as she ever needed.\n\n\"I'm.. Honoured that you see me so fondly. You're incredibly sweet, *Chwaer bach*, and always welcome here.\"\n\n*Little sister.* That sounded right.\n\nThough the volume was a lot lower, a few low, melancholy chords spilled from the speaker. A thought like molasses recalled its name, *Over and Over*, Black Sabbath, 1981. It drifted through him slowly and sluggishly, the first slow and cool breeze after the storm, mixing with the colours of the now nearly-set sun.\n\nA thought drifted to his jacket, still draped over the back of his chair- *Should probably finish that, when I can move again...*"
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "She listened with a deep nothingness inside her, she didn't quite understand why he didn't just let it out, even though she *Knew* He had a lot on him (despite not knowing what it was) but she respected his decision and let go of Owen. \"I still need to recover... You have any snacks I can steal? I'm hungry and very, very tired...\" She zoned off on the spot before just falling flat on her face, after a few seconds, she raised a hand and a ringer and spoke into the carpet, but it was audible enough for Owen. \"Correction: I need something *Now*.\" Then her arm went limp again, Yari's ragged, stained body laying on the floor, very much conscious but clearly exhausted. \n\nShe had nothing on her mind, and now that her body had realized that it was no longer Rage Time, the exhaustion had caught up and the adrenaline drained from her body, hence the sudden collapse."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Yari's disappointment at not getting his whole summary didn't go over Owen's head, but he didn't say another word about it when she moved on by, er, *Collapsing on the floor.*\n\n\"Oh, dear-\"\n\n*Seems Uriel's grandma vocabulary is rubbing off on me*, the copper-headed boy mused to himself as he crouched down to hear his.. Vertically challenged friend's request for sustenance.\n\n\"Yeah, I've got snacks- you, ah, you wait right here,\" He assured her, stepping around her haphazardly-strewn limbs to get to his stash of.. *Boxes upon boxes of goldfish crackers.* Eh. Did the trick in a pinch. They filled the holes in his stomach his power ate, and felt good between his teeth.\n\nAnd so, the two of them sat in his room while the sky grew darker and cooler through the open window. Owen dutifully conditioned his jacket and Yari made herself most comfortable on his carpet, and that felt nice.\n\nSomething still nibbled in his stomach, the unsent draft to Pernilla sitting in its box in his phone, that he wanted to reread just one more time before sending it, in case he missed anything important. His issues weren't Yari's to sit through or worry about or suffer an inky feather about. There were things he could confide in her about later, perhaps, when he had a better grip, but not now. \n\nNow, he simply let the idle, easy chatter and familiar tunes mellow him out, and for at least one evening, everything was just swell.\n\n————-"
}
] | 493 | 6,140 |
346.666667 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares had been swarmed with thoughts since the earth had decided to plague the courtyard with its insane weather phenomenon. The chatter in his mind followed him relentlessly like a cloud of wasps— her face, her fear, it fuelled a guilt in him. One deep down in his core. One in the marrow of his bones, one he thought he might've been born with.\n\nThat force of destruction. The way it haunted him. \n\nHe didn't want to be that anymore. \n\nSo, here he stood, outside of Violettas dorm. \n\nIt was late evening. The sun was setting outside of the concrete walls that encased them like warm golden honey dripping through windowpanes. \nIn Ares' hands were two things. A sizeable portion of food he had just cooked, and a chocolate bar. Dinner and a treat, a wish for a comforting night. \n\nAn apology. \n\nThe tall boy hesitated. Nervousness itched at he usually so sure demeanour. \n\n*Knock. Knock. Knock.*"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "The last couple days hadn't been *Amazing*, that's something that even the most ignorant person could tell- *Twice* Had she had to witness these stupid bones pelting from the sky. Both times had been far from pleasant, each time she thought about it too long the memories amalgamated together to form an uncomfortable rampage of Thoughts.\nEvery so often she feels a weird dip on her stomach when she thinks about Ares. Despite how her nauseous stomach churned to think about what he had supposedly done... She felt bad- he looked *Mortified* At the time. Like he had just watched a poorly executed slideshow presentation on his life's failures.\nWell, essentially that is what happened. To both of them actually. They have something in common?\n\nAlmost dropping the chinchilla she had been fussing cradled within her hands, Violetta reacts embarrasingly late to a knock at the door.\nWas it Margo? She'd message if she were about to come over- Hypothesis: it's an unexpected guest.\nShe places down the rodent and approaches the door, taking a moment to both be her personal hypeman and to glance back at her room. Not a mess as usual, but she'll always check.\n\nWho is at the door but Ares, standing a little less confident than usual- she'd giggle if she didn't know that this was *Inevitably* Going to end in talking about... Feelings... Shudder.\n\nA moment of silence as she processes the sight in front of her like a developing polaroid.\n\n\"Uhm... Hello?\" Brows raising, Vi sort of. Shuffles out the way of the doorway.\n\"Not quite sure what you're here for-\" Thats a lie and a half.\n\"-but you can come in if you uh. Want to. Need to.\"\nShe isn't scared of him, but for some reason it looks as though she is. Subconscious?"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares shifts slightly as he hears movement on the other side of the door. There was a break in his usually confident demeanour, because he too knew this would end up some sappy conversation about whatever and whatnot. \nIf he could avoid that he would. \n\nClearing his throat, he lingered by the door. He'd attempt... To make this quick. \n\"I am here to, I don't know uh, give you an apology? *Not an apology because I didn't really do anything—*\" He muttered between his words— \"I guess more of a comfort... Gift?\" \nThe boy shrugged. This felt weird.\n\n\"You... Looked really upset by what that stupid bone projected over me, and I wanted to give you something to make up for that?\"\nHe raised what was in his hand slightly, gesturing for her to take it."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Probably for the best- yknow, that there seems to be an unspoken rule in the air of *Don't* Get sappy. Although, somehow she doubts it won't. Vi takes in Ares's words with an amount of grace that actually impressed herself.\nShe isn't mad or anything, moreso... Uncomfortable. Even now, standing before the tall boy, burdening What She Knows Now, it was hard to not shrink away.\nAmongst less helpful things though, she was taught respect. So she stands as confidently as she can muster.\n\nShe nods thoughtfully, in place of an actual verbal answer- he was admittedly right that there wasn't *Much* To apologise for here. Its not like he broadcasted this deep truth with the intent of hurting her- if anything she feels bad that this is becoming a little more about her than him.\nThis did in fact, feel weird.\n\"Oh- um. Thank you. I think. That's uh... Very thoughtful.\" She remarks, eyeing up the food before another moment of awkward silence, followed by some more speech from the more uncomfortable wet cat looking than usual boy in front of her.\n\n\"Yes well... The smell of burning flesh is a bit of a sore spot so... Yeah.\" ...Pun intended. A second passes where shes mildly confused by Ares holding out the food.\n\"Oh- yes, thankyou.\" She gently yoinks the tupperware with a gracious nod and... Something that resembles a smile. Recently tightened braces were uncomfortable- and called for an equally uncomfortable smile.\n\n\"Its uh... Sort of funny. We've barely spoken but now we seem to know the most uncomfortable truths about eachother.\" She chuckles dryly, sniffing the food with approval- smelt spicy, but she'll eat the whole thing if it'll show her gratitude.\n\"I'm uh... Sorry that got broadcasted. I don't imagine it was nice for you either- worse probably. I don't have a comfort gift but you can like... Pet my chinchilla if you want. He likes everyone except me so.\"\nShes working up a yappetite."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Ares wanted to laugh at Violetta's joke about burning flesh, but instead he just kind of stared at her for a moment. There was something of empathy on his slightly tense brow, the way his unsure stance spoke of an apology. The boy was walking guilt— as much as he tired to atone for it. \n\n\"I'd imagine, yeah.\" \nHe managed to say, through a half sort of smile. A crooked, messy sort of pull on the corner of his lips. His canine teeth were sharp. \n\nWhen Violetta took the food, Ares relaxed slightly. For all the unease he felt, outwardly he didn't look too different. He was simply less, loud. More calm, more the Ares that existed beneath the smoke and ash. \n\n\"Of course— you're welcome.\"\nHe went with the safe option, and everyone liked chocolate. Surely the effort he put into it would show. \n\n*Uncomfortable truths.*\nUnfortunately no matter how much Ares wished it, there was no amount of hope that could make those truths *Un*True. The past simply had to exist whether he allowed it to or not. \n\n\"Maybe there's something... Uh, therapeutic in that. No secrets, aye? *Fucks sake...*\" The last bit muttered under his breath through a sigh as he adjusted his posture, leaning back. He clearly didn't completely enjoy the concept. \n\n\"Yeah it's okay— I'm just glad it was only you and that one other kid. *Thank god* It wasn't some massive fucking crowd.\" \nIf it was Ares would be reacting very differently. He didn't think he'd be able to cook that many apology meals. \n\n\"I'd love to meet him.\" Ares finally managed to give a wry sort of snicker. \"What did you do to, *Oh so gravely,* Wrong him?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Violetta sensed that her odd joke about... Burning flesh just ended up well. Crashing and burning for lack of better terms. She grimaces for a moment at her own ineptitude as Ares's disposition remains like that of an apologetic dog who just dropped a bird at her feet.\nWell, at least he smiled a little. It was better than just staring at eachother as if trying to mindread the conversation out of the other. Those canines sure were sharp... But she trusted him not to come here just to maul her- in fact maybe the less dog symbolism she imagines onto him the better.\n\nShe grinned down at the meal in her hands, then back at Ares- despite her attempts at seeming brooding and mysterious, Violetta has very little control over her expressions, and that meal *Did* Look good as hell. Yum.\n\"You never struck me as the kind to like cooking\" Violetta commented through a giggle as she places the meal nearby, she'll get to that in a moment.\n\n\"About as therapeutic as exposure therapy I suppose- hardly relaxing, but probably effective-\" Casting a glance back towards her chinchilla to make sure he isnt cracking into her meal, Violetta speaks through a slightly more uncomfortable, almost forced chuckle.\n\"-you seem to dislike the concept as much as i do though.\" Vi takes a step back, unintentionally shrinking away from the boy.\n\"Well some people do say three is a crowd, though... Not sure if the librarian counts- she could probably easily find that out about you anyways so...\"\nRambling again, Vi shuts herself up when Ares begins to speak again- chinchilla! Okay, that works. Might break the ice a little more.\n\n\"Aha- not sure, he might be homophobic, but he likes Margo and Sig so... Guess not- nono!\" Cutting herself off in a panic, Vi stumbles to the side, scrambling with desperation to pry the aforementioned chinchilla *Away* From her homecooked meal.\n...Returning into view, dissheveled, is Violetta, holding a mischievous looking chinchilla.\n.\n\n\"...You really wouldn't be able to tell that he doesn't have opposable thumbs.\" She states with an exasperated step backwards."
}
] | 392.5 | 2,080 |
341.08 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "A jaunty tune can be heard being hummed from the second-floor hallway of Newton's Cradle, the only disturbance of this Friday noon's overcast uneventfulness. The redhead with the black-and-green hoodie, somewhat presentable basketball shorts, and the now-full belly had stayed up far too late to want to be in class, but boy, did his fingers itch. It was as good a day as any to play hooky. Yay, three-day weekend! *Wughh.*\n\nWith his headphone volume up far too high to make out any of his own thoughts and a tangle in his gut anyway, Owen swiped his card through the lock on his door, shoved it open, and...\n\n\"*HWATTHEFFCK-*\"\n\n...Fell flat on his face. *The hell?? Surely, his room wasn't* That *Messy when he left it..* The visor of living red glass that caught his face before it hit his carpet slowly melted back into his skin and left his cheek to press against the fibres. Feeling around with his foot and kicking the door shut, the boy sighed deeply. He'd clean whatever it was up after a bit of floor time. Yeah. That sounded nice."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie's eye snapped open at what sounded more like a heinous screech from hell than a boy. She was having one of the best naps ever beside his desk. Owen just felt the nessesity to ruin that, *Of course he did he has the hand eye coordination of a newborn foal.* Amelie lifted her head to greet the boy with a heinous scowl. \n\nThis was the second time Owen fell in front of Amelie. They have this sort of thing going on don't they? Amelie affectionately turned all his homework into origami, and due to the loud crash he made they're most likely collapsed from the tower she put them in. \n\nOne origami in particular, a tiger, landed on her face and her frown deepens. \n\n\"Du bist ein Zirkusclown.\" \nShe murmurs. \n\"You certainly know how to make an entrance. You do nothing but falling when I see you, is that pure happenstance?\"\n\nShe speaks her tone harsh and mean, laced with malice that isn't true to her really. She just feels the need since he interrupted her best nap in a year."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*The lump of not-dirty-laundry talks??*\n\nOwen's entire body went rigid as he spluttered an even more undignified noise and scrambled to get his legs off of the *Whole person* In his room and turn to face her. His panic wore off in a moment, though, as he realized that there was only one person that that gravelly, disgruntled, heavily accented voice (that was calling him a clown?) could belong to. He fumbled to tear his headphones off and cast them aside to get a better look at her.\n\n\"Amelie? AMELIE!!\"\n\nHis palms rapidly smacked his legs out of excitement before he picked a tiger made of graphite-scratched lined paper off of her face to see that beloved scowl once again. A long lock of toasted-copper hair probably tickled her nose before he swept it behind his back and sank back to the ground with a blunt *Thump*, laying on his back and gingerly cradling the creature over his chest. *She made this precious fellow for me?* Out of view, his socked feet tapped madly.\n\n\"I-missed-you-it's-been-too-long-I'm-sorry-about-that-*Why, and how, were you asleep on my floor??*\" Bubbled out of his mouth too fast to put much space between the words, like he was some wiggly puppy running circles around his friend after a long day at work.\n\nAh. Yeah. How in the hell did she get into his room? Did she strike a deal with the devil, or Mr. Cantor? Or was she secretly hiding some Kitty Pryde tricks up her sleeve? Owen felt bad for not seeing her as often as he used to. He supposed after that, she deserved to keep her X-man secrets as long as she pleased from him.\n\nThere were smudges under his spark-lit eyes, but the crooked smile digging into his cheeks was genuine. *Floor time with Amelie, what joy!*"
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Owen was lucky she's always on opioids. The weight off of her was a relief more than it should have been, just waking up does things to people it seems. Her face still stricken with a horrific scowl that only Owen could smile at. *It was amazing how he could, maybe there were multiple things in his head that were loose. Not just one.* \n\nAmelie's face scrunched up just a tad while Owen was over her for just a moment. His hair felt soft and not like a broom like she thought it would be. Amelie stared with a narrowed eye, bones moving unending in her skin. Yes it was her, she didn't understand why he was so giddy over that fact. \n*The catatonic hospital girl appears!! Woopie!!!*\n\nShe watched him act like a toddler happening upon their Christmas gifts, what a sight. She wouldn't say a word about it as she rolled her eye. It was odd Amelie felt like she was Rolling the other but everyone knows she only has one. Oh, the joys of phantom parts of the body. \n\n\"Vit was comfortable. I vasn't going to your bed, the vite hair on it looks crusty.\"\nHonestly it surprisingly was, she was out with what felt like minutes. It usually took...5 to more days of no sleep for her to knock out peacefully for an hour. She did just that actually. *Maybe the floor wasn't as comfortable as she thought.* \n\nAmelie wasn't about to talk about how she got in. She was going to make up some bullshit about how she was a vampire due to being partly Romanian. She has some magic tricks up her sleeves surprisingly. She has her ways. \n\nShe made multiple origami, that one just happened to fall upon her face. Owen would be pleasantly surprised. \n\n*Ich frage mich, was dir durch den Kopf geht.* \n\"Vhat are you doing?\" \nShe scoffs. A her hands curled into tight fists they laid close to her neck, looking like they were protecting her neck from something they both couldn't see. Amelie lowered them and unclenched her hands, they laid against the floor. Still. Of course."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "A plume of pink bloomed across Owen's face for a moment, wondering how Amelie noticed the errant white-blond strands before he did; he then snickered a little at the mental image of Amelie fixing to just help herself to his bed and scowling in distaste at the evidence of Uriel beating her to it the night before. What odd people he took for friends.\n\n\"I dunno. Hanging out on the floor, same as you,\" He reasoned, making out the remnants of notes he knew he would never have reread anyway in the tiger's body. He held his breath until Amelie relaxed her hands; whatever that reflex was, he didn't question it. *Was it bad to be a little tired of questioning it?*\n\nOwen stretched long, the tip of his toe brushing the bottom of one of the cases housing his beloved bass guitars. It felt good to sprawl out, and it was nice and cool at their level. Not a half-bad napping spot, he'd hand it to his prickly friend.\n\n\"So, what brings you to my kingdom, O Disgruntled Maker of Paper Beasts, the So Rudely Awoken?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie raised her brow at the errant pink that decorated the boys face. *Somebody is a little smitten.* Amelie wasn't too terribly blind, and it's disgusting how somebody with white hair could shed so much. Her nose scrunches. *Uriel. Ugh.* \n\nAmelie lowers her brow her face still scowling but noticably more relaxed. Amelie looked at the tiger, she wasn't sure why she made so many of them. It's going to give her a headache if she thought about it. They're fun. \n\n\"Excuse you. Vhis is my floor.\" \nShe hissed. Amelie was pleasantly surprised to find the floor comfortable, it's too comfortable for a floor. More comfortable than what she was used to. Floors are meant to be uncomfortable... She shouldn't think about that. \n\nAmelie reached forward pinching Owens nose, extremely hard for a moment. \n\"Don't call me vat.\"\nShe pulled back just before a bone breached through the wraps of her hand. \n\nHer hand rubs the other, coaxing the intrusive bone back into the confines of her weak flesh. \nShe hums looking around Owens room with a tired yet cautious gaze. \n\"I just vanted to. It's comfy.\"\n\n*Lügner. Sag die Wahrheit.*"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"*EeEEP!-*\"\n\nThe boy once peacefully grinning ear-to ear yelped in surprise, his proud, pointed nose being pinched, and pinched *Hard*. He should have known better than to underestimate Amelie. She hadn't any *Scheiße*S left to give, but a grip like she still meant business. Still, the playful (in her way, he supposed) gesture tickled him. Just a little. On the cinnamon-smattered cheek, and under the ribs.\n\nHe hissed a little when the bone cut through her hand; she had made it clear before that she didn't need his pity, but it wasn't in Owen's nature to ignore it completely. It looked like it hurt, and he felt it somewhere deeper than his hand.\n\n\"Alright. Happy to lend my floor, then, if you say so.\" The smile, still, could be heard in his amiable tones, that always seemed to curl up at the edges.\n\n*She missed me*, a thought bubbled to the surface, twirling through the soft hollow beneath his ribcage. The thought of someone, her, thinking about him still made him giddy, no quiet joy quite like possibly being missed.\n\nCupping the back of his head with his right palm, he let his left flop palm-up a couple centimetres from hers. If she wanted it. Maybe yes, maybe no. The contact, for him at least, was nice. The tiger, much like a beast folded of flesh and blood, seemed to curl up on his chest, content to rise and fall with the slope of the soft yawn that passed through him.\n\n\"Missed you too,\" He dared. He could be a little shit today- he was already skipping."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie looked like she was going to knock Owen upside the head. She wasn't! But she certainly looked like it. If she- she wasn't weak. She just didn't want to. \nAmelie flicked her eyes up to Owen when she heard that noise. A small note of irritation flashed through her mind. Cracking like lightning against her already loud skull. Amelie turned more to the floor. There was no time to think about that. This was a time for relaxing not pettiness. \n\n\"I'll take your room if you aren't careful.\"\nShe mocks. Her tone still hard and like sand against glass, scratching against something that was once clear. \n\n*He knows your bullshit.* A voice laughs. She lets a release of hot air fan through her nose. How was she that damn easy to read, was she that out of the game? Shit. \n\nAmelie wasn't going to sleep again, she knows this. She messed with the floor, dragging a finger back and forth through it. \n\nAmelie placed both her hands beneath her in an instant, and forced her upper body up. *Ah, she forgot.*\nShe can't walk. Amelie said nothing as she went back to the exact position she was in. Exact. Perfect. \n\n\"Like I could miss that face.\" \nShe couldn't. *Er war kein Gesicht, das sie vermissen konnte.* She did. \n*Sie war es leid, so kalt zu sein.*"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Aw,\" He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip like a child imitating a cartoon character trying to mooch some sympathy. \"But I'm so adorably dishevelled!\"\n\nRolling his shoulders back, half-on the carpet and half-on the floor, Owen felt a series of *Pop*S down his spine, and he sank back into his spot seemingly deeper than before. Amelie had the right idea. But, then again, she.. Couldn't really get up.\n\n\"You wanna get up, or..\" The boy with the cedar-bark-and-turmeric gaze trailed off, nudging a pinky against hers. He didn't really need the hoodie today, evident by the soft heat radiating away from even his extremities. Today it was calmer, the cold from the floor pleasantly seeping into his skin, but the sleeping ether still twisted in its dreams. His other hand fiddled with his discarded headphone cord.\n\n\"What's on your mind, *Aaaaaamelie*?\" \n\nOwen peered into her hard-set features for answers, having had quite enough of what was probably still printed on his."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Whatever sympathy Owen was trying to garner was snuffed out by the violently annoyed look Amelie gave him. Amelie faced the desk and didn't give a single passing glance to Owen. \n\nAmelie said nothing. Her hand which was tapped against clenched an pulled away. She looked back to the boy, rolling her eye as she cast her stare to the floor. Her eye hollowed as she brushed her finger against the surface again. Owens anxious fiddling ignored for Amelie's contemplating. \n\nAmelie cast her frighteningly cold gaze onto Owen again. There was a violent blizzard in that eye that best not be questioned. She was cold in all ways where he was warm, it's sad isn't it. \n\n\"Ze floor is very warm. Either vhat or I'm just colder than the south pole.\" \n\nIt wasn't what was truly on her mind. Who'd want that; nobody that's for sure. \n\n\"Vat's on yours.\" \n\nA answer for another question. Though it always sounded like a demand coming from Amelie, oh well. \n*A game, for a soft hearted boy. She'd play along, where there wasn't much she could change.*"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"I-I dunno,\" Owen spluttered reflexively, before remembering that he could slow down and think about it. \n\nHe did know what was on his mind, he was just tired of it. Ares. Uriel. Valio's late birthday party, and how his hotheaded friend *Seemed* To be cool with him but with the ever-present fear that he was resented, tolerated, about to be voted off the island. And his softer-spoken friend, who he felt like he couldn't comfort, who he knew felt bad because they couldn't convince him that his best was enough. His own brain, twisting all the love he felt into things to worry about, sour pits in his stomach. He was talking about it with his shrink, which *Was* Progress, it had to be, but. But nothing. He still felt crappy.\n\n\"Today's self-pity session, I guess.\" He wrinkled his nose. \"I'm too much, an-and then I'm not enough, and so I'm- just-\" \n\nThe restless-tired-frustrated-hot-cold-itchy boy sat up with a *Hrmph* And picked at the floor between his legs for a moment. \"Mind if I just.. Make some noise about it? Tell me if I'm loud, um, please.\"\n\nOwen didn't need to scoot very far throughout his sometimes-cozy, sometimes-cramped room to go through the familiar motions. Selecting his red Spector (a beauty, truly) and making sure his amp wasn't up too loud, he plucked a couple of testing notes before flopping back onto the floor. Its weight pressing him to the floor was welcome; if he was pinned, he could stop pitifully floating about like a helium balloon four days after the party.\n\nThe thick metallic strings buzzed to life beneath his callused fingertips, reverberating from his amp to the floor beneath them; noodling no song in particular but the musical equivalent of ...A beached blobfish. No skeleton, barely a shape, a far-off glassy look in his eye. \n\nAmelie would notice, though, a bar here and there of a song she had shown him once, that had stuck; he didn't know all of it, but it surfaced and dove lazily beneath the surface."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie just watched Owen. Her frown deepening. He obviously can't hear her now, her voice is broken as is. No need to make it worse. He could hear her. She just didn't feel like saying anything. There was so much going through his head that really wasn't needed at all. A boy like him shouldn't have to deal with so much. You'd think he'd learn. \n\nHe wasn't loud. In fact Amelie could barely hear it, compared to the ugly cacophony of sounds in her head it felt like Owen was playing jazz. Her one good ear picks up on the note or two of a song she played a couple times at least. He's quite the fast learner with other things, nobody quite gives him credit for it. \n\nShe just stayed on the floor. It's a place she was familiar with, unlike... Everything here. \n\nHer hand unclenched. Owen is so much and more. Yet he just seems to take things onto himself over and over like it's a job. \nHe's enough and more... So much more. She repeats in her head. \n\n*How was Amelie so lucky that this boy didn't hate her... Incredibly so apparently.* \n\nHer mind stops and she forces the pounding headache coming upon her to the back of her head. Her gaze on the way his fingers pluck the stings to make a sort of pleasant tune; despite being a mixed mess of things he remembers, she finds she could listen to it again and again. And, with the guitar she got him too? She was glad he liked it.\n\nShe makes no noise. She makes no motion, her face stuck in that rancid look no soul dare stare at. For one though. Pain isn't on the forefront of her head. How pleasant.\n\n\"You can make it louder if you want.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"O-okay.\"\n\nA side view of half a crooked, boyish grin, and a minuscule adjustment to a knob.\n\nRumbling sounds hummed through the floor under Owen's back, along his shoulder blades, and through his skull. He never did know what to do with silence. Even comfortable silence, like this. And so he unwound, in one of the only ways he knew how; negative thoughts unspooled in rough, frustrated bursts, made even more muddled and angry when a note didn't come out right, interspersed with bits of songs stuck in his head and half-formed melodies that didn't quite know how to reach his fingers yet. \n\nIt was a skill, learned, honed, and practiced to the point of drawing blood from his once-soft and raw fingertips, to translate the chatter in his head to sounds like these. He let the pent-up things that couldn't be words yet rumble and clack like he were speaking them- better than if he were speaking them. He breathed.\n\nAmelie could do this, too. He hadn't seen her with her violin in an age and a half, but he had heard her do it- she was a properly trained musician, name underlined in blue and everything, hints of her once-poised stage posture still present in how she held herself in moments where time ran thin through the cogs behind her eyes. Her music had a texture, a fingerprint, sharp and ragged and dripping with viscera and grace alike, unlike any other. It really did baffle him how she seemed so content to lay back and just listen to him fiddle. Notes of *Giddy*, *Flattered*, *Nervous* Wobbled through his scattered sort-of-tune.\n\n\"..Amelie?\"\n\nHis other voice, notably less sure of itself.\n\n\"Would you, um, would you want to play with me, maybe, sometime?\" His eyes fluttered over to her death-cold expression, and back to a poster on the opposite wall. \"We could make some cool sounds, I-I'll bet.\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie was a professional, posture so ridged in a way that she's ready even if her eyes are closed. So conscious of stares aimed at her that they watch even in her head, with nauseous laughing and disgusting faces. Chained to being a puppet for pompous folk, but a sight for those lacking inspiration. She hopes she was a sight for both her sisters not only Tejal on that stage. Though, she did miss how Tejal ran to the back after a concert to crush her in a hug too tight for after a show. \n\nShe remembers every note of her violin. Every pluck every wave of her arm to produce a lengthened note of disguised sorrow. She knows she remembers, she practices again and again. Her leather jacket grows heavy on her fragile body. *A remnant of her.* Amelie's breath has stamina but she dosent seem to show that. \n\nAmelie stares at Owen's unbound passion for his music. He looks amazing, he'll be a great player. She knows he will. \n\nAmelie flickers her gaze to Owens face, acknowledging him. The side of her face covered by bandages seems all the more hollow now... She feels like she dosent have both eyes, her face remains. \n*Warum fühlt es sich so an... Verfault?*\n\n\"One day, Owen. I'd love to.\" \n Amelie looks to the guitar again. \n\"Only if you'd let me. I'm remarkably hard to play music with.\"\nIt's true. She likes to think she's a good violinist. She'd love to play the violin with him. Amelie looks at her hands, watching the bones move and scratch under her skin. Perhaps the strings will feel less hollow when played with another. She looks back to the instrument. She'd be happy to make music with him. Elated even.\n\n\"We'd make amazing music I think.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen's flurry of noise subsided a little to hear Amelie speak; his hands moved, and his eyes darted elsewhere, but it was doubtless that he hung off her every word. He really did think she was so cool. He hoped he could convince her, one of these days- she didn't seem to believe him.\n\n\"You think?\"\n\nAn excited-sounding note, slapped hard under his thumb. Louder than he anticipated. He winced a little. Still, her surprisingly earnest, dare he say *Warm*, admission lit his face from the inside.\n\n\"I think your playing is incredible. I, I wonder how we would sound..\"\n\nOwen chewed on his cheek for a moment, debating whether to say something. \"I have.. Something to show you, actually,\" He bubbled, the answer decidedly a *Yes*.\n\nA deep breath in, and a slow and focused exhale, hands lifting and stretching as he coaxed something within them to life. Not much happened with his left, merely a familiar heat radiating from his palm, but his right hand seemed to wrap itself in a glove of calm red as though lifted from a warm stove. Light from the open window glinted off of irregular, shifting facets as said hands resumed their places on his precious scarlet instrument.\n\n\"It's um, rough, to say the least- not ready to show the band yet- but I sneezed while practicing a week or so ago, and figured out...\"\n\nMusic, again, decidedly the calm, looping interlude in Metallica's *Orion*, but with a strange fuzz to it. The strings hummed with more than electricity; they slipped from his glassy fingers too soon sometimes, the notes sometimes sour and uneven in volume, but the beginnings of a deliciously muddy tone ran beneath the trivial mistakes. Owen got the hang of it, sliding his fingers along the strings with growing excitement, wrapping the two of them up in his almost-beautiful waves of noise. No pedals he had peddled could quite match it.\n\nHe paused for a moment, cracking his knuckles and nervously grinning back at Amelie. *So? Is it working?*"
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie furrows her brow.\n\n\"*Dummkopf*, I know so.\"\n\nThere was a note of vauge passive-aggressiveness behind her words. She didn't just say that for it to be questioned like a joke. Amelie's scowl stayed, unchanging to the feverish smile Owen had. \n\n\"That's something to find out. Is it not? No use wistfully thinking about it when you can act. Which I know you overthink often.\"\n\nAt the end she pushed a finger into the side of Owens temple before pulling back to listen to what the boy had to say. \nShe raised an inquisitive brow, waiting. \n\nAmelie watched the boys melted jolly rancher looking power coalesce. It was odd to look at, much more pleasant than what Amelie had to stare at everyday though. It was somewhat pleasant despite looking like marinated chicken. \n\n\"You don't have to explain yourself.\" \n\nAmelie's face remained painfully stale throughout the wonderful showing after that comment. Watching how he played with a stare that caught every mistake, every slip. It sounded amazing when he got the hang of it. With just a little more practice he'd be a spectacle, moreso than he already was. It was nice to see him so excited about this though, she'd grown tired of watching him be frantic over things he had no control over.\n\n\"You need to work on it.\" \nPlain, blunt, straight to the point. \n\"It sounds very *Very* Good. With that extra practice you can master it to your hearts content. It works well. It fits.\" \nShe spoke honestly, like she always has. She's happy that he found this out. \n\nHe might become one of her favorite bass players. *One of her favorites.* You don't touch Storm child. But, Owen is good at what he does, admirably so."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Yeah, I know.\" He just couldn't help but want to explain himself anyway.\n\nGushing for ages in gratitude didn't have the same effect on Amelie as it did on others, Owen had figured out. She had little patience for the exaggerated, for the things people were expected to say with less than their whole chests; she didn't have time for shit, or if she did, she didn't tolerate it. Owen was genuine more often than not, but not reflexively spicing up his every other word or picking through hers for hidden meanings was.. Refreshing. Few people truly had that effect, and he was especially glad for them. How lucky was he to have that? He smiled again, and squeezed his eyes shut.\n\n\"Thank you, Amelie.\" For so much more than just that.\n\nThe melted-lollipop shell cracked and sank back through the boy's skin, working through muscle and skirting around tendons to settle back in his veins. He seemed to relax a little when it rejoined his system.\n\n\"For that, and, for breaking into my room today,\" He mumbled in a low voice, idly plucking a few notes. \"I'm happy you're here, is all.\" Short and sweet- no need to wax poetic, he reminded himself. His head flopped over, facing away from her this time, eyes blinking heavily.\n\n\"Any requests?\"\n\nAmelie would be well within her rights to tease him for the no-doubt sheepish look on his face."
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie surprisingly knows his game well, byproduct of trying to impress the wrong people probably. She won't prod though, that's his own story to tell when he's ready. She dosent have enough time in this place to hear him say '*This is the bazinga shit ever unicorns shit on it!!*' She just wants him to show her and be done with it. Which she thinks he's learned by now, good on him. \n\nAmelie hummed, whilst listening to Owen. \n\"I know. I'm glad I got here in time or I would've found you staring at a wall like it did something.\" \nAmelie watched him fidget nervously, it was actually endearing that he thinks highly(maybe) about her. First time in... A whole really. To be thought of better than a mere stain was refreshing. \n\n\"Go through that roulette wheel of a brain and pick out one of your favorites.\" \n\nAmelie well, she could've teased him a little but there's no time for that. Amelie wanted to hear every sound and song he enjoyed so much. He has some good taste, what can she say."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "*Hmmmm.*\n\n*Black Sabbath- Solitude.*\n\n\"There was this guy. Back at the shop, back home. Hair longer than mine, jacket absolutely *Choked* With patches, big and gruff,\" Owen started, fingers softly plucking the melancholy melody. \"He'd ruffle my hair, and ask me where such-and-such thing was, even though he probably already knew.\"\n\nHis face warmed, as though cast over by long-past sunbeams rather than just the shadow of his chair.\n\n\"He came in, the day after I got my Rickenbacker, and I ran out to show him. Asked him the question again, and he sat me down, and he taught me *This*.\" A soft glaze settled over his eyes as it came back to him, the simpler time. \"I think, that day, he answered me with the truth.\"\n\nIt was a simple bass line. Convenient enough to teach a scrappy eleven-year-old who thought the world of you, and in one sitting, for he did learn quick, he did. It was true, though- the moment the kid believed it, and every time he played it again, it was the drifter's favourite song, and the order of events mattered less.\n\nHe found himself wondering who first taught the mysterious Amelie their favourite song. Were they as gruff? Did they curse and laugh as well when she hit a note sour enough to curdle milk, and did she laugh too? The grim line her mouth was pressed into let so little past it. Owen wanted to know so much more about her end of this thing that connected them, two very different people that they were.\n\n\"I wish I could take you there- the shop. I wonder what you would've told me, if I'd asked you what your favourite song was,\" He mused, his own tune melting into another. \"Or you'd have frozen my nose off. *Hahah.*\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie taps a finger against the floor. \n\n\"He certainly sounds like a character. I wouldn't mind meeting him.\" \nAmelie listens as Owen sounds more like he dosent have a heavy chain to his thoughts. It's kind of refreshing when he isn't trying to juggle sixteen things and remembering to eat. \n\nAmelie sunk further into the shadow the desk cast upon her, it's shade gently putting another veil on an already hidden abomination. It's a wonder how she is even next to him currently. Odd. \n\nAmelie nodded but it was just her turning her head more to Owen. Her hands feeling solid and uncomfortable along with the rest of her body, she folded her hands over one another against her sternum. It laid unwanted against a body frail body, she could feel every bone that was truly part of her skeleton and not. It was disgusting, heinous. \n\n*She wonders how her sisters would look at her now.*\n\nAmelie drifted off slightly, the sound of the bass becoming slightly muted. Her sisters, would they love her still? After everything would they still look at her the same? There was no smile on their faces when Amelie last saw them, Amelie can't remember what their smiles looked like... She needs to look at the picture she has again. Her scowl became worse when Owens words cut through her thought. \n\n\"I would have. Space is a warmer thing than me, it's factual.\" \nAmelie's voice snapping against her throat like some veteran thinking about the hell they walked in, once upon their lives. Amelie isn't sure she has a favorite song, they've all gently mixed together with every note of her mind. She couldn't pick a favorite when she's trying so hard to remember. Her scowl etching into her features like stone. \n\n\"What is something you'll always remember? Before your shield appeared.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "GETTING MY ASS IN GEAR\n\n*Always? That's a tough one.* And before his shield. When he had first arrived, the division between 'before' and 'after' its appearance (and the ensuing chaos) was stark and clear, as though burned into the the rings of soft wood that marked time; now, though, it didn't feel as strange, humming inside of him always. Time blurred, ever so slightly, new bark grew around the knot, and Owen found himself picking his brain harder than he'd expected to.\n\nHe slowed his loose plucking, and shifted his legs over to bend more comfortably than just laying flat. There were a lot of crappy things that he knew would stick around- a choppy slideshow of every time something something... *Oh, stop being a sad-sack.*\n\n\"I.. Hope I'll always remember the first time my dog dragged me into the ocean,\" He decided, adjusting a tuning peg. \"I was having a rough time of things, wasn't paying attention, probably needed to be dunked- he was little, but I swear he's a bigger dog on the inside. Decided the both of us needed to go swimming.\"\n\nIt had been a little more complicated than that at the time, but in his little sunbeam, it didn't really need to be anymore. Just.. A dog with the right idea.\n\n\"Was bloody *Cold*. Would give your finger a run for its money! Knocked a lot of sense into me, though. Was the first.. First time I laughed that hard in a minute. Made it sweeter, even with all that salt in my mouth,\" Owen reminisced. He really did hope he would remember it forever- he had come dangerously close to forgetting, once or twice, but he always landed the same. The ocean was never where he left it, and it wasn't always Lemmy the dog at the end of the leash, but it was the sort of memory that was made more than once.\n\nHe didn't turn toward Amelie again, but tried to feel the prickle of her eye on him. *What an odd question*. Was there something she was thinking about, that fit the same description? *Tread gently...*\n\n\"What's yours? Before all the shit went down?\""
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Unlike Owen whom was forced forward he could turn back with fondness. Amelie could not. She couldn't. She couldn't. *She can't*. \n\nBefore what. *Before everything was shit.* Before... What...*Before what...*\nAmelie's face contorts into something awful, there's a burn to her gaze now. It's still unable to be read. \n\nAmelie is staring at the gentle light brunette, it looks soft but it could cave under the weight so easily.\nAmelie is trying to remember something, he needs something happy. All she can think of is this odd all devouring cold, but it's oh so accepting. It's so gentle so tender with the fractured mess of the girl- *It's so cold...* \nIt had no weight it dosent press. If it's weightless. *Why is it freezing?*\n\nSomething is burning her eye, red dyes her vision. \n\n***\"Ah.\"***\n\nIt's her blood. *It runs cold on her skin. It's fridgid.*\n\n\"Can I exempt myself from this question?\" \n\nShe wipes away what thick red would stain the floor. She can't stain anything here, that'd be awful. Her voice is toneless, *Disgusting.* She'd be surprised if Owen heard her. He looks red, nauseating. Amelie looks the same, unchanged except that awful red of her eye."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Yeah, you can.\"\n\nA smudge of fresh red caught the corner of Owen's eye, before the sound preceding it registered.\n*\"Oh-\"*\n\nThe ambient fiddling stopped with a garbled sound, that he felt through the foot scrambling against the floor. He half-sat himself up, trying to find a way to prop himself up with the weight of the Spector on his stomach, before thinking better of it and *Thump*Ing back to the ground a little unceremoniously. Stubbornly, if one squinted. *Open wound*, something sitting in his ribs cried, the sound held behind his sealed lips.\n*She doesn't like you fussing over her.*\n*That looks like it hurts...*\n\n\"Um. Tiss-tissue?\", he asked, willing his arms to be heavy again. She already sounded so tired. Should he have just let her sleep? He would let her sleep if she wanted. Safe and warm, as much of either of those as Amelie could get.\n\nIt was times like these where Owen wished he could have that insight into her that she seemed to have into him- maybe it was like that because he couldn't help but beam everything across his face, so everyone had that over him. Amelie was quite the opposite. He tried to imagine it: bones curling and twisting through his muscles, tearing through the hot murky sensitive stuff he was made of, snatching up all the warmth when he would be so tired already. His shield pushed against the skin stretched over his rib, probably trying to be helpful; *Not really, but thanks for trying*. Gah.\n\nOwen's gaze tapped Amelie's one more time, before finding the same spot on the ceiling she seemed to be staring at. He wanted to say something more, but swallowed it. *I'm sorry. I wish I could help. Please tell me how.*"
},
{
"author": "bucke1",
"message": "Amelie sits herself up with a slight wince due to the sound from Owens guitar. The slight closing of her eye leaving the blood that leaked into her eye a new trail down her cheek. Amelie quickly wipes it off with the bandage around her wrist. \n\n\"No.\" \nIt sounded too harsh, maybe something clicked inside her head. She was oh so tired. But, Amelie needed to clean her eye immediately less it get disgusting and it takes what sight Amelie has left. \n\nAmelie looks at Owen, she knows he wants to help. It's a shame Amelie is too prideful on what strength she has to tell him what she needs help with. She needs to reassure herself she can still live and *That she has the strength to do so.* \nAmelie dragged herself to her crutches resting by the door. Taking them and with the help of the desk. She lifts herself off the floor. She finds a haphazard purchase on her feet. \n\nHer breathing was slightly shallow as she took the knob of the door and opened it. \n\n\"I need to clean my eye. I'm sorry.\"\n\nAmelie says her voice trying so hard to not be quiet. \n\n\"Have a good rest. I'm sorry for worrying you and cutting this short due to my... Unlucky timing. Goodbye, Mr. Edris.\"\n\nAnd she leaves. You can hear her crutches grow quieter as she goes down the hall to find a sink or something to wash her eye with. \nAmelie's scowl grew freighting, *Her mistake for letting herself be slightly vulnerable.*"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen wasn't sure which way to lean when his friend got to her feet, settling on hovering uneasily in case she might need his arm. She didn't. She rarely did.\n\nA delayed \"Oh, ah, d-don't worry about it\" Vanished into the hall behind her, followed by the quiet click of the door closing a few beats later; she was well on her way now, but he would have loved for her to stay.\n\nThe now-alone again boy turned back to his room, and greeted the tower of paper animals with a strange smile.\n\n————-"
}
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584.833333 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "I'm gonna start in a sec\n\n\"Therapy\" Had taught Mattias Gates a great many things. The first, that they were, to some degree, safe at Newton's Cradle. The second, that they were a person. A life independent of their inglorious purpose, a consciousness, a choice, a (para)human. The third was that there were people who cared about them. And that those people could be trusted and treasured. \n\nIt was the third reason they'd come here, why they remained after near seven hours standing in front of a closed door. They'd been watching \"\"Owen Edris\"\" For a while, even before they'd been taken to be interrogated, and come to the conclusion that he was strange. He could manifest fire. He was clumsy to a degree that should almost be impossible for an actual human being. And he was close to Uriel, a proximity and insidious trust-building that could only mean he intended to hurt them. Matti had meant what they'd said down in the room, to Blazer. Any threat to Uriel was a threat to themself. A threat to be obliterated with extreme prejudice. \n\nThey figured if they intended to kill \"\"Owen\"\", or even just to scare him into rethinking whatever plans he had for their friend, they should start early. Psychological warfare was efficient, and would lend credibility to later threats. They'd sit outside his dorm, wait for him to exit, and tell him in no uncertain terms that should he hurt Uriel, his head would fall to the weight of their flashlight. The plan was simple and clean within the confines of their mind, with a neatness that should have been a warning sign in itself. \n\nAfter hours— *Many* Hours, not risking to sit or move or take a break for fear that they'd miss his departure, Mattias was tired. They swayed slightly on their feet, their vision fuzzed from behind the dark tint of their glasses. *Maybe another day,* They reasoned. Yes, that was a good idea. If \"\"Owen\"\" Didn't come out soon, they'd leave and try again later."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Owen was about as awake as he could be before breakfast. Last night's rain gave way to a pleasantly chilled wind through his open window; it kissed his back ever so sweetly as he lay on his carpet before deciding to get up. The best sleeps, he thought, were the ones that he awoke from in a disgruntled but well-rested heap on the ground. *It's a wonder that that doesn't happen when Uriel's over. Hah, even they might run out of patience for me if I dragged them out of their beauty rest like this.* A wonder indeed.\n\nThrowing on a black *Motörhead* Shirt with the sleeves hacked off, thrice-repaired cargo pants, his bullet belt, and his favourite studded bracelet did nicely for today. Ares had once called this outfit his \"Karate Kid Villain Fit,\" And he couldn't *Disagree*... \n\nA cursory glance at the mirror hung at eye-level, and he was off to the bathroom with his hairbrush to tame this mane of overgrown copper. Just the routine click of the door opening, and he *JUMPED OUT OF HIS SKIN-*\n\n\"**AaAAA?!!**\"\n\nThis kid was *Way* Too close, and *Not moving*- the boy who hadn't wiped enough sleep from his eyes for this gripped the hairbrush white-knuckle tight in front of him, a familiar shell of heat shooting out from his arms and chest and resting over his clothes. Its glasslike, almost-liquid facets shifted and zipped, crackling in surprise. His face, frozen in an expression of shock, seemed to.. Not know what to say here. Owen's eyes, cracked wide, tried to take in the sight before him, but getting sucked into the dark glasses somehow boring holes into his skull. *Gulp.*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*Oh thank god*. \"\"Owen\"\" Had finally woken up and moved outside. The startled scream he'd let out had been slightly startling, but Matti wasn't sure they had the capacity to move or flinch. A side effect from standing stock still for the better part of a good night's rest. Rapidly gathering themself into some form of competence, Mattias glared from under their glasses. Their blue, slightly discolored flashlight was gripped in their left hand. \n\n\"'Owen Edris',\" They spoke, voice flat and low as to not betray any of their thoughts (still racing and half fallen into sleeping). \"Soon, I am going to kill you.\" \n\nWell, it was kill or lightly maim, but it wasn't like Mattias could add that after the fact. If they could have a do over, be slightly more alert when \"\"Owen\"\" Finally opened the door, they would have put something about the maiming. A good threat was *Specific*, they'd learned. Though upon first glance (this was technically the first time they'd spoken, and thus the first time Matti was able to observe \"\"Owen\"\" Up close), \"\"Owen\"\" Had seemed suitably frightened by their presence alone. It made the long wait worth it, and internally they preened. \n\nAfter a dramatically long pause, they spoke again. \"Your evil machinations against Uriel have not gone unnoticed. Cease your manipulations of ill intent, or be judged.\" \n\nIt sounded like something someone from a movie or a Greek myth might say, which meant it was probably a good warning. Their purpose complete, Mattias' fatigue finally started to catch up to them. Their legs held up by sheer force of will, but their eyesight began to grow fuzzy the longer they stayed standing. \"Be judged,\" They echoed, putting as much spite and vitriol as they could muster (which was, at the moment, not very much) into their tone."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"*E-EVIL?!*\"\n\nOwen's voice cracked, the hot ball of spikes in his stomach spasming as though this strange, obscured accuser had jammed a taser into it. Despite the absurdity of their claim and corresponding demand, the darkly-clad boy's pounding heart sank. He couldn't decide what exactly he thought he was guilty of, but a dozen interactions with his dear friend flashed behind his warm, bright doe eyes, poison staining the edges strange, sickly colours. *Was* He causing them hurt?\n\nAnd then, it hit him how unbelievable that was. *What in the actual fUCK??* They couldn't be real. This.. Aha. That was it.\n\n\"This is a *Weird* Dream, huh,\" He squeaked, before proceeding to *Thwack* Himself in the side of the head with his hairbrush with minimal hesitation.\n\n...\n\nNope. Still awake. *Stiilllll awake.* Owen's head now throbbed for a horrible duo of reasons. It was a little difficult to puff out his chest and defend himself when his instinct was- if he were being completely honest- to curl up and sob. That's exactly what they wanted, though, wasn't it? For him to crumble and melt? Owen was a little taller and definitely broader; he could shove them back and make a run for it no problem, scare them off and prove them right, but.. No, no, he didn't want to do that. That wasn't.. No.\n\nOne urge reigned supreme, however, one unanswered question to rule them all breaking through his wavering lips.\n\n\"And who are *You??*\" The pushy visitor's composure was a little wobbly, sure, but Owen's incredulity was painted in clear contours all across his cinnamon-smattered face. \"Uri-Uriel didn't s-send you,\" He asserted, straightening his back. *Crackrckck.* \"I've never seen you before. Who-\" His voice nearly broke- \"*Who* Is *Judging* Me?\"\n_ _\n\nTruth be told, Owen was sick of being judged. He had been tired of it for ages. People looked at him, him and Uriel especially, and decided that they knew exactly what they saw, and it boiled his magic-thickened blood. Being angry made him feel like shit, but he hesitantly let a little more rush to the surface; the shell of the hand gripping the brush swirled with orange light as he waited on his accuser to tell him who exactly they thought they were.\n\n*Who do you think you see...*\nThe boy's scleras seemed to be injected with fire, like lighthouse beams frustratedly swiping at fog with intangible hands. *What, pray tell, are you so sure of?*"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "\"I am—\" Mattias Gates faltered as a rush of molten light surged up through \"\"Owen\"\"'s hand, eyes widening in part fascination and part horror. \n\nThey might have miscalculated, slightly. \n\nIn their defense, it had been very little time since they'd escaped (left) the care of Blazer, and though they'd only discussed their worries superficially, it was enough to stir the silt that usually layered their more complicated emotions. Sleeping had been difficult, and standing up straight for seven hours had hardly helped. Any elements of a plan they *Might* Have had for dealing with \"\"Owen\"\"'s abilities were very likely lost to the chasm of fog and forgetting that threatened to swallow them the longer they went without rest. So while Matti had known *Logically* That \"\"Owen\"\" Could manifest fire, and that fire burned things, and that fire could burn *People*, it may have slipped their mind. Just a little.\n\nStill, made slightly more fearless by adrenaline and impeded brain function, they pressed on. \"I am the Ceaseless Watcher. It is my solemn duty to witness the sins of deceit and cruelty mankind will bring, and then return to whence I've come when my obligations are fulfilled.\" \n\nAny gravitas or mystique the statements may have had were slightly diminished by the way that Mattias' eyes followed \"\"Owen\"\"'s glowing hand in much the way a moth follows a flame, or a cat the bead of a laser pointer. \n\n\"And I—\" They continued. \"I—\"\n\n.\n\nIn moments of weakness, of vulnerability, of sleep deprivation, humans tend to fall back on what is familiar. Much in the way water flows downstream, how birds follow the same paths of migration, when people are reduced to their base states, they go to what they remember. Mattias Gates, whom had very little experience in social interaction, had no such instincts to build on, nor many experiences to make relevant the little they did know. No, most of the social cues Mattias Gates was familiar with came from one, very dubious source. One they'd spent hours listening to, noting down information and mock introductions and practiced conversations. So when faced with a question as simple and nondescript as *Who are you?*, a staple of many of those faux-interactions, Matti said exactly what they'd been instructed to.\n\n\"Hi, whazzaup. I am Mattias Gates, but you can call me Matti. Who are you?\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "\"Um.\"\n\nA pin could be heard scurrying away from this confrontation in the hall.\n\nOwen dug the heels of his crystalline hands into his eye sockets for a moment as a whole lot of things processed in half-real time. This kid-Mattias- was for real. They (*He?* They, for now) had been watching him and he didn't know, and they knew Uriel, and oh *Shit*, they really did *Come to kill him*. Owen had been all sorts of things to all sorts of people, but *Wanted dead* Was another thing. Someone cared enough, *Hated* Enough, to want him dead on Uriel's behalf. \n\nOh yeah, and this Mattias was in way over their head. In *What* Exactly was unclear- was this some sort of episode, a side effect of their powers (something to do with that 'Ceaseless Watcher' business?), driving them batty? They.. Followed the rivers of molten light through his arm like a mesmerized cat, either making their threats less threatening (easily distracted?) or even more so, the signs of someone not grounded enough in reality to veer from their path of.. Well, murdering him. *Could he take this kid in a fight to the death-er, incapacitation?* They seemed to be confident in their ability to hit him with that flashlight.\n\nSomething, though, rung strange as he dragged his hands down his face to once again face his visitor; that last piece. Scripted. He used to talk like that a lot. Still did, when he ran out of 'appropriate' things to say. Owen hated to relate to this.. *Overzealous anime nut? Arkham Asylum escapee?*, but he did, in this one way. It was almost comical, how the line was spat in their monotone, fake-scary voice. Taking a deep breath, he released his shield from everywhere but the arm peeking out from behind the door, regarding the swirling colours beneath the glassy surface. He leaned his forearm against the door frame, in clear view; if he could keep this kid *Just* Distracted enough, then maybe... Hell. His other hand fidgeted madly behind the door.\n_ _\n\n\"Y-you, um.\" *Fuck, what would he even say here- shit-* One thing at a time. Deep breaths. \"You know Uriel?\" His organs twisted painfully. \"*Ffyc*, w-what on Earth do you think I'm up to th-that you want me *Dead*?!\"\n\nWhoops. Shouting that part might have been a mistake, but Owen needed answers. Hopefully real, non-scripted ones."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "In any other time, under any other circumstance, Mattias would have considered the words they'd just spoken and decided promptly to never open their mouth again. But lost in the wonders of poor decisions and self-assurance (the latter very new and therefore intoxicating, the former much more familiar), they harbored no such reservations. \n\n\"I've met Uriel. They are *Sad*,\" Matti proclaimed, as if their words were a speech meant to move masses. \"You're trying to make them trust you, and it will work, because Uriel is foolish for one who is 'not a god'. But *I* Know, and they understand what I know.\" And in those words there was, more than truth, a seed of honesty. A solemnity not conjured or overblown. A seriousness, a weight.\n\n\"You don't understand—\" The train of thought tripped abruptly with another movement of soft, glowing orange, and Matti fumbled for words.\n\n\"Scissors,\" They decided on, though the two statements seemed oddly disconnected. \"Scissors. You don't understand.\" They narrowed their eyes, once again cat-like. \"I haven't figured out what you're up to yet, but rest assured you won't get away with it. Whatever nefarious purpose you have for lowering their guard will be stopped. Justice never rests.\" And neither did Matti, apparently. They swayed backwards, away from the door, and blinked their eyes against the sudden static in their vision. \n\n\"You're out to get us. I know it. You have some plan. A scheme. *I know it*. You might have tricked them, but you can't trick me.\""
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Frantic stars gnawed at the edges of Owen's vision, a thousand white-hot bugs crawling through his chest and over his brain. Fear, disbelief, and *Rage* Ripped through his body hard enough for his hands to shake. Scissors. *Scissors.* **Scissors.** There was only one way Mattias could know about his, or Uriel's, *Thing*S with scissors.\n\nBefore he could cry out, the *Indeed* Ceaseless watcher continued with their spiel, shovelling dirt into his grave faster than he could crawl out and ~~knock all their teeth out~~ *Cool down and defend himself*. He gritted his teeth as his power stirred uncomfortably beneath his skin; veins pulsed with new flames, sparks seemingly dancing beneath his face as he held them back for both of their sake.\n\n\"YOU. YOU WER-WERE WATCHING US. IN THE GARDEN,\" He managed to squeeze out. \"You have been watching me, haven't you! My every word, hhuh, you just know *All* The right spots...\"\n\n```TW for intrusive thoughts from here on out-```\nOwen's voice shook horribly, eyes darting every which way, invisible pressure tightening around his chest and his throat, his mouth dry as though he were inhaling volcanic ash and spitting it back at Mattias. ||*They knew. They knew one of his deepest secrets, they saw him touch Uriel that way, and saw them touch him, and they were going to cut his hair, they were going to tear out his veins and* **Cuthishair** *They knew how to tear his pride from his chest they saw him fuck he shouldn't have told anyone he shouldn't have dragged sweet Uriel into his infected gash THEY HAD NO RIGHT THEY HAD EVERY RIGHT THEY ARE GOING TO CUT YOUR HAIR THEY ARE GOING TO CUT YOU-*||\n\nThe handle of Owen's hairbrush sank into the floor when he dropped it, the boy's eyes cracked wide in horror as he saw his fingers' shapes solidify into the plastic. *They don't know anything they're right they don't know anything they know everything I hate them I hate them I-*\n_ _\n\n\"Couldn-couldn't I, I-I hav-have-have just f-f-FUCKING* BEEN THEIR FRIEND?\"\n\nOwen's attack was garbled through his speech impediment, the floodgates cracking and screaming beneath the force of the wave trying to escape them. His voice still cracked and shook, *Like a child's*, his hands gripped the doorknob and the frame *Hard* As tones usually only reserved for the deepest corners of the forest and the fortified music room clawed their way up his throat.\n\n\"O-of-ofcourseI, I couldn't, I'm a, I'm, I'm hurting them, and I don't-t Idon't e-even know it, I,\" He stammered, his face so hot he barely felt the tears run fast down his cheeks. He dragged his burning hands down his scalp, but it was no good. The heat was everywhere. *He* Was everywhere, burning and warping and melting his world. \"You're **Wrong**, *I just want to be their friend, I just want,\" He gasped through a tremor, cold sweat pricking at his back. \"Why can't I just b-b-be *Good* Annn-an-and have f-friends that-that loveme..\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "TWs: Implied child abuse, implied child neglect. Some really, really shitty stuff said to Owen (don't know the word for it). \n\nMattias Gates was cruel. \n\nMaybe unintentionally so (and maybe, sometimes, not), but the fact remained. It was a kind of morbid fascination with the macabre: the secret, almost selfish desire to push and push and *Push* Until they saw someone break. They thought to themself, personally, privately, that it stemmed from the same kind of need to prove the truth. To flay falsehood from flesh, to dig lies from bone. It drove them the way a rabbit drives a hound. Seeking, finding, catching. At the end of it all, Matti was left without blood and gore. Instead, the corpses they created were relationships. Trust. People. It was only the rare, quiet thought that reminded them: the rot is not the tree. The rotting tree is not the forest. \n\nWhen Mattias emerged from the wooded path, when they were panting and dry-mouthed from the chase, when their throat burned and their eyes blazed with cruelty, when Owen Edris finally snapped, those rare, quiet thoughts fled. And the same thought rang through the mind of Mattias Gates as ||every other time they'd expected a blow and received one||. \n\n*I was right.*\n\nIt was a sick feeling, to be right. One with a sudden fear, a sobering consciousness. \n\n.\n\nAnd yet even through the illness they could *See*. They had spent eight years with nothing but their Sight— they saw the shaking hands, the glistening eyes, the cracking voice. This was not a man who *Wanted* To break, to beat, to burn, not in the way it would be so easy for him to do. This was a man cornered and crying for help, one who desperately needed the kindness that came with silence and solace. Perhaps with any other perpetrator, he would have found it. But Mattias Gates was far more than righteous: Mattias Gates was *Cruel*. \n\nThe moment the melted hairbrush touched the ground, the prey inside Matti's brain *Screamed*. And the predator screamed *Louder*.\n\n\"You think you won't hurt them?\" They hissed, snake venom hidden behind blunted teeth. \"It doesn't matter. You are fire, 'Owen Edris'. You *Burn* Things.\" \n\nSleep warred with survival within them, a battle they could not win for long, but that was alright. Matti was used to having the deck stacked against them.\n\n\"I was watching in the garden. I have *Seen*. Uriel is *Kind*. You would reach for the stars? For the sun? How could you *Dare*?\"\n\n\"You think them an object, a balm to soothe your suffering. You are wrong. They are not *For* You.\"\n\n.\n\nThey weren't talking to Owen, anymore. No, this message was for someone else. A child with darker hair and all-seeing eyes and clips scattered through their hair. ||The one who waited at bus stops long after dark, who hid in cabinets and slept shivering in rain.|| The one who wanted silence. The one who wanted to be kind.\n\nIt didn't matter who they were talking to, though. Once the words had fallen from their lips, boulders on the back of a snail, they had been spoken. No matter how much Matti wished to swallow them up, to lock them back within their stomach, to have the acid burn only themself, they couldn't. \n\n*Mattias Gates,* Their thoughts echoed bitterly. *You are cruel.*"
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "Mattias was like a funhouse mirror, one of the ones that frightened Owen when he was little because he didn't understand what was him and what was distortion; he had thought that he had suddenly stretched beyond human proportions, that he was twisted and hideous and jarringly unnatural. His mothers had steered him away from where he stood staring in horror at the mirror, and showed him his real reflection in the deep puddle sitting mercifully on the concrete nearby. He saw himself, boy-shaped and harmless, and dug his head between their soft embraces to sob out the rest of the fear.\n\nThis time, however, Owen knew that he was warping to match the mirror. They called him fire, and fire is what pushed out from beneath his skin; they asserted that he burned things, and the smell of the melting brush had yet to dissipate. \n\n*They're right about me, warped, distorted thing that I'm trying so hard not to be, but they're wrong. They are so very wrong about Uriel.* \n\nHe could take their blows. What other choice did he have? The anger and the heat was blinding, intoxicating, and it sickened him to his stomach, but he had certainly told himself worse. And look where he was now, still standing. This new fury, however, on behalf of his dearest friend, refused to sit in his belly.\n\n\"I-*I* Think they're an object??\"\n\nHis thoughts were so loud that he half expected Mattias to hear them; could they? *They definitely could.* He felt that some things needed to be said aloud anyway.\n\n\"OF *FUCKING COURSE* THEY'RE NOT *FOR* ME! They're- *FOR* NOBODY!\" Owen's shout rang through the hallway surprisingly clearly, an angry spark being spat from a crackling log that could no longer take the flames eating it. \"May-*Be* I do wreck everything I touch. Maybe them touching me *Is* A disaster waiting to happen!\" \n\nThere was almost a laugh in his voice, incredulous energy boiling over the top. He wanted to do horrible things, and he wanted to throw up just thinking about them.\n_ _\n\n\"But-but they're nnnn-not-not- I n-never wanted them to be a 'balm' for anyone. Are they for *You*, is that it? I-I remember your name. They murmured it in their sleep while you were gone. They were-they were looking out for you, and they're worse at caring for themselves than *Me*, and, and-\" \n\nIt all flowed too deliciously fast, like he were clawing flakes of volcanic ash from his mouth before they burned through his tongue. A memory; Uriel's hands in his hair as they cried tears he never asked for, his arms wrapped so tightly around their sleep-weighted body, the both of them so weak and tired. *He never asked them to. They did anyway. He clung to them.*\n\n\"Will you carry them in your *Pocket*, then, the next time you march to your death without a word, leaving me again to worry about them starving in their sleep, watching you??\"\n\nOwen.. Had forgotten the smouldering coal in his stomach reserved for the blurry figure of 'Matti,' the one who went with Margo to the bloody tower, who... *Fuck*, he couldn't blame for Uriel's choices. *Nobody should have done what they did in those four days, even me. No one made them pass out for four days, they did it themselves. I know that. I've gone through this. I know that. Ffyc.* Another sob wracked his body, another wave of tears.\n\n\"That's- not what I-\"\n\n*Grrrrrr.*\n\nThe *Nerve* Of them, though, to think of them the sun, and all the stars, ~~like they were *Special* There,~~ ignoring all the sharp pieces that littered their soft carpet, stinging their feet and tipping them back into bed. Owen was no demon, he reminded himself, and Uriel was no angel.\n\nThe taller boy lit in all shades of red and copper and gold took a step forward and shut his door softly behind him with a shaking hand. His scleras burned gold, his irises reflecting red, his pupils furious pinpricks.\n\n\"I don't like the way you talk about them.\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Owen's acknowledgement of his own shortcomings felt satisfying for only a short, exhilarating moment before everything else came crashing down.\n\nThe blind anger, the soft, still fuzz of almost-sleep, the *Ignorance* Melted away, leaving Matti scrabbling against the closing walls of guilt with little more than an internal *Please, no, come back*. Something new settled in their chest. The fury was cold, not like calm but like frostbite. In the way you think it burns, how you shake like it's too much to keep inside you, how you would douse yourself in kerosene if it would chase away the freeze. It was, in reality, less parts anger and more something else. But anger was easier to hold, a blade simpler to wield than let rust. Matti turned it on Owen's words, tearing them to pieces in their mind.\n\nUriel was not an object, Matti knew, and *Owen* Was wrong, *He* Was, but—\n\nThey hadn't known that. They hadn't *Known*. \n\nIt was easy enough to picture, too easy. They'd seen the distraught desperateness before, and the feeling fit Uriel like an iron maiden. It was a feeling more selfless than selfish, the sort of kindness that got people killed. Their mind drowned them in imagined grief, smothered cold flame with tears and numbness. That single moment of empathy was so strong Mattias could almost ignore the voice rising from the shadowed darkness of a kitchen cupboard. Almost. Not entirely.\n\n*Your fault*, it hissed, a hundred strong, all forms familiar. *It's all your fault*. \n\nThey clutched to anger like a rope from a ship, hauling their body from a tumultuous and bloodthirsty sea. Tried, once more, for the bite of fanged teeth and the snap of accusation. \"***You—***\" They forced out, a word a thousand shades of crimson and malice. Casting a desperate hand up to the deck. Searching for a foothold.\n\nThe rope frayed. They fell.\n\n.\n\nWaves crashed around their ears, concrete like a tsunami, locking lungs. Panic in a rising tide well past the threat of overflow.\n\nIn desperation they searched for Gabe's steady presence at their back, for Margo's grin at their side, for Uriel's outstretched hand in front of them. Instead, they found nothing. Instead, they found themself alone. \n\n\n\nIt was a small movement, that did it. Something likely not even conscious. A panicked shifting of weight. An inching *Forward*. The slip of the hand from a doorway. Something small. That was all it took, until the hallway looked familiar, like a dozen others, waiting to be stained with the blood of violence. They'd thought this place was different. They'd thought this place was *Safe*. They'd been stupid. It wasn't. It could never be. \n\nAnd so Mattias broke the second rule they'd ever set for themself, one that had haunted dreaming days and waking nights for over eight years. \n\nThey moved. \n\nThey *Flinched*.\n\nBackwards, with a force so strong it bent their spine forward, their arms up, their body against the opposite wall of the narrow hallway. \n\n*Protect your eyes*, is what they thought when they hit drywall. Not their head. Not their brain. *Protect your eyes*."
},
{
"author": "pondfaces",
"message": "[TW/CW uH, implied violence, semi-detailed descriptions of open wounds (burns specifically), traumatic memories resurfacing]\n\nAnger, Owen had realized a longer time ago than he wanted to admit, had a shadow. It was the crash after the high, the lost voice after the war cry, the cold blowing in through the charred skeleton of the house after it burns down, gloriously and completely. The flinch, that comes after the cathartic expulsion.\n\nMattias didn't need to call him anything, or accuse him of any bullshit crime; '*You*' was damning enough.\n\n\n\nThe doctors had told him a little over a year ago that healing burns was a process. Essentially, one bandages it up, unwraps it in the morning, removes the dead tissue, rinse and repeat until it's all gone. It was a delicate process, and it hurt like being flayed alive, but Owen's skin had closed and grown new tissue (the best it could, anyway). It had been such a relief, to no longer be peeled open, naked and raw and cracked beneath the rain and the thin hospital gown and the moon peeking through his window; he had healed, stubborn bastard that he always was, twisted and thick and never-the-same but whole again, ready to face the sky once more, clean and new.\n_ _\n\nHe only wished he could say the same about his mind, and his heart. Therapy felt like a similar process, he had noted; he peeled back the bandages, scraped off the rotting stuff, cried, rubbed things that stung and things that soothed into his wounds and put the bandages back on until the next appointment. That also felt like being flayed alive at times, but this time it just kept coming *Back*. More dead tissue, sticking to the raw new growth.\n\nOwen had nearly forgiven himself for something. He had long come to terms with it, the fact that it happened, but he couldn't shake the dead eyes that stared him down during and since, cold and rotting tissue chafing against the old bandages. He had been *Close*, though, almost at peace, ready to remove his wrappings, to finally see-\n\nMattias' face, contorted in horror, stumbling back; his own closed fist flooded with fire. Cold light on his back. *Right where he started*.\n\nOwen hated this feeling, that followed the catharsis. His blinding light's shadow, the smoke that followed the fire, the lesson he never learned.\n\n\n\nOwen didn't register his trip downward, just the scrape of the floor against the holes in the knees of his pants.\n\n\"I-I-*STOP IT*\", was all that he could force out as the unbearable heat suddenly ripped itself from his skin. A screen of transparent red, fever-hot but solid, painted itself in the air around his frozen form; it resembled a flower closing, curling back into a bud. Pitiful few sounds escaped it, and even fewer movements.\n_ _\n\n\"Sss-s-ss-stop say-ying horrible th-things to me,\" He whimpered. It was as simple a request as they got. \"*Please*.\" Surely, *Surely* This had been enough?"
}
] | 575 | 7,018 |
345.5 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ knock knock. Silence\nKnock. Knock knock knock. \nThe pitter patter of Hatsume's fists drumming rhythmically against Esme's door was incessant and perpetual. On top of the fact that her knocks and wacks reverberated against the wooden door like rain on a bus shelter, it was easy to tell it was Hatzume. It was tradition, after all. The tall girl made certain that Esme always knew it was hatzume at the door if the knocking kept going on and on and on and on, gunfire on a peaceful autumn day in the form of a constant thrum against the door.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Esmeeee- Es Es Esmeeee\" Hatsume chimed from behind the door, her fist melting to a tad red now as she anticipated her friend's arrival. Any second now the door will swing open into Hatsume's face, and the two would giggle for a solid 3 minutes. The usual routine despite the heavy cloud of uncertainty floating above Hatzume's skull.\nWhat with Valio's condition, were visits welcome? The curly haired girl honestly sort of assumed she got like... A pass as Esme's best friend yknow? But the possibility of the door getting politely shut on her managed to put her downtrodden before it had even happened.\n\n\"Honk honk babz\"\nReal??"
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Real!\n\nHatzume was a force of nature, but Esme was nothing if not a loyal accomplice to the chaos. However, her bleary eyes pried themselves open as she sat up, blinking, shaking her curls out of her face. She had finally crashed at the mercy of a particular dream-mancer, after a tumulutous day or two worrying about Valio.\n\nHatzume's gunfire waited for no man, though, and Esme slid out of bed with a few more stretches and the occasional crack of her joints. She stopped at her mirror and turned on a lamp, quickly applying some deodorant and a splash of some floral perfume before she opened the door, donned in her pink, silky pajama set, and a loyal set of white bunny slippers she kept by the door.\n\n\"Hi, Zoom-Zoom - Sorry, I'm a mess - everything is, right now, but I'll pick up soon. Really. Just haven't really had the time.\"\n\nEsmeralda could practically hear her mother's *Tsktsktsk*, the way she'd shake her head in disapproval, sending up a helpful maid to straighten up Esme's things. But here there was no mother, and no maid. Only Esme, and her giggly, perky best friend, who had gotten her through the entire ordeal thus far. \n\n(When Valio first ran off, the sleepovers with her and Gabe were all that helped Esme drag herself out of bed for class. She had a lot to be thankful for)."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ Door swinging open in front of her, Hatsume almost forgot to stop knocking, only apprehending herself when seeing her friend's face.\nEyes looked Esme up and down, then scanned the room behind her. Scattered and messy, oh how it hurt to see her prim and proper friend like this.\n\nA step forward and a bouncy smile in Esme's direction conveyed Hatsume was beyond ecstatic to see the familiar face.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"Hey Essy!- It's okay my room is worse\" Hatsume remarked, a spare hand fiddling with her purple, curly hair.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"I came to-\" She leaned down\n\"Check in on you!\" And in a moments notice, Esme is pulled into a hug that no doubt hoisted the shorter gal pal a couple inches off the ground, like the work of a harness in a movie.\nShe soon released Esme from the embrace and side stepped into the room, an ambient hum hurtling from her lips.\nAbsentmindedly, the tall girl picked up anything that looked to be causing needless clutter. Perhaps a shirt or a fallen teddy, or some pens or paper.\nAnything to help a friend.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ \"If it's Valio you're worried about, i bet she's fine. She's like... Hella big, there's so much blood in her body a little magical stab wound is like... Nilch.\"\nShe reasoned, strange logic shining through as it usually tends to. How the people of the cradle cope with this girl is beyond me.\n\n⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹↻ As frustrating and worrying as the circumstances were, Hatzume found herself threateningly calm about Valio's wellbeing. The woman was older sister-like, yet the tall girl was about as worried as a drunk lady on a hen night.\nThat being... Not worried at all.\nTrust brewed in her stomach for Val's constitution, she doubted the tank of a woman would ever be conquered like this."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "\"You're probably right,\" Esme said. She agreed as she fiddled with her fingers, picking at her nails, her cuticles, shuffling her feet. \"I know she's strong. I know she is. But they all said how still she was - I care so much about her. She is so strong, but so are the Angels. I haven't even seen them.\"\n\nShe let her thoughts continue to roll throughout her mind like an ocean - Esme was not like most in the Cradle, her mind was not constantly plagued with thoughts and worries, she and Hatzume both approached life with a giggly, bubbly carefree manner, spending way-too-much money on things they didn't need, their biggest decisions being on what to wear that day. Valio's injuries had put life in the Cradle back into perspective.\n\nThey could die here.\n\nEsme pulled herself onto her unmade bed and pulled her pillow into her arms. She knew Hatzume was right, deep down. Valio would most likely be fine. She was powerful, and, yes, gigantic in stature. Hard to defeat, even if you were a magical cult bitch with a magical cult bitch knife.\n\n\"Do you think we could go visit her? She's awake, now - Sergio told me about it a bit ago.\""
}
] | 318 | 1,382 |
373.947368 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ Three knocks rang out from the second floor hallway.\n\n□ When she'd woke up, Margo hadn't had any plans on the agenda. At best, she would have spent the whole day cooped up in her room, hanging out with her sons and reading about Minoan Crete as if she was about to crack the infamously tough Linear A writing system. Instead, it was now 3pm, and she was standing outside of her girlfriend's dorm room, a freshly rolled cigarette propped behind her ear and a flutter brewing in her gut.\n\n▪︎ Who could blame her? She'd been so busy for weeks on end that she'd only been able to talk to Vi once in a while, the odd text fired off between meetings or going out for bodega staples and smokes with her friends. \n\n◇ So, she stood there, her shoulder pressed against the doorframe, a smile on her face. She was looking forward to it, nervous as she still felt."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Why was she nervous? What was she fretting about? It was only Margo, after all.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ If Vi ever said that she hadn't seriously missed Margo, one must assume it's opposite day, as hearing of Margo's return was practically music to the short girl's ears, and hearing the knocks ring out sent an excited shudder down her spine.\nAbsence makes the heart grow fonder was all true as Vi patted down her clothes in front of the mirror, almost panicked.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Pressure? No, why would there be such a thing? It was just that it had been such a time... She patted her dungaree dress down to perfection, no creases or needless bumps allowed! Not while Margo is about.\nOnce she had taken a large breath in and practiced that award winningly off beat smile in the mirror, she swung the door open with gusto.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ And there she was, large as life. Vi stumbled over some words, before deciding to just leap onto the taller girl with a hug, and an elated \"Margo!\"\nTexts were enough, sure, but there was nothing like the feeling of the soft fabric of Margo's clothes and the smell of cigarette smoke drifting across her senses\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Mmmmhowhaveyoubeeeeen\" She mumbled into her lover's shoulder, her stance shifting wonkily as her balance on tiptoes shifted. Usually this would be difficult but... For Margo, a little discomfort in her right side was worth it."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ It'd been two or three months, yet that voice, those arms, and that endearing smile were enough to melt Margo down into a puddle.\n\n■ \"Heya, Vi. I've been... Been, i guess. I dunno how else to explain it.\" She warmly replied as her girlfriend wrapped her arms around her and perched up on the tips of her toes. Aware that it was probably uncomfortable, Margo knelt down slightly and, with her arms around her waist, lifted Vi off the ground just a bit, spinning her around before bringing her face-to-face. Grinning, she laid a kiss upon Vi's lips, then let go and set her down after a moment. Usually, she was stone-faced, but here she couldn't help but *Smile,* Widely and genuinely, eyes alive with adoration and happiness.\n\n▪︎ Who could blame her?\n\n◆ \"How have you been? I, uh... Haven't been around much, y'know, so. Fill me in. What's new? Soup and Spoon establish their own little kingdom yet? Also you... You look great. I love that dress on you... Is it corduroy?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Oh, the wonders of being young and in love... Vi's grip on Margo didn't falter, and a giddy squeal and giggle encroached from her throat while her partner twirled her around. Margo's hands hoisting her up sent unadulterated electricity coursing through her system and zapping through her organs and straight to the chemicals in her brain.\nHappy to indulge in a smooch, Vi pressed a kiss of mutual enthusiastic upon her girlfriend's likely slightly chapped lips. Soon, she was placed back down on earth by the heavenly hands.\nAs sad as she was to be out of Margo's grip, it was usually for the best. Vi picked up her decorated crutch that lay propped against the wall.\nIt was no doubt that even with that new accessory of sorts, Vi looked... Different. Her hair was altered into a more feathery and exciting wolf cut, and she seemed to have a bit more exciting jewellery to her name.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Soup and Spoon are still spoiled and rude, I don't... Think they'd be very good leaders of an empire yet though... I'm training them still.\"\nStealing a glance to the cage of the two trouble makers, she shifted her weight upon the supported walking stick. A soft pink brushed over her cheeks upon the other girl's compliment gracing her eardrums.\n\"And you look... As gorgeous as the moon. So brilliant I can't take my eyes away- aha- oh yes, it is cordoruy...\" An idea clearly flashes across her face, and shes speaking again.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Speaking of, did you know theyre inventing a corduroy pillow?\"\nShe holds back a snicker with little succession, just what is this girl planning..?"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"It's taking you this long? Cosmo was already committing war crimes in Laos after four months under my fierce tutelage, you gotta pick it up, babe.\" \n\n□ Margo chuckled and stepped aside, warm and lively in a way that she usually kept under wraps. Vi, however, brought out the best in her, the brightest in her, the warmth and the protective urge that she was still learning the healthy limits of. Who could blame her? Vi was the apple of her eye, the crown jewel in her life's accomplishments; of course she'd want to cherish her and keep her safe from those that would harm her, but the line between good will and harmful will was one she had to learn to walk.\n\n▪︎ Then she noticed the cane, and the thinly-veiled snicker beneath Vi's expression of pure glee.\n\n◆ \"Noticed you got a cane. Looks nice.\" She hummed in quick succession, her own features dusted a bright red as Vi laid compliments upon her in return. Butterflies flitted in her chest, neutrons in a reactor fizzing against her soul's Geiger counter, and she nervously wrapped an arm around Vi's once she was seemingly steady on her feet. \"Also... A corduroy pillow? That sounds... Hm. I dunno if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But, they're making one...?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Yes well... They're only babies. They have potential for great evil, though.\" As common as this sort of conversation was between teenagers, something about initiating it with Margo made her heart thump with vigour and fill with a warmth of normality.\nShe couldn't help herself, Vi quickly made a detour to blow a kiss at the lovable, dense little rodents, of whom had made peace with the dramatically decorated enclosure in which they abide.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Speedwalking back to the doorway with a grin, she found herself spending a quiet couple of moments staring Margo up and down- hopefully it didn't look too... Suspicious or weird, but it was just. So so pleasant to gaze upon Margo in real life once again; she was 3D, in front of her, and completely non fiction. If Violetta so pleased, she could approach Margo, cup her face into her hands and whisper about anything and everything.\nIt was beyond relieving to have her girlfriend back in front of her.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta toyed with the cane in her hand, soon snapping out of the trance she had managed to throw herself into. As easy as an infant deer on a glistening pond of ice, Vi could ever so easily slip into a state of daydream.\nSoon enough, she felt her arm being intertwined with Margo's, like vines that will refuse to ever deattach from eachother. It felt as though Vi had almost forgotten that feeling of Margo's warmth against her over the past couple months, so the reminder of the sensation was more than welcome.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Another giggle flees her lips... The shaky attempt at control seeming to be lacking.\n\"It's... Making head lines!-\"\nShe bursts erratically into a fit of giggles, leaning into Margo a bit. I am so praying that you get that joke because it is always a very 50/50 split in my experience ahem.\nAs terrible as her jokes are... She's made it crystal clear how overjoyed she is to finally see Margo again."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"True, I suppose.\" Margo hummed, content with the answer she'd received. \"Nurture over nature and all that junk. Gotta raise 'em right if you want them to commit atrocities.\"\n\n□ A slight utterance left her without her will as Vi untangled herself and stepped back into her room. Of course, though, the dull yearning was dealt with pretty quickly as Vi power walked back out of the door and unceremoniously looked her up and down. Part of her understood why Vi was doing this: it had been a while, she likely wanted to remind herself that, yes, her girlfriend was real, and not just a case of her parahumanity completely scrambling her sense of reality versus fiction.\n\n▪︎ Of course, though, she couldn't help but quip back.\n\n◆ \"Like what ya see?\" A smug smirk crossed her face as she flexed her muscles, striking a pose and staring down at Vi with a mix of adoration and cool confidence. She *Knew* She was buff, and she knew that Vi liked it to some degree; why not make use of it then? Of course, though, as she was hitting her pose, Vi's giggles started to make sense as perhaps the stupidest joke she'd heard all month left her girlfriend's lips. \"I. I.\" Flabbergasted. \"That's *Awful,* But I,\" A chuckle creeped out, \"Kinda love it. Unlike you; I love you fully, I think. Now, let's get going, you dork. We got lots to get up to today; been too long since we've just had a day out.'"
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Violetta was lucky. Very lucky.\nThat truth was all that could cross her mind as her utter dork of a girlfriend charmed an embarrassingly cheesy flirtation in her direction, an unsubtle flex of the muscles bringing a peach plush over her face.\nStifling a giggle, Vi approached Margo with a tilted head and a doting look. Part of the raven haired girl wanted to become strong like that but... Glancing briefly down at her noodle arms, it was all but a fantasy; to even dream of having worthwhile muscle on her bones was far fetched.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Violetta quietly whistled, grinning ear to ear, her arm interlinking once more with Margo's\n\"Maybe I do. Would that be so wrong?\" She gently squished Margo's bicep, amused at the power that could likely end her very bloodline within seconds (not that Vi would probably ever end up in a situation like that ever...). Vi found an enjoyment in interlocking arms with Margo, there was something very pleasant about albeit very cliché position; despite the way her girlfriend's arm basically crushed her's in the interlocked embrace. \n\n: ̗̀➛✯ The laughter continued to tumble out of her jaw like a punctured keg, the joyous melody of her amusement with her own joke flooding the hallway with gusto.\nAt this point, Vi had spun around to be in front of Margo, giggling and sputtering into her girlfriend's chest, her forehead resting against Margo's collarbone. Her body heaved to an unstrict and irregular rhythm, and somewhere along the line she was just laughing for the sake of laughing.\nA minute... Maybe two passed and the girl was over it- at least it was apparent that Vi was in more than a sunny mood. It was uncommon, Margo especially should know that, what with the short girl's mood swings but...\nFuck, it just made Vi's serotonin levels sky rocket to have her girlfriend there again.\n.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She planted a smooch on Margo's cheek and returned to the redheaded girl's side with a pep in her step.\nExciting exciting... They were going out once more, a little more casual, for sure, yet... It made her giddy like a schoolgirl to be back hand in hand or arm in arm with her beloved.\n\"Awh, I love you fully too. You're the dork here though\" She teased, interlocking their hands.\n\nSoz for taking ages concert and dnd happened"
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"It's a sin to ogle,\" Margo tutted jokingly, \"But since you're so cute I'll let you have a li'l squeeze.\"\n\n□ Clearly, she'd begun to adjust to having her flirts regularly reciprocated, firing off a smooth in content yet awkward in cadence flirt right back. A hand running up her bicep, tingles shot up her arm and into the back of her skull. How someone managed to cause her to melt so easily was beyond her, but... Did she even really care to know? She knew she loved it, and she knew she loved Vi, and that was enough for. So, as she giggled profusely next to her in a fit of youthful glee Margo simply stood by, smiling as well, like a mother watching her child graduate high school.\n\n▪︎ Once Vi had removed herself from her girlfriend's chest Margo let out an amused, somewhat flustered snort.\n\n◆ \"What told you that?\" Clearly sarcastic, she began to walk with Vi's arm wrapped around hers, a genuine swagger and pep in her step that usually only came out in Brooklyn like the street rat she was at her core. \"Was it the dead languages? The reptiles? The obsession with religion? Ah, fuck am I saying, it's nerd shit all the way down. So what'd I miss while I was gone?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"I figured it out one way or another.\" Vi payed careful attention to Margo's steps, beginning to fall into the same pattern of left-right-left-right that her partner did. It wasnt a habit that Violetta noticed until she actively scanned the area for patterns. The rhythm of water droplets on a window in the hallway, the wallpaper and cieling tiles aligning in such a way that spent a shot of dopamine straight to the brain.\nWhat a strange thing connection can do, maybe soon their wavelengths would fuse too... Freaky.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Honestly? Having Margo hold her like this as they walked was assistance whether she intended it or not. The less tumbling over the better, and the grip between their arms alongside the cane had Vi at a balance level far more impressive than previously.\nThat and the muscle... Oh mamma mia...\n\"Awh, you're my nerd though. Not a load has happened around the cradle in your absence. Your reptiles seem to like me a little more though and I think I've befriended a couple people.\"\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Well and truly, she was somewhat at a loss for words in that short moment- \n\"And how was boston? Did you see your old friends again? Do tell them I say hello.\"\nVioletta spun the question back on at Margo, smoothing a thumb over the sweet girl's forearm."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ All Margo responded with was an amused snort.\n\n□ With Vi's arm wrapped around her own, she kept on walking the pair down the hallway, pushing the call button for an elevator conveniently located at the end of the hall and tapping the toe of her boot softly against the linoleum tiled floor. \"I see,\" She hummed out, nodding thoughtfully. \"Good that you found more friends, babe. Happy for you, really... Also I knew they'd grow to like you. Hell, Cosmo's already been to your room, and met your little fuzzy tyrants, so... I think he's fond. I dunno.\" She continued. \"I'm not precisely a reptile whisperer, I just know I love them and I know how to keep them from dying early or some shit.\"\n\n■ \"As for Boston, though...? You've got your cities mixed. I've been to Boston precisely once and hated it.\" She casually spoke, her voice rumbling with the depth and power of a V10. \"But Brooklyn was... Honestly really nice to be back to. Got to visit my favourite food carts...\" Margo began to recount her tale, digging her phone out from her sports bra and holding it so Vi could see. \"That's Tacos El Bronco. Proper taco cart, dirt cheap, fucking crazy good. This one's one of the Halal Guys' carts; my absolute favourite place back home. I dunno how the fuck they cook their chicken, Vi, but it's bust-in-your-pants levels of delicious.\" She chuckled. \"That's Omar, deepthroating a foot long hotdog, and that's Anton in the back recording him. Missed my boys, honestly... We did a lot of shit when I wasn't busy with court and shit. Jammed out, smoked hookah, went out and loitered at our old haunts... Got drunk. And then...\"\n\n○ The elevator dinged.\n\n◆ \"Fuck, there's the elevator. Need help getting in?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ a spark of tingly ecstasy brewed at where Margo's arm lay against her body \"Mhm, I've befriended Owen and Uri- maybe Sigrún? I'm... Not sure, I painted her, that should count for something.\" Defeated by her girlfriends correct inhibitians, Vi allowed herself to be walked down the corridor via Margo, a grin embellished her face.\nShe loves her girlfriend, man!!\n\"I play animal crossing with Uri and Owen. They confuse me sometimes.\" She's dead silent for a moment, finger tapping at the crutch handle idly.\n\"Are they... You know... Nevermind-\" Shaking her head, Vi changed the topic. It wasn't her business, after all.\n\"I'm surprised Cosmo didn't just eat Soup and Spoon- though, they are a bit big, that seems more of a snake thing.\"\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Oops. America is all the same to me.\"\nTurning her head to plant a lazy kiss on Margo's arm, Vi lingered for a moment, her spine tingling at the excitement of her girlfriend being about once more.\nBut anyways, moments later, Vi's face went from quaint pleasure to a look that spelt bamboozled in capital letters. Tilting her head, Vi's brows furrowed and raised to convey her absolute astonishment.\n\"Did you just... Pull your phone out of your bra? Is that not uncomfortable?\" Vi allowed an abrupt and puzzled laugh to erupt from her throat\nSoon enough, Vi's vision was locked onto the screen in front of her.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Woah.. I've never actually had tacos before, are they any good?\" She questioned with an unsubtle hint of intrigue, eyes widening at the truck, and the food that im assuming there were pictures of.\n\n\"Bust in your- ohw gross!\" She couldn't hold back her quiet laughter despite her scolding, snickering and chuckling all the while.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Once she had came back to her senses, Vi's stone gaze laid on the image of Omar for a bit longer than it maybe should have. Her expression showed amazement? Horror? Admiration? Just about every emotion in the package rolled up into a perfect dessert of shock and awe.\n\"...How is Omar real?\"\nGood question, Vi. She could feel herself gagging even *Imagining* Trying to do that!- Though still, she was glad that Margo had seemed to have had such a good time back home.\nIt almost made Vi jealous- there truly was nothing more she wanted than to return *Home*... Masterfully, she shook those feelings off, she could lament about home later, now was date time ‼️ I mean... She had dolled herself up especially for it and all.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi almost flushed a peach pink once the elevator reached their level. In the name of chivalry, she wanted to let Margo help her in.\nBut then again, she didn't want to seem too helpless...\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Ehe, why yes please, my redhead in shining cargo pants\" She noted, allowing Margo to almost shuffle her along or... However she planned on doing it.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Oh and- I'm glad you had fun at home, even with all the legal stress and uh... Weird staircases, you deserve a break like that.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"I wish I knew their deal.\" Margo scoffed, tapping her foot. \"I've asked, but Uri doesn't seem to want whatever them and Owen has going on to be labelled, so... Who am I to prod?\"\n\n□ Casually speaking, she felt a spark race up the back of her neck. Bristles of a brush, goosebumps followed in its wake, alongside an utterly whipped expression for a few moments before Margo snapped back to. \"Oh yeah, America is... It's actually pretty varied. Each region's got its similarities, sure, but every place got its own culture and fair share of wackjobs. And food too; like, southerners? Fuck they know how to cook good soul food.\" She laughed. \"And then New York is like a culinary singularity. It's nuts.\"\n\n◆ \"What?\" Margo laughed as Vi scolded her, silently noting that the elevator had arrived. \"I said what I said, and you can kiss me about it.\" She continued, light bubbles of roasty laughter fizzing from her throat. As the elevator opened up with a telltale ding she had a choice to make: did she act like the knight in shining armor? Or did she take a practical approach? The former won out in the end, culminating in Margo scooping Vi up with her crutches and all, carrying her through the door with a proud stride.\n\n□ Then she had a moment of clarity.\n\n◆ \"Fuck. How am I gonna set ya down?\" She awkwardly chuckled. \"Like, I thought I'd be sweet and romantic and sweep you off your feet, but now I dunno how to set you down without... I dunno, dropping you? But that seems mean. Is it?\"\n\n◇ What a dork."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Eww no way why would I everrr\" Vi teased, moments before placing a delicate kiss on Margo's cheek anyways, She was learning to tease, Vi realised that and man, it certainly was quite the pass time. Something that she would hate to have directed at her (in the name of harmless misunderstanding) was something she was inclined to dish out with ease.\nShe waited a moment for Margo to make a decision, she expected to just be sort of... Hopped in once more, but to her surprise a pair of toned arms lifted her from the floor\nLetting out something of a surprised yelp, Vi wrapped her arms around Margo's neck, her crutches still attached to her hands, and her face now a bashful, giggly smile.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Margo!-\" She cried, leaning her head onto her girlfriend's shoulder, the short girl was positively beaming, and even if just for a few moments, it felt as though even if she were to rummage and dig through the depths and folds of her brain, she would never be able to find a piece of information, memory or emotional media, she would never be able to find *Any* Reason to stop the practically giddy smile that stretched across her face until her cheeks hurt.\n\"...I can see the eiffel tower from up here.\" She joked, kicking a leg out of habit.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Mutual awkward realisation, how exactly *Would* Margo put her down? This was certainly an unfamiliar situation\n\"Uhhh...\" She snickered, resting her head on Margo's shoulder\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Who said anything about putting me down?\" She chimed, obvious joy upon her face. Theyre so... Silly and domestic, her fingers drummed against the back of Margo's neck, a quiet hum escaping her mouth.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"I'm kidding. Uh... Probably just put my feet down? Or drop me but I am fragile cargo.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Damn, and I thought I had good eyesight.\" Margo chuckled in turn. \"You could probably spot a fly in a bowl of soup from a mile away, huh?\"\n\n□ Kind of an awkward utterance, but what else could it have been? It was tagged on, an afterthought almost, trailing off as Margo began to set Vi down. \"I dunno about you, but... I think it'd be awkward playing air hockey if we're on the same side of the table, babe.\" One strong steady motion at a time, she swung Vi down, making sure her crutches had made contact with the elevator floor before setting the her feet down, also taking her toll in the form of a light smack to her butt before pressing the ground floor button.\n\n▪︎ She couldn't help herself from being a little playful at times. Who could blame her?\n\n◆ \"Anyways, like I was saying, it was nice being back in New York, especially now that I'm a little older and a little more... I dunno, seasoned? Mellowed out? Still felt my blood boil whenever we were in Father's study working on the case, but... It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. Still wish I could've slipped away and just...\" She flung a punch at the open air. \"Tied up some loose ends. Y'know?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ \"Suit yourself\" Vi stated, making sure her feet were properly smack on the floor before she could regain her balance, the light crutches propping her up correctly\nThe light thwack elicited a mocking gasp from Vi, who turned around to properly face Margo with an open mouth of offence, she flicked her girlfriend's nose with a smirk. Vengeance is her's hehe.\n\"Yeah, take that... Hehe\" She uttered, living definition of >:] emoji in that moment. Once the button had been clicked and the elevator began to make it's descent, Vi lightly clasped Margo's hand within her own.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"Yeah, I think I get it... You've matured since being there last I suppose.\" She stated, thumb brushing against the back of Margo's hand.\n\"I'd love to visit home again for a bit... As in Korea, not Russia. That place... Is a shithole. No one is happy in Russia.\" Vi chuckled, head swaying subtly from side to side.\n\"Though... Tied up some loose ends, what do you mean?\"\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ Vi knew of the phrase, of course she did, yet... Something about the context baffled her. Just what sort of ends did Margo have to knot up and forget about back home? Outside of the obvious case..."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◇ And all Margo replied with was a chuckle, alongside the involuntary dusting of crimson along her mottled cheeks.\n\n■ \"Oh, I'm never gonna recover, am I? My poor, poor nose... What a brute.\" She groaned in turn, a fit of melodramatics just for the hell of it. Leaning against the door of the elevator, she slid down it a touch, then stood back up straight and roamed back over to Vi, letting her hand be clasped. \"But anyways, I guess so. Maybe I've grown up a bit here; it's been six or seven months since I got shipped here, that's lots of time for it.\" She continued. \"How long's it been for you, again?\"\n\n□ She mirrored Vi's thumb against the back of her hand, also craning her thumb out to rub the delicate skin on the back of her hand. Veins protruded, little bumps like braille only meant for a lover's touch, and she rubbed her thumb against these peaks and valleys for a few moments as Vi spoke. She let out a hum, a grunt, the occasional utterance, mostly to show she was listening and processing what she was talking about. Once the question turned back to her father her thumb went still.\n\n◆ \"I wish I could have just... Put Hiram in the dirt. For good. No joggers, no cops, no God to save him. Honestly, it isn't enough for him to be in jail; I want to be able to piss all over his grave.\" She spoke, quietly, an undercurrent of anger lining her voice. \"He doesn't deserve the dignity of prison. Wealthy people get sent to nice prisons; he should be in fucking Rikers, if not worse. I... Sorry.\" A huff followed. \"Not trying to drag you down too much. I've just got a lot of unresolved feelings about this whole situation with him...\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": ": ̗̀➛✯ Vi giggled at Margo's splendour of dramatics, blowing away imaginary smoke from her finger like a wild west gun in a cowboy movie.\n\"I think it's been... Maybe... Agh, I don't know, I lost count a little while ago\" She murmered, shrugging amidst her response.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ She was happy to watch Margo's expression shift as she listened, pangs of jolty, ecstatic love tingled across her skin as Margo's thumb brushed against her hand.\nWas it normal to still have a crush on the person you're dating? As weird as it was to say, Vi was somehow still in that honeymoon phase... The one in which every little thing Margo did sent signals to her thoughts. Sure, assuming they make it that far, some of the things Vi now finds endearing may be minor annoyances but... For now, Margo seemed so *Perfect*\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ That was despite all the morbid fantasies such as the following. Vi nodded with a similar hum, it made enough sense. Delicately, her head bumped against Margo's shoulder (or, around that general area), a small, gentle sigh erupting.\n\"Well, on the bright side you'll out live him. Your very existence is spiting him, allow that to be a motive.\" She stated the bedt advice she had at hand, flicking through the filing cabinet of her brain folds.\n\n: ̗̀➛✯ \"He'll be in the dirt soon enough, then you can piss and dance on his grave. Probably in the opposite order though, it would be gross the other way.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "◆ \"Yeah, I guess so.\" Margo huffed as if venting steam from the anger-fuelling boiler in her chest. \"But sometimes spite just doesn't *Feel* Like it's enough.\"\n\n□ Quiet came over the elevator like a cloak as it slid down the shaft. As the whirring of the overhead belts punctuated the silence Margo couldn't help but wrap her arm around Vi's waist. Unlike her girlfriend, who was thinking mushy gay thoughts, Margo's own thoughts were fixed squarely on home, and on the work she'd been doing in therapy. \"Not to keep on being glum, but... I didn't realize how badly my upbringing had scrambled me in some ways.\" She broke the silence as the elevator came to a stop on the first floor. The door slid open, but she didn't move initially. \"Like... I had this huge problem where I'd bottle things up before, and... Apparently that's because I was never afforded a safe space to whine at home. I'd... Y'know what Hiram did to us if we bellyached. I've been working on it though, so... I guess therapy is handy.\"\n\n▪︎ \"Now...\" Pushing off the wall, she made her way to the door, unfazed as they began to slide closed around her. She stretched a hand out, leaned in slightly, and let a small, self-assured smile spread across her face. \"Shall we get going, babe? Day's young and I'm looking forward to the arcade even though I don't usually play video games. Maybe it's because you're with me; I dunno.\""
}
] | 353 | 7,105 |
224.913043 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "Fuck you theo get destroyed/%"
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "It was a few days after Matti returned from the Angels, and they were fucking hungry. \n\nFor the first day, they hadn't left their room, and had been entirely unwilling to drink the Shakes from Hell that Gabe kept trying to offer them. The second, they'd made it about two feet before giving up and going back inside. The third? They'd barely gotten within range of the stove when their hand started up again and they decided the risk wasn't worth it. \n\nSo now they were here. Four days of crackers and protein bars and ready to actually make some food. \n\nThey'd brought the ingredients from their dorm, whose lock had been (thankfully) fixed. A can of green beans, a can of black beans, a camping mess kit, and a ziploc half-full of rice. They'd even brought a can of peaches, as a treat, which they put in the refrigerator to cool. They had the pot filled with water, rice barely started on the stove, when they snapped out of their hunger-induced fugue state and noticed there were other people in the kitchen with them."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "And enter Hatzume, who had watched Matti walk in with a look of surprise and intrigue- they had walked in in the middle of Hatzume shaking up cans of soda; up to the usual menace spiel of her's.\n\nShe hadn't known much about the whole angel thing- she wanted to know what everyone was always stressing over recently but... For some reason it was so hard to get in on the chit chat of the day- so she just accepted she may never understand the shabam.\nThe tall girl slowed down her can shaking, bright red stardust eyes following Matti's movement.\n\nShe quietly snuck up to the half stranger- well, not snuck up but she just.. Walked really quietly, she didn't intend on making anyone jump or anything.\nShe popped up behind Matti\n\n\"Hi!\" She enthused, bright smile upon her face\n\"What ya cookin?\" :D \n\nShe leant down, fiddling with the bright purple ringlets in her hair and looking over Matti's food on the go, also taking looks around at everyone else.\n\nShe.. Didn't realise she wasn't alone- why didn't anyone stop her from shaking those cans is the real question."
},
{
"author": "awarkey",
"message": "While Jack had been preparing his sandwich somewhere nearby the two, he began overhearing their conversation as he also looked at them through one of his abilities. Needless to mention Jack is not currently staring at them with his eyes, but this alone is making Jack lose focus and slow down on the making of the sandwich due to shifting his concentration towards the other two, which may eventually raise some suspicion among the rest at the kitchen, but he failed to notice that.\n\n*Alright I will definitely, just casually, talk to them after.. This..* He thought with a distracted expression on his face."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "Yarimiel entered the kitched with the usual disheveled look they always had about them, Frizzy hair, sunken eyes, corpse-like skin tone, except something was different, instead of the usual massively iversized clothes, she wore a parit of lightly tattered jersey shorts and a smaller shirt that was more her size. She went over to the fridge, coincidentally took out one of the cans that Hatzume had shaken, and flicked it hard a few times, making it let out a few metalling thunks. \"I don't know who keeps shaking them but they ain't getting me.\" After about ten more flicks she opened the can and it... Didn't explode immediately. She chugged the whole thing then crushed it with one hand, using her power, localized at her hand, to aid in the task, reducing the can to a crumpled aluminium ball, promptly tossing it towards the trash can, but missing and instead just stretching her hand to drop it in.\n\nShe didn't announce her presence any more than that, and simply began to take things out of the counter, first utencils and trays then ingredients... From the basics, she looked like she was going to *Bake* Something."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti nearly jumped out of their own skin when Hatzume spoke to them, stumbling backwards slightly with bean cans still clutched in both hands. *Fuck*, it was uncharacteristic of them to miss something as large as another person. Then again, the past few days hadn't exactly been a walk in the part. They prepared themself to efficiently tell the other person they didn't want to talk, and were just here to make themself some food but... Gabe's insistence they make more friends jumped to the forefront of their mind. Internally, they sighed. \n\n\"I'm making Two Beans and Rice,\" They explained, silently taking stock of the two other beings they noticed in the kitchen. \"It's two kinds of beans, and rice. Why are you— shaking up the soda cans?\" \n\nTruth be told, they didn't really care. It wasn't their soda, and it wasn't like the canned peaches would be harmed by some light shaking. But it was a good conversation opener: ask them something about themself. \n\nThey moved to the side, dodging whoever was preparing to bake and nodding as they did so. They could respect baking. It took precision."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "In Matti's defense, Hatzume had a habit of sneaking up on people, like a mouse creeping past all traps, she makes not a noise in her movement, despite her towering stature.\n\nShe jumps at hearing Yari crush the can, slightly shocked, slightly impressed- she shakes her head and nodded at Matti, unaware that she had freaked em out\n\"Yummy- oh i like to shake them because it's funny when people open them- kpew, soda everywhere! They always look soo shocked!!\" She grinned, giggling at the mere concept of it- envisioning the last time she did such a thing STILL makes her giggle.\n\nShe looked over at Yari, then to Matti.\n\"She kinda scares me, never falls for it.\" Hatzume whispered not so discreetly to Matti.\nHer gaze fell on Jack\n\n\"I dunno what he's doing but he hasn't fallen for it either. I'm in a prank funk it seems\" Sigh."
},
{
"author": "awarkey",
"message": "Jack was slightly concerned, to say the least. He just sighs in relief as he smiles a bit, the fact that he was *This* Close to falling for such a prank, should he have gone for a drink first before a meal simply makes him smile like that. He finishes his sandwhich, comprised of *Only* Cheese as he takes a bite before casually approaching Hatzume and Matti.\n\n\"Well, I would have indeed fallen for it if I didn't trust my great perception!\" He jokingly lied with a tone of sarcasm in his voice but a seemingly genuine small smile.\n\n\"Sorry to intrude on you two all of a sudden, I am Jack.\" He introduced himself to Hatzume and Matti as he looked with his eyes towards Yarimiel, waving at her. \"Also, hey there Yari.\""
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "Yarimiel, in the midst of taking out a flat wooden board, nearly smacks Jak in the face with the narrow edge, but stops it just before, simply staring at the others and acknowledging their presence with a monotone \"Hello, Jack. Something made me angry earlier, so I'm making brownies, do you guys want some?\" She begins to take out the last of the ingredients as she speaks, already standing over her station, using her power to create branching arms from her exposed elbows to reach for whatever she needed, haphazardly setting it down around herself and clearing the necessary counter space for it. \n\n\"I'm not going to use the stove so whoever needs it can go ahead.\" She spoke in an assertive, almost commanding tone to her peers, she did not care about who they were, but now she was here, and she had claimed the kitchen with the earlier statement of *I'm making brownies*. She immediately began to pour and mix the ingredients, having to make two separate mixes that she would then mash together later with surprising effectiveness, incorporating usage her power into the process to make it faster."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Mattias' head spun from left to right, attempting to catalogue all the people currently speaking. \"Hello,\" They said, reaching to hold out their hand before realizing the number of figures, and letting it fall back to their side. \"I'm Mattias Gates.\"\n\nThey felt their hackles start to rise at Jack's lie, but viciously stamped town the feeling. *Not all lies are bad*, they reminded themself. *So shutthefuckup.* Confident they weren't in danger, they turned to Yarimiel. \"That would be me, I need to start the rice. If any of you would like some of my food, you are welcome to extra,\" (they never made extra, only ever leftovers, but they figured on must sacrifice *Some* Things for friendship) \"—and. Yari?\" They swung their head back to Jack, who had spoken the name originally, seemingly in confirmation. \"I would appreciate if I could watch the brownies being made. I think it would be an interesting process to observe.\" *And I want to make sure you're not poisoning them,* They didn't say. After all, they didn't intent to eat any, and they didn't really care what people did in their spare time if they weren't trying to hide it. \n\nMatti hefted the pot with the rice in it onto the stove, turning the burner on and covering it with the lid. The beans were already cooked, though lukewarm— they'd just have to wait a while before they could eat."
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Hatzume felt a little out of it being the only person here not cooking, but that was probably for the best given her track record of being utter shit at cooking.\nThe last thing she'd want is to blow the entire fucking kitchen to smithereens- the first thing she'd want is to steal everyone's food, which was pretty much inevitable either way.\n\"I oughta try harder' Hatzume snickered at Jack, sensing a sort of challenge. \n\n\"Hatzume.\" Thats all she says, it makes enough sense to think she's referring to herself, a sorta strange introduction caused by a lowkey overload of people- 3 was enough for her.\nShe crossed her arms with a wide grin\n\n\"I'm not cooking anything, just here to cause an inconvenience or two\" Thanks Hatzume very cool, she began rummaging through the nearby cupboard for something, taking out some wafers and just... Straight up eating them- no need for plates or anything dumb like that, she simply stood there, pack of vanilla wafers in hand.\n\n\"I dunno how you guys all cook so much, i like... Live off carrots and microwave meals- and mooching off other's cooked food\" She shrugged, wafer in hand"
},
{
"author": "awarkey",
"message": "And thus, Jack was taken aback by the sudden aggressive reaction of Yari towards him that almost caused a very much unwanted injury. He didn't even had the time to process that Yarimiel was about to hit him all of a sudden, so he simply failed to assess a defensive stance like usual, or to even change his current position at all.\n\nFor a short amount of time, Jack simply stood still. His expression didn't change much from usual, his smile had only faded away afterwards, but he still looked quite neutral. However, from that pause alone most people would be able to tell that he was slightly shocked about it.\n\nAfter that pause, he simply turned around to Matti and Hatzume again. \"Ah, uhm. I see.\" He was only able to say, as he still processes what was going to happen to him if Yari were to actually hit him. Not even the concerning actions of Hatzume got him out of the thought that just came to him, one that suggested that perhaps Yarimiel was or could be mad at him."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "Yarimiel groaned, \"Sorry Jack, you were just so close to me and you were kind of in the way.\" Her head then turned to face Hatzume regardless of where she was, even if dorectly behind Yarimiel, with an irritated expression. \"Also, *You* If you even *Try* To fuck with my cooking, I will *End* You, you only get one chance, the second will mean __death__.\" She spoke with a venom in her voice matched by few, but considering how little of thos girl was known by most, it was fully plausible, considering that it was now common knowledge that the giant thing that suddenly appeared in the cafeteria and trampled three boys was her.\n\n\"If you want brownies you can just ask you brainless tick.\" She spat at Hatzume a couple of seconds later. After she turned her head back around to face her ingredient mixes, her face went neutral, but of course with a hint of that irritation from before."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*Also, you if you even try to fuck with my cooking, I will end you, you only get one chance, the second will mean death.*\n\nMatti felt a strange sort of kinship with Yari, and the fact that she wasn't a Despicable Tall Person certainty helped. As their rice continued to cook, they opened their green beans, washed them, and began to eat them from the can. \"Cooking is a useful skill,\" They explained to Hatzume. \"It's relatively easy to learn. Most of it has two steps: mixing ingredients, and then putting them on the stove. Baking—\" They inclined their head slightly towards where Yarimiel was standing \"—is much more difficult. It's closer to chemistry, than anything else, you have to get the ingredients, the amounts, and the instructions fairly accurate in order to come out with a decent final product.\" Once they had finished their beans, they rinsed the can out, dried, it, and placed it in the mesh-bag sitting next to them on the counter. Matti looped around towards the refrigerator, pulling out their peaches. \"Canned fruit is a good alternative. I've had too many baking attempts blow up in my face, in a nearly nonmetaphorical way.\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"I don't- I don't think you'd get away with killing me, not gonna lie\" Hatzume took a bite out of another wafer, chill or not, the threat did seem to take a little effect- but more in a sort of 'thats one fucked up kid' way than a genuinely frightened way. In fact, in Hatzume's mind, Yari is one of them kids that used to draw family portraits with a downright horrifying figure in it labelled as 'my friend that only i can see' or some shit.\n\nBut Hatzume was sure she wouldn't die today, of course.\n\nHonestly, she was more fazed by the 'brainless tick' comment than anything, taking considerable psychic damage from the insult\n\"Uhm.. Ouch??\" She remarked, sloght offense dripping from her tone and furrowed eyebrows. Sadge.\n\nShe watched Matti cook intently, nodding along. The food looked good, like.. For something Hatzume would definitely probably not enjoy that much, it looked divine in that moment.\nImpressive.\n\"Mhm.. I can cook a couple things, like uh... Spicy beef but my expertise stops there.\" She confesses, a little embarrassed\n\n\"Oo canned fruit, i like... Live off canned fruit. I'd sell my body for canned pineapple sometimes its just so good\" She internally drooled at the thought, her usual daydreams being interrupted by the image of herself eating some pineapple... Me too, Hatzume.\n\"Once i was cooking with my older brother, and i managed to explode the food somehow- disaster\""
},
{
"author": "awarkey",
"message": "\"Oh!\" He said as he turned to look at Yarimiel, also snapping back to reality at the same time. \"Don't worry, I was just uh.. Surprised. Even if you *Did* Hit me with that... Uh.\" But before he continued, he thought it would be best to not actually finish the sentence, just to not potentially center the conversation around that, even if the chances of that happening were small.\n\n\"Just, don't worry Yari. I kind of have a feeling that you would not do that without a good reason. Leaving that aside though.. I wouldn't mind eating a few brownies as of now\" He said as he took a bite out of his sandwich once again, before looking towards Matti and Hatzume, and *Le*(the) food."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "Ill reply once i uh...\n\nLet me say it in a prettier way\n\nShe sighed after Jack's words. \"Thank you for understanding, I just have a habit of getting super agressive while I'm in the kitchen, added on to my already existing irritation, but being in here calms me down quite a bit...\" She sighed again. \"Also, while my threat of harm still stands if you interrupt and/or ruin my process, I should not have insulted you like that, I uh... What's your name?\" She looked over to Hatzume again, many hands still mixing, arranging and measuring what she needed, as she had only barely begun the process herself. \"Also the reason I'm baking instead of cooking is because I saw this recipe online and decided to try it out, I just internalized it and now I'm putting it into practice, baking isn't a habit of mine, but...\" She carefully poured one bowl's contents into the other, the rest of her branched hands slowing down drastically until she was done, after which they continued. \"Also yes, I will gladly offer one to anyone that asks.\" She added at the end, her face now looking a bit downtrodden.\n\n\"I was sent hwre to get better but I sure as hell don't feel like it at all, it's just stupid shit after stupif shit...\""
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "Matti was glad Yari was getting everything off her chest. They took another bite of peach, and felt a little bit too much like an audience watching a play. They turned back to their rice, which was essentially done. \n\n\"That's rough, buddy,\" They spoke through a mouthful of sweet peach, which muffled their swearing as they accidentally touched the hot pan. \n\n\"Also, it's a good thing to meet you all.\" They held their now-full plastic plate aloft, offering it to the other temporary residents of the kitchen. \"Beans? Rice? Fruit?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "Hatzume supposed that, the artistic process was just Like That- she got pissed off while making music sometimes- maybe Yari was like that with cooking? Cooking is an art too kinda, right? Like... Culinary arts? \n\"I get that- art takes patience, whenever i make music i get like, mega angry when interrupted because its a whole ass Process\"\n\nShe continued going through the cupboards now, her mission to shake every carbonated drink within her reach was still very clearly a go.\n\"It's Hatzume- and dont worry about it, i am a little brainless sometimes\" I mean at least shes self aware? Considering the fact she could only make herself busy that day by shaking soda cans, maybe Yari was right.\n\nHatzume looked at the food offered, eyebrows raised in intrigue.\n\"That looks super good but.. I've kinda filled myself up with wafer now, Matti\" :( sadge- honestly though? It was sorta just code for 'backbeat the word is on the street you went missing or something and i dont want to take your well earned food.'\n\n\"Here here\" She remarked to Yari, shaken soda in hand\n\"It's bound to get better sooner or later, but the first couple months here suck ass\" Man."
},
{
"author": "awarkey",
"message": "\"Oh?\" Upon hearing Hatzume comment about this place, he got slightly curious as to why. Sure, getting dragged here without your consent sounds painful and perhaps even gave some anxiety to a few. But, for the most part Jack was just ~~bing~~ chilling in his room, playing games and ocassionally meeting new people. Of course the first days were haunting to say the least, but eventually he came to peace with the fact that he is not getting out of here anytime soon, and decided to flow with it instead.\n\n\"First months..\" He said as he thought about it for a bit before speaking up again. \"I mean, it only took a few days for me to adjust myself to this kind of situation. Perhaps I am being excessively laid back about this whole thing but.. What do you guys think about this place?\" He asked with geniune curiosity as he took another bite out of his sandwich."
},
{
"author": "burningsilence",
"message": "\"Nice to meet you, Hatzume...\" She slowly took the can from Hatzume, then looked between Haztume and the can a few times with suspicion in her gaze, an eyebrow raised. She then looked dead into Hatzume's eyes and flicked the can a few times, analyzing her expression to confirm those suspicions. If she noted any form of hesitation or anxiety, she woulf sigh and put the can down, otherwise, she just put it down and said \"I don't want another.\"\n\n\"What do I think? Better than being locked in a room for thirteen years is what I'll always say.\"\n\nShe finished the mixture after a few minutes and began to put everything away, arms whizzing all around the kitchen, opening cabinet doors and drawers, tossing things into the sink and after about thirty seconds, she retracted all of these arms and sighed, as if she'd done a short burst of high activity, but something had been bugging her ever since she began talking to the others.\n\nThe people around her, the residual irritation she felt, and the irritation from having people invading her working space in the kitchen, or had she invaded theirs and selfishly claimed it as her own? Her own thoughts began to contradict themselves as she began to feel a rumbling pulse in her head, and it began to overwhelm her, she needed something to stop this, stop the noise, the sound, the sight, she needed Nothingness.\n\n\"I'll be back in... Thirty seconds... Or days...\"\n\nYarimiel tossed her phone and earbuds onto the nearest non-occupied counter haphazardly and began to walk towards the nearest shadow, under a table, her face going completely blank when she spotted it. After that, she crawled under said table and let herself fall into the shadow face-first, somehow not slamming her nose into the concrete floor and breaking it, instead disappearing into it smoothly."
},
{
"author": "hourlys",
"message": "*Huh. I wonder if she knows the other Creature,* Matti wondered idly, before turning back to their meal. The real Mattias Gates, or rather, the fully formed one, took notes furiously in the back of their mind. Thirteen *Years*? Hiding in *Shadows*? But it had been a long, stressful week, and Matti of the Present was hard-pressed to let anything in between them and finishing their food. \n\n\"I think it's fine. I certainty don't consider it to be the prison it seems many others do,\" They answered Jack. \"We get food and board, and hypothetically learn how to control our abilities. It's a lot better than whatever alternative *I* Would face.\" \n\nThey didn't entirely understand the vehemence Margo and Gabe had, declaring Newton's Cradle a prison. It was the kind of statement you could only make if there was something it was keeping you from, something trapping or holding back. Matti had none of that. To them, it was simply a good opportunity. \n\n\"And you?\""
},
{
"author": "theodejaneiro",
"message": "\"I mean... It could be worse, yeah!- It's more rehab than prison. In fact i really like it here! Comfy beds, roof over your head, food, soda cans to shake up, what more could i want?\" Hatzume, the ever simple girl with ever simple goals- she's clearly easily satisfied\n\"It just kinda sucked at first because i was all alone and goin through a tough time yknow?\" Hatzume's voice softened a bit from the usual boisterous 'im loud, proud and you shall hear me whether you like it or not!' tone she held.\n\n'was in a bad place.'... She says that as if she still isn't suffocating under that same feeling she'd been mulling through for the past several months; she had simply gotten better at ignoring it.\n\nWatching Yari disappear into the void, was surprisingly unsurprising for Hatzume, who watched with an intrigued and overall unfazed expression. She sort of just figured it would make sense for Yari to have a power like that.\n\"...Toodles?\" Is all she comments as the other retreats, leaving her a little bit dumbfounded"
}
] | 230 | 5,173 |
380 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "midas.chr",
"message": "Anthony had (finally) started to become familiar with the layout of Newton's Cradle. It had taken him a bit longer than expected to nail the building to his memory with the hard hammer of two completely filled notebooks, but it'd been cemented all the same. He now knew the place relatively well, likely better than some of the more laid-back students who had committed the place to such ritualistic muscle memory.\nThey probably couldn't get from 2-F to the Courtyard, and know (minimum) three different routes! There was comfort in knowing the place so well. Comfort in knowing.\n\nHe'd made his way to the common room, this evening. A space designed to socialize in and mull over in the bliss of relaxation. The former wasn't likely, given Anthony's... Everything, and the latter was difficult to grasp with the foreboding feeling of tension he'd been experiencing since his arrival. It was sure to pass, yes, but the common room seemed like the WRONG place to be right now. Logic says he'd be much better off in his dorm.\nHope says that maybe he was subconsciously searching for both the social nurturing and relaxation twofold. Not an impossible outcome.\n\nHe was sat elegantly on one of the loveseats that seemed to fill the room, staring intently at one of the smaller T.Vs. \nThe T.V was off, yes, but it was something to look at. Focus on. A black screen that he could lose himself in. He deeply appreciated things you could get lost in.\n\nUntil something — rather, someONE — broke his focus.\nHe'd zoned in to the sound of breathing. The steady breathing that comes when one falls into a deep sleep. Small heaves. In, and out.\nHe shook his head a little, as quick as he could without causing himself to experience vertigo; to determine if the sound was real.\nIt was.\n\nHe stood from his seat, peering around the room, quietly investigating the source.\nIt wasn't long before he discovered it; a white-haired person of taller stature, passed out behind the very couch he'd been sitting on.\nOdd.\n\nThey were obviously BREATHING, hence the noise at all, so he skipped the procedure of checking for a pulse. He knelt beside them, about a foot or two away, staring at them.\nWas this... Common? People passing out on the floor? \nMaybe it was stress? Exhaustion? Some combination of the two? His brow furrowed in thought.\n\nIn any case, Anthony continued to do what he did best.\nSit there. And stare."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel continued their slumber for far too long. They did not twitch or move while they slept— instead, they laid as still as a rock. No signs of dreams or any other thoughts twisted the albino's face into any emotion besides a pallid, empty one. \n\nGood thing Anthony heard their breathing. Otherwise he would have surely assumed their mind had left to some other ethereal plane, leaving a pale shell before it departed. \n\nFive minutes is what it took for their mind to wander its way back inside their skull, for the snow-white eyelashes so still that they seemed suspended in time to move again. \n\nUriel awakens to the face of a stranger peering down at them. Unfortunately for the narcoleptic, this is nowhere near an uncommon occurrence; and so, with equally little emotion betrayed on their awakened features as their sleeping ones bore, Uriel stared back. \n\nThey blinked twice— two very, very, *Very* Slow blinks— and waited for... Something. Anything, really. Everyone Uriel had seen wake them up either responded with annoyance, fear, or panic, and the dreamweaver was waiting to see which camp the lone stranger in front of them fell into. \n\n....\n\n..And waited."
},
{
"author": "midas.chr",
"message": "To some, five minutes is a long time to stare at the same, unmoving object. The seconds feel excruciatingly long, even the most earnest of people-watcher eyes begging to move elsewhere.\n'Some' clearly didn't function like Anthony did. \nTo him, five minutes is a blip. A fraction of a fraction. Tiny. He could easily spend 10, 30, 60, staring at the same subject. Breaking it down. \nFive minutes was as easy as it gets.\n\nHe was starting to count Uriel's pores when their eyes fluttered open, immediately locking into his.\nThis would've startled some. Some would've been shocked to watch their still-life portrait suddenly lose the 'still' factor. Maybe flinch a little.\nAnthony wasn't 'some' in this case either.\n\nThey blinked. \nHe blinked back.\nThe two sat there in relative silence, seldom an AC unit's gentle hum, and exchanged blink after blink. \nStill kneeling, arms crossed over his knees, he titled his head very slightly.\n\n**\"How did you get here?\"** He asked clearly, but softly. Obviously asking them, not himself, as he was prone to doing. \nHis brain raced over the possibilities.\n\n*Exhaustion is choice number one.*\n*But why?*\n*What caused it?*\n*Stress? A physical condition? Something else??*\n*It's dramatic to pass out in public.*\n*Concerning.*\n*I can't wait to figure this out.*\n\nHe gave them a beat to respond, and when they didn't, he asked another question.\n**\"Where were you before? If you remember.\"**\nContinuing to innocently continue this staring contest.\n\nThis was far from annoyance, fear, or panic.\nAnthony was in a camp of his own."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*How did I get here...?* \n\nThe answer was obvious, was it not? Uriel tilted their head, slowly rising to their knees as they did so.\n\n\"I entered the kitchen by walking,\" Their eyes flickered towards Anthony's in an attempt to gauge his reaction at their interpretation of his question. \"And I was in the hallway before this, as I was walking to the kitchen.\" \n\n*I feel as if I am missing something...* Uriel thinks to themselves, attempting to gather whatever pieces that were lost by searching within Anthony's face. However, they were unable to find whatever hidden metaphor or interpretation of his words they were missing— all they knew was that the boy in front of them was not feeling strong enough to make ripples in the strings that connected their minds, but was that nearly enough?\n\nOh well. Uriel was handicapped in this area, that they've known for a long time. There was nothing to do about it now, especially since he seemed ambivalent towards them. \n\n\"I suppose I should ask ask the same about you,\" Uriel responds in turn. \"Ah— I am not missing class, am I? You were not sent to fetch me?\" A jolt of surprise echoes through their voice, but their body doesn't react at all."
},
{
"author": "midas.chr",
"message": "Vague as ever. Nothing Anthony couldn't work around, really. He did love a challenge.\nNOT like this was an actual interrogation. A couple questions, and he'd be done. Be on his way to his dorm. Let the other — previously unconscious — person go. \n*Just a few questions.*\n*That's it.*\n*I don't need to know everything.*\n\n*...*\n*I WANT to know everything nonetheless.*\n\nThey'd come through the kitchen. That's one thing.\nHallway came prior. \nThen there was nothing. Lost time, maybe? Empty spaces between coherent thoughts. Blanks.\nHe decided he wanted to help fill them; no matter how futile the effort.\nIf he couldn't break them down, at least he could figure out why the passage to do so was blocked. \n*Always leave a conversation with some kind of knowledge. No matter what.*\nThe hazy confusion in their eyes was understandable, and didn't seem foreign to them. This had to be a frequent affair.\n\nHis mind continued to run a race in (minimum) 5 different directions, as his mouth spoke calmly and with eloquence. No trace of it.\n**\"I was in the hallway too. Making my way here.\"**\nHe left out any details about his strange encounter that had left his brain more wobbly than what felt comfortable. What felt safe.\nHe shook his head slowly at the second comment.\n**\"No.\"**\nHe flashed a quick glance at his wristwatch.\n**\"It's a bit past midnight. No classes right now.\"**\n\nHe gave a barely-noticeable half-shrug. **\"I found you behind the couch. Nobody sent me.\"**\n\nHe asked one of the burning questions that had been etching itself into his tongue.\n**\"Does this happen often?\"**\n\nThe two sat; kneeling next to each other. Both equally still and unbothered. \nPerhaps, in a way, they were both doing more than just that.\nBoth individually hunting for information. One wants to know how they got there.\nThe other wants to know that and *Everything else.*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "\"There is no need to worry,\" Uriel says, getting to their feet. Now that they're standing, it's apparently just how much they *Loom* Over Anthony despite their soft voice suggesting otherwise. \"I am a narcoleptic. It is commonplace to find me asleep around the Cradle. You must be new, if you have not seen me fainted before.\" \n\n*Past midnight? That explains it...* Getting snatched out of their mind and into someone's dream was a more often occurrence at the times people usually slumbered. \n\n\"I apologize deeply if I frightened you. There are many strange things at the Cradle, and people like me are one of them.\" They bow their head to show their sincerity, and their pale bangs fall over their eyes. \"I hope I may find an opportunity to make it up to you.\" \n\nThe corners of their mouth raise in a gesture meant to show their good will and positive intentions; however, paired with the bags hanging under Uriel's eyes, it looks almost unnerving. \n\n\"You are awake because of jet lag, yes?\" Uriel furrows their eyebrows slightly. \"Or are the dorm beds an uncomfortable adjustment?\""
},
{
"author": "midas.chr",
"message": "They're right; they absolutely do loom quite a ways over Anthony, especially when he's kneeling like this. He quickly follows suit, rising to his feet with elegance. \nWhen standing, they aren't *Too* Far apart in height, but just enough to note a sizable difference. Just enough to make him feel a bit smaller in their presence. Small.\n*Not the best feeling.*\n\nWhen they note the information regarding their narcolepsy, his interest obviously peaks. He (once again) is forced to physically bite his tongue; to prevent too many questions from leaking out. There's always too many questions. It's only a matter of how much is able to slip through the cracks. How many inquiries evade his capture.\nThe light that has fluttered into his brown eyes is not quick to fade, however, and even if he can't speak every single thought that has rushed to the forefront of his brain, he can still remain excited at the prospect. \n**\"How long ago did that start?\"** He blurts out, not catching himself in time. \n\nThe byproduct of *Several* Mixed factors, factors that made his insides twist with his brain following in their footsteps.\nNew environment.\nNew people.\nAbility usage, amidst all the stress.\nIt's a recipe for his mask to drop. Just a little.\n\nBut Anthony isn't one to back to. He's a fellow of commitment, and he stuck to his abrupt question with determination. Not backing down, no matter how embarrassed he might've been beneath the surface. Not exactly professional.\nThen his switch flipped again, and his train changed course.\n**\"I am new. Two days.\"** A nod of confirmation, less for this stranger, more for himself.\n\nAs their hair obstructs their vision, he can't help but notice what an eclectic cast of characters have taken their roots here.\nBetween Ares (last name to be discovered), and this new entry, he could only be left to wonder what other kinds of people might be calling the Cradle their home. \nThis was nothing like where he was from.\n\nHe changed courses a final time, practically leaving his first question in the dust, behind, but not forgotten.\nOperating at a much faster pace than usual, his heart rate following in time.\nHe shook his head. **\"No. Couldn't get myself to rest.\"**\n\n*I don't sleep much anyway,* He didn't say.\n*The nightmares keep me far away from my pillow these days.*\n*Let alone somewhere like this.*\n*Circadian rhythm be damned.* \n\nHe stood, not far from the room's second inhabitant, waiting for an answer to any (or, preferably ALL) of his questions.\nStaring."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Uriel blinks twice at the barrage of information. It was a nice change of pace for someone to be so eager in talking to them, even if they were sure their answers would leave the new person unsatisfied. *New person... I should ask for their name.* \n\n\"Everyone in my family is a narcoleptic since birth.\" They reveal tentatively, trailing off a bit at the end. Why was this new face — \"Pardon me, but I do not know your name,\" They manage to say, — so eager about when it started? It was a question a doctor would ask, not the many gossiping students would want to know, and it make Uriel tilt their head in confusion. \n\nNot that they were worried about this strangers motives; it was their job to answer questions with honesty, no matter who was asking and for what purpose. After all, it was too confusing to clue out other people's intentions or motives, and too dangerous if you managed to get it wrong. It was more natural for Uriel to simply not care about what people needed to do and why. People had their own lives, and Uriel had their own— they were sure their own meddling would happen in the midst of slumber, when they picked apart the subconscious of sleeping students and teachers alike in their dreams. \n\n\"Two days without sleep is dangerous,\" They sigh, looking at their companion with pity in their eyes. \"But you are far from the only resident in the Cradle with such problems. Perhaps a long conversation will tire you out, and I may get to know a new classmate while I am here.\" \n\nMore new people. They were always glad to see new faces— it felt like making up for lost time, to be able to chat with someone without the baggage that came from being born in a small town. New faces and potential new friends, more pleasant memories they can bottle inside their brain and shelve inside their heart. *Then I will try to show them the best of what the Cradle may offer*, Uriel vows. They sit down on the couch, and gesture to the other to do the same."
},
{
"author": "midas.chr",
"message": "There was a lot of prolonged eye contact and sporadic blinking happening in this conversation.\nThis would continue. No doubts about it.\nAnthony never considered himself 'eager' to talk to someone, at least, not before arriving here. It was a step into new territory, and a scary one, at that.\nHe might just leave the Cradle with the ability to have a regular, human conversation. Fancy that.\n\nAt the first information reveal, he nods his head slowly, taking it all in. \n*Everyone in your family, hm?*\n*It's got to be a parahuman thing.*\n*The odds of that are WAY too low for it to be anything else.*\n*Has to be.*\n*Parahumanity that deals with narcolepsy.*\n*Odd.*\n\nThen they asked for his name. Easy enough. The practiced and perfected words rolled off his tongue before he could even realize it.\n**\"My name is Anthony Solace.\"**\nThe typical pause;\n**\"And yours?\"** With the small smile that came attached. A packaged deal.\n\nThen he picks up on the rest of their sentences, advancing the back-and-forth.\n**\"Dangerous?\"** He quietly inquires. \nHe knows the (in his eyes, mild) risks of going *Too* Long without sleep, but this isn't like that. It's only two days. That isn't unthinkable.\nHis brain runs. He tries pull it back to the moment.\nHe shakes off his practically inaudible question and focuses on the next part.\n\n**\"...I see.\"**\nHe looked at them. Curious.\nY'know, maybe he WAS eager. Not for the conversation, but for the knowledge that followed.\nKnowledge tasted so sweet.\nHe shrugged lightly. **\"Maybe it will.\"**\n\nHe sits next to them on the couch, still standing with stick-straight posture.\nThere's a sense of fear that rises in his stomach. The sense that maybe this person is hungry for knowledge too.\n\nIt's a feeling he does not linger on,\nBut is careful not to ignore."
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "Their light features soften, and Uriel smiles. \n\n\"My name is Uriel. Solace is an interesting last name— I do not think I have heard it before.\" They muse to themselves. \"It is poetic. *Comfort*, it means in English. I am one to agree.\" The breathy, musical laugh that followed brought some color back into Uriel's face, their pallid pale turning a bit more pink in the cheeks as their gaunt face relaxed itself. \n\n\"You should continue sitting where you are.\" Uriel stands up, despite only just have sat down. \"I will make us some tea, if you would like any. It is only natural to have something warm and comforting at hours such as these, after all.\"\n\nAfter a moment, Uriel pauses from their walk towards the oven, craning their head to look back at Anthony. Their face is barely visible, obscured by the fluff of wispy, white bangs and baby hairs that escaped their braid. \"Unless...\" They shuffle their weight side to side, the movement reminisce of a baby deer's attempt to balance on its too-tall legs. \"You would rather not have any tea. I can sit back down, if that is the case. Or I may fetch you another beverage of your choice, if you would prefer.\""
},
{
"author": "midas.chr",
"message": "Uriel. Uriel. Uriel.\nNobody here seemed to give their last names. \nWhatever. *Uriel.*\n\nWhen they commented on his surname, he simply nodded once more.\n**\"Thank you.\"** He spoke. \nIt was... Ironic, that he had such a title. \nAnthony never bestowed comfort. He didn't believe he experienced it much on his own, either. \nBut if this stranger, this... URIEL, believed it suited him, maybe he was off the mark.\nWho knows.\n\nWhen they stand, he almost instinctively started to rise himself, before realizing that this was not what they intended. He sits back down, trying to brush it off.\n**\"Tea sounds great.\"** He spoke colloquially, not trying overdo it, OR overstay his welcome. \n*Speak like a normal person.*\n*Whatever that sounds like.*\nHe leaned over a bit and tilted his head to the side. **\"Do you have Earl Grey?\"** He asked the question innocently.\n\nHe watches their movement like a hawk.\nNot with the intention to swoop down and snag its prey;\nBut only to watch. To learn.\n\n**\"...Do whatever you like.\"** He smiles gently.\n**\"I'll be here whenever it's done.\"**\n*Plenty of things to occupy my mind with until then.*"
},
{
"author": "hawkguyy",
"message": "*Earl grey is caffeinated, but I should not question other people.* Instead, they nod, returning to their trek to the kitchen. Anthony sees them take out two cups and an old, porcelain kettle with springs of lavender painted on the center. It looks worn, and yet Uriel clearly treasures it, handling the kettle with nothing short of reverence. \n\nMinutes later, they return with two cups of tea, and sit one in front of Anthony with a clink. \"I drink a special type of tea blend that helps with my narcolepsy,\" Uriel offers, gesturing at the off-color liquid in their cup. \"It is a family blend. I do not think you can get it anywhere else, or I would have offered you a cup.\" \n\nTheir delicate mannerisms hide strong, sturdy hands that hold their teacup gently, yet it does not shake. Uriel scoots closer to Anthony, and takes a small sip of the too-hot water. It burns their tongue, yet they do not complain. \n\n\"Many people have trouble adjusting,\" Uriel offers, looking at the smaller boy with warmth in their hazy eyes. \"It is alright if you are one of them. I know many miss their family back home, or their old friends. This ordeal can feel...\" They pause, letting the bitter tea soak on their tongue as they think of a word. \"Unfair,\" Is what they choose, the soft word melting in the night silence. \n\nUriel's eyes meander their way to look down at Anthony's face, gauging the other's reactions to see if their attempt at solidarity was successful. They cared little of their companion's past, but would gladly accept any conversation that would help the newcomer feel less alone. Comfort was something Uriel could provide in spades, if only it was welcome."
},
{
"author": "midas.chr",
"message": "He continues to scan their movement, trying to dissect their emotions without the words to couple it. \nA challenging task. He likes a challenge.\nHe watches the care they give to the porcelain, the dedication and feeling they've given to the brews themselves. There is heart behind these wistful, foggy eyes. There is understanding.\nHe finds Uriel to be very understanding already.\n\nHe nods at the 'family blend' comment, smothering his curiosity with the equivalent of a paper sack. Trying not to let it escape his lips. Forbidding it the right to breathe.\nQuestions are silently running rampant. As they always do.\nWith Uriel closer now, their words feel a bit more tangible. Real.\n\nAnthony often puts up divides. Barriers. He often creates a degree of separation between the words and the person speaking them, choosing to break them down analytically, bit by bit. Taking in their meaning in only the most *Complex* Way; spitting in the face of Occam's Razor. Never taking the simplest option.\nBut with them speaking to him so softly, so clearly, he does not have a barrier.\nThese are not just words that have wandered their way into Uriel's mouth, these are words spoken with a face and a name. Words spoken with meaning and PURPOSE.\n\n*Trouble adjusting?*\n*Not for the reason you'd think.*\nSomething about them seemed to beckon him to open up, to speak, a sentiment he fought defiantly. \n*Be vague. Be vague!*\n*Don't overdo it.*\n**\"Oh.\"** He paused, stirring his tea thoughtfully.\n**\"I've never been a stranger to new places.\"** A true statement.\n**\"It's not like I miss much from my place of origin, anyway.\"** A half-truth.\n**\"I'm positive I'll be able to handle it nonetheless.\"**\nA blatant fabrication.\n\nIf using his ability ONCE, so soon after arrival, rocked the boat to THIS degree, who *Knows* What would come about when he really needed it? What would the mental repercussions be?\nAnthony was moved here to regain his stability. He was doubting he had any to begin with.\n\nIn any case, Uriel WAS being quite the source of comfort.\nHe'd already cracked a bit of his shell. Perhaps it was them, or the late hour, but it was a crack nonetheless.\nIt all depended on if he chose to fill it in or let the water of his inner self flow out."
}
] | 375 | 4,940 |
433.777778 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Ares felt horrible. It had taken him a while to admit that. The dark purple beneath his eyes had deepened; he had no energy to leave his dorm. Valio leaving had taken a toll on him he hadn't prepared for. It struck him deep in the core of his mind, hit a weak spot he had hidden away. Ares had built himself up on a broken foundation, stacked his ideas and lessons on sand pillars. One strong wave of bitter sea water, and he had crumbled. Ares wanted nothing more than to hold up his shield, wield a sword and push back with the same force as the water that knocked him down. Yet, he couldn't. \n\n Here he stood outside of Finley's dorm. He hadn't knocked yet. Tired eyes scanned the door, he was hesitant. The boy didn't look his best. He had a black hoodie pulled over a slouched back, sleeves rolled up on arms that didn't have the strength to fight anymore. He raised them to knock, and back to his sides they fell. \n\n Ares didn't want to admit he had grown scared. Valio leaving had reminded Ares of something he had hoped to forget. His unnecessary presence, how replaceable he was. Locked behind steal and fire, Ares was festering a hatred for those that decided he was better thrown to the curb. Forgotten and left behind. That he wasn't anything worth keeping around. \n\n The fireworks were always a display of a tired child that wants nothing more than to be remembered. \n\n Inside his mind, Ares had fallen to his knees and prayed to a god he didn't believe in that Finley wasn't the same. Finley wouldn't leave. He didn't want them too. He begged they didn't want to either. He wouldn't force them to stay, but he *Loved* Them. This was something too good to let slip through his shaking hands. \n\n So he stands, and waits for them."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Finley had been waiting on their bedside - perched on the edge, a nervous swallow with fluttering wings, rustling robins egg blue inscribed in the very fiber and sinews of the moment itself. A dainty unease, a careful display of compassion coupled with the kindness Finley reserved for one boy, and him alone.\n\nHe didn't hear the knock, really, if one had occurred. But, they stood, and, with a single deep breath, pulled open the door. \n\n\"Ares.\" \n\nThey've said his name a million times. It was among the first bits of repertoire - the exchanging of their names back and forth out of exasperation, and amusement.\n\n Now, Fin stood before their ~~beloved~~ dearest friend in a similar state of disarray. Blond hair pulled back in a greasy half-bun, a jacket Ares had long since left in his company hanging loose over their shoulders. \n\n\"I'm so glad you're here,\" They said. And they meant it - all of it. The stifling fear of being left behind again surged up in his absence, and only encouragement (and holding his gifts to their chest) kept it away. \n\n\"I missed you.\"\n\nHis fragility was something Fin was unaccustomed to — could they ask to hold him? Was that alright? — so they stood, perched still like the very same bird, a rabbit, watching carefully, but kindly. \n\n*It was Ares, after all — and what wouldn't they do for him?*\n\n*Anything. Anything he ever asked or needed or, hell, even wanted. Fin would take him anywhere, show him anything, if it meant the curl would leave his shoulders.*"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ The door slowly pulled open, and a part of Ares felt guilty at the sight of Finley. They looked just as tired as him, if not worse. Was this his fault? *He shouldn't think like that.* With a deep breath, Ares filled his lungs with air. He felt his chest rise, and fall. Its hard to remember underneath the callous hands and concrete scratches that he still has a heart between his ribs. Maybe some day he will learn how to feel it beat against the rhythm of the music he loves; maybe he can learn to use it to love another. He had a long way to go. Was the effort worth it?\n\n He didn't know. He would find out when the time comes. What he does know is that he has a long way to go. With a step into Finley's dorm, it was a start. \n\n Ares felt heavy. He felt the weight of all his past mistakes and things he couldn't control seep into the skin of his back, they rested on his shoulders with the weight of the sky itself and held him to the ground. With shaking knees, Ares would pull himself upwards. The boy was strong, wasn't he? He must be able to handle it all. *If he couldn't, who was he?* Ares was now at a point, where he wasn't strong enough to handle it. He had fallen from his grace, plummeting down from the sun. Right here, he wasn't a solider. He wasn't a knight or a king. His crown had broken ages ago. \n\n All he is, is a scarred boy hoping for something to remind him of his humanity. \n_ _\n\n_ _ _ _ \"Finley.\" His voice was hoarse, tired, and rough. Yet, his broken chords managed to play a melody so sweet for the one dear to him. Their name pulled honey out of ash; pulled the sun out from behind a sickly rain. \n\n Without another word, Ares walked closer to Fin and rested his heavy head on their shoulder. He felt his nose press into their collar bone, heavy eyebrows pulled his eyes tightly shut. For a second, Ares just stood there. Tiredly crumbling into the arms of his dearest.\n\n Ares was so young, only eighteen, but he had bore the wounds of a millennia. They had dragged him down— brought him to the earth with dripping wax, tears, and the sobs of not a warrior, but a boy. \n\n Tears pooled against Ares' tightly shut eyes. They didn't escape, but he felt them press against the dark of Finley's shoulder."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "*\"Mon cher,\"* Finley mumbled, the words leaving their mouth before they even realized it. They couldn't bring themself to care about that. They wrapped their arms around his shoulders and pulled him to his chest, a cold, light hand resting on the back of Ares's head, his dark, messy hair. Fin shut their eyes tight, similarly, to ignore the burn of tears on the backs of their eyelids.\n\n They were, admittedly, shorter, and scrawnier, but, they refused to let this go untethered. Ares's well of emotions pulled open the ground beneath their feet, both of them, spinning into something like wool.\n\n\"I know how-... How scary it is. I get it. I've been - I've been left behind, too.\"\n\nA light breath of lavender, a common smell in Finley's room, laid under their nose. If lavender, he thought, was good for the soul, he would plant a garden, all around Ares's life and mind - so perhaps, then, the anxiety would ebb away, and never threaten to knot again. They'd keep him safe in whatever respects they could. So often, they thought they were dependent on Ares for protection, or comfort. Guilt stung their throat.\n\nFinley leaned back, just a ways, and looked up at Ares, tears slipping out of his eyes. They didn't have a free-hand to wipe them away, but, they were somewhat content with that. If just for the moment.\n\n\"But I'm not going anywhere, okay? You're-... You mean everything to me. I know I'm getting, uh, a little bit sappy here, but just - just hear me out, alright?\" \n\nOh, the nerves. Fin's voice shook with each word, it seemed like, but, dammit - Sergio talked about being there, and that was all Fin wanted to be. *There.* There for Ares. There for any adventures he had or would have, for the little trepeditations of life, the triumph, any of it, Finley just wanted to be with him. The words spilled out like a timid, uneasy rain.\n\n \"I don't *Want* To have a life without you. I don't know what we're going to do next. I just want to do it with you. I hope you can believe me.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Ares didn't notice the soft whisper of affection from Finley. He heard it, but hadn't fully processed its meaning. All he could do, was feel the gentle hand on the back of his head. The way their fingers laced into his overgrown undercut; the way they held him close to their shoulders. Despite being unfamiliar and unknown, Ares couldn't raise his head. He couldn't muster the strength to lean back into his solitary ways; he had dropped his shield as couldn't raise a hand to pick it back up. *Did he really want to?*\n\n Slowly, the boy moved. Instead of pulling away or running back to the front lines, he simply wrapped his hands around Finley. It was an embrace so tight, it was almost as if he was afraid they'd disappear if he didn't hold on. Ares' forearms rested comfortably on the small of Fin's back, and he simply let them speak. He listened to his voice, the way each tone held genuine honesty. Against the chaos and anger, Finley was the wake of summer. Soft bird song and melodies that floated against the wind. He was spring rain, the cool water that washed away the doubts of winter. \n\n Ares hadn't realized he could miss something he had never had. A moment of silence, a moment of peace. A moment where he didn't have to worry about being strong. A moment where no one would sneer and snicker at him for crumbling into the gentle arms of someone smaller than him. Ares had achieved it. A moment where he could let his tired muscles rest, and break away from the ache that was all too familiar to him. Oh how he wished he could thank Finley, hold them close for eternity. All he could hope was he could repay the favour, one way or another. \n\n \"You mean everything to me too.\" His voice was quiet, hoarse like the rumble of thunder on a distant horizon. It was the voice of someone who was tired, someone who's moment of rest was long overdue. Ares did not lower his arms, he kept them wrapped around the other in a strong yet soft embrace. \n_ _\n\n_ _ _ _ \"I don't want a life without you either, trust me. It's the last thing I want.\" Ares let out a sigh. \"I just didn't know what to do. Im sorry for pushing you away.\" The boy raised his head to look at Finley. Tired brown eyes met the familiar electric blue gaze, yet he still held them close to him. His expression was one no one had even begun to see, one that cracked through his steel armour like rust. It was a look of many emotions, one that furrowed his brows in a way that spoke of his exhaustion. Yet, it was also one that showed in his eyes in a way that showed his admiration and love for the one he looked at. \n\n \"I want you in my life, even after all of this.\" He let out the slightest muse of a wry laugh— more of a pathetic expulsion of air. \"I never thought I'd say that to anyone, but really I do."
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "A gentle pair of chilly hands reached up and cradled Ares's face, Finleys thumb smoothing down a place on his cheek. Fins heart seemed to beat in their throat – so much, it seemed, had happened from the time they met from now. A little deep breath spilled out of their nose, fumbling out with the same nervousness and deep comfort that pulled open their door for him - and would always open the door for him.\n\n\"I'm not angry at you,\" They finally said. \"I understand. You were just-... Scared.\" \n\nAn easy drop lowered the stress from their shoulders, a tiny smile tugging on one side from his mouth. A gentle memory of all of their times together nudged at the back of Fins mind, the scarlet sprinkling into their cheeks. \n\n*I never thought I'd say that to anyone, but I really do.*\n\n\"I do too, you know. I don't-... I think the only other person I'd say that to is Nadia, and well. She's in Germany. And maybe, you know. Owen.\"\n\nThey laughed just a little bit, shrugging as they spoke. Hands still smoothed over Ares's face, and they spotted the little scar on his ear. It took a great deal of impulse control not to lean in and kiss it. \n\n*Cmon Fin. Keep yourself together, a bit.*\n\nOr, try. \n\n\"We can learn it together, you know. We've both been burned. And I - I don't want to do that to you. Anybody but you. I promise.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ Ares felt a weight leave his shoulders, he felt their soft fingers on his cheek. The boy nearly melted into the palm of their hand, turning in towards their touch instead of pulling away. His eyes fell closed as he took in what was by far the gentlest way anyone on the planet, in all his years, had ever reached out towards him. People only touched his face with their knuckles, they kissed him with silver rings wrapped around angry fingers. Ares wasn't used to such a comforting presence.\n\n *He wanted to be used to it.* Allowing his shoulders to drop, minor amounts of tension leaking down his spine like sun burned wax, he felt more at ease knowing Finley wasn't angry with him.\n\n \"I don't want to do that to you either.\" Ares raised a hand from Finley's back, and wrapped it over top of the hand placed on his cheek. The callouses on his palm rested against their knuckles, scars intertwined with pale slim fingers. Ares held their hand close to his face, only opening his eyes slightly to gaze at them from under a heavy brow. \n\n This gesture told Finley one thing. Ares *Wanted* Them close to him, he wanted to hold him close and never let go. The thought made Ares shiver, having to let them go. It haunted him, taunted and mocked him. Ares, for all his time spent in solitude, was so afraid of being alone. \n\n \"You deserve... So many good things. You deserve the world even.\" Ares let out a sigh. His voice was quiet, calm, pained, yet smooth like the crackle of water over a stream. \"Please... Stay.\" \n\n His eyes fell closed again in an act of pure vulnerability. Finley had the boy in his palm. The solider had dropped his sword, his shield was worn and rusted. Armour flaked off his aching muscles like silver scales, and left Ares exposed and open. No more fighting, no more anger. Ares couldn't bring himself to let out a battle cry, his arms wouldn't raise for any king, all he could do was stand in the arms of the one he loved.\n_ _"
},
{
"author": "frog.ponds",
"message": "Fin nodded, once, twice, letting the tears well up in their eyes again. A resistance welled up in his chest, a *Don't cry, c'mon, don't cry*, a rattling breath shaking in their throat. The last thing he wanted was for Ares to see him cry when he was like this.\n\nSo, Finley's forehead pressed to Ares's, closing their eyes and running his thumb over Ares face a few more times, breathing in, and out - peaceful, deep breaths, as their blue eyes cracked open just in time to watch Ares's close. \n\n\"I want to stay,\" They said. Their voice was barely above a whisper, soft, careful. He winced, internally, at the thought of how cold his fingers must feel against the familiar warmth of their beloved. The butterflies in their stomach had melted, and given way to a gentle murmur, aflutter in his chest.\n\n\"As long as you'll have me, Ares, I'll stay.\"\n\nThe armour and the swords clattered against the floor at their feet. No weapons, no disasters, just them - these two, and the world that existed solely between them. This was all there was. Armando could have blown up the whole town of Isakstad, and Finley couldn't have given a damn. They were here, with Ares, and that was all that mattered. \n\n\"I want to teach you that you deserve the world, too. You do. You deserve more than the world. Whatever good things I can bring to your life - I want to. Just, please, please let me stay in it. I don't want to be anywhere else.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "_ _ _ _ The pressure of Finley's forehead against his own was a comfort he hadn't realized he could want. A comfort he hadn't realized he *Deserved.* Ares opened his eyes, looking down at Finley. They were so close, mere breaths apart. The boy was okay with it. How strange. \n\n \"I'll have you for the rest of my life. I want you in my life. You can stay, you don't have to ask.\" A smile creeped its way up his scowling lips. Something about them, their presence, Ares couldn't stay upset.\n\n Just then, something small. A flicker in Finley's brow, something of a doubt in their certainty. Ares noticed this, the way their eyes pressed tightly shut. They were trying to hide something. \n\n Without much thought, like always, Ares tightened his grip around their torso. His arms fit nicely against the small of their back. With one quick movement, the taller boy scooped them up and spun them around in a hug. A wry laugh bubbled against his chest, as he held him in his arms. All he could hope was that this could help ease the tension. \n\n \"Now cmon, lighten up. Lets watch a movie, okay?\"\n\n Ares spoke through a smile. A genuine one. This wasn't forced, it wasn't one of malice or mockery. He was simply happy. He now stared up at Finley with eyes full of adoration, an expression of appreciation. \n\n God, he was lucky."
}
] | 408 | 3,904 |
209.75 | 1776-07-04 | GuildPublicThread | [
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "After messaging Akvilė, Dae-hyun made his way over to her dorm. Tucked into his bag, slung over one shoulder, was the tiny red box that he had taken from Oliver. \n\nIt had been a few days of him poking at it, and turning it around. He pressed the buttons, flipped the switches, anything, and came up blank. The boy hoped Akvilė, who had knowledge of radios, would be able to shed some light on this strange contraption. \n\nEven further, that the strange contraption would be able to give Dae-hyun information on what's going on with Neevil. \n\nWith the back of his hand, he knocked on the door."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė answers the door immediately, and the soft noise of the lock being undone and turned whispered in the doorway. But *She* Isn't present initially once the door does open, save for four fingers with nails painted blue curled around the door and a hand gesturing towards the far window of her dorm room– itself best described as obsessive chaos.\n\n\"Uhm... Hi. Come in.\"\n\nFrom the door Dae-Hyun can see a bit of her room, but not Akvilė herself. The Cradle-provided bed is against the left wall, half-covered by a heavy patterned quilt, and its railings are all coated in a thin sheen of dust. Her reading chair sits under an old leaning lamp, with a hand-crafted stool not far away and a pot of tea paired to two cups upon it. Her bookshelves are a fair distance from her reading chair, and there's a great deal of science fiction stories on it. Scientific journals and mythology books fill most of the remaining spaces. The rest of the room is taken up by a modest – albeit diverse – collection of radios and assorted vintage technology. The air smells of tea and incense, and very much feels stale. It's like the room is barely lived in despite the clutter of antiquated tech, or perhaps like the windows are never opened.\n\nAkvilė stands right behind the door, and waits for Dae-Hyun to come in. She's a little nervous, but excited to have something radio-adjacent to tinker with. *It's gonna be an interesting evening.*"
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun gave a polite smile when the other opened the door. His round cheeks pulled up to his eyes in a soft and non threatening expression. Alongside his stature and general lankiness, Dae-hyun was no one to be nervous around. \n\n\"Hello! It's nice to meet you properly. Thank you for agreeing to see me.\" His words were spoken in a voice that was surface level, but kind. \n\nAkvilė's dorm was quaint, homey and comfortable. It smelt herbal although stale, with many books stacked up in various places. Dae-hyun could always appreciate a fellow reader. The tech was interesting, he concluded he was in the right place. \n\nHe took a small step inside, and wasted no time in reaching into his bag to show Akvilė the box. He didn't want to overstay his welcome, she already seemed on edge. \n\nResting in his palm, he moved it towards her. \n\n\"This is the radio... Thing... I have? I don't know what it does but someone told me it's important. Does it look familiar to you?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Dae-Hyun walks in, and Akvilė closes the door. Coincidentally this brings her from fingers curled around a door to a full-framed girlfailure. \n\n\"It's no problem. I-I-I can't turn down such an, um... Opportunity, is word? I think.\" Being trilingual was cool until the words started escaping her, but she keeps it together and locks the door, seemingly out of habit. She turns to face Dae-Hyun again, and locks eyes with his right cheek for a split second before realizing he's already got the Maskelynophone out. Her expression shifts to flat-out excitement, and her posture loosens a little as she looks at it inquisitively.\n\n\"Oh, it is!... Um. Hm. It– it looks like a receiver, but it is muchly old. Look here.\" She puts a hand on the radio and points to one of its dials. \"So, uhm... It says megacycles. That dates it immediately to 1969 at latest, as cycles became hertz in 70s. Mostly. It... It could be military, as it is very simplistic. Th-there are no bows.\"\n\nShe continues to look it over, the cogs in her head furiously turning. It's familiar, but much of its design is antiquated even by radio standards. She moves towards the window bench without a word and waves Dae-Hyun over– or at least gestures such with an outstretched hand. \n\n\"Um... Bring it here. I-I will see what it does. I have everything to– t-to operate most radios.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "The words Akvilė spoke were completely lost on Dae-hyun. He didn't know what any of it meant. Never in his life had he worked a radio, or knew anything about them. Yet still, he nodded politely and made the right sounds of agreement. \n\nThe boy very trustingly handed her the radio. He knew whatever she would do couldn't make it worse, and would likely make it a lot better. He surely wasn't making any progress.\n\nHe watched through wide black eyes, that intently focused on the small radio. He waited to see what happened. \n\n\"Thank you, I appreciate it.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Dae-Hyun's barely finished handing over the radio before Akvilė has it halfway to the bench. It's then that she freezes; something isn't right.\n\nInitially she figured it would be simple to diagnose. All she'd have had to do was hook each up to the seven antennas leaned against the corner of the radio minefield; but this was no receiver. Instead of a mere receiver it seemed like it was retrofitted for a very specific purpose. As excited as she is to have a boxed mystery in her hands the names floating about the whole situation aren't something she's forgotten.\n\n*Nevil Maskelyne. Maskelynophone. Neevil. Have to wonder...*\n\nShe hides the concern well, however. Her expression is still one of excitement, lips tugged into a timid smile and eyes wide as she looks at the hole where the connector should be. It's nothing but empty metal, and it's clear from how the concern she'd kept hidden to this point suddenly peeks through. There's an uneasy thought in her head, and she's not particularly fond of its implications. *But that can wait.*\n\n\"So, uhm... It– it is not a receiver. It is... Gutted. But rewired too. Whoever did such work, uhm... They knew their shit.\" She finally speaks after a couple moments of standing still and collecting her thoughts. \"I-I have to ask, where is it from? It is odd.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun took a few steps closer to the bench, and stared blankly at Akvilė for a few moments after she questioned him. \n\nHe shifted slightly, and shrugged.\n\"I found it?\" He looked over her shoulder at the radio.\n\nIt looked strange... No wonder Dae-hyun couldn't make any sense of it. This was not at all his forte. \n\n\"Do you think it will play a message if we can figure it out?... Or is it the type that connects to something?\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"I'm... Unsure.\"\n\nShe's hesitant to admit it, but this thing has her confused. Staring into the hole at the back she feels uneasy for a moment; \"I-I don't know how you'd hook this up. It... I think it is proprietary. Which means it is paperweight without its pair.\" She lifts her gaze to meet Dae-Hyun. She's fixed on him. Something is fishy about his story, but she decides against pushing it. *For now.* \"I have seen nothing like this. Y-you said you found it? Either it is find of the century or you are holding something. It– it is just... Too specific. It is almost like a kind of, um... I dunno. I'm stuck on it.\"\n\nShe keeps her gaze fixed on Dae-Hyun as she talks."
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun blinks lightly, the radio sits unforgivingly on the table in front of him. Maybe this going to be more complicated than he thought. \n\n\"Well... I did *Find* It, technically, but— does it's origin really matter?\"\n\nHe stared at it, and tried to see if anything immediately jumped out at him to point out. \n\n\"Maybe taking it apart could help you figure it out? I trust you know how not to break it.\"\n\nPerhaps the inside would be easier to understand, that maybe something would click and they'd be able to figure it out. Dae-hyun's eyebrows furrowed. He stared at it harder, turning over each side in his mind. Eventually something had to give."
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "\"It– it might matter.\" She replies, grabbing a flashlight and a toolkit as she does so. \"It is clearly of deliberate, original design; which means it is purpose-built. I-I-I can try to get it open, yes, but it is muchly a puzzle. The back in particular confuses me.\"\n\nDoubts about the receiver's providence aside Akvilė was undoubtedly antsy to get into the weeds with this mystery radio-shell Dae-Hyun had brought her way. Thankfully its many screws weren't strangers to the screwdrivers kept in a tray nearby, and she set off to work. It was gonna take a bit though, and she knew it; curiosity compelled her to get nosy.\n\n\"So, um... Wh-what do you think the hollowed out hole is for?\" She asks. \"It is going to be... A moment or many before I have top off. This receiver is full of screws. Sorry.\""
},
{
"author": "sharqtooth",
"message": "Dae-hyun stared at the radio, and tried to make sense of the spew of words he was hearing, but... Nothing. Nothing about it clicked, nothing about it made sense. \n\n\"Uhm... To be fair I have no idea, I'm sorry, this is very out of my comfort zone.\" He sighed. \n\n\"I was told this thing is important— I don't know what it does but apparently I need to figure it out.\" \n\nHe sighs briefly, debating or not whether he can trust Akvilė. He wondered if telling her about the fact it's Oliver's would shed any light on the situation or if it would just lead to another witness with knowledge that can be used against him. The boy was rightfully and understandably on edge. \n\n\"... I think it's related to Neevil. The AI chatbot... But now person.\""
},
{
"author": "birch4184",
"message": "Akvilė continues to undo the various screws holding the Maskelynophone as Dae-Hyun confirms what she'd already gleaned: he didn't know much about radios. It was why he was there, after all. She pulled another screw out and hummed.\n\n\"It's why you're here, no? Y-you know nothing about radios, and I know much. Long-time fascination. But Giann– ack. Nee– Neevil. He told me as much, that he was once flesh and now is ghost in a machine.\" She pops another screw out as she talks, now most of the way through getting the faceplate off. \"And, um... I still don't know how I feel of it. It...\" She trails off, and rolls one screwdriver down the bench before grabbing another with a shaky hand. Four left.\n\n\"But, um... If I– if I can, you say it is Neevil related? Oliver programmed whatever Neevil was before, and... Th-that would mean either he or someone he knows must have built this, maybe.\"\n\nShe says nothing more, but a theory's starting to form in her head, and it's a rather uncomfortable one."
}
] | 186 | 2,517 |
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