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| CATCH-ALL RP REQUESTS / MY PLURK |
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Sticky: CATCH-ALL RP REQUESTS
Nov. 12th, 2018 11:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aarjIf you would like to play with any of my characters, please post their name in your subject line! Please feel free to provide any prompts or threadstarters or, if you don't have anything planned, let me know your preferences and I'll come up with something. I like doing that.
Post Folkmore - Zack
May. 8th, 2026 12:42 ammoseyin[He wakes up atop stone.
The air reeks of mako- no, of lifestream. Lifestream doesn't have the same chemical burn as mako, though it's no less dangerous for people to breathe in, especially so for people with mako sensitivities like Cloud. It's that realization that brings Cloud from 'groggy' to 'fully alert' in just a handful of seconds. Stone; brown and gray, lifeless, craggy and pockmarked, boulders the size of cars freshly hewn from the Planet scattered about as if they were just the abandoned toys of a child easily bored. Like a bomb went off. Like the earth beneath his feet exploded.
The Ultima Weapon is next to his hand. Cloud stares at it for moment uncomprehendingly; it's been years since he's seen this sword, the blade that carried him safely to the very end of it. He'd grown so used to Monarch-
Cloud's stomach lurches and he shoves himself to his feet, panic tearing into his heart. There are hardly any landmarks nearby so he finds one of the largest boulders, claws to the top of it without even thinking to grab the sword first, desperation driving him like an animal to higher ground. There, off in the distance, the damaged lip of what can only be the Northern Crater.
Home.
He's been sent back home.
Cloud staggers slightly. Catches himself before he sits very suddenly, a hard thud that stings in his legs, his pelvis, more a collapse than sitting down. He's home. The Highwind is nowhere in sight; did everybody else get away? Did he fall out when he was snatched up by Thirteen? Did he pass out? Does everybody think he's dead? Are they all okay? Tifa, Barret, Red and Vincent and Cid and Yuffie, even Cait? Even the crew? Are Elmyra and Marlene still safe?
Aerith is dead. Zack is dead.
And Sharon, Rue, Lorna, Jayce, Ariadne, Marc, Makie, April, Matthew, that whole weird sahagin family- He'll never see them again. They might as well have never existed, more hallucinations of his own making. Dreams. Imagined memories.
Cloud covers his mouth. His eyes. He pulls up a knee and presses his face against it hard enough to hurt. This is worse. This is worse than if they'd died, this is worse than if he'd never let himself love Aerith, love Zack. Sharon's acerbic laughter as they tried to see how much stuff they could steal before the bartender noticed and kicked them out. Rue's enormous clawed paw landing hesitantly on his back. Lorna flicking static his way when he gave her attitude behind the bar.
He can still remember what it was like to wake up in the morning with the smell of flowers in Aerith's hair, his nose buried in it. He can still remember how warm Zack's hands were on his neck, his shoulders, fingers clutching at his back. Gods, this is worse.
It's almost as if his body forgets how to do it for a moment, before remembering quite suddenly and releasing it all in a rush. Cloud makes a low, agonized sound like an animal dying and sobs.]
The air reeks of mako- no, of lifestream. Lifestream doesn't have the same chemical burn as mako, though it's no less dangerous for people to breathe in, especially so for people with mako sensitivities like Cloud. It's that realization that brings Cloud from 'groggy' to 'fully alert' in just a handful of seconds. Stone; brown and gray, lifeless, craggy and pockmarked, boulders the size of cars freshly hewn from the Planet scattered about as if they were just the abandoned toys of a child easily bored. Like a bomb went off. Like the earth beneath his feet exploded.
The Ultima Weapon is next to his hand. Cloud stares at it for moment uncomprehendingly; it's been years since he's seen this sword, the blade that carried him safely to the very end of it. He'd grown so used to Monarch-
Cloud's stomach lurches and he shoves himself to his feet, panic tearing into his heart. There are hardly any landmarks nearby so he finds one of the largest boulders, claws to the top of it without even thinking to grab the sword first, desperation driving him like an animal to higher ground. There, off in the distance, the damaged lip of what can only be the Northern Crater.
Home.
He's been sent back home.
Cloud staggers slightly. Catches himself before he sits very suddenly, a hard thud that stings in his legs, his pelvis, more a collapse than sitting down. He's home. The Highwind is nowhere in sight; did everybody else get away? Did he fall out when he was snatched up by Thirteen? Did he pass out? Does everybody think he's dead? Are they all okay? Tifa, Barret, Red and Vincent and Cid and Yuffie, even Cait? Even the crew? Are Elmyra and Marlene still safe?
Aerith is dead. Zack is dead.
And Sharon, Rue, Lorna, Jayce, Ariadne, Marc, Makie, April, Matthew, that whole weird sahagin family- He'll never see them again. They might as well have never existed, more hallucinations of his own making. Dreams. Imagined memories.
Cloud covers his mouth. His eyes. He pulls up a knee and presses his face against it hard enough to hurt. This is worse. This is worse than if they'd died, this is worse than if he'd never let himself love Aerith, love Zack. Sharon's acerbic laughter as they tried to see how much stuff they could steal before the bartender noticed and kicked them out. Rue's enormous clawed paw landing hesitantly on his back. Lorna flicking static his way when he gave her attitude behind the bar.
He can still remember what it was like to wake up in the morning with the smell of flowers in Aerith's hair, his nose buried in it. He can still remember how warm Zack's hands were on his neck, his shoulders, fingers clutching at his back. Gods, this is worse.
It's almost as if his body forgets how to do it for a moment, before remembering quite suddenly and releasing it all in a rush. Cloud makes a low, agonized sound like an animal dying and sobs.]
(no subject)
Nov. 23rd, 2022 11:00 pmmoseyin[It's only recently that Junon's become something of a popping vacation spot, and that's only after extensive cleanup over the years. The water doesn't smell like rot anymore at least, though some of the breakwater walls are still stained black and brown from old pollution. Baby steps.
So it's not like beach bunnies hang out here what with Costa del Sol just across the sea (and ferries now constantly going back and forth making the hotspot more accessible than ever), but Junon has a surprisingly energetic night life now. The upper decks are dotted with nightclubs, dance halls, and eateries. It used to be that only a few dingy bars would see action after seven at night, when beleaguered soldiers and pencil pushers alike stumbled off of their shifts and straight into the nearest drink.
There's still some of that, of course. Just now, those dingy bars are sandwiched between flashing lights and a heavy bassline.
Cloud's still glad they picked a somewhat less dingy bar to meet at, though. The establishment is trying to be a little trendier to attract some of the drunker club hoppers, with outdoor seating and fairy lights strung up along the guardrail. His demeanor might scream "grizzled mercenary" but his face sure doesn't, and the longer he sits here and waits for Zack, the more danger he's in of being hit on by some extremely tipsy gogo girl or, even worse, an unreasonably sweaty salaryman.
...maybe he shouldn't have come early.]
So it's not like beach bunnies hang out here what with Costa del Sol just across the sea (and ferries now constantly going back and forth making the hotspot more accessible than ever), but Junon has a surprisingly energetic night life now. The upper decks are dotted with nightclubs, dance halls, and eateries. It used to be that only a few dingy bars would see action after seven at night, when beleaguered soldiers and pencil pushers alike stumbled off of their shifts and straight into the nearest drink.
There's still some of that, of course. Just now, those dingy bars are sandwiched between flashing lights and a heavy bassline.
Cloud's still glad they picked a somewhat less dingy bar to meet at, though. The establishment is trying to be a little trendier to attract some of the drunker club hoppers, with outdoor seating and fairy lights strung up along the guardrail. His demeanor might scream "grizzled mercenary" but his face sure doesn't, and the longer he sits here and waits for Zack, the more danger he's in of being hit on by some extremely tipsy gogo girl or, even worse, an unreasonably sweaty salaryman.
...maybe he shouldn't have come early.]
(no subject)
Nov. 2nd, 2020 08:59 pmmonolike[ Sorey wakes up, as he often has, in a bed that isn't his, in a room that isn't his, in a world that isn't his...yet. Or still, perhaps.
It's no longer uncommon so he runs through the usual checklist as he sits up; ceremonial sword, check. Does he have the pouch of medicines he's collected from other worlds? A glittering bottle labeled 'hi-potion,' a couple stale gels cobbled together from otherworldly means, a small bundle of bandages and herbs. The small device that seems to auto-translate whatever it hears into a language he speaks (a boon, that one, lifted from a technologically advanced but desperate world in exchange for leaving behind one of Rose's precious knives and no small amount of guilt as Sorey prayed as he pried it from the skeletal fingers of the corpse that clutched it).
He's unharmed. No changes to his body, for once; that's unusual. Even if he doesn't acquire limbs or forms, he almost always some sort of item or chip or tracker that keeps him tethered. Even more unusual is the fact that he doesn't have his own world-specific device with which to communicate with other displaced souls. That's another constant missing.
A vanity in the corner with a slightly smudged mirror helps him check his appearance, at which he sighs. Still seventeen, though he must be twenty...one? Twenty-something, by now. A tug on one of his bangs doesn't bring it past his eyes so his hair and nails haven't grown either. Maybe he really is a seraph, now.
But he's been avoiding thinking about that.
Sorey checks the room for anything he can bring with him, finds nothing of use and heads outside. The room is just a single hut, one building with a shabby exterior that doesn't match the immaculate -if dusty- interior of oak furniture and fine linens. The sky above glitters with unfamiliar stars, frozen pink lightning strikes like jagged cracks in a porcelain vase. No immediate danger makes itself known and, well, fortune favors the bold, so Sorey starts for one of the other huts to knock on the door and find some fellows.]
It's no longer uncommon so he runs through the usual checklist as he sits up; ceremonial sword, check. Does he have the pouch of medicines he's collected from other worlds? A glittering bottle labeled 'hi-potion,' a couple stale gels cobbled together from otherworldly means, a small bundle of bandages and herbs. The small device that seems to auto-translate whatever it hears into a language he speaks (a boon, that one, lifted from a technologically advanced but desperate world in exchange for leaving behind one of Rose's precious knives and no small amount of guilt as Sorey prayed as he pried it from the skeletal fingers of the corpse that clutched it).
He's unharmed. No changes to his body, for once; that's unusual. Even if he doesn't acquire limbs or forms, he almost always some sort of item or chip or tracker that keeps him tethered. Even more unusual is the fact that he doesn't have his own world-specific device with which to communicate with other displaced souls. That's another constant missing.
A vanity in the corner with a slightly smudged mirror helps him check his appearance, at which he sighs. Still seventeen, though he must be twenty...one? Twenty-something, by now. A tug on one of his bangs doesn't bring it past his eyes so his hair and nails haven't grown either. Maybe he really is a seraph, now.
But he's been avoiding thinking about that.
Sorey checks the room for anything he can bring with him, finds nothing of use and heads outside. The room is just a single hut, one building with a shabby exterior that doesn't match the immaculate -if dusty- interior of oak furniture and fine linens. The sky above glitters with unfamiliar stars, frozen pink lightning strikes like jagged cracks in a porcelain vase. No immediate danger makes itself known and, well, fortune favors the bold, so Sorey starts for one of the other huts to knock on the door and find some fellows.]
(no subject)
Oct. 2nd, 2020 05:24 pmmadfuckingcalm[It's so fucking frustrating.
That they're still doing these stupid "get out of this place, work as a team" field exercises after all they've accomplished on their own...what's the point? Isn't this some kiddie shit? They've done field internships for god's sake.]
Can't believe I'm wasting my goddamn time, [bakugou grouses, stomping across the rickety makeshift bridge and waving the chilly morning fog out of his face. At least he wore his winter outfit; the forecast said it would be warm for autumn, but it's no warmer than fifty degrees out. When the fuck did the weather get so stupid? There aren't any teachers at their school with a weather-related quirk, and this definitely isn't Midnight's mist.]
Hey, Kirishima! Do you see anything up there?!
That they're still doing these stupid "get out of this place, work as a team" field exercises after all they've accomplished on their own...what's the point? Isn't this some kiddie shit? They've done field internships for god's sake.]
Can't believe I'm wasting my goddamn time, [bakugou grouses, stomping across the rickety makeshift bridge and waving the chilly morning fog out of his face. At least he wore his winter outfit; the forecast said it would be warm for autumn, but it's no warmer than fifty degrees out. When the fuck did the weather get so stupid? There aren't any teachers at their school with a weather-related quirk, and this definitely isn't Midnight's mist.]
Hey, Kirishima! Do you see anything up there?!
(no subject)
Oct. 7th, 2018 11:18 pmexpellerhead[he wakes in a wasteland.
his breaths are gasping, his heart thunders. every inch of his body trembles; adrenaline, his mind supplies distantly, from a fight, from a near-fatal wound-
but there are no wounds. no blood, no bruises; nothing hurts when he pats himself down. something moves at the corner of his eye and when he glances up to catch it, he sees miles and miles of ruined, twisted vehicles, the shells of buildings and tunnels. a decimated civilization.]
(( God damn, about time! Shit! I thought I didn't even do it right, you look half-dead. ))
[aizawa glances up. there's a spiny...thing floating overhead, robotic protrusions clicking and rotating along its single eyeball axis.]
A Ghost, [aizawa murmurs. he was just there- he was just in the fleet, how can he be here, how can he be here-! there must have been a mistake, something, atroma must have shoved him into jayden's world. is she still back there? is uraraka?]
(( Are you alive or what? ))
[aizawa pushes himself to his feet begrudgingly. there's- armor on him, and it feels weird, too weighty. even if the hood covering his head and the cloak on his shoulders feels a little more right, everything else feels wrong. does he even have his quirk here? would it even work?]
I'm alive, [he grouses. the ghost- his ghost rattles off something about light and his duty and whatever, he's still trying to find his bearings. he needs to get to the city.]
his breaths are gasping, his heart thunders. every inch of his body trembles; adrenaline, his mind supplies distantly, from a fight, from a near-fatal wound-
but there are no wounds. no blood, no bruises; nothing hurts when he pats himself down. something moves at the corner of his eye and when he glances up to catch it, he sees miles and miles of ruined, twisted vehicles, the shells of buildings and tunnels. a decimated civilization.]
(( God damn, about time! Shit! I thought I didn't even do it right, you look half-dead. ))
[aizawa glances up. there's a spiny...thing floating overhead, robotic protrusions clicking and rotating along its single eyeball axis.]
A Ghost, [aizawa murmurs. he was just there- he was just in the fleet, how can he be here, how can he be here-! there must have been a mistake, something, atroma must have shoved him into jayden's world. is she still back there? is uraraka?]
(( Are you alive or what? ))
[aizawa pushes himself to his feet begrudgingly. there's- armor on him, and it feels weird, too weighty. even if the hood covering his head and the cloak on his shoulders feels a little more right, everything else feels wrong. does he even have his quirk here? would it even work?]
I'm alive, [he grouses. the ghost- his ghost rattles off something about light and his duty and whatever, he's still trying to find his bearings. he needs to get to the city.]
(no subject)
Jul. 8th, 2018 02:21 ammoseyin[It happens in the middle of nowhere.
Just another nondescript hole Zack's found to curl them up into. Sometimes they're lucky enough to get a bed in the slums somewhere, the outskirts of some crappy little village or the deep, dank alleyways of a larger city. Most of the time they have a tent, if they're lucky, if Zack manages and money allows, and sometimes they're not lucky and they forfeit shelter for food, for potions for when Zack gets a wound that grit and gumption can't close.
Well- Zack does all of these things. They're a 'they' in bodycount only.
It's Zack dragging himself and Cloud across the countryside, it's Zack finding them shelter, finding them food, tearing into monsters to scrape together enough gil to keep them alive. It's Zack looking after the few wounds Cloud acquires during their journey, it's Zack who talks to him, who feeds him, who carries him on his god damn back for days and days and days on end. Weeks. Months.
Cloud isn't often awake, but sometimes he is. Things are hazy like a dream, sloppy like slumber, slips and strips of memory, of experiences that barely thread together to make something patchwork. And that's how it is when it happens too, because it was only a couple times, fighting to break the surface of a pool of tar. He emerges not with a gasp but an awareness, only for a few moments before he's pulled under. Each time Zack was gone, or asleep, clutching Cloud to his chest for protection but too exhausted to hear his breathless whispers of Zack, Zack as Cloud tries desperately to rouse him, if only to reassure him of I'm here, I hear you, I see you, you're not alone until the mako curls around and into him and pulls him back under.
And then, that middle of nowhere.
Cloud wakes to the sun on his face; weak morning sun, wobbly, not yet hot. They'd slept outside. Zack is already awake, humming to himself, murmuring something, fiddling with a fire. He's going to make a hot breakfast for them. A luxury.
Cloud waits those few minutes, tense and unnerved, waiting for the coils of mako to pull him back under. His limbs still feel weak but something is...different this time. Things feel sharper. He can hear things more than Zack this time, more than the beat of his heart and the hush of his breath; he can hear the crackle of the fire, the chirp of far off birdsong. Cloud can feel the humidity clinging to his skin, sticking his clothes to his chest and back. He can smell the outdoors around them.
He is present. At last, he is.
Zack's turning around towards him, probably to collect him and bring him closer to the fire, to feed him again and once Zack reaches for him, once Cloud is sure he'll see he reaches, just barely, and closes a hand around Zack's wrist.] Zack.
Just another nondescript hole Zack's found to curl them up into. Sometimes they're lucky enough to get a bed in the slums somewhere, the outskirts of some crappy little village or the deep, dank alleyways of a larger city. Most of the time they have a tent, if they're lucky, if Zack manages and money allows, and sometimes they're not lucky and they forfeit shelter for food, for potions for when Zack gets a wound that grit and gumption can't close.
Well- Zack does all of these things. They're a 'they' in bodycount only.
It's Zack dragging himself and Cloud across the countryside, it's Zack finding them shelter, finding them food, tearing into monsters to scrape together enough gil to keep them alive. It's Zack looking after the few wounds Cloud acquires during their journey, it's Zack who talks to him, who feeds him, who carries him on his god damn back for days and days and days on end. Weeks. Months.
Cloud isn't often awake, but sometimes he is. Things are hazy like a dream, sloppy like slumber, slips and strips of memory, of experiences that barely thread together to make something patchwork. And that's how it is when it happens too, because it was only a couple times, fighting to break the surface of a pool of tar. He emerges not with a gasp but an awareness, only for a few moments before he's pulled under. Each time Zack was gone, or asleep, clutching Cloud to his chest for protection but too exhausted to hear his breathless whispers of Zack, Zack as Cloud tries desperately to rouse him, if only to reassure him of I'm here, I hear you, I see you, you're not alone until the mako curls around and into him and pulls him back under.
And then, that middle of nowhere.
Cloud wakes to the sun on his face; weak morning sun, wobbly, not yet hot. They'd slept outside. Zack is already awake, humming to himself, murmuring something, fiddling with a fire. He's going to make a hot breakfast for them. A luxury.
Cloud waits those few minutes, tense and unnerved, waiting for the coils of mako to pull him back under. His limbs still feel weak but something is...different this time. Things feel sharper. He can hear things more than Zack this time, more than the beat of his heart and the hush of his breath; he can hear the crackle of the fire, the chirp of far off birdsong. Cloud can feel the humidity clinging to his skin, sticking his clothes to his chest and back. He can smell the outdoors around them.
He is present. At last, he is.
Zack's turning around towards him, probably to collect him and bring him closer to the fire, to feed him again and once Zack reaches for him, once Cloud is sure he'll see he reaches, just barely, and closes a hand around Zack's wrist.] Zack.
(no subject)
Oct. 29th, 2017 10:40 pmrulingrowe[He doesn't regret it.
Concrete climbs up over his neck, his ears, his eyes. It freezes his arm extended up toward Delsin, blocks out the whistle of the wind as he falls, so all he hears is his heartbeat pounding and his ragged breath and still, in those split seconds as he falls, as he turns and vertigo and darkness and his crushing mortality flip his stomach, still Reggie can't regret it.
He's going to die...but Delsin'll make it out.
Reggie hits the water and the water hits back.
Reggie wakes up like clawing his way out of quicksand. His first breath is gasping, but when he expects to choke on water or rock there's nothing. He's in a bed, he's clean and not cuffed to anything, which doesn't seem right at all.]
I rescued you.
[A conduit- a kid, couldn't be more than thirteen, hugging his knees as he stares at Reggie from across the room with sunken eyes. The walls are cracked and peeling, and the bed he's on is just a mattress on the floor. Reggie yanks the blankets aside.
No concrete.]
...what happened?
[What happened is that Delsin did it. The D.U.P. has since been disbanded, the military moving in to clean up their mess. The Coast Guard arrived first and while people had wondered if it would just be a repeat of seven years ago, of massacres and manhunts, it didn't turn out that way. Maybe because of Delsin, because of the others, but the military worked with them to bring Augustine in and release the prisoners from Curdun Cay.
The boy tells him this with mistrustful eyes, squeezed back into a corner of the room. Now that Reggie looks at him he can see he's drenched, puddles of water pooling around him, constantly dripping. The fishy smell from the room must be coming from him.]
You're a Conduit, [Reggie breathes, Delsin's exasperated voice muttering, thank you, even as he tries to catch up.] ...you did save me. I owe you.
[The boy is a runaway, scared of being rounded up and even more afraid of his own parents. Horror stories about kids being turned in by their own families aren't anything new, though Reggie usually heard them in reference to murders and assaults, first. Parents who didn't know how to help their children, trying to find a solution to keep themselves and their families safe.
This run down shithole of an apartment the kid's squatting in doesn't look safe.
Before Reggie leaves he gives the kid a soggy business card from his equally damp wallet. The lettering is still legible at least.] Call the police office in Salmon Bay. Leave a message for me; they'll be sure to get it to me. You can't live like this, but I get that you're scared; I'll make sure Delsin hears about you, so you can get somewhere safe.
[The boy looks down at the card, face unreadable.]
Call me. Sheriff Rowe, Salmon Bay. All right, kid?
...my name's Alex.
Alex, then.
[His phone's a lost cause, and all calls going to Delsin's phone hit a disconnected wall. Must be past the bill date; Reggie usually pays it, after all.
Once he convinces the local precinct that he is, in fact, alive, Reggie gets a boat to head across the bay. With the bridge out his only option is to follow the channels as close back to Salmon Bay as he can get, get in touch with Betty and see if Delsin's there. God, he hopes he didn't go to far; he'd seen the reports, the footage, even heard first-person accounts from Conduits holed up in the precinct of Delsin saving them and while his heart had burst with pride, it had twisted with just as much worry.
Shit, if he watched Augustine kill Delsin in front of him, he'd be a goddamn disaster.
Once across the bay he rents a car, makes a beeline for Salmon Bay and the longhouse near the cannery. He's about to rush in, to check on the tribe (but Delsin must've helped them already, he knows his little brother, knows that his first stop would've been Betty and the others) when the billboard above the cannery catches his eye.]
Ah, shit...Delsin...
[It's good, too.
It's great work. Delsin is talented, after all.]
Concrete climbs up over his neck, his ears, his eyes. It freezes his arm extended up toward Delsin, blocks out the whistle of the wind as he falls, so all he hears is his heartbeat pounding and his ragged breath and still, in those split seconds as he falls, as he turns and vertigo and darkness and his crushing mortality flip his stomach, still Reggie can't regret it.
He's going to die...but Delsin'll make it out.
Reggie hits the water and the water hits back.
Reggie wakes up like clawing his way out of quicksand. His first breath is gasping, but when he expects to choke on water or rock there's nothing. He's in a bed, he's clean and not cuffed to anything, which doesn't seem right at all.]
I rescued you.
[A conduit- a kid, couldn't be more than thirteen, hugging his knees as he stares at Reggie from across the room with sunken eyes. The walls are cracked and peeling, and the bed he's on is just a mattress on the floor. Reggie yanks the blankets aside.
No concrete.]
...what happened?
[What happened is that Delsin did it. The D.U.P. has since been disbanded, the military moving in to clean up their mess. The Coast Guard arrived first and while people had wondered if it would just be a repeat of seven years ago, of massacres and manhunts, it didn't turn out that way. Maybe because of Delsin, because of the others, but the military worked with them to bring Augustine in and release the prisoners from Curdun Cay.
The boy tells him this with mistrustful eyes, squeezed back into a corner of the room. Now that Reggie looks at him he can see he's drenched, puddles of water pooling around him, constantly dripping. The fishy smell from the room must be coming from him.]
You're a Conduit, [Reggie breathes, Delsin's exasperated voice muttering, thank you, even as he tries to catch up.] ...you did save me. I owe you.
[The boy is a runaway, scared of being rounded up and even more afraid of his own parents. Horror stories about kids being turned in by their own families aren't anything new, though Reggie usually heard them in reference to murders and assaults, first. Parents who didn't know how to help their children, trying to find a solution to keep themselves and their families safe.
This run down shithole of an apartment the kid's squatting in doesn't look safe.
Before Reggie leaves he gives the kid a soggy business card from his equally damp wallet. The lettering is still legible at least.] Call the police office in Salmon Bay. Leave a message for me; they'll be sure to get it to me. You can't live like this, but I get that you're scared; I'll make sure Delsin hears about you, so you can get somewhere safe.
[The boy looks down at the card, face unreadable.]
Call me. Sheriff Rowe, Salmon Bay. All right, kid?
...my name's Alex.
Alex, then.
[His phone's a lost cause, and all calls going to Delsin's phone hit a disconnected wall. Must be past the bill date; Reggie usually pays it, after all.
Once he convinces the local precinct that he is, in fact, alive, Reggie gets a boat to head across the bay. With the bridge out his only option is to follow the channels as close back to Salmon Bay as he can get, get in touch with Betty and see if Delsin's there. God, he hopes he didn't go to far; he'd seen the reports, the footage, even heard first-person accounts from Conduits holed up in the precinct of Delsin saving them and while his heart had burst with pride, it had twisted with just as much worry.
Shit, if he watched Augustine kill Delsin in front of him, he'd be a goddamn disaster.
Once across the bay he rents a car, makes a beeline for Salmon Bay and the longhouse near the cannery. He's about to rush in, to check on the tribe (but Delsin must've helped them already, he knows his little brother, knows that his first stop would've been Betty and the others) when the billboard above the cannery catches his eye.]
Ah, shit...Delsin...
[It's good, too.
It's great work. Delsin is talented, after all.]
(no subject)
Aug. 23rd, 2017 10:39 pmmoseyin[It begins with the rain.
The sunlight was bright and lazy, a hazy blanket that settled on his limbs and weighed them down. He could hear the warm hum of Zack's voice but nothing could make him move. He drifted. He knew he'd be safe, somewhere, in some primal part of his brain, so he didn't try to think. All he did was shuffle his feet when he was carried, toes dragging through the dirt, fingers dragging through his hair.
The leather of his gloves squeak. The safety leaves. He goes back to drifting but then the rain comes, fat drops of it plink-plinking against the armor on his shoulder, dripping into his face; it's cold and it's heavy and it whispers in a rhythm he thinks he's heard before, get. up. get. up.
It takes some doing but he gets up. He falls more than once but he gets up. And as he gets up it's as if he breaks the surface of a lake; suddenly the water dripping into his eyes is in the way and he reaches up to wipe his face, staggers over to a rock to push his shoulder into it, listening to the rain and the gunshots and the sharp clang of metal just past the path. Safety went that way. Warmth and care and-],
Zack, [Cloud croaks, shaking all the way down to his guts, to his bones, as he clutches the boulder and searches for somewhere inside of him the strength to move. Gunshots- Zack doesn't use a gun. Zack doesn't use a gun. Cloud can't remember his last name but he knows this, he knows this, knows the broad shape of the sword on his back like the broad shape of his shoulders, like the broad stretch of his smile. He's fighting, he'd tucked Cloud away- Gods, everything is so confusing but he knows that there are people dying over there and one of them could be-
He finds within him the strength to move, from the same dark, furious pit that had him pull himself down onto a sword what feels like eons ago. Cloud literally stumbles into someone, startles them and when they swing their weapon around to bear he moves so quick he knocks himself off balance, knocks them both into the mud and he wrestles the rifle from him. Shoots him dead.
Shoots him d- Cloud looks up, eyes wide, and shoots the next man too. And the next, and the next, anyone without mako eyes, anyone without a huge sword like Zack's. Anyone standing between them, between the sound of his voice shouting. Suddenly the forces are split in half as they realize their opponents are now two, and Cloud clocks someone with the empty rifle before slipping his way over to where Zack sags, barely holding onto the sword.
He pushes Zack behind himself, stares at the troopers before him, every limb and every word and every breath shaking as he hisses, too low to make it over the rain,] Get away from him...!
[The ground beneath their feet gives a lurch, a sickening swoop and then, suddenly, they fall.]
The sunlight was bright and lazy, a hazy blanket that settled on his limbs and weighed them down. He could hear the warm hum of Zack's voice but nothing could make him move. He drifted. He knew he'd be safe, somewhere, in some primal part of his brain, so he didn't try to think. All he did was shuffle his feet when he was carried, toes dragging through the dirt, fingers dragging through his hair.
The leather of his gloves squeak. The safety leaves. He goes back to drifting but then the rain comes, fat drops of it plink-plinking against the armor on his shoulder, dripping into his face; it's cold and it's heavy and it whispers in a rhythm he thinks he's heard before, get. up. get. up.
It takes some doing but he gets up. He falls more than once but he gets up. And as he gets up it's as if he breaks the surface of a lake; suddenly the water dripping into his eyes is in the way and he reaches up to wipe his face, staggers over to a rock to push his shoulder into it, listening to the rain and the gunshots and the sharp clang of metal just past the path. Safety went that way. Warmth and care and-],
Zack, [Cloud croaks, shaking all the way down to his guts, to his bones, as he clutches the boulder and searches for somewhere inside of him the strength to move. Gunshots- Zack doesn't use a gun. Zack doesn't use a gun. Cloud can't remember his last name but he knows this, he knows this, knows the broad shape of the sword on his back like the broad shape of his shoulders, like the broad stretch of his smile. He's fighting, he'd tucked Cloud away- Gods, everything is so confusing but he knows that there are people dying over there and one of them could be-
He finds within him the strength to move, from the same dark, furious pit that had him pull himself down onto a sword what feels like eons ago. Cloud literally stumbles into someone, startles them and when they swing their weapon around to bear he moves so quick he knocks himself off balance, knocks them both into the mud and he wrestles the rifle from him. Shoots him dead.
Shoots him d- Cloud looks up, eyes wide, and shoots the next man too. And the next, and the next, anyone without mako eyes, anyone without a huge sword like Zack's. Anyone standing between them, between the sound of his voice shouting. Suddenly the forces are split in half as they realize their opponents are now two, and Cloud clocks someone with the empty rifle before slipping his way over to where Zack sags, barely holding onto the sword.
He pushes Zack behind himself, stares at the troopers before him, every limb and every word and every breath shaking as he hisses, too low to make it over the rain,] Get away from him...!
[The ground beneath their feet gives a lurch, a sickening swoop and then, suddenly, they fall.]
(no subject)
Aug. 10th, 2017 11:58 ambigbrained[Being core members of the Voltron coalition meant that sometimes the team had to spread their forces thin in order to take care of everything that required their attention. Sure, they had other allies who could hold their own -the Blade of Mamora for example- but it had a little more impact if the paladins themselves saved a colony or planet, as opposed to more Galra.
In other words: politics.]
I mean, I understand what Coran was saying but I still think it's kinda dumb, right Keith? [Undeterred by Keith's noncommital 'uh huh's and 'yeah's, Hunk continues on as he follows Keith's lead and slows down his approach. They're going to have to try and sneak up on this installation or risk the Galra retaliating against the captured techs for calling for help.] They've been around way longer than we have, and fighting for way longer too! It kinda feels like we're shoving them out of the way to get all the glory. Not that that's what we're doing, but it sure feels like that's what we're doing. I guess in the end it doesn't really matter who gets the job done so long as the people are saved, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Right? Do you have a bad taste in your mouth too, Keith?
In other words: politics.]
I mean, I understand what Coran was saying but I still think it's kinda dumb, right Keith? [Undeterred by Keith's noncommital 'uh huh's and 'yeah's, Hunk continues on as he follows Keith's lead and slows down his approach. They're going to have to try and sneak up on this installation or risk the Galra retaliating against the captured techs for calling for help.] They've been around way longer than we have, and fighting for way longer too! It kinda feels like we're shoving them out of the way to get all the glory. Not that that's what we're doing, but it sure feels like that's what we're doing. I guess in the end it doesn't really matter who gets the job done so long as the people are saved, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Right? Do you have a bad taste in your mouth too, Keith?
(no subject)
Aug. 7th, 2017 11:37 pmbigbrained"Go investigate," she says, "Those readings could lead to useful intel," she says, [Hunk moans, pacing huge circles around his lion, waving his arms. Keith probably isn't listening, he's probably sharpening his knife collection or setting traps or whatever it is people like him do when faced with irrefutable adversity. Thinking about all the ways he can kill wildlife, possibly, not that Hunk would complain considering they didn't exactly pack a snack to this godforsaken planet because they didn't expect THIS.
Hunk turns accusingly to his lion, jabbing a finger up at it.] You! What's the big idea with this? [He knocks a boot against the forcefield his lion erected around itself the moment he and Keith were clear; not quite a kick, but not the usual gentle nudges he usually gives his partner. That's because usually his partner doesn't strand him on an unknown planet with malfunctioning radio equipment!] Ooooh, geez. Keith? Hey, how long do you think before Allura realizes we've been gone way too long and sends the cavalry to come pick us up?
Hunk turns accusingly to his lion, jabbing a finger up at it.] You! What's the big idea with this? [He knocks a boot against the forcefield his lion erected around itself the moment he and Keith were clear; not quite a kick, but not the usual gentle nudges he usually gives his partner. That's because usually his partner doesn't strand him on an unknown planet with malfunctioning radio equipment!] Ooooh, geez. Keith? Hey, how long do you think before Allura realizes we've been gone way too long and sends the cavalry to come pick us up?
(no subject)
Apr. 30th, 2017 12:27 ammonolike[He sleeps.
The plan had been simple, though Sorey hadn't known if it would work; act as Maotelus's vessel, cut off all his senses, and exist as a living pulse of purification. If he slept he wouldn't change, if he slept within Maotelus's domain he (hopefully) wouldn't die. It would mean he would be lost to the ravages of time, left behind by everything he knows, but this way he could eliminate at least a little bit more of the suffering the world had already endured. Maybe it's fueled in part by ego. Maybe he just can't leave things alone for someone else to clean up. Either way, Sorey closes his eyes and prepares to rest.
Only...he doesn't.
He doesn't dream, he doesn't experience some other world or existence; what he feels instead is a spread. His eyes aren't his and he can't choose what to focus on, and sometimes he hears things and sometimes he doesn't. For decades at a time all he hears is the slow growth of earth around the crater, vegetation creeping in and animals settling within it, rain trickling down to form a lake that empties over time during the more severe droughts. Sorey feels Glendwood change around him (and it becomes other names, Nothrand, Lilium, Morensa) and he realizes, an embarrassing few centuries later, that he's not awake but he's experiencing the world through Maotelus's blessing.
It's surprisingly soothing. Even when he watches civilizations build and crumble, Maotelus is there with him to talk him through the agony of observing war. It's hard, he says in his childlike voice, seated in Sorey's lap in the shared spaces of their souls, leaning his head back against his chest, it's hard just to watch, but sometimes people don't want to have peace. Freedom is the most important. You have to remember that.
Maotelus tells him stories about his old life, stories about what the world was like before Sorey was born. He laughs and affectionately calls Sorey naive, calls him young, even as he passes into his sixth century. We're unchanging to an extent, maybe, but I think you'll always be young no matter what.
Sorey told him he didn't want to hear that from someone whose voice hasn't even deepened and Maotelus pretended to sulk for almost four full years.
When Sorey becomes unable to feel the edges of the tainted world, he knows his time asleep as an observer is coming to an end. He's done all that he can; Maotelus knows he can't stay here forever, that no matter how powerful either of them are, Sorey can't do the impossible and purify the whole world just by remaining asleep. That everything is cyclical only when it's not, and that maybe Sorey can do more good in the world if he's awake for just a few decades more, to tell people what he saw, to pass on what he knows.
I love you, Sorey thinks even as sleep takes him further and further from Maotelus, I'll miss you.
Don't be silly, Maotelus chides. I'll always be right beside you.
- - -
Sorey wakes.
It takes some time, but he makes his way out of the crater. The air smells clean in a way he can just barely remember from Gramps's domain in Elysia and he breathes it in fully. His body is the same as it was when he went to sleep; clothes ripped and dirty, muscles sore. Seventeen and human, but he remembers everything, remembers centuries of watching, waiting, talking with Maotelus. He knows that at any given point one of his friends is watching over him, and knows that it's just a matter of time until he's found.
So he plucks a few apples from a tree, chooses a flat stone to sit down on, and waits. They'll find him before he finds them, now that he's just a regular human again, so he should make it easy and stop moving around.]
The plan had been simple, though Sorey hadn't known if it would work; act as Maotelus's vessel, cut off all his senses, and exist as a living pulse of purification. If he slept he wouldn't change, if he slept within Maotelus's domain he (hopefully) wouldn't die. It would mean he would be lost to the ravages of time, left behind by everything he knows, but this way he could eliminate at least a little bit more of the suffering the world had already endured. Maybe it's fueled in part by ego. Maybe he just can't leave things alone for someone else to clean up. Either way, Sorey closes his eyes and prepares to rest.
Only...he doesn't.
He doesn't dream, he doesn't experience some other world or existence; what he feels instead is a spread. His eyes aren't his and he can't choose what to focus on, and sometimes he hears things and sometimes he doesn't. For decades at a time all he hears is the slow growth of earth around the crater, vegetation creeping in and animals settling within it, rain trickling down to form a lake that empties over time during the more severe droughts. Sorey feels Glendwood change around him (and it becomes other names, Nothrand, Lilium, Morensa) and he realizes, an embarrassing few centuries later, that he's not awake but he's experiencing the world through Maotelus's blessing.
It's surprisingly soothing. Even when he watches civilizations build and crumble, Maotelus is there with him to talk him through the agony of observing war. It's hard, he says in his childlike voice, seated in Sorey's lap in the shared spaces of their souls, leaning his head back against his chest, it's hard just to watch, but sometimes people don't want to have peace. Freedom is the most important. You have to remember that.
Maotelus tells him stories about his old life, stories about what the world was like before Sorey was born. He laughs and affectionately calls Sorey naive, calls him young, even as he passes into his sixth century. We're unchanging to an extent, maybe, but I think you'll always be young no matter what.
Sorey told him he didn't want to hear that from someone whose voice hasn't even deepened and Maotelus pretended to sulk for almost four full years.
When Sorey becomes unable to feel the edges of the tainted world, he knows his time asleep as an observer is coming to an end. He's done all that he can; Maotelus knows he can't stay here forever, that no matter how powerful either of them are, Sorey can't do the impossible and purify the whole world just by remaining asleep. That everything is cyclical only when it's not, and that maybe Sorey can do more good in the world if he's awake for just a few decades more, to tell people what he saw, to pass on what he knows.
I love you, Sorey thinks even as sleep takes him further and further from Maotelus, I'll miss you.
Don't be silly, Maotelus chides. I'll always be right beside you.
Sorey wakes.
It takes some time, but he makes his way out of the crater. The air smells clean in a way he can just barely remember from Gramps's domain in Elysia and he breathes it in fully. His body is the same as it was when he went to sleep; clothes ripped and dirty, muscles sore. Seventeen and human, but he remembers everything, remembers centuries of watching, waiting, talking with Maotelus. He knows that at any given point one of his friends is watching over him, and knows that it's just a matter of time until he's found.
So he plucks a few apples from a tree, chooses a flat stone to sit down on, and waits. They'll find him before he finds them, now that he's just a regular human again, so he should make it easy and stop moving around.]
(no subject)
Mar. 30th, 2017 10:27 ammonolikeBeing raised in the church isn't so bad.
Empyrean worship isn't as prevalent as before, even in the capital of Loegress, but the priests and attendants are all friendly and more importantly, it's safe. That's what they tell Sorey over and over, it's safe within the city, and he supposes it must be true. Sometimes he'll hear whispered stories when he's cleaning the pews, on his knees in the shadows as Brother Mathley and Brother Ferengard murmur, another village, did you hear, what a pity.
And though his heart longs for the outside world, as far back as he can remember, he's only seen the city walls. And the priests don't believe him when he tells them about the spirits; about the nice old kitty who tells him stories from when the mountains were still being born, about that man who could make the wind do as he wished. They were good spirits, Sorey could tell, but almost nobody could see them.
...nobody but Artorius.
He had only visited the capital once, with two other people. He was younger than the brothers but much older than Sorey, and he looked every inch the explorer Sorey wished he could be. Sorey had hidden behind the altar with the cat spirit as they spoke with High Priest Gideon, as he told them something about violence and nonsense before turning them away. Artorius (Sorey would learn his name much later) had seen him, looked at him and then, very deliberately, looked at the cat as well. Then he'd smiled and raised his finger to his lips before he and the others left.
"Don't associate with those types," Father Gideon had said to him, but Sorey knew, one day, he would join them.
The Scarlet Night happened, and now everyone could see monsters. And then it happened again, and everyone could see spirits. Artorius returned, Father Gideon welcomed him with open arms, and the moment Sorey turned seventeen he joined the Abbey's ranks. He'd practiced bowmanship and swordsmanship before at the church as a way to keep fit, but now his skills would be used to protect people, to kill daemons.
He would be given a malak, today, to use to those ends. And though it makes him feel a little deceitful, as Sorey pulls on and straightens his uniform for the ceremony, all he can think about is finally, finally leaving the city walls.
Empyrean worship isn't as prevalent as before, even in the capital of Loegress, but the priests and attendants are all friendly and more importantly, it's safe. That's what they tell Sorey over and over, it's safe within the city, and he supposes it must be true. Sometimes he'll hear whispered stories when he's cleaning the pews, on his knees in the shadows as Brother Mathley and Brother Ferengard murmur, another village, did you hear, what a pity.
And though his heart longs for the outside world, as far back as he can remember, he's only seen the city walls. And the priests don't believe him when he tells them about the spirits; about the nice old kitty who tells him stories from when the mountains were still being born, about that man who could make the wind do as he wished. They were good spirits, Sorey could tell, but almost nobody could see them.
...nobody but Artorius.
He had only visited the capital once, with two other people. He was younger than the brothers but much older than Sorey, and he looked every inch the explorer Sorey wished he could be. Sorey had hidden behind the altar with the cat spirit as they spoke with High Priest Gideon, as he told them something about violence and nonsense before turning them away. Artorius (Sorey would learn his name much later) had seen him, looked at him and then, very deliberately, looked at the cat as well. Then he'd smiled and raised his finger to his lips before he and the others left.
"Don't associate with those types," Father Gideon had said to him, but Sorey knew, one day, he would join them.
The Scarlet Night happened, and now everyone could see monsters. And then it happened again, and everyone could see spirits. Artorius returned, Father Gideon welcomed him with open arms, and the moment Sorey turned seventeen he joined the Abbey's ranks. He'd practiced bowmanship and swordsmanship before at the church as a way to keep fit, but now his skills would be used to protect people, to kill daemons.
He would be given a malak, today, to use to those ends. And though it makes him feel a little deceitful, as Sorey pulls on and straightens his uniform for the ceremony, all he can think about is finally, finally leaving the city walls.
(no subject)
Sep. 16th, 2016 08:03 pmmonolike[The first thing Sorey thinks as he falls is what Lailah said as they left Camlann; that without his domain, all of them would instantly be hellions. The ground collapses beneath his feet, the wind drake behind him snaps up his cloak in its jaws and he sees the terror on Mikleo's face just before Symonne's laughter shrieks out and he and the drake fall together.
If they're too far away from me-
He can still feel their connection. He can still feel them, even if they can't go to him, and Sorey prays that's enough.
Wind rushes past them and Sorey tries to wrench out of the drake's grip (It's gotta be a wind seraph, Zaveid had shouted as they were thrown into the thick of battle in the tight corridors of the fortress), twisting and turning, sword in his hand. They'd weakened the drake considerably as a team but he's not sure he's powerful enough on his own to purify it, not even with all the strength he's gathered. Not without the others.
Hopefully, because Rose is there, they'll be okay. Please, please, I can't lose anyone else-
They fall far but hit a collapsed spire at an angle; in the mess the drake releases Sorey (or maybe his cloak tears, he can't tell) and he tumbles, bumps against it and hits the ground hard enough to rattle his teeth in his head and jar his bones. He pushes himself up, ignoring the bruises and aches, the constant, thumping worry of his heart and puts his sword between he and the drake as it sways up to its feet.]
Don't worry, [he promises the poor thing, because thank god, thank god it's not a dragon yet. There's still hope.] I'm going to save you. Don't worry, it'll be over soon.
If they're too far away from me-
He can still feel their connection. He can still feel them, even if they can't go to him, and Sorey prays that's enough.
Wind rushes past them and Sorey tries to wrench out of the drake's grip (It's gotta be a wind seraph, Zaveid had shouted as they were thrown into the thick of battle in the tight corridors of the fortress), twisting and turning, sword in his hand. They'd weakened the drake considerably as a team but he's not sure he's powerful enough on his own to purify it, not even with all the strength he's gathered. Not without the others.
Hopefully, because Rose is there, they'll be okay. Please, please, I can't lose anyone else-
They fall far but hit a collapsed spire at an angle; in the mess the drake releases Sorey (or maybe his cloak tears, he can't tell) and he tumbles, bumps against it and hits the ground hard enough to rattle his teeth in his head and jar his bones. He pushes himself up, ignoring the bruises and aches, the constant, thumping worry of his heart and puts his sword between he and the drake as it sways up to its feet.]
Don't worry, [he promises the poor thing, because thank god, thank god it's not a dragon yet. There's still hope.] I'm going to save you. Don't worry, it'll be over soon.
(no subject)
Jun. 20th, 2016 09:57 pmexplainingWho: Luke fon Fabre & Guy Cecil
What: GUY FINDS LUKE AND CRIES
Universe/CR: Canon AU
Wait for me here, all right?
[Peony and Jade are going to kick his ass. Again. They already get annoyed with him for coming to visit the ruins of Eldrant as often as he does, what with powerful monsters still prowling around, but that he tells his guard to wait by the ship? Yeah. Jade has already picked several bones with him over this, and Peony's made it pretty clear that if Count Gardios, last of the Galan Gardios household gets himself mauled to death by monsters that Malkuth will be in a particularly tough spot. Guy knows, and it's not as if he wants to cause His Majesty any undue hardship or make himself a nuisance. He's thrown himself headfirst into his stately duties for that very purpose, attending council meetings and listening, meeting with Jade to catch up on the past twenty years of legislature. It's mindnumbingly boring, but Guy accepted the title of Gardios and he'll wear the banner proudly. This is all part of it.
But he just...can't let this go. He can't let this tradition die.]
Your Lordship, are you-
Yes, [Guy interrupts, because this happens every time, even when he brings the same guards with him. He offers a wan smile.] Don't worry. I know how to handle myself. And if I can't, I really know how to run.
[With that, Guy makes his way into Eldrant.
Despite the monsters still around being quite powerful, there aren't that many. Most of them were abominations anyway, unnatural creatures spawned by fonic contamination, the result of Van's and Dist's experimentation. They had no way of reproducing, no desire to eat or drink; all they wanted to do was hunt. Most of them had already died once their purpose had passed. Guy could avoid most fights, and whatever he couldn't avoid, he could wound and flee. It wasn't noble or grand, but it kept him alive. He supposes he could bother one of the others to come with him, but...Tear was the only one who still believed Luke was alive, and she had her own matters to attend to. Asking anyone else just felt like asking a parent to indulge their deluded child, and Guy didn't want to be humored. He wanted them to believe.
Still, even for being scarce, there was shockingly little monster activity for this time of night. No growls, no rustlings, not even a hint of some of the regular monsters who would occasionally wander into the crash site. It's more than a little unsettling; anything that deviates from normal activity, good or bad, is a sign of significant change. As much as Guy hopes that Luke is alive somewhere, he's more a realist than an optimist any given day and he can't think that this sudden quietness is anything good.
Guy draws his sword as quietly as possible, peering around cracked columns and half-collapsed buildings. The pristine white of the structures are already browning with exposure to the elements, moss and vines creeping into place over their edges and claiming the city as part of their earth.
It's too still.
Guy's anxiety creeps ever upward as he travels further inward. If he had any sense in his head, he'd turn back. He would go back to the ship, get back to Malkuth and report the odd behavior to Jade to be further investigated by the military. This isn't his job, this isn't his concern; he should focus on keeping himself alive, as one of the few Malkuth nobles in favor of a standing treaty with Kimlasca. He has his responsibilities to Auldrant to consider.
...but what if.
He shouldn't allow himself hope this strong. He's just going to get hurt. It's just going to hurt so much worse if he walks out of here with nothing to show, but he can't just- He can't keep going on like this. Maybe after this, he should give up these little excursions. Maybe he should just stop punishing himself this way if this time, he finds nothing.
If this time, yet again, he doesn't find Luke.]
Luke? [It's too soft. There's no way he'd hear, even if by some miracle he's alive. He swore he would return so Guy should wait, but Guy- well, he's never been good at waiting for Luke to come along. Before it was his duty to serve the crown, it was his duty to look after Luke.
He knows which one is more important to him.]
Luke, are you here? ...can you hear me?
What: GUY FINDS LUKE AND CRIES
Universe/CR: Canon AU
Wait for me here, all right?
[Peony and Jade are going to kick his ass. Again. They already get annoyed with him for coming to visit the ruins of Eldrant as often as he does, what with powerful monsters still prowling around, but that he tells his guard to wait by the ship? Yeah. Jade has already picked several bones with him over this, and Peony's made it pretty clear that if Count Gardios, last of the Galan Gardios household gets himself mauled to death by monsters that Malkuth will be in a particularly tough spot. Guy knows, and it's not as if he wants to cause His Majesty any undue hardship or make himself a nuisance. He's thrown himself headfirst into his stately duties for that very purpose, attending council meetings and listening, meeting with Jade to catch up on the past twenty years of legislature. It's mindnumbingly boring, but Guy accepted the title of Gardios and he'll wear the banner proudly. This is all part of it.
But he just...can't let this go. He can't let this tradition die.]
Your Lordship, are you-
Yes, [Guy interrupts, because this happens every time, even when he brings the same guards with him. He offers a wan smile.] Don't worry. I know how to handle myself. And if I can't, I really know how to run.
[With that, Guy makes his way into Eldrant.
Despite the monsters still around being quite powerful, there aren't that many. Most of them were abominations anyway, unnatural creatures spawned by fonic contamination, the result of Van's and Dist's experimentation. They had no way of reproducing, no desire to eat or drink; all they wanted to do was hunt. Most of them had already died once their purpose had passed. Guy could avoid most fights, and whatever he couldn't avoid, he could wound and flee. It wasn't noble or grand, but it kept him alive. He supposes he could bother one of the others to come with him, but...Tear was the only one who still believed Luke was alive, and she had her own matters to attend to. Asking anyone else just felt like asking a parent to indulge their deluded child, and Guy didn't want to be humored. He wanted them to believe.
Still, even for being scarce, there was shockingly little monster activity for this time of night. No growls, no rustlings, not even a hint of some of the regular monsters who would occasionally wander into the crash site. It's more than a little unsettling; anything that deviates from normal activity, good or bad, is a sign of significant change. As much as Guy hopes that Luke is alive somewhere, he's more a realist than an optimist any given day and he can't think that this sudden quietness is anything good.
Guy draws his sword as quietly as possible, peering around cracked columns and half-collapsed buildings. The pristine white of the structures are already browning with exposure to the elements, moss and vines creeping into place over their edges and claiming the city as part of their earth.
It's too still.
Guy's anxiety creeps ever upward as he travels further inward. If he had any sense in his head, he'd turn back. He would go back to the ship, get back to Malkuth and report the odd behavior to Jade to be further investigated by the military. This isn't his job, this isn't his concern; he should focus on keeping himself alive, as one of the few Malkuth nobles in favor of a standing treaty with Kimlasca. He has his responsibilities to Auldrant to consider.
...but what if.
He shouldn't allow himself hope this strong. He's just going to get hurt. It's just going to hurt so much worse if he walks out of here with nothing to show, but he can't just- He can't keep going on like this. Maybe after this, he should give up these little excursions. Maybe he should just stop punishing himself this way if this time, he finds nothing.
If this time, yet again, he doesn't find Luke.]
Luke? [It's too soft. There's no way he'd hear, even if by some miracle he's alive. He swore he would return so Guy should wait, but Guy- well, he's never been good at waiting for Luke to come along. Before it was his duty to serve the crown, it was his duty to look after Luke.
He knows which one is more important to him.]
Luke, are you here? ...can you hear me?
(no subject)
Jun. 20th, 2016 07:44 pmbuildsfriendsWho: Mabel Pines and Michael J. Caboose
What: CABOOSE SHOWS UP AND HE AND MABEL GO ON AN ADVENTURE
Universe/CR: Mask or Menace >>> Gravity Falls
[They're all supposed to get in the teleporter to go to the next mission place. Caboose has been having a hard time because nobody believes him when he tells them where he went. They keep saying he was home the whole time, but obviously he wasn't, because he went to Earth for a while and Things happened and Church was there. Not even small Church remembers it, and he remembers everything. So Caboose gives up and does what they say, and gets ready for a mission into the teleporter to go find some stuff that Principal Kimball wants.
The teleporter is always awful and makes him feel sick, but usually when he steps out he's okay and he sees everyone else so it's fine. Except this time it's not fine. It does not look like Blue base. Or Red base, which is a lot like Blue base except redder and dirtier (because of Grif), with more doilies (because of Donut) and more things he is not allowed to touch (because of Sarge and Simmons). Yeah, this is not like either of the bases at all. It also doesn't look like a place they're supposed to be, mostly because all his friends are missing.
Also there are trees. And there are houses made out of wood. And the doors don't open right, like they don't whoosh open or have buttons to open them, they just kind of sit there and wait. There's a knob thing on them like how there was in that one weird Earth place, so Caboose grabs the knob and pushes. Hm. Nothing. Pushes harder.
PUSHES SO HARD that he breaks down the door, oh well, that's okay...he can just prop the door up, look, it still does the same thing.]
Hello? [Hm. Maybe if he turns on his helmet amplifier.] HELLO I AM LOST PLEASE COME FIND ME.
What: CABOOSE SHOWS UP AND HE AND MABEL GO ON AN ADVENTURE
Universe/CR: Mask or Menace >>> Gravity Falls
[They're all supposed to get in the teleporter to go to the next mission place. Caboose has been having a hard time because nobody believes him when he tells them where he went. They keep saying he was home the whole time, but obviously he wasn't, because he went to Earth for a while and Things happened and Church was there. Not even small Church remembers it, and he remembers everything. So Caboose gives up and does what they say, and gets ready for a mission into the teleporter to go find some stuff that Principal Kimball wants.
The teleporter is always awful and makes him feel sick, but usually when he steps out he's okay and he sees everyone else so it's fine. Except this time it's not fine. It does not look like Blue base. Or Red base, which is a lot like Blue base except redder and dirtier (because of Grif), with more doilies (because of Donut) and more things he is not allowed to touch (because of Sarge and Simmons). Yeah, this is not like either of the bases at all. It also doesn't look like a place they're supposed to be, mostly because all his friends are missing.
Also there are trees. And there are houses made out of wood. And the doors don't open right, like they don't whoosh open or have buttons to open them, they just kind of sit there and wait. There's a knob thing on them like how there was in that one weird Earth place, so Caboose grabs the knob and pushes. Hm. Nothing. Pushes harder.
PUSHES SO HARD that he breaks down the door, oh well, that's okay...he can just prop the door up, look, it still does the same thing.]
Hello? [Hm. Maybe if he turns on his helmet amplifier.] HELLO I AM LOST PLEASE COME FIND ME.
