SEPTEMBER TDM + SETTING UPDATES

[beleos]

BEARING FRUIT (NEW CHARACTERS ONLY)

It starts out as a pleasant dream. You’re in your favorite place, with your favorite people. It’s a moment of idyllic comfort.

And then, it goes wrong.

The sky turns dark above, and as you look up, you see the black expanse of space spotted with faraway pinprick lights of stars. Yet, they’re not stars. You’re certain. They’re watching you. A billion eyes all looking down, and they spill forth as if sky itself was a dam holding back those dark waters. You reach back to the people you’re with, but they’re frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.

So you run, even though you know you won’t escape it. You glance back and see it not overtaking, but consuming. The landscape around you is being devoured, and you can see it cracking apart. The world itself is breaking, and it cracks under your feet. You fall, and the billion eyes chase after you until the darkness swallows you whole. There’s agony as if you’re being ripped apart, and then—

You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a woman’s voice speaks gently.

I’m sorry it couldn’t be saved. But, come, it’s time to wake.

You wake with a start, cradled by soft, velvety plants, and sticky with a sap that smells faintly of honey and iron. You can see the veins of the leaves that hold you, lit warmly and gently by what looks like a crystal embedded above you. Yet, it’s odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, it’s warm. Familiar. Important. You don’t know why, but you know you must hold onto this, because now it feels wrong for it to be suspended in these leaves. So, you pull it out.

The light starts to fade, but only in time to see as the leaves cradling you immediately start to soften and crumble, and with it comes a torrent of dirt. Soft, loamy soil starts to fill the space around you in the dark as you’re buried. Or, rather, you already were. You reach out through the dirt desperately, and your hands finds a root, so you pull while you clutch that precious crystal so close that it almost feels like it sinks into you (in your panic, you don’t notice that it does). You reach out again, and this time, your hand hits open air and plenty of sturdy roots around to grab.

From a seed you’re born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.

And once you’ve clawed your way out of the soft earth and the roots, nearby, you see the soil shift. Another hand comes up to grasp desperately for something, anything, just as you had been.

TWO CITIES, ALIKE IN DIGNITY

With the new Shard-Bearers present or en route, it is Kathova and Cetina that approach the established ones, requesting that they form mentorships with the new souls to assist them with the integration process. To this end, they have both provided a centralized zone in both Highstorm and Springstar for a small, casual meet-and-greet to be held before the new Shard-Bearers are unleashed upon Kenos as a whole.

Additionally, as Springstar and Highstorm are holding their events on different days, it is possible for the knowledge-hungry to participate in both informational sessions -- the tones and opinions held by both cities are doubtless to differ, and some Shard-Bearers who have chosen to harmonize with either faction may even find their way to the opposing faction's session as well.

However, for those who have attended such events in the past, they'll note a marked difference—Only newly arrived Shard-Bearers and members of the faction are welcome. If you're a member of the opposite faction, you'll be questioned and ultimately turned away. If you want to join the party, you'll have to be a little sneakier, it seems.

SPRINGSTAR, αιώνιος ήλιος

In Springstar, the seat of the Tribune becomes available for such a forum. While a section of the building itself has been reserved for the meeting between fresh faces and experienced Shard-Bearers alike, the hustle and bustle of Heliopolis continues around them -- acolytes still gather their robes and tomes, hurrying from their quarters to lessons. A score of young militants march in step across the yard to the training grounds.

The welcoming party is in the Seat of the Tribune, with tables draped in white-and-gold-trimmed fabrics fare filled with fare typical to Springstar's slowly fading winter -- fruits and wines, savory smoked meats and roasted vegetables, and large bowls of soups like youvarlakia and fasoalda have been lain out to encourage forum participants to snack as they speak. There are plenty of grains and other dishes that elude to an abundant harvest from Alenroux. The atmosphere is ambient with informality and friendliness, though topics will inevitably stray towards philosophic or political, Springstar's meeting grounds are decorated with handsome chaise lounges and slouching klismos chairs in small, intimate groupings. This is a forum in the classical sense, where people are encouraged to speak freely, no matter the topic. Though excitement charges the air, the gathering at the Seat is much more muted than what transpires outside the center of the city.

The mood in Springstar as a whole is jubilant, with not just a party at the seat of the tribune, but elsewhere, including the Psychagogía district. Parties line the streets, establishments that overflow with bodies, drink, and libations of all sorts. There is a sense of excitement in capturing the latest oracle, and the people seem to treat the shard-bearers of Meridian somewhat reverently, and new ones, they will pull aside and explain with excitement about how the Shard-Bearers captured the oracle (with varying degrees of accuracy) and how it is because of them that they will be seen to victory. Cyrus’s name, however, still comes with notes of disdain. It’s clear that the Tribune has not bought much good favor by their victory, and instead, if any ask, or follow the threads, they will hear the names Desmond Ó Ruadháin and Agapitos Voreen as likely successors to the Tribune. However if one asks how that happens… details become a bit more muddy. Apparently, the role of the Tribune is for life. And apparently, the denizens of Springstar trust the Shard-Bearers to see the oracles through, and still see Cyrus as a weak link in their chain.

HIGHSTORM, луны-близнецы

Eternally in opposition, Highstorm provides the Manor's courtyard as the setting for their informational meeting. Formality is of utmost importance here, with attending Zenith loyalists and residents dressed in beautiful, albeit austere attire -- they are, after all, standing before Lady Yima's home. A buffet-style luncheon is spread alongside one of the largest reflecting pools, wherein you may gaze and find your memories revealed in retrospect upon the water's surface. Soft tunes filter over the courtyard, and if the sounds of them sound familiar – perhaps remind one of home? That’s because they are! Yima’s musicians seem to be able to pilfer strings and strands of music, and weave it all together expertly, to give both new arrivals and old friends reminders of their home.

There are few places to be seated in the Manor's courtyard, resulting in a milling of bodies as they flow and ebb between smaller gatherings, clustering in small-to-large groups with small platters and shimmering flutes of drink held in their hands. Yet, as you look, you’ll see that the selection is also quite interesting. The foods and drinks on offer are from a multitude of worlds, and so you may find a new favorite! Or something not suited to your palate at all. It’s at least a chance to be adventurous. If you try something and don’t like it, might not want to say that out loud, lest you insult someone who’s from that world.

The city itself is more muted than usual. The last dregs of Highstorm’s chill summer are coming to an end, and the cold is an opportunity for Highstorm’s denizens to batter in more frequently, and the chill may have something to do with the lost oracle. Though, if asked, they’ll say nothing of the sort, of course! In opposition to Springstar’s mixed jubilation and doubt, Highstorm’s denizens seem determined that lady Yima will see them through, and that one loss is no reason to fall into despair. Though they are still disappointed, and will say so. Though blame does not seem to have a target, mere disappointment filters through the city, as they start preparing for winter. The prices seem higher, whether one is looking for potions, supplies, or even small trinkets from the The Antiques & Baubles Market. Things seem… leaner in a sense. There’s nobody starving on the streets in Highstorm, but the control of Alenroux continues to lead to tense relations, even though a compromise seems to have been recently reached between the two factions.

SETTING UPDATES

In both locations, information passes between all in a forum, spread and disseminated among the masses - it's a good opportunity for city residents, faction loyalists and interested new parties to share and share alike. Once the meet-and-greet has concluded, twin missives from both faction leads are read out -- invitations for all present to explore the cities to their heart's content, and warnings about stumbling ill-prepared ( or at all ) into the Below, or worse yet, the Beyond. As Shard-Bearers new and old take in their cities, they'll all see it change throughout the month...

OOC, these are all updates to the setting at large that players both new and old are free to interact with as little or as much as they wish! Feel free to use them as prompts on this post, in your characters on-going lives and arcs, or just let them go "that's none of my business" and ignore it. The world of Kenos is shaped by our playerbase, and these are some of the wider reaching effects of various player plots and actions.

THE BLIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

Since the Blight’s conclusion, both cities have undergone a fair bit of effort to reconstruct the districts and buildings that were destroyed in the Blight, though Springstar seems a touch further along than Highstorm, due to Shard-bearer efforts. The unusual weather pockets present previously have very nearly all disappeared, though there are some patches still present, lingering in the areas still somewhat ravaged by the Blight. The pockets seem to be losing their effects now, and if one finds themself within, will experience a mild slowing down or speeding up of time. Visions still appear within the small bubbles, reflections of dear ones or important events, though they seem to be only memory, though anyone within the bubble can bear witness.

FURTHER DETAILS

OOCly, characters can still stumble into small bubbles of time, though they are fewer and far between than they were 3 months ago! These time bubbles still have some time-warping energy, and will continue to allow characters to either speed up or slow down, depending on player preference! In addition, the time bubbles are no longer bringing back remnants of Kenosians past, but there is still the chance of some memory reflections to briefly manifest in the bubble. They will come from player characters as a whole, and are purely up to whatever is fun for you! Think of it as brief flickers of memory sharing, they can be as brief or as distorted as you like! Think of this as the last gasp of the Blight, as it withers away thanks to the concentrated efforts of all shard bearers!

CHECKS AND BALANCES

Alenroux continues to improve, and with the new balance between both Springstar and Highstorm, the separate island is safer than ever! The tensions between both factions seem to have reduced over the island, thanks to the efforts of several shard bearers, and the populace seems to be warming to both factions once again.

FURTHER DETAILS

After the resolution of the first Kenos Ambassador agreement, the balance of power in Alenroux is already starting to shift. The island already has a much more evenly-matched number of military forces from both Springstar and Highstorm, the number of troops in the area has reduced significantly. The number of monsters does not seem to have increased at this time, which bodes well for the area. The uptick of Highstorm locals has certainly led to more food flowing into Highstorm than had before, and the people seem pleased with the arrangement – for the moment! The small murmurs of discontent and unrest seem to have alleviated at this time. Though some still seem uncomfortable with the amount of troops, they seem less willing to say that out loud. Though nights in Alenroux will possibly never be wholly safe, the threats seem more manageable, though nobody will ever turn down Shard-Bearer assistance in a pinch!

TO INFINITY – AND BEYOND

Rumbling about temples being erected in the Beyond, which lies outside of Highstorm’s city limits, close to another that had been erected previously. Not one shrine out there, but two it seems. It shines like the sun when the moonlight catches it just right, and it’s visible over the line of trees that marks the edge of the Beyond. The more brave and curious of Highstorm’s denizens have started making more treks into the Beyond for both shrines, and the fact that most come back unharmed seems to encourage others to follow. And for those that may not be able to make the trek safely, there's an opportunity to make a bit of money by leading the way to the shrines and offering the curious pilgrims protection from the Beyond's dangers. There’s rumbling amongst them – Quetzalcoatl – Set – the names of gods of worlds long past, and though there are not many that will stray from Highstorm’s resident deified figure – Lady Yima – there are enough that it’s easy to catch pilgrimages out to the temple, and to visit them yourselves, as well!

FURTHER DETAILS

Quetzalcoatl erected a bright and gigantic temple right next to Set's in the Beyond! Right next to Highstorm! I'm sure that's fine and will not have any diplomatic consequences in the future! Both gods have been drawing in new curious individuals – some who may be worshippers with time – and it's drawn the curiosity of many.

SMALLER CHANGES

GRAND LARCENY

An uptick in crime between both Springstar and Highstorm has both the Legion and Yima’s own private guard scrambling as they struggle to find rhyme or reason behind the latest crime spree taken up in both cities. Though there doesn’t seem to be a specific source, local chatter suggests that it might be coming from a mysterious underground, though most can’t say where... there’s vague gestures, and remarks about Below, without any concrete details. Those who are familiar with – or find out about – Kowloon, may find plenty of stolen items within Kowloon’s markets, though if asked, the keeper will simply shrug and say they retrieved it from a reputable source. Who? Well, they don’t know, they don’t remember their face. I’m sure this is fine and won’t lead to trouble later down the line!

Completely unrelated, those who are known to be or obviously affiliated with Springstar continue to encounter difficulty in Kowloon. It’s become a touch more brazen – more pickpocketing, even higher prices, or even some outright derisiveness from some businesses, although they seem to be centered more around Draumahol, and the further one gets from the business in the underground city (or as far as one can get) the more willing businesses seem to engage with those from Springstar, and the more… apologetic they are about higher prices, though they do still seem to be across the board.

FAE MISCHEIF

It’s not just the underground that seems to be reeling from a spike of theft, though this one seems more obvious – and innocuous! Faeries from the Greenwood Yard seem to still be reeling from recent Shard-Bearer intrusions, so bearers new and old may find small items of varying importance are missing. They’ll generally come with a calling card; a small note that is part threat and part invitation for a game, to come find them within the Greenwood Yards. After hearing about the issue, a certain potion shop owner sets up a small stall by the yards, and will offer to help the shard bearer with their predicament – for a price, of course! Better have a few gold coins on you!

The owner will offer bearers a round-trip to tiny town yet again, to retrieve whatever was stolen, though this time it comes with no visions, and generally the fairies will consider things to be even, if bearers come to retrieve it with politeness and a request for it to be returned. If a bearer threatens them… well. Let’s hope you brought a friend along to help with this fae threat, then!

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Kenos! As a reminder, all new players need an invite to apply to the game, which are now open.

This log is Game Canon. Any characters who are not apped to the game will disappear. If Cyrus or Yima are asked, they’ll explain that this sometimes happens since not every soul has a strong tether to Kenos and sometimes return to the Timestream. They may return to Kenos one day, but for now, weren’t able to make the full journey.

As a note primarily for current players, closed toplevels/prompts are not allowed in this log. If you would like to interact with the setting changes in a way that isn't open to all characters (new and old), we ask that you instead make a log in kenoslogs.

FOR NEW PLAYERS:

When characters emerge from their cocoon/the ground, they may be wearing their normal clothes or nude. Up to you!

At some point in the days after leaving the Tree of Life, new Shard-Bearers will have a dream, even if they're usually not capable of sleeping. All new players should read this post since this details how they'll learn about both factions and their goals and should help them make a decision about which Faction they'd be drawn to.

As a reminder, your character has a Shard somewhere on their body that encompasses their soul, so keep note of where you're sticking it on their person for reference! Additionally, they have a tattoo of their Aspect somewhere on their body. Please be mindful this Aspect will be assigned to you upon approval and whatever you choose for the TDM may be temporary (for new characters)!

For the Highstorm and Springstar prompts, both cities will be fully open and accessible to all characters once they are freed from their rather harrowing ordeal at the Tree of Life. For prompt ideas and any general information about the cities and what you can find there, please see the Navigation page and check out the locations!

New characters will not have access to any canon abilities on the TDM until they Harmonize, AKA make a choice of which faction they choose to support. For some characters, this may be an easy decision, but it make take others time. We just ask you keep this in mind!

CODING

Comments

QUESTIONS

[beleos]

tezcatlipoca ; fate grand order

[fursuit]

i. bearing fruit (new characters only)

Yo.

[ It’s a too casual greeting for someone that was clearly in the same situation. He’s still covered in sap and dirt himself, though now that he has company, he does reach up to start picking some of it out of his hair. ]

You were really struggling. Weren’t sure if you were gonna make it up.

[ …And by implication, yeah, he was just watching. Don’t worry about that part! With a sigh, he gives up on trying to clean up his hair, and instead takes off his (very unnecessary) sunglasses to try and clean them off instead. It’s mildly more successful, and it also shows his rather startlingly pale blue eyes. ]

Well, welcome, in any case. This ain’t the usual way I meet people, but hey. I’ll give it points for being dramatic.

ii. springstar

[ Learning more about the cities and their factions has eventually lead Tezcatlipoca into the Seat of the Tribune. His first impression is that it’s pretty bold for leaders to just allow people to come in this casually, but he’ll chalk that up to more modern sentiments. Seems like it might be this Tribune guy’s loss, from the sound of things. But he’s not here to cause trouble (today, anyways), and he won’t complain. Besides, he’s hungry, and this place is providing. Works for him.

With a plate loaded up (notably, only with the smoked meats—not a vegetable in sight here), Tezcatlipoca ends up drifting into a circle that looks like people who are comfortable here. From that, he can guess that they’re people that have been here a while. ]

Looks like there’s space here, so I’ll be joining you.

[ It’s not a request, naturally. He’s a little too presumptuous for that, god that he is, but he’s also not wrong. The forum is busy, and there’s space open here, so it’s only a little rude. He takes a seat comfortably and takes his first bite (pretty damn good, he has to say), but he picks up small talk as well. Despite his rather relaxed, casual demeanor, he hates being idle, so might as well multitask. ]

So, how long you been here? It always been a shitshow?

iii. highstorm

[ Of course the rumors of shrines out in the Beyond catches Tezcatlipoca’s attention, but it’s largely just because of one of the gods in question. He knows of Set in the way that any Servant knows of gods of distant lands, but Quetzalcoatl… ]

Give me a break, Birdie. This is dumb, even for you.

[ Tezcatlipoca has found a decent vantage point to look at the tall shrine in the distance on one of the higher floors of the Tomes with a decent view. He’s smoking as he looks out at it pensively, because part of him is sorely tempted to go to the Shrine and see Quetzalcoatl for himself. But it’s also not a great idea, considering he’s yet to pick one of these two sides and get his power back into his hands. Antagonizing his “brother” is always a good time, but less so when he’d be killed immediately. How does death even shake out in a place like this? Eh, he’ll figure that part out later.

He taps the ashes off his cigarette just as the door behind him opens, and he glances back. His expression is neutral at first, but it occurs to him he can ask, so he beckons them forward before he points out to the top of the shrine in the distance. ]

You’re right on time. Was just trying to figure out what the deal is with that big chunk of rock out there. Help a newbie out?

[ He knows perfectly well what it is, of course. But he’s more curious what the locals’ read on it is, especially since he’d bet everything he has that Quetzalcoatl ended up over with Meridian, not here. ]

iv. communion

[ Shard-Bearers of both factions are greeted with a voice that’s cool and calm, and it comes with a deep sensation of the dark—a moonless night, an obsidian mirror, all are apt to describe the sense that comes with it. Yet, the voice itself is pleasant and friendly enough! Surely that doesn’t mean anything! ]

So, what I’ve been hearing is that this Oracle thing is some kinda war, but for being two places with ideologies that are totally different, you all get along pretty well. Better than I’d expect, considering what’s at stake. You all shake hands and figure it’ll turn out alright?

[ There’s a tiny bit of derision there, but that’s more his personal taste than anything. From what he’s heard and seen so far, this war doesn’t impress him. Shocker, from a god of conflict... ]

Well, anyways. Call me curious as I’m trying to figure out which side is the better bet, since going back to where I’m from or it being gone is about the same to me. It’s a fight either way. What convinced you to fight for one of 'em? What kind of battles have you had so far?

v. wildcard

[ The standard cyoa/drop me a starter/I’ll write you one, etc! I’ll not apping Tezca at this very moment (because, I mean, Quetz is still here,,,), but I have the itch and want to practice with him. At the very least, these threads will likely be canon later! There will just be a chunk of time where he peaces out, it’s fine. Pretend Quetz chased him off or smth

Finally, for canon stuff, Tezcatlipoca is from LB7, but I will not bring up any spoilers because it's not out in NA yet! And also worth noting for those of you that are canon familiar, Tezcatlipoca does not give off the magical energy of a Servant! He's another Nasu Special Case™ and has a human body. ]

i

[ahrimanes]

[ Being reborn isn't the hard part. Then again, it also means coming back to a world of hurt and pain, out of the void. But hasn't his whole existence been pain, for almost as long as he can remember? Maybe he shouldn't bitch too much.

Or maybe he will, it's in his nature.

But he hadn't expected to ever see anything again. To ever know anything. To ever really be. So he blinks in the light, squinting as he comes up out of the soil, coughing and filling his lungs with - air. Real genuine air. He blinks blearily, eyes traveling around him. And then there's-

This guy. ]

Not even a hand up, huh? Guess I should've figured.

[ He starts to dust himself off, feeling a little wobbly. That's new. ]

III. 8)

[twohand]

[ It feels strange, to walk the streets of this land and not be scrutinized; far too strange for his liking, for the countless years spent scrabbling for his tightrope-taught reputation had left him well-prepared for even an afterlife to be ill-fitting for someone like him. What manner of after-world was this, to be greeted so casually by someone — without suspicion or fear in their eyes, and a mouth full of smoke and lazy invitation. Not teeth, not nigh-feral defensiveness.

He has nothing to his name, not weapon nor accoutrement. Not even Guen had come with him, and her loss had pained him the most — his most loyal and beloved companion, he prays she finds new hands one day. Gentle, loving hands that will take her away from the thousand-foot climb atop Kelvin's Cairn and shepherd her someplace warm once more. ( Maybe, subconsciously, it is why he is drawn to the strange man and his strange, easy nature. Cat people, yanno'. )

Once beckoned, he walks to the perch where Tezca points into the distance from and holds a dark hand over his brow — not to block out the sun ( there is no sunlight in Highstorm, he misses it already ), but to better control the focus as he looks into the tangle of trees. ]

In my experience, big rocks atop tall structures are usually ritual altars.

[ His tone is light, wry. Experienced. ]

— it's pretty.

III.

[ninanna]

[Ah. Ishtar too came to see what all the fuss is about in regards to Quetzalcoatl's temple. She gives herself away by the way she keeps herself hovered up off the ground. After all, she is a Goddess of the Heaven's. It would be wrong for her to keep to the ground for more than necessary.]

Hoh? I have also come to investigate.

[Funny that he reminds her of the person she's trying to track down. Long, blond hair. Similar eyes. Though if Quetzalcoatl was a body builder this man would be a wet paper bag. For now she brushes off the similarities.]

3

[zauneyete]

[ Right on time, indeed.

The stump of one hand shoved into the pocket of his oversized coat, he doesn't know what possessed him to step onto this balcony to smoke his cigar. He should have gone to the one that faced the other direction, given what was visible straight ahead, but perhaps he wanted to feel anger as if the ghost of what was not there, fingers that could not twitch was not enough of a reminder. He sneered at the newcomer, an instinctive response at being addressed at all.

He pulled a cigar out from his pocket, and placed it between his teeth. Then came the cutter, same hand, he clipped it, and slipped the cutter back in, before he pulled his hand back out, and placed a finger to the end of the cigar. It burst alight, and he took a long pull of it, and took his time with it. It's only after he pulled it from his teeth, and blew a large ring of smoke into the air, before he turned his attention back to the eyesore hovering over the treeline. ]

Oh, That.

[ That. With a punctuated consonant at the end. ]

That delightful little eyesore is courtesy of one of our enemies. She'll probably say that she didn't consider it, but it's clearly a message. Look, we can establish something right on your borders, and you can't do anything about it.

[ Another long drag, and then: ] She says she's a god. [ It's not skepticism, though it could be mistaken for such. It's derision. ]

1, i decided to come to YOU

[wsjr]

("yo"? would that he could laugh at the greeting and how unceremonious it is for such an auspicious occasion. before his eyes, the world—earth, the entire fucking planet earth—was eradicated in a single second. blown to bits as an afterthought. somewhere out there, a god blinked blackness into the universe, and now here he is, crawling out of its ashes into a new one.

his first thought?

well, shit.

he didn't get wiped out with everything else. higgs supposes it's a good thing to be spared, plucked from oblivion by a secret admirer; if he doesn't like his circumstances, there's a simple way to change them. tezcatlipoca gives voice to his next thought aloud, praising the drama, and his head, freshly out of the loam, inclines to agree. dramatic, sure. and beautiful, beyond expression and comprehension. it makes him curious. it makes him hungry. zenith.)

Oh, was I meant to crawl out of the hole? Sorry, I—Here I was trying to bury myself again. Bless my heart. (hahaha, we have fun. a gloved hand emerges from below to wipe beneath an eye, smearing makeup, tar, dirt, and sap into a dark line of amalgam across his cheekbone.

instead of struggling further in new company, higgs, seeming comfortable buried to his armpits in the ground, rests his chin on the back of his knuckles.)

So, let's hear it. How do you normally greet people?

ii.

[motherfrakker]

[ kara had settled down at some point, and the crowd had sort of grown up around her. she has a plate in front of her, but it's gone cold a while ago by now, although she's been busy drinking if the empty glasses gathered up are any indication.

she doesn't realise she's being spoken to at first, having to sit up and blink a few times at the stranger before scraping a bit of hair out of her face. ]

I crawled out of a hole in the ground yesterday, and my entire world is frakking dead for the second time, so you tell me.

[ maybe another swig will make it hurt less? it's worth a shot. ]

The Hunter | X-COM 2: War of the Chosen

[planewalker]

✦ I. Bearing Fruit (new characters only).

[Fal-Il was a bit of an old hat when it came to awkward and uncomfortable resurrections, but he had to admit that clawing himself out of his own shallow grave after a particularly bad psionic acid trip was definitely new for him. Unpleasant, but interesting - amusingly novel, he could say? Having his entire being reconstituted atom by painful atom via spooky psionic artefact had been getting a little old, after all.]

Can't let the torture and punishment get stale now, can we? Have to give them props for creativity, though. Thought their shrivelled up brains were incapable of it... ngh, damn, that stings. This is why I hate impact trauma. The Elders couldn't bother to reinforce my bones with something more absorbent? Maybe I should start taking a baseball bat to their spines, see how they like it...

[He continued to grumble under his breath as he fully pulled himself out of the ground - all 7'8" of him - and once free from the grasping soil and roots... flopped like a beached fish, gangly limbs splayed out.]

Ugh. Alive... again. Yay.

✦ II. Springstar and Highstorm.

[Though Fal-Il was a unique individual blessed with the eye-catching trait of towering over most people, he was startlingly adept at blending into whatever shadowy corner or alcove he came across. While Springstar was a little short on shadows, Fal-Il had managed to find somewhere rather shaded to lurk in, and Highstorm was nothing but shadow, his glowing eyes stark beneath his hood as he lazily surveyed the crowd in the same way a predator crouching in the underbrush would size up the weak and infirm at the rear of the herd.

He wasn't really used to being in such a big crowd like this. The hustle and bustle grated in a way that set his sharp teeth on edge, especially as he lacked the comforting weight of both Darkclaw and Darklance. His psionic abilities were dulled too, and while his eyesight was excellent, he felt unpleasantly blind being unable to psionically tag all nearby entities. Had to rely on his mundane eyeballs like some sort of human pleb. How demeaning.

Yet, he remained. As twitchy as the crowd made him, the noise filled the profound and eerie silence that echoed through his skull. The psionic network he had been joined too, the one that had a constant stream of information and thought from all corners of ADVENT had just been... severed completely. Leaving blissful, euphoric, nerve-wracking and unnatural silence. No queries from the brainless foot soldiers, no commands from the Elders, no return of information from the network's Codices, no sniping from his two siblings. Just. Silence.]

Had no idea how boring pure individualism could be. [Mutter, mutter.] And inconvenient. But interesting to see that sentient life is still prone to falling blindly into scams. Meridian and Zenith... just ADVENT painted in different colours with their Elders in different hats.

[Granted, they were handsome and beautiful hats, so Fal-Il gave them some slack for having the decency of not being, y'know, wizened old psychic raisins, but still. Scammers and untrustworthy, the lot of them.]

Wonder what they're getting out of recruiting poor schmucks like us. Not genetic material... too varied and different species, not to say what variances could be found from world to world. Heh, the Elders would be going apeshit right now if they knew what a tiny part of the universe they were... nothing but a dust mote. Heheh...

[Ah, if the worlds truly had been destroyed, Fal-Il really hoped the Elders felt nothing but profound despair at realising how inconsequential their lives were. The sadistic and intense vindication he felt radiated from him like a miasma of malice before he swiftly leashed it. He can be smug about it later, for now...]

Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes, what're they after? Organs, or our immortal souls, or...?

✦ III. WILDCARD

[OOC: if there's anything specific you want with Hunter, just toss a scenario my way and I'll roll with it! Please check my journal for any info about Hunter if you're curious or canonblind~]

two hunters meeting, what will happen

[twohand]

I'm sure nearly everyone has had those same thoughts and asked those questions.

[ Insulting the people who have chosen where they want to stand — likely after lengthy consideration ( not for everyone, but for most ) and weighing of options — by suggesting they'd merely 'fallen blindly into a scam' is the sort of critique that he speaks up against. Tone mild, a quiet hum of calm energy and gently terse friction. Like he means no true ill-will, but will not stand for even the most minor of injustice.

Like Hunter, he is at ease with the quiet and the dark. Born for it, bred for it, form cultivated by a goddess he has no love for and has opposed again and again, refuting her truth for something new. Now, he stands near to Hunter with an expression of naked curiosity upon his face. Admonishing him gently, so as to invite him to broaden his considerations a little, before adding: ] You said 'individualism'. Do you come from a regimented place?

Lin Yühsia | Arknights

[glassmaker]

I. NAKED MOLE RAT (new characters only)

[ The experience of having to claw your way out of the earth like you're dragging yourself out of a grave is a singular, unique experience that Yüshia would be content to never have to live through again. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath after a fun little exertion with no ability to properly get a lungful of air. Her long hair and ears are caked with dirt that's going to be a pain in the ass to wash off, and she's sitting naked as the day she was born (reborn) on the dirt as she takes in the sight of the earthen cave around her.

Only for a hand to rudely pop out of the ground, startling her for a brief moment as it starts to claw at the ground in front of it. There's a few seconds of calculation on her part, before she picks herself up onto her feet, and grabs that hand, giving it a good yank to help haul the person attached out of the ground.

She's in a strange place under strange circumstances, and having someone indebted to her could be useful right now. ]


II. SPRINGSTAR PARTY

[ Yüshia has been largely quiet as she mills about the party, politely rejecting a seat when possible, and perching on the very edge of one if someone gets insistent enough. She holds her tongue, listening to what others around her say with an impassive expression, nodding more when people look in her direction. It's hard to tell on the surface what the woman might be looking for, but right now she's just gathering information, trying to make better sense of the situation she finds herself in.

Eventually she'll start to ask innocuous enough questions like-- ]

How exactly did the Meridian capture the Oracle again?

[ Or perhaps an idle comment like-- ]

People here seem confident in the Meridians.

[ Even something a little more probing with a carefully crafted careless tone, such as-- ]

Do you really think Springstar would be better off with a new Tribune?


III. TEMPLE OF THE GODS

[ Yüshia is making her rounds carefully as she explores, so hearing so much buzz about the recent addition of these temples has made her curious. She's quietly procured a local guide, and has had them bring her through the Beyond. Then it's a simple matter of leaving them to do whatever worship they apparently deem necessary as she starts to poke around the place, her frown deepening the more she explores the outside of Quetz's temple. ]


IV. KOWLOON

[ Now this? This is the kind of area that someone like Yüshia is the most interested in. Kowloon reminds her vaguely of the Lungmen slums where she grew up and did most of her work. It's shadier though, something that tinges less with people desperately trying to make their way through life, and more people dipping their hands into some very dangerous business.

Dangerous business is still well within her wheelhouse, though she'd be more comfortable if she had her Arts readily available to her. She hasn't yet thrown her hat into the ring with the Meridians, but from what she understands she'll be able to tap into them again once she does, and the feeling of people watching her from the shadows here is helping her make up her mind to do that sooner rather than later.

At least she carefully lifted a steak knife from the party, and as she turns down a small alley, reaches into her pocket to grab onto the handle now. The sense of being followed doesn't vanish and she yanks it out as she spins on her heel, eyes narrowed as she takes on her would be attacker.

Is it an attacker? A mugger who has an interest in taking everything from her? Maybe someone that a kind passerby might want to step in and help her with?

Is it an innocent who was curious what a young woman was doing by herself in such a sketchy looking area?

Either way they might want to say or do something as she lunges towards them. ]

temple.

[waterflows]

[ did miss lin yuhsia ask for company this fine day? no, but she's getting it anyway. ♥

there's another woman casually sauntering around the temple, eyes bright and curious as she takes in the architecture so different from what she's used to. certainly nothing like this exists in trimounts, outside of a few selective museums.

she perks up at the sight of lin, steps speeding up just a bit as she walks forward to engage in conversation. ]

See something you don't like?

[ why else would there be so many furrows between those brows? ]

anakin skywalker | star wars | lmao

[mustafars]

i. bearing fruit

[one by one, viceroy gunray and the last remaining separatists fall to his lightsaber as the fires of mustafar burn behind him. as he can feel power, greater than he's ever known, coursing through his veins. his path is clear now; this is one he has always been meant to follow. he can do anything, he thinks — end the war, save padmé and their child, have anything he could've ever dreamed of that had long been denied to him by the jedi. it's all within reach.

until it isn't.

until he's spluttering in the dirt on some strange planet, and after all that power, he feels nothing. for all his life, even before he'd known what it was, the force had always been strong with him, and now? now, cut off, it feels like he's lost his arm all over again.

the holonet broadcasts have called him the hero with no fear, but fear like he's never known consumes him now. threatens to squeeze the breath out of him.

he tries to reach out; tries to clear his mind, as obi-wan had always —

no; he shakes his head fiercely. he doesn't listen to obi-wan — not anymore, because the jedi, even him, are all full of lies. because any galaxy is better off with them gone, and all those lies along with them. there's no teaching he will entertain any longer.

there is only what he knows, better than them.

and he knows, as a soldier, to keep his guard up.

at the first audible crunch of footsteps, he's ready, even off-kilter as he is — because he knows he has to be. without the weight of his lightsaber on his hip, he knows he still has to have some kind of weapon, so he curls his fingers around a stick that he finds on the ground, tests its weight (it'll do, if it must). he narrows his eyes, says slowly, evenly, so whoever this is knows he means it:]

Come any closer, and I'll kill you.


ii. highstorm

[in some ways, even if so much about it is strange, this city is wholly familiar. it's the atmosphere, for one — subdued, tense; if he's seen one settlement like this over the course of the clone wars, he's seen thousands ravaged by the separatists. he doesn't have to know a conflict, intimately, to know the effects of one.

and he hates this.

he hates, most of all, people who try to take advantage of such situations, take for themselves at the expense of those who are suffering.

maybe he's not familiar with this planet's currency, either, but he knows when prices have been gouged for this purpose.

this is what has him here, now, pushing townsfolk out of the way to lean across one of the stalls at the market. looking the merchant across from him square in the eye, as he asks, coldly,]

Is scamming your business model, or am I just a special case?


iii. springstar

[the choice, in the end, is easy; of course it is, because his path is clear, now. in order to return to end his war, to protect what he cares for most, he must join a side — and end this war that he's found himself in, as quickly as possible.

said choice comes with benefits. though the connection is weaker than he's accustomed, he feels the force return to him — and begins to breathe a little more easily.

it also comes with drawbacks: politics.

the squabbling that surrounds him here is as familiar as it is useless; if everyone in this crowd takes their turn to speak, several hours will have been lost. and for what? there doesn't appear to be any conceivable plan of action forming that anyone can execute.

irritation grows — a headache beginning behind his eyes, a twitch in his fingers as he curls them into his palms, and folds his arms across his chest. evident in his voice as he comments, offhand, to the person who happens to be closest to him.]

They think there's time for a forum? [an audible scoff.] This is nonsense.


iv. wildcard

[lmao so obviously... this is just for fun, because i already play a star war here! as such, anakin will be disappearing after this tdm. if you'd like to write a starter, feel free to drop it here; if you'd like for me to write a custom starter for you, or want to discuss scenarios, just drop me a line at lensflares or at lensflares on discord!]

i.

[waterflows]

Wow wow, you'd kill someone as cute as me, just like that?? [ rude af

the newcomer is a woman, of average stature in size, her white coat dusted with grime and her sandy hair tangled behind her. in front are her hands, both raised palms facing forward in alarm, because she sure wasn't expecting someone to threaten to kill her right after she dug herself out of the ground??

sheesh, and the day's only just gotten started. just her luck. ]

Geez, is that how you talk to all women when you first meet them?

Rosmontis | Arknights

[mountainmew]

I. Arrival

[There’s nothing familiar about this place. That’s not entirely alarming by itself—new places sometimes have trouble sticking in her mind at first.

Once the initial claustrophobia-fueled urgency (panic) managed to get her free from the ground, Rosmontis has a chance to take a breath and blink at the cavernous surroundings. It’s calm and quiet, nothing but dirt and large roots snaking around nearby to keep her company. She had to be here for a reason, but with no one here in immediate view to ask, her first instinct is to reach for her terminal to see if she’s noted it down. The familiar tablet, however, is nowhere to be found in the voluminous inner pockets of her cloak like it should be.

Other souls wandering these caverns or just barely digging themselves up from the earth as well might be drawn over by the sounds of increasingly frantic digging in the soil. They’ll find a young girl seemingly in her early teens kneeling in the dirt, pale hair and cat-like ears smeared with soil and sap as she pushes aside the soft, loamy earth to try to get at the cocoon from which she just emerged. She’s so focused on her task that she hasn’t seemed to notice you just yet.]

Where is it…

ii. Note-taking (Highstorm)

[As overwhelming as it might be to wander an unfamiliar place without her team—without her family—here to anchor her, it’s easy enough to get shepherded along with the other newcomers to one of the welcoming parties. She’s good at following directions. Following orders. If she just does as she’s told, she’ll start figuring things out.

And as helpful as it would be to pay attention to the chatter of the people mingling throughout the courtyard here in front of a very large and beautiful manor, Rosmontis has another task for herself. One that is arguably more important, at least for her.

So instead she sits at one of the few benches scattered not far from where the buffet tables have been set up, a notebook she’s obtained sitting open in her lap. By the light of a nearby lamppost, she seems to be scribbling something down every so often with a look of light concentration on her face.

Eventually a shadow is cast over her work, causing her to look up to find the cause. Perhaps you’re standing nearby with a plate in hand, waiting for a chance to get at the nearby food table or maybe you’re more the nosy type, leaning over to see what it is she is doing. Either way, you’re positioned just so to block the lamp-light she’s been relying on here.]

You’re in the way.

[Voice flat, expression nearly the same, though there’s the barely-perceptible furrowing of her brows and slight twitching of her silvery tail as she looks up at you.]

iii. Construction zone (Springstar)

[It’s weird, to be able to wander cities like this without much goal or direction. Home, as far as she was concerned, has always been the tight, well-lit halls of of a mobile facility. There were the rare occasions where they docked at one of the larger cities and Blaze or Amiya or someone else might take her along on a trip, but they were few and far between, and most of the details were lost by now.

So it remains a novel experience, something for her to hold onto to keep her worries at bay for a little while. Somehow, her wanderings bring her toward one of the districts that were still in disrepair. A handful of local Meri are poking around the rubble, working with practiced hands at clearing out debris. The sight of toppled buildings is a familiar one. There were lots of images of such things contained within snatches of memories, bundled up with complicated feelings. She stands squinting at it from a distance, lingering at the safer edges of road.

…had she done this?

No. No, she hasn’t been in this place that long. She remembers that much. But the sight of it is such a contrast to the rest of the bustling sunny city that she’s seen that it dredges up a well-spring of curiosity. She approaches the next person she finds passing by, whether they look busy or not, and gives them a nudge before pointing toward the wreckage.]

Do you know what happened here?

iv. Communion

[Rosmontis is used to… feeling people, sensing where they are. Like a low background hum, but she usually has to focus on it for it to get sharper. Having others’ voices within her head is so much more concrete that it’s almost startling. The first few times she hears it and has it explained to her, she idly wonders if this is anything like what Amiya must experience, being so open to the hearts of others.

It’s an odd feeling, but… she’s curious.

The presence coming over communion is guarded, but it almost feels vast. Larger than what one might expect from the quiet voice of a teenage girl that follows.]

Do you get tired of it? Hearing other people’s voices so clearly in your heads like this so much?

v. Wildcard

[Yet another here just for funsies at the moment/maybe getting apped one day! I’m down for whatever if there’s anything in particular you’d like to do.]

communion.

[waterflows]

Mmm, I can't say I'm used to this either.

[ being able to sense the moods and basic needs of the flora around her is one thing, but having a bunch of other voices in her head all the time? not so much. ]

But it's not so bad, don't you think? There's always someone to talk to waiting just around the corner!

[ they'll never be lonely at least, and if she knows anything it's the weight of always being the only one. ]

Avenger | Fate/Hollow Ataraxia

[ahrimanes]

I. Rebirth

[ He wasn't ever supposed to see the light of the sun again. He had been consigned to the void; to the nothingness between all things. To endure and to be, the receptacle of all of the world's hatred. And yet - here he was, standing in the light, blinking as he picked sap and spoil off of himself. He doesn't look like much - a young man with dark skin, covered in dark, intricate tattoos that seem to carry a sense of foreboding about them. He sneezes once, twice, and then dusts himself off with a little groan. ]

What's the big deal? Not that I'm complaining too much, but this isn't where I'm supposed to be!

[ He frowns. ]

...Don't even have a contract, huh? Oi-

[ He stares at the... human? Person? He's found. ]

What is this? You got any idea?

II. Springstar

[ Honestly, this place is nice enough. He has to admit it's kinda neat to actually, you know, be able to walk around again. Smell the air. Taste food. Even if he's not sure why he's one of the people who's been pulled into this thing. It's not like he's particularly powerful. Or particularly good. Or really... much of anything. But if that gets him a chance to be at a prty, maybe he shouldn't complain? Then again, seeing humanity on display like this - oh, that awaken that old familiar feeling in his chest. That warmth. That heat.

Ah, yes.

Hatred.

He finds someone - he doesn't particularly care who, a sly, nasty sort of smile on his face. ]

It's kind of typical, isn't it? These people come out with some sort of victory party and there's still people belly-aching about someone not being good enough.

[ He's not particularly invested. He just sounds incredibly amused by it.

Alternatively, he can be found loading up on food.

Look, he likes food and eating. ]

III. Highstorm

[ In Highstorm, he also pokes around, listening to people, lurking in the background. Going here and there and seeing what these people have to say. They're the losers of... whatever this recent Oracle thing was, apparently, and that's interesting on all its own. But he's not sure he cares too much about the politics of it just yet. Instead he finds himself in the antiquities market - and there he can be found with a picture puzzle.

Maybe it's nostalgia. Maybe it's just because he's bored.

But he's half crouched in between a pair of shops, just moving the little squares around. Click, click, click. It distracts him. Keeps him entertained.

Definitely not because it reminds him of someone. ]

IV. Communion

Hey, this is wild. Didn't know I could poke around in the heads of a bunch of people. How's this work if you end up fucking? Do you just have to listen to someone? How hard is it to keep people out?

[ Asking the real questions. ]

V. Wildcard

[ Anything else! He'll be poking around just about everywhere. ]

IV.

[ninanna]

How hard is it for you to hold your tongue?

Ishtar 🪐 Fate/

[ninanna]

✧ I. BEARING FRUIT

[The disrespect! The inhumanity! How dare — how very dare they! She is a goddess of the heavens! She does not belong stuck in the ground like some... some... ROOT VEGETABLE! Like some grimy little potato covered in soil and dirt! Disgusting, deplorable, deranged—]

You there! Yes you!

[In all her naked ass glory, with seemingly no shame at all, this red-eyed woman comes stomping your way and grabs you. If you're already out of the ground? It's on the shoulder. If you're still just peeking out like a springtime crocus? She's harshly yanking you out like you're an offensive weed in her garden.]

Tell me the meaning of this. Do you know anything? Why can't I fly?

[SHE'S NOT??? ASKING WHY SHE'S NAKED??? Also did she not get the dream memo? Yeesh. Maybe her brains are a little scrambled because technically the body she's using is kind of already supposed to be here.]

✧ II. SPRINGSTAR

[Ishtar is quite the party girl. She immediately insists on harmonizing with Meridian to get her powers back, so mostly you'll she her floating about like some kind of bikini-clad faerie. Ah, that is unless it's deep into the festivities. She might just get carried away with body shots and and letting non-shard-bearers admire her, and getting a little too loose with drink. Either way, you'll find a floating woman draping her arms around your shoulders and allowing the rest of her body hover weightlessly like a scarf in the wind. Teasingly she speaks into your ear:]

Having fun? Want to have a little more?

✧ III. WILDCARD

[Feel free to make you own scenario or PM for a personalized starter! I'm more than willing to have her take a joy ride through any part of Kenos so even if you have a vague idea I'm happy to chat and make it work. Since Fate/ is capped and I already play Rin, this is mostly as a fun little diversion and maybe even to freak out her CR. Let's play!]

II

[leicesters]

[Claude had noticed Rin (?) floating around the party, and he has no idea what she's celebrating for unless she's planned some surprise defection, but she also looks so drunk he guesses he probably won't get a straight answer out of her if he asks now. So: not his business! She can have fun if she wants to. He carries on mingling and chatting...

...Right up until those arms settle around his shoulders and there's a voice in his ear, and for an alarmed moment he wonders if this was all some elaborate ploy to get at the Meridian Shardbearers. Or maybe she really is just an affectionate drunk...? Still, whatever her intent, he just smiles and plays along to defuse the situation.]

Hey, sure, I have an idea for something fun! [He lowers his voice and inclines his head towards hers, then:] Personal space.

drizzt do'urden ( the forgotten realms )

[twohand]

— BEARING FRUIT.

[ — at the end of all things, there was a song. ( Don't forget me, he sighed into Guenhwyvar's dark fur, her low groan of mourning fading into the bite, the cold, as the world had faded away. ) In the last dregs of life, he thought he felt her hands upon him. The rough, broad-palmed sweep of her warm hands and it had been so long, he thought he had forgotten what she felt like, smelled like. The exact color of her hair and the drawl of her voice, gathered from so many years spent with her family. And then, there was the end.

A. ( NEW CHARACTERS ) It isn't the first time he's felt this way. Breaking out, to the surface, feels like being reborn — again and again, each time, to find the sky again. He drags himself out from below a sizable root, struggling to push aside dirt and widen the gap below the titanic curve of the greatest tree he's ever seen in his entire life. The effort is exhausting, his muscles weak from exertion and his mind still stuttering on the vision of rampant destruction, of the end and the End. A certain soul-deep exhaustion leaves him flopping boneless ( thankfully dressed, in a dark tunic and soft, worn-leather pants ) across the ground.

Heedless of anyone who might have already emerged, he gasps for breath and screws his eyes shut against the world above. Vast and starry and unknown. ]

— I thought, [ he gulps, a little pained, ] you were going to let me rest — ?

[ B. ( ESTABLISHED CHARACTERS ) Someone must come by, eventually. A helpful hand, a curious soul, someone fixated on the health and well-being of the Tree of Life — someone. Anyone. Perhaps it is a little alarming, to find a new face seated at the edge of the island. The very edge, where the Tree's roots tip off the earth and spread out into the astral seas, at the very edge of the great, broken island that houses it. With his legs swinging over the dangerous, unstable edge and his expression smoothed out, he might seem someone prepared to take the leap, the plunge.

A dark figure, pushing white hair behind long, tapered ears as he leans himself forward a little more... just a little more, to catch a glimpse of what the End looks like. ]

— TWO CITIES.

[ It is such a small world, and in its strangeness, its newness, he finds himself filled against his better judgement with tired wonder. His hands easily finding food, his greetings met with easy acceptance and a strange, abruptly-given respect. It takes him little time to realize that the reason for all of that is not because he comes Known, but because of the pretty, pale stone that sits under the messy fringe of his wild hair, nestled like a four-pointed star that drips down between his eyes.

( It's very Last Unicorn inspired. Blame the Unicorn -> Lady Amalthea -> Mielikki pipeline for this one. )

He brushes his hair down a little more, to hide it. Unwarranted and unearned attention disquiets him, after all.

A. SPRINGSTAR. The sunlit streets of Springstar are a different kind of brilliance, that even his adapted vision aches under. He spends most of his time with one hand perched across his brow, sheltering his squinting, violet eyes from the rays of those twin stars. It's a beautiful city, rife with passionate people and a youthful atmosphere; he finds himself a little in love with it, as easy as breathing. The cobblestone streets are musical, playing the sound of hundreds upon hundreds of footsteps that weave in and out of the city, and at times

he has to,

just stop, and breathe. Finding himself slipping into a narrow space to press his hands to the cool, shadowed walls ( the only shadows in Springstar are in places like that, cast by those that live and the structures that exist — ) and gasp for air. The rising feeling he cannot place seizing at his lungs and battering him into momentary submission, because there is so much. A trail of gentle carnage leads to him, discarded food and one or two disgruntled and/or concerned individuals who try to check on him as he sags in the little alley and tucks his head between his knees. ]

I'm okay. [ He murmurs, voice thin and smile barely-there. It's a flash-in-the-pain thing, on a severe face. ] Don't be scared.

[ B. HIGHSTORM. And in contrast, the city of night is quiet. Eerie and still, with prim-proper figures that raise the hackles on the back of his neck and drive his hands to his hips — where nothing is. Nothing will be. ( The dead do not have mortal possessions; Guen and Icingdeath and Taulmaril cannot follow him, where he has gone. ) Even amidst the quiet affair of the informational meeting, his eyes weave and dart sharply, observing faces and hands with experience and attentiveness born of training, trauma and necessity. Though he slips food past his teeth, it is with delicate precision, his focus upon someone in particular — pale and arched and laughing richly at someone's expense.

Stiffly, his hand slips down to the table alongside him, dark fingers closing around silver cutlery ( a knife, sharp and gleaming ) to draw it back to his side. A fluid gesture, but not one that would be impossible to spot. The dark elf slides his food plate onto the table in place of the blade, abandoning it for the moment as he slips across the Manor's grounds towards the creature whom touches the shoulder of the wide-eyed, guileless company it is attempting to keep for the evening.

( If nobody stops him, and soon, he'll be slipping right up alongside the vampire to drive that knife right up through its wagging chin. ) ]

— WILDCARD.

[ Drizzt isn't being apped this round, but might be in the future. Sometimes you want to play with a time-treasured blorbo in a new space, though. One can assume that he slipped away like the feral creature he is, following TDM end, since that's kind of his Style! Wildcard away, bc I'll roll with anything ( it's pax, btw!! ). ]

bearing fruit (a) 😈

[narsinssist]

[ In contrast, this... rebirth of sorts is no struggle. It merely is. Without powers, of course, he cannot hold a glamor, or hide his nature (and have you tried to dig yourself out sporting all the extra pieces and parts that Raphael has?) but by the time that Drizzt has started clawing out of the ground, Raphael is already freed, disentangled, and (mostly) cleaned the muck from his rosy complexion.

Currently, he was admiring the odd, unfamiliar night sky. He looked up at it, his black and flame eyes staring upward, as the struggle continued nearby (Faerûn folk probably grow together or something) as he looked upward. None of the stars made sense — an oddity given the expanse of worlds and realms he had thus far been to. That the sky was unfamiliar was... odd.

Disconcerting, of all things.

The drow burst from his own cage, mumbling something in the air, and Raphael, already settled onto a root cropping nearby, some feet up from the ground, looked down upon him, and smiled. ]

Hm, and what rest is there, for those of us whom traipse the unknown? [ He asks, his tone musical, musing, certainly pleasant, though he doesn't look it. Not with his wings stretching after his convalescence, that tail swinging idly beneath him, and a crown of horns on his head.

No, he does not look as innocent as his words suggests. ]

rand al'thor, wheel of time :)

[dragonmount]

bearing fruit

[ this isn't unfamiliar.

and yet, at first, it is. rand startles badly in the dream, in the waking. he grasps the strangely familiar crystal on blind instinct; and it's the same that has him digging through the dirt. to air — to the surface — to

what, life? well. to something.

he doesn't know if this is some trick of the dark one's, or ishamael's, or lanfear's. he doesn't know if this is a dream or reality. the edges blur; the edges have been blurring. he doesn't remember the last time he felt safe in his own head. he doesn't — remember.

when he emerges, he's gasping. soil skitters over his shaved head, down his face, down the back of his neck. stains the borrowed white shirt, of fabric so fine he's felt strange wearing it. he feels strange now, truth be told. this isn't unfamiliar. he lifts a hand to the base of his throat, to the curved gemstone there, and he remembers clawing his way out of a different awakening, in a different place. around different people. he remembers another dream of destruction, nearly half a year past. (he's breathing hard. he doesn't notice.) in his mind, he reaches — and hits a wall, invisible and smooth. the One Power glows bright and heady, but saidin is out of reach.

it ought to be a relief.

instead, as someone steps closer, his head jerks up. and without parsing what he's seeing — without recognizing the face — he throws himself into motion. goes to grab this stranger, slam them against the base of the tree. ]

What is this?

[ he snarls, reaching for the sword that's no longer slung across his back.

or,

once he's a little better situated, he's likely to help fellow newcomers. a gentler touch than the terror of first arrival, for all that he's still unsettled by this place and this block on his power. he'll grasp hands and elbows as people try to lever themselves out of the earth, crouch so he can support and pull them upwards. ]

— easy. I've got you.

springstar

[ rand isn't one for parties.

has he ever been, really? and the last one he'd been to was...he pulls away from the thought. too much he doesn't want to think about. too much to think about. too much. the figure he cuts is different to how he'd once looked. no red curls, for one; no two rivers longbow for another. his eyes are harder, hands bearing the callouses from months of practicing sword forms under errol's watchful eye. but still, he's recognizable. tall and broad, green-eyed, and currently

raising his eyebrows, nodding patiently as one of springstar's residents grasps him by the elbow and gives him a wholly inaccurate retelling of what happened with the last oracle. very enthusiastic, though, with their free hand gesticulating so quickly it's a wonder anyone can keep up. rand makes a gentle move to try extricating himself, but to no avail — his captor keeps going, brightly, moving so they can stay in front of him.

over their head, his eyes meet another shard-bearer's. he doesn't quite mouth help, but the plea isn't hard to guess. ]

highstorm

[ here, rand treads warily. well — more warily.

he isn't sure what he thinks of these factions, these cyrus and yima, but what he doesn't believe is the notion of changing his world. you can remake the world in your image, boy. no. no, he's rejected that once, and he'd reject it again. but still, once he'd heard of the fairly open travel between the two cities, he'd been drawn to take a look at highstorm with his own eyes.

he walks through the antiques and baubles market, eyes sometimes lighting on these orbs or those pastries, but he shakes his head at every hawker. he's hardly got the coin to start spending it needlessly. he shouldn't even be here, really. but still, he eventually pauses and asks the nearest person, whether merchant or bearer or bystander, ]

Is there a place where you can find a sword? Or — a smithy. A good blacksmith.

wildcard

[ lmk if you'd like to wildcard or hmu for something more personalized! there will be spoilers for all of season two (to date) so please let me know if you'd like to avoid that! he will also be remembering old cr!! rand's just here for funsies, so have at ♥ ]

highstorm

[wolof]

[ The market draws more than just the locals within Highstorm, and thought she often tried to shop within Meridian's light, sometimes, one wanted odd baubles, perhaps the odd magical light or item, or something with a bit chiller of a feeling than what Springstar could offer. After all, though she was with Meridian, she knew where her heart lay. How mere weeks could have changed her, could have made her a different woman, with a different choice.

In her soul, she still reflected that darkness, even though she fought otherwise. In her soul, Highstorm still felt like home. She even fit in with the rest of them, in her fine fashion, a small pin attached to her dress, she weaved through the market like it was a home to her, and it was in a way, up until the moment she heard a voice.

A familiar voice.

She peeled away from the trinket shop she'd been at, and slid in nearby, practically interrupting the stumbling, blushing young man, who Rand had first asked. ]

Already looking for a physical weapon, are you?

[ Golden eyes flashed, with a hint of mystery and mirth, but she looked... the same. Down to the heart-shaped shard in her chest, that her dress was cut low to expose. ]

alhaitham | genshin impact

[diffract]

01. BEING BIRTHED...

[ when your character's hand breaches the soil, a moment passes before two hands suddenly clasp their forearm and heave them upwards. as they claw themselves out, those hands grasp and pull at elbows, shoulders, sides until the person is pulled completely from the earth.

whenever this person gets their bearings, they see a young man beside them down on one knee, clutching his thigh and hanging his head as he catches his breath. even without his music player, earpieces, and glowing green vision, the man is interestingly dressed in emeralds, brass, and other pointlessly jingly ornaments. swaths of dirt lie in the creases of his clothes and cling in thin patches to the sap on his body.

after a moment, he lifts his head and gives this stranger a once-over. his eyes quickly narrow, obviously dissatisfied with their findings. ]

Who are you?

02. SEAT OF THE TRIBUNE

[ there's a small commotion at one of circles of people gathered at the forum. if someone goes to look, or if they're unfortunate enough to be in the circle itself, they'll see alhaitham having a heated intellectual debate with one of the stubborn, highfalutin locals.

it's unclear whether alhaitham has the edge because his argument is more sound (it probably is) or because the local is losing their patience and sense of decorum. finally, with a frustrated outcry, the guy stands up, throws his hat on the ground, and storms away. alhaitham, arms crossed, one ankle over his other thigh, is completely stoic as his opponent leaves the venue.

that's over and done with. if no one approaches him first, alhaitham looks to the nearest person staring at him and shrugs, gesturing with his arm. ]

If one isn't prepared to hear dissenting arguments or opinions, a public forum should be the last place they visit.

02. SPRINGSTAR

[ springstar residents hate him! new guy does not want to party with the locals and celebrate the capture of the oracle boooo.

not really, but in the jubilant throngs of people on the streets of the psychagogía district, alhaitham sticks out like a silver thumb: straight-faced, beer-free, navigating the outskirts of the area with a scrutinizing eye and impeccable posture. he doesn't enter too far into the crowds or the establishments, only stopping to speak with some of the mostly-halfway-lucid residents that hang near the entrance.

it's hard, performing recon without his soundproof earpieces to block out the incessant noise. (one of his first orders of business will be to find or make a suitable replacement for those. and maybe for his music player.) still, alcohol loosens lips. he might learn about something tonight that he might not find out about later.

hopefully the next person he approaches can give him more answers than he's gotten so far. ]

I'm looking for more information regarding the public's opinion about Cyrus. Is that something you're familiar with?

03. HIGHSTORM

[ a tune is playing—short, sweeping, sweet.

alhaitham stands near the reflective pool, staring over his shoulder at the cloister of musicians. to the untrained eye, he looks completely placid, merely listening. in reality, you'll need to bother him if you want his attention. he's lost in that sound.

if no one interrupts him, he comes out of his small reverie when that song ends almost two minutes later. he turns to one of the other shard-bearers nearby, folds his arms, and lowers his voice between them. ]

If Yima's philosophy hinges on the idea of moving forward from our previous lives and building a new future, why does this place purposely evoke feelings of nostalgia for supposed a lost cause?

04. WILDCARD

( ooc: hit me with anything! here are a few ideas i came up with but don't have prompts for:

• alhaitham has the savant aspect for the tdm, with the gear tattoo showing up in the weird little glove window on his right arm. i'd love to play around with the aspects if anyone's interested!
• blight memory bubble stuff! we love memshares. down to send, receive, or both!
• about the antiques shop—alhaitham doesn't have any coin, but he'll definitely be coming here to find some noise-cancelling headphones eventually. if anyone wants to be do something with that, let me know!

feel free to comment here or pm me with any ideas that you want to hash out beforehand. ✨🫡 )

wildcard, highstorm :3

[salvageable]

[ because someone needs to be alhaitham's sugardaddy.

It's not often that Dokja spends any time in Highstorm. He's made Springstar his home, and only on the rarest of occasions does he choose to stray from it. But this is one such occasion after overhearing gossip about the antique shop, and curiosity has taken hold of him. Items from home? There are plenty of those that could prove useful, and if he lands on something with a lot more sentimental value than anything else, well. That wouldn't be a total loss either.

It's too bad the timing isn't all that great after Meridian's win and Zenith's subsequent loss. Considering Dokja's alignment, he keeps his head down for the most part as he travels. Every now and then, someone glances in his direction, but with the somber mood seemingly gripping at people's hearts, no one really bothers him. It ends up being a relatively short and uneventful trip when he finally finds the store he'd heard about in awed whispers, and it's only when he steps inside that he pulls his hood down from over his head.

... It would have been nice if things could have stayed uneventful, but there is a whole person blocking him from fully entering the store, their back facing him. ]

Uh, excuse me?

[ He tries to keep the slight annoyance out of his tone, but seriously. If you're going to have broad shoulders and a wide backside, the very least you can do is not block narrow entranceways. ]

Artoria Caster | Fate/Grand Order

[pilgrimagus]

I. BEARING FRUIT
[A young girl pokes her head out of the mud, shaking earth out of her hair like a dog, spluttering and cursing under her breath about how blech, I got mud in my mouth. Just because I'm a country girl doesn't mean I like rolling around in the dirt! when I finds out who did this they'd better-- ah. She's not alone here, she realises in her mid-stream of grouchy mumbling, her eyes fixing on them in surprise.]

Ah. [Something seems to perturb and confuse her, as if something isn't quite right... and then she realises a moment later that she's sitting there completely stark naked, her arms flying over her chest to hide her nudity.] A-ah! Y-you wouldn't happen to have a spare set of clothes with you? Haha...

[She huddles back into the dirt as if to make herself smaller, her face turning bright red. A face that will look very familiar, to anyone already acquainted with Gray or Mordred.

This is fine.]


II. FAE MISCHIEF
[Artoria didn't arrive here with the Staff of Selection, and while it feels strange not to have it, she's managed to haggle a cheap staff from Highstorm as a replacement, should she need it for self-defence. When she heard about faeries causing trouble, she couldn't help but want to assist, clutching her staff and approaching anyone in conversation with the potion seller.]

Excuse me, but if you need help talking to the faeries, maybe I could come? I have experience with them, so maybe I could smooth things over for you! And I don't have anything valuable they could steal from me, so it's fine if I go, right?

[She has the look of someone trying to appear cheerful and confident, but she can't quite hide that she looks nervous. This might backfire horribly, faeries being as they are, especially if they're from some otherworldly clan she doesn't know. Even so, she also can't just stand by and ignore the problem.]


III. WILDCARD
[Pick your own prompt! This is Lostbelt Castoria and not the Chaldea Servant. Also like the others, this is just for funsies since the Fate/ cast is at cap!]

ii!

[gravings]

[ Gray really isn't looking forward to a return to microsize, but she'll do what she must. She's in the middle of speaking to the potion shop owner when a helpful stranger approaches...

Gray misses half of what the other girl says because she's too busy staring. At first glance she thinks that something must be very wrong with Mordred today, but the thought isn't fully formed before Gray realizes that this isn't Mordred at all. She isn't sure who it is; King Arthur had a very different bearing, to the point where Gray is certain this can't be him. And besides, this stranger seems to have a staff, not a sword...

Gray automatically dips her head, tugging her hood lower as her heart races. Did the other girl notice? (Though even if this other person with King Arthur's face were to recognize the same in Gray, what would it matter?) ]

Um... E-Excuse me [that's what Artoria said], but you... May I have your name?

Shez | Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes

[sheezit]

I. ARRIVAL
[ As far as Strange Happenings™ go in Shez's life, this particular brand of near-death experience may just take the cake-- or at least, that's what he first assumes it to be. There may have been no whispers of 'go into the light' as most accounts would go, or no meeting with the Goddess as the more religious soldiers would swear by, but the warm and pleasant dream part, at least, seems to be on track-- up until the moment it turned into a living nightmare, anyway.

The live burial sort of reinforced that theory, too. Whoever his enemy was, it was either too dumb to make sure he was actually dead or some kind of sadomasochistic freak!

Either way! He can worry about that at a later moment, because right now, covered in mud and struggling to breathe as he is, one will find him:

a. rushing in to the rescue, as soon as another hand just like his grapples with the dirt above their head, his heart racing as familiar friendly faces flash through his mind. They messed with his friends, too?! ]

There, I got you! [ Reassurance as their hands connect and he begins to pull. ] C'mon, you're almost out!

b. sleeping where he stands, or what would assume is sleep though his eyes remain open, vague and unfocused. The Dream surely will give him much to think about, so much more to process than he probably is capable of-- more than he wants to be. A little plausible denial is to be expected, right?

And so, once his eyes blink back to awareness and his palm meets his temples, he instead focuses on -- clings to -- the one part of this that feels familiar: ]

What's with people just forcing me into a dream whenever the whim strikes...

[ No, that wasn't Arval, but it was close enough. ]

II. SPRINGSTAR
[ Given enough of a breather to acclimate and struggle with his new reality, Shez settles on the only path that lies ahead: he walks forward, always.

When he finds himself in Psychagogia, the festive mood is almost enough to lift his spirits-- you know, not that one could so easily get over the alleged deaths of everyone he knows and his entire world with it! Still, he remembers the promise made to him in that dream, and the locals seem to place their earnest faith in the Shard-bearers, and that's a glimmer of hope he can hold on to... until he catches wind of certain whispers, that is. Mind you, he's not the type to get into politics any further than his contract binds him to, least of all for the sake of strangers, but: ]

So, uhh-- [ He leans sideways, eyes suspiciously scanning the area and voice kept low: ] --I may be way off my mark here, but doesn't that kinda sound like they're plotting an assassination attempt on that Cyrus guy..?

[ And more importantly, isn't that the guy who can restore their original home worlds? ]

III. HIGHSTORM
[ So far, things in Highstorm weren't looking much better.

For one, the atmosphere was... glum, packed heavy with a sense of disappointment; it wasn't quite defeatism, but whatever these Oracles were, they must be a bigger deal than he initially thought. Furthermore, this place felt uncomfortably close to the Stuffy Noble side of Fodlan, and the locals sure had given him an ugly look or several over both his mannerisms and his state of dress, his armor and leather a far cry from their stiffy notions of formality.

Normally, he would think he wasn't giving them a fair chance; he's a new face here, and a little wariness of strangers is to be expected, after all! However, the minute the decides to check the shops for a much needed supply run: ]

Wait, that's how much for a sword? [ Is he a little louder than intended, thus attracting unwanted attention and even more of those judgmental glares? Possibly so! ] A mercenary would offer a better bargain, and we don't haggle over our rates!

IV. WILDCARD
[ Happy to discuss other prompts, just hit me up at pinkgrasshopper or PM! (fresh meat, pls be gentle) ]

II

[leicesters]

[Claude had decided to take in the atmosphere in Springstar and get a gauge for the mood after the Oracle win, and it was almost startling how many people were willing to chat to him as a Shardbearer. He's waving goodbye to a lizard-like woman and sipping the drink she'd bought him when Shez addresses him, only half-listening to the conversation Shez is referring to.]

Hm? [He looks at Shez, no recognition in his expression whatsoever, but he'll lower his voice in return.] Yeah, that's one interpretation. I'm sure Cyrus has been dealing with attempts on his life since he became Tribune, so I can't say I'm shocked.

[If he sounds nonchalant about it... Well. He's more than familiar with it being an occupational risk back home.]

Karlach Cliffgate » Baldur's Gate 3

[infernalcombustionengine]

Bearing Fruit

[ Karlach's rebirth is fittingly for her, fraught with struggle and violence. As she comes back up into consciousness, she shoves herself upwards through the earth, struggling, kicking, clawing at anything she can to try and break free and be reborn, to crack the shell of the new egg that contains her.

This wasn't really what was supposed to happen, was it? There was supposed to be something else, after, right? A place to rest? A place to drift in quiet? She hadn't been ready to go yet, the Gods know. She'd raged and wept against the injustice of it all right up to the end--

One fist, than another bursts up into the open air and then a horned head, spattered in dirt. She coughs, gasps, looks around for the nearest face-- ]

Hey! Give me a fucking hand, will you?

Two Cities - Springstar

[ Springstar seems like a perfect fit for the reborn Karlach, all things considered. There's a youthful exuberance, a sense of renewed life to her that simply exudes from her at all times as she can be found poking her head into taverns, wandering the streets, going from party to party and lending a helping hand with whatever she can--she's the sort who doesn't ever seem to stop, even if she runs smack into a stranger on her way somewhere, a half-empty drink still in hand. She laughs and gives whoever it is a hefty pat on the shoulder, a rueful expression on her face. ]

Sorry, soldier. I didn't spill anything on you, did I? Had a few already.

Two Cities - Highstorm

[ Highstorm, on the other hand, is really not her scene. She seems prickly, a little on edge with the way that everyone seems so focused on regimented, proper behavior. She's usually exuberant, overflowing with energy. She's also getting used to no longer being her own space heater, which has made bundling up a little more necessary to keep out the chill. Standing at one of the tables, she picks at a plate of foods, face screwed up in a sour expression. ]

Don't these people know how to fucking relax?

[ Muttered to her nearest neighbor. ]

Wildcard

[ Something else you want with Karlach? Hit me up! ]

Highstorm

[kinaesthesia]

[Gavial wonders why she always shows up to these parties here in Highstorm when they roll around. (The answer is evident in the plate piled up with meats in front of her and the drink in her hand.) The locals remain waaay too low-key for her, and with Zenith’s recent Oracle loss, moods aren’t exactly exuberant, even by their standards. Needless to say, even though people have gotten used to this boisterous Shard-bearer running around town, she still gets some sideways glances around here.

Still, she won’t complain about free food and a chance to chat up new people. Seems like this time, she might’ve stumbled onto a kindred spirit. She glances the other woman’s way, crocodile tail in a slow and idle sway behind her.]

I ask myself that all the time. [A sigh.] They really oughta loosen up. It’ll do ‘em some good.

Joshua Rosfield | Final Fantasy XVI

[reviven]

a. Bearing chickens

[ Dreams of a cataclysmic end are nothing new as their world had long ago begun its descent into an untenable blight that wilts and decays everything in its path. However, this one feels different. More potent and steeped in a chaos that overwhelms his senses fast.

The stone ground that once spread across the foundation of Phoenix Gate fractures as fire rains from above, unleashing shadowed flames that envelop his body and smothers all the air out of his lungs until Joshua finally wakes with a start. Violent cough after violent cough spills out of him, enough to rack his body with harsh shudders but not enough to draw blood from within, which in itself is an anomaly.

Immediately, Joshua's hand flies to his chest, feeling over flesh that had served as a prison for five years now, only to find it dormant and unresponsive –replaced with a crystal that is cool to the touch rather than tempestuous.

Dirt is hastily shoved away as Joshua digs himself out of the ground, growing increasingly panicked by his foreign surroundings. He knows he's not in Phoenix Gate. Not in the Hideaway. No longer approaching Origin. Not even in Valisthea. ]

...Did we perish then before we could ever meet our destination? Founder, it can't be...

b. Springstar - That smell is exactly what you think it is

[ There are fewer experiences more harrowing than apparently dying (again) and resurrecting (again), and one of them is dying and resurrecting underneath a copious amount of dirt to the point where Joshua has never felt more unclean in his life, except perhaps after his and his brother's unfortunate run-in with an aggressive morbol in the wild. Even then, this is starting to feel like a fair contender for the top spot, which should be the last thing on his mind, Joshua realizes. Unfortunately, circumstances have led him trekking through unforgiving terrain without access to magic or his weapons, which has only amplified the amount of sweat and grime clinging to his skin.

When he'd finally reached civilization, he also hadn't expected to be immediately tugged into a festival of sorts while being heaped with praise for being a 'shard-bearer,' a title that immediately had him on edge. Before he can even ask any proper questions, a plate of fresh food is thrust into his hands, piled to the top with berries, meats, and cheeses –enough to send some of them nearly toppling off the edge.

As he weaves through the throng of eager bodies, trying not to drop anything, he manages to find a more secluded area to simply breathe and sit next to someone who looks either equally confused or unamused by present circumstances. Whatever the case may be, Joshua remains cautious in his approach. ]

Forgive my present state. In spite of being so eagerly plied with gifts from the locals, no one has thought to offer more suitable garments for the occasion. I suppose I should have taken my chances and bathed in the wilderness earlier, but I had not been expecting this level of welcome.

That being said, would you mind terribly if I took a seat? I promise to leave ample space between us.

c. Highstorm - The non-odorous option

[ A trip to the markets had been in order after sneaking out from yet another welcome celebration, this one slightly less overzealous than the one in Springstar, though that didn't seem to put a damper on anyone's recruitment pitches. Rather, there had been talk about rallying for the next oracle, a term he's beginning to think doesn't mean what he thinks it means.

In the process of investigating this new world, he'd found himself poking his head into the Antiques & Babbles Market in search for something he could use in self-defense, but judging from these prices, he'd be better off learning hand-to-hand combat or finding a way to reconnect with his eikon. Maybe even learning the fine art of wielding a wooden beam, though his arms are clearly not built for that level of athletics.

He sighs after a moment and approaches the nearest person to him, who he mistakes for one of the shop vendors– ]

I don't suppose you would be interesting in bartering labor in exchange for one of the plainest poignards on display? Or is there a hunt board I should consult?

[ He highly doubts he's going to find much success hunting with no weapons or magic, but he has to find some way to survive long-term. ]

d. Wildcard me!

[ Like it says on the tin, throw anything out there. Feel free to poke me at dreadwyrm on discord if you're unsure. ]

B.

[wolfish]

[ It seems the custom, from Yuri's experience, to welcome new arrivals with feasts. As a man who appreciates a good one of these, as well as recalling vividly how it was to be new, Yuri had seen fit to attend. He's idly watching the crowd from a nice, quiet distance when he's addressed, attention flicking up to the fellow so politely asking to sit. ]

So long as you're not perching on me, it's free real estate. [ He waves a casual hand at the open seating at his side. ] Take your pick.

[ It isn't as though Yuri is lord of the chairs, but he's quite certain no one would fault the fellow for sitting in one space or another, though he did look uncomfortable. Pointedly so. A small wonder, for the coating of earth he still bears is a mark of his newness. Yuri didn't much enjoy it either. ]

...You want a hand with that situation first, though?

[ By way of illustration, Yuri gestures to, well, the fellow's present condition. ]

nebula | guardians of the galaxy (mcu)

[furibund]

01. BEARING FRUIT (NEW OR OLDBIES AT THE TREE)

[ There's a number of strange things someone could fixate on in the situation upon waking up — for most of them it probably isn't that they should be asleep in the first place. Nebula hasn't slept in the normal sense in... a long time. It's more like powering on and powering off, if she had to put a word to it (and she hates putting a word to it). So sleep in its traditional sense is abnormal, almost like a lost art. ]

[ But when she takes a breath, sharp it's distantly familiar wakefulness. Heavy. A strange sensation as she thrashed beneath the earth in too soft cocoon. Panic doesn't set in, but annoyance - anger does. It grows worse as she tries to shift her left arm and hand from their usual mode to something to blast whatever's compounding her there. It doesn't work. The steel claws installed in her right hand function, at least, and she digs herself out. ]

What in the hell.

[ She grounds it out to herself as she pulls herself out from the hole. Thankfully she's still wearing clothing - the Guardians uniform offering a small blessing - or this would be worse before it gets better. Worse because her heard jerks over towards any noise - hearing still better than most even if it's been dampened now - and snarls out in low irritation: ]

Don't come a step closer. [ Once, this may have been followed with a 'or I'll have your head' or something of the like. Once, the warning wouldn't even be given. Now, it's just low and dangerous huskiness - half an unmeaning threat as she adds, ] Name yourself and this planet.

02. SPRINGSTAR

[ Nebula is yet another who looks misplaced in Springstar's bright fanfare of a city. She may have found a place to wash and clean up the uniform, but somehow that made her look more stalwart. Even without a blaster at her side and her arm unable to transform, she still manages to look hard and formidable. A stature of a woman so serious it's almost comedic. ]

[ She keeps to herself, for as much as she can. Which isn't to say she can. The locals are eager to tell stories of the latest Oracle grab and while she's not... eager to hear it for a fifth time or to gasp with interested oohs and aahs she is interested in knowledge. So she listens for as long as her patience allows before finding a way to dismiss herself (semi-politely) or in a vaguely ominous dismissal. ]

[ As the time goes on in the forum the latter becomes more of a common mention. Towards the end, she's decided the drinks aren't poisoned and is nursing one when she annoyedly (sourly) mutters to the nearest seeming Shardbearer: ]

Do they ever shut up?

III. HIGHSTORM

[ Not visiting both cities would be a shame and a waste of information. She at least looks more the part of someone who belongs in Highstorm — All serious expressions and as seriously met steely words. But there's something that unsettles her about the city, that makes her skin itch in a way she hadn't forgotten but had put behind her. ]

[ It takes her a moment to allow herself the realization it's that of control and oppression. ]

[ After seeing one-too-many price gougers in the markets she almost chose not to go to the assembly in front of Yima's manor. She notes some of the looks at the uniform - not to whatever dress code passed for around here and it only made her raise her head higher and pass like she hadn't noticed. She was still a Guardian of the Galaxy here. Now. ]

If this is what they consider is making better world... I've seen better ones in the gutters of the galaxy.

[ This too is all but muttered to herself. And if she catches an eye of someone else, her mouth twitches and she demands: ] What's happened here?

OOC / WILDCARD

Feel free to Wildcard your own things! I'm also happy to either include Memshare from the Blight stuff worked into any prompt/new stuff (just let me know). I've been trying to figure out a decent character for Kenos! Feel free to message me on hopewillbloom or discord deadlynadder for any plotting. If you need something more I'm always happy to make adjustments.

highstorm

[baltimores]

[ He hears that muttering; frowns a little at it, annoyed. Highstorm's a pretty good place to live, you know? It's been his home for nearly a year now, and he's already lived in worse places. Just because things are a little chillier, just because they might be licking their wounds a little...

But he keeps it to himself, is ready to pass on by her before she addresses him, directly. Amos stops and gives Nebula a quick once-over — okay, definitely new; okay, her arm is definitely interesting, and though his slightly lingering stare is judgment-free she might not recognize that herself — before deciding, fuck it, it'd be weird of him not to answer. ]

Temporary setback. We'll get back on our feet proper soon enough.

[ He sounds self-assured, at least; not too bothered, despite the cold and the muted air around the city. The Oracle loss isn't that big of a deal, he's been assured. They'll be fine. ]

Unless you mean this whole thing — [ accompanied by a light gesture out at the gathering at large with his free hand, other one occupied with a plate of food for himself — ] then that's just set up whenever there are a bunch of new people at once. Doesn't really have to be a whole thing, I don't think.

[ Even if it kind of does have the air of. Being a whole thing. Amos certainly isn't adhering to that; his clothing is juuuust barely enough to be considered formal, and he isn't bothered by anyone who doesn't happen to be adhering to the dress code. It's kind of none of his business, you know? ]

KIRITSUBO ☯ ZONE-00

[tattooism]

01 ⛤ INFORMATION SESSION [HIGHSTORM or SPRINGSTAR]
⛤ “Look back upon me here; for I am weary of this frail world's decay."

[One of the newly arrived shard-bearers can be found meandering around the fringes of both of the so-called "information sessions", a long-legged northern beauty with hair like tinted ice and eyes so black that they seem to consume everything around her. Though the dress code is supposed to be rather different for each gathering, she remains in the same attire, a near scandalously short robe tied lazily with a sash and a shawl-like fur wrapped around her throat... but kept open in the front, baring a substantial amount of cleavage. Cleavage that is decorated with colorful ink, a honeycomb pattern spilling down from her shoulder and onto her breast, where a giant hornet lay in wait.

But surely that is just a work of art.

Whether she is draped across a chaise lounge in Helopolis with a pipe in hand or leaning against a pillar in the courtyard of Yima's manor with a flute of champagne curled in elegant fingers... she will ask many other shard-bearers the very same question, her voice husky and low, her smile enigmatic and inviting. Her dark eyes allow only for the truth, no matter what form it may take.]

Say... which of these factions do think will claim the prize... ?

02 ⛤ INFORMATION SESSION [HIGHSTORM or SPRINGSTAR]
⛤ “Nothing can be well learned that is not agreeable to one’s natural taste.”

[But this woman has more to do than find the lay of the land she has found herself in. The people, the players... It seems they will all be playing a far larger role in influencing this world than most demons, spirits, or ogres could claim to possess in her own. How peculiar. How twisted.

A perfectly manicured nail draws sensually up a spine, or perhaps curls over a shoulder, not a warning before that hand moves... directly for wherever the aspect tattoo rests on another body. Regardless of where it might be, shamelessly. The voice that follows the touch is a nearly a purr. Or maybe a "rumble" is the better word- this woman is a canid, after all.]

Hoh... So this is where karma has chosen to mark you? Might I see the work closer... ?

03 ⛤ WANDERING [KOWLOON]
⛤ “Autumn is no time to lie alone”

[Perhaps most of the new arrivals have headed the warning to stay in the soft light of Springstar or the comforting darkness of Highstorm. It surely makes sense, to stick to safe streets and places where those who knew best advised you to go.

But this woman had never cared much for rules or staying still. In the streets of Kowloon she is like a butterfly flitting from dirty flower to dirty flower, brushing her fingers over a silver hairpiece at a shop, idly watching passersby from a sagging roof, listening to a speaker in a square... and eventually, finding her way to a den of sin. She looks as if she belongs there. But ah...]

Do you have one for me, too, hmm?

[A drink, a light for her pipe, or a smoke... Pick your poison. She's asking for it, either way.]

02

[infernalcombustionengine]

Oi!

[ Karlach gives a shocked little sound of indignation as the woman reaches out to touch at her. The mark of her aspect has settled in a familiar spot for her, just below her collarbone, where before she could feel the thrum and heat of an infernal engine, now there is only subtle ink and the beat of a normal heart.

It's taking some getting used to.

She doesn't jerk away, but she does reach up to try and catch at the offending wrist, frowning all the while. ]

Yeah, that's a new bit of decoration but you should really be asking before you go touching people. Personal space and all that.

Xiao | Genshin Impact

[aviothic]

I. Springstar – Streets, Psychagogía

[Choked with throngs of partying citizens, the streets of the entertainment district are a slog to traverse on foot. Under normal circumstances, Xiao would rely heavily on teleportation to send him on his way. And yet—though he does not relish being powerless—there is something unexpectedly agreeable about walking among so many others. The illusion that he belongs in the world of mortals is a powerful one; his soul aches for a day when, back in Liyue, this fantasy might be reality. But now is not the time for yearning daydreams. Nothing is more important than returning to Teyvat and continuing his sacred duty under Rex Lapis’ name. In order to accomplish that, Meridian seems like the correct choice in faction to side with. However, Xiao will not enter a new contract lightly; he requires information before making his decision and hopes that Springstar’s meet-and-greet at the Seat of the Tribune will arm him with the intel he requires. If…he can get there in time. (Which is beginning to seem less and less likely.)

As he passes by Emotional Damage, someone in the crowd abruptly turns to him and shoves a very full cocktail into his empty hand. Before Xiao can protest, the individual is swallowed up by the sea of bodies and disappears from sight. Though he is jostled from each side by lively partygoers, he manages to keep the drink from sloshing over the rim.

Dubiously, he gazes at the neon green liquid. Then, absently shaking his head, he looks around—and makes eye contact with you. The small young man marches forward, closing the distance, to thrust the beverage in your direction.]

Here, [he says, his solemn, almost severe countenance belied by a surprisingly soft voice,] I have no use for this. Take it.

II. Highstar – Rink, Frosthaven Arena

[The ice rink is a novelty. Equipped with a basic wooden pole, Xiao had arrived at the arena with every intention of practicing combat drills. Centuries have passed since he last needed to practice—in current times, the ever-present demons lurking across Liyue keep him well occupied. But this location… Well, it has quickly become apparent that the “arena” is a place for fun and entertainment, not for training.

Still…

After observing some of the locals, Xiao rents himself a pair of ice skates (more than a little embarrassed that he is forced to wear a size reserved for children). He slides the stiff boots on and, pole by his side, enters the rink unsteadily. While naturally graceful, the yaksha is hardly accustomed to ice skating—a luxury of a pastime unsuited for one who should be a god’s weapon and little more. It isn’t long before he spirals out of control, flying across the ice in your direction at an unwise speed. Golden eyes wide, he shouts out a warning.]

Watch out!

III. Highstar – Shrines, The Beyond

[Mouth pursed, the young man gazes up at the garish temple that seems to be doing its damnedest to overshadow the one beside it. The earth beneath the holy structure is fresh; he suspects that the building must be relatively new. He questions some of the other pilgrims nearby, yet no one seems to have the details he’s interested in hearing. Whom do the temples represent? Why have they been constructed so recently? And, perhaps most pressing: Where are the Statues of the Seven?

The absence of his own god’s likeness is an insult. Determined to rectify this error as best as he can, the yaksha walks off a short distance from the temples and, clasping his hands, begins to pray. His murmured words ascend from a reverent tone.]

Rex Lapis, hear my voice…

IV. Wildcard

( ooc | None of these prompts work for you but you’re interested in threading? Feel free to hit Xiao up with something different or plot with me! )

1.

[wolof]

[ Xiao somehow found the one person who would not accept a drink from a stranger in this entire crowd — and not just because she held a goblet of red wine in a single hand, her fingers elegantly wrapped around the stem — but when Xiao approached with the bright green drink, she looked at it, and then at Xiao's severe expression, and let her own golden eyes meet his. ]

Oh, no thank you dear, what if it's poisoned?

[ She says, like he was bringing her a drink himself. ]

I appreciate the audacity though. [ Does she. Think he brought it to her as a way to hit on her?

She does. Nobody ever accused a Sahelian of being modest. ]

If you're so inclined, why don't you sit with me instead, and enjoy your drink? You could introduce yourself that way, instead.

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro | Touken Ranbu Warriors

[cloak]

I. Reforged
[ In the time since he was given a human body with which to serve his master, Yamanbagiri has garnered something of a reputation for his willingness to get dirtied. Rather, his refusal to wash his cloak unless his arm has been effectively twisted is a known fact in the honmaru, one that a more fastidious sword actively battles him over.

But that doesn't mean that Yamanbagiri has ever rolled around in the dirt on purpose. Neither has he been buried before. When the light of that stone fades and soil presses in around him, he struggles against his new confines in a panic.

What emerges first isn't just Yamanbagiri himself — rather, it's a sheathed sword clenched tight in his fist which thrusts up from the earth. An orange cord decorates the throat of that scabbard, carefully bound around it, and just as laden with dirt as the rest of him as he drags himself free. ]

II. Twice Reflected (Highstorm informational meeting)
[ Truthfully, this all feels like that dream world they'd been investigating. The more Yamanbagiri sees, the more this thought impresses upon him. He drifts about the periphery of the gathering, his tattered white cloak giving the suggestion of a ghost, not quite certain what to do with himself in absence of any familiarity but concept.

That is, until he sees his reflection in the water isn't simply his reflection. What he spots on the water's surface isn't him alone — isn't him in the present. Instead, he's greeted with the image of a peaceful day. He sees himself seated on the honmaru's veranda sipping tea alongside another figure, a fellow in prim, tidy clothing that seems in ways to mirror and contrast his, with silver hair and piercing blue eyes.

His attention rivets on that face, that countenance, far more than his own. ]

What would you do, if you were here?

[ He mumbles the words sullenly, knowing full well the other Yamanbagiri blade cannot hear him. ]

III. Party City (Springstar streets)
[ Parties, parties everywhere.

Yamanbagiri brings a certain wet cat energy to the jubilant, bright streets of Springstar. In absence of comrades and leadership and the general structure of his day-to-day life as a touken danshi, he's left to ruminate over the matter himself. Effectively, this sees him wandering between one burst of festivity and another, frowning in deep thought as he makes his way along.

If he's the only one that remains, what should he do? Their role, their duty, is to preserve the true history. But what is that truth? Yamanbagiri would like to think this would be easier to parse after their recent missions, yet he finds himself uselessly spinning his wheels.

Off in his own world as he is, he walks right into someone before taking notice of them. He jolts, sheathed sword still gripped at his side even now, and blinks owlishly at the person he'd just bumbled into from under the heavy shadow his tattered hood casts over his eyes in the bright Springstar sun. ]

Ah—

[ Eloquent as ever. ]

IV. Inquiring Minds (Communion)
[ The first thing that floats into one's awareness is a hesitancy so pervasive it practically buzzes in the background. That's all there is at first, like distant cicadas on a heady summer evening, until a voice abruptly cuts through it. ]

How do you decide which master to serve, in this place?

[ Is it altering history if the world is restored, or is their loss a lie? Yamanbagiri doesn't know. What he does know is that there are others here who have preceded him, and surely they must have reasons. In absence of guidance from those he'd rely on back on the honmaru, he must ask strangers. ]

Zenith or Meridian...do you believe in them?

[ Their cause or what they have to say? He doesn't specify. Silence reigns then, until he ventures a last, cautious inquiry: ]

...Are there...any other swords here?

iv

[sheezit]

[ He's going to set aside the questions about Meridian and Zenith because, as a recent arrival himself, Shez feels like others probably have more fulfilling answers to offer. So naturally, the part he's going to zero-in on is: ]

Uhh, do you mean sellswords? There are at least two more that I know of, other than myself.

[ Sure, calling a contractor "master" sounds a bit odd, but what hasn't been odd in this place? ]