OPEN POST 2025

[siberia]

1. Post here with the character you want to play with in the header or body
2. Put your prompt in the body of the comment (or leave it to me - i don't mind coming up with something!)
3. ????
4. Profit

My muselist is HERE!!!!!!!!!!!

Comments

holds hand out for loops, a few months after the ice castle

[unghost]

[ It's been a long time since they've gotten to sleep for so long.

The last time they tried to have their usual summer hibernation, it was rudely interrupted by a certain some-gem who shall not be named. Shortly after that, they were brought here, to this town devoid of color, where it was the middle of spring. It wasn't an ideal time to sleep then, either, with all the mysteries about how they'd all gotten there and how color was going to be returned to the town.

But in the winter, they reached their limit. The low light, combined with the length of time which they'd forced themself to stay awake, resulted in them simply crashing as soon as the town residents got back the debacle in that strange castle. Kissing people to unfreeze them, feeling cold for the first time, it was terrible...

Maybe that's another part of why they'd just let themself succumb to their hibernation, whether intentionally or just subconsciously. Saving Lupin had been confusing and stressful — the fragility of his life continues to cause unease, but what made them most uneasy of all was how affected he'd seemed after the fact. And, being an immortal made of stone, fashioned to live for thousands of years... change scares them. And it had felt, overwhelmingly, like he and they were on the precipice of an unknowable, unnamed change.

So, a three month nap it was.

They don't wake up even once throughout all of it, well and truly out. Sometimes their rest is fitful, and other times, they lay still as a statue, unbreathing, unmoving, and by all other measures, dead to the world. But on this fine early spring morning, they finally emerge from their house, lazily stretching their arms across their chest like a drowsy cat. They've even gone through the effort of taking off their elaborate pajamas, dressed in their uniform like always. There's a squint, while their eyes adjust to the — very welcome — sunlight, which only deepens when —

That's Lupin, out on this side of town. They can see him, well... okay, they can't see him that clearly, they're still feeling pretty bleary, but it's easy enough to recognize his silhouette and hat. What business might he have over here, far away from Ruga? Their mind is still catching up with the present, the last thing they need is to talk to him and potentially have to actually acknowledge kissing him to save his life. It was months ago, maybe he forgot already! That's a long time for a human. Maybe it's not even a big deal anymore. Like with so many other things, their kneejerk reaction to things they don't want to deal with is to try to avoid it...

They're just gonna very unsubtly turn heel and walk in the other direction of town towards the shore and harbors (they need somewhere to sunbathe...); it doesn't occur to them that he might be around these parts to see or check on them... in their mind, it should be easy to slink away. Even though their hair is refracting light everywhere they go, with the sun brightly shining above. ]

YIPPEE!! sorry i had to summon the spirit of lupin back into my brain to write this (reread threads)

[heartsteals]

[ they'd mentioned previously that their species hibernates through the winter - he's not sure when, exactly, but that piece of information was stored somewhere in his mind. Good thing, too: as nervous as he was when Cairngorm went to sleep and didn't wake up, it would be a thousand times worse if he didn't know why. As things stand, he's still nervous as hell, but can at least believe that this isn't the fault of the town, nor a permanent affliction.

The problem is that he can't really do anything about it. Lupin's not one to sit on his laurels; he prides himself on always having a plan or an idea or some kind of solution when something needs fixing (or stealing). The only fix for this particular situation is time. And it's not like Cairngorm's in imminent danger or anything - a few months is a meager price to pay. He's patient. Usually. It's harder to be patient when he'd finally resolved to speak his heart only to find the recipient of his affections unresponsive the night he'd appeared to leave his calling card.

Swallowing all those feelings back up once he'd started letting himself feel them was difficult, but what choice did he have? Lupin had shelved his grand romantic plans (they hadn't failed, they were just postponed) and appointed himself to their bedside in the meantime - at least when he could. Phos had seemed confident that Cairngorm didn't need more than a dim light and an occasional check-in to make sure they hadn't rolled over and broken something, and they certainly knew more than he did - plus, they and Lottie are the ones who actually live with Cairngorm. Still, he's made sure to come see them at least once in a while. He'd sit and try to read by the candlelight for a little bit, just in case they wake up, and, over the months, let his emotions boil down into a low simmer.

The longer they spend apart, the more Lupin starts to believe that he'd been premature. Maybe this is good. Maybe he'd been selfish - running into this headlong, seeing in them what he wanted to see. They're delicate, after all - ten times his age with a tenth of the experience. If he'd gone through with his plans, he'd probably have overwhelmed them. When he'd intimated how he felt, they'd called him a fool. He's not such a rake he can't wait for them to understand what he meant.

Even if waiting is kind of painful. And stressful. The warmer it gets, the antsier he feels - not necessarily romantically, but just in general. They're supposed to wake up soon, right? It's these nerves that have him freezing up when, heading over to check on them one morning, he sees them up and on their feet again. Outside. And immediately walking away from him. ]

-- Cairngorm! You're awake!

[ and here he comes. sorry, gormy, your slinking was unsuccessful. ]

REAL

[unghost]

[ Briefly, they consider continuing to walk away.... or run away. They've no doubt they can outrun him, and maybe they could just avoid him forever. Such is the way of gem thinking: if you keep putting a problem off, you'll never really have to deal with it.

But, perhaps mercifully, not even having the choice to run away from things they didn't want to deal with for most of their life keeps them frozen in indecision for a little, their step awkwardly stalling when they look over at Lupin approaching. There's a few things they can tell just from those words alone; he must have been keeping at least some sort of close tabs on them over their hibernation. The same unnamable discomfort they've had around him for some time now stirs, even in the density of their crystalline body. Like ice melting.

He.... cared, right? Did he miss them? They're used to waking up from hibernation to not much more than a casual oh, and they couldn't blame the other gems for not waiting on baited breath for them to rejoin their band. They only ever saw each other for a season at a time: Fall and spring, with the bitter winters spent alone and their summers in slumber. Quietly, they can admit to themself that the weight of his apparent... relief? Excitement? Feels different from all the hundreds of offhand greetings previous. Like maybe their absence was more than just an inconvenience or a fact of life. Like he's been waiting for them, if they can delude themself into believing it.

Over their life, though, they've learned it's best not to hope or long for anything too much, whether that's ambition, companionship, or just attention. To Cairngorm, such things were always out of reach, even if they were right in front of them. Sometimes, it feels like Lupin's no different than that. Whether than chasing that small spark of hope, they should be grateful and satisfied he even noticed their absence to this extent at all. The reminder keeps their expression flat and neutral, chasing away the strange urge to meet his relief with their own.

They sigh audibly through their nose as he comes over, but they relent, no longer trying to get away. This is fine. They're still pretty tired, and running away would be a lot of physical effort, because they're certain Lupin would give chase. That's what this is: convenience. Truth be told, while the feelings are still fresh and abstract in their mind from everything leading up to their slumber, they can't remember every word spoken between them prior. They remember feeling nervous. They remember feeling worried. Over what Lupin had said, exactly, eludes them. ]

Were you watching my house all this time? It's barely been minutes.

[ Since they awoke, they mean. They complain, dryly, raising a gloved hand to rub at their eye, long eyelashes glittering while they try to blink themself awake. On the one hand, they want to jab at him for being so nosy that he found out immediately... but on the other, maybe telling him that they really haven't been conscious for long will make him feel lenient on the fact that they literally just tried to walk away. If they're lucky, maybe he'll just think they didn't see him... ]

OK IM LUPIN MODE FOR REAL THIS TIME

[heartsteals]

[ while he most certainly had considered multiple different things he could say to them upon waking up, he'd tended to imagine something a little more fanciful than this - having their eyes flutter open while he was at their side so he could give them a cheeky "good morning," or maybe getting word of their awakening in the middle of the night and stealing in like, well, a thief. Instead, here is Cairngorm, back in the land of the living with zero fanfare, and if it weren't for the fact that it hadn't happened in several months, this scene would look no different from the dozens of other times he'd said hello to them in the morning.

Oh well. Lupin loves his plans, but he can improvise. That strange nervousness doesn't go away, but there is perhaps no man better at overpowering his nerves and charging in than him. Besides, he finds there's something delightful about feeling tense over something as mundane as talking to Cairngorm. Time might have calmed his emotions, but it's clearer than ever to him that it hasn't dulled them when he meets their eyes. His heart leaps, his expression brightens, and he can't help the spring in his step when he jogs the short distance between them. There's a surprising amount of overlap between being a romantic and a thrill-seeker... ]

Just a little morning exercise. It's no easy feat maintaining these looks, you know - not all of us get a few months' worth of beauty sleep. [ Their apparent attempt to run doesn't seem to have fazed him at all, though there's no doubt he didn't notice. It's something he can contend with later. For now, he's just happy to see them - to talk to them again, complaints and all, and his playful grin softens. ] Good morning to you, too. Rest well?

for shadow

[femmebatale]

[ it's no surprise that Shadow had dipped out of Sonic's party early; it is mildly surprising to find him at her place, but only mildly. He doesn't have a home, and she's made it clear he's welcome to hers if he needs a place to go - it speaks to her trust in him, loath as she is to have someone else anywhere near her personal things. Still. It's been a long day. So much for being able to flop into bed and sleep after time-traveling and coordinating a minor jewel heist.

Then again, he almost certainly needs the rest more than she does. And it'd be a lie to say she was planning on sleeping; Rouge wouldn't admit it, but she'd already been planning on tracking him down once she made a stop here. This just means she can skip a step. ]

Well, look what the cat dragged in, [ she announces casually, clicking the door shut behind her with the heel of her boot. She raises a bag with a box-shaped weight in it in his direction. ] You missed out on the cake. Want some?

dw is being weird so sorry if the icons dont show lmao

[roughroad]

[The only greeting he gives her is a wordless huff of air - which, to be fair, is more courtesy than he extends most people. Truth be told, even he isn't entirely sure why he's here - he can come up with reasons, but they aren't good ones. It was closer than whatever hole he'd crawled out of - abandoned facilities, the woods. He's on edge and worries something else is going to happen. One or the other of those.

He's on the couch - far too plush for him, he feels like his quills have already jabbed a hole into it - hand on his chest, staring up at the ceiling. At her words? Well, he at least sits up, slightly, meets her eyes, then levels them at the bag with a bemused look.]

I'm surprised he bothered with a cake. Probably vanilla and too much frosting, though. I'll pass.

[Or worse, an ice cream cake. His nose twitches slightly at the thought - and then he eases himself back onto the couch, eyes back on the ceiling.]

You all indulge him quite a lot, don't you.

IT'S DOING THAT TO ME TOO don't worry......

[femmebatale]

[ she'll definitely be plucking black spines out of the upholstery later - the price of being friends(?) with a hedgehog. At his entirely expected reply, she shrugs, setting it on her counter with an aloof little hum. (He's not wrong. There is a lot of frosting on it. Too rich for her tastes - a rare thing for Rouge.) ]

Blue's gotten us out of enough pinches, don't you think? I don't like owing people - I'd rather have it the other way around.

[ which is why it's beneficial to stay on everyone's good side, especially Sonic's. And Shadow's, for that matter - but it goes a bit beyond that. Sonic's not allowed to crash on her couch, after all. She has half a mind to tease Shadow for the comment, ask him if he's jealous and hankering to be indulged, but the day's events are still fresh in her mind; she can only imagine the hole they're burning in his. He's off the hook for the moment. ]

Of course, the others don't know you did half the work today...

for limiterrings

[femmebatale]

[ oftentimes, Rouge gets her directions from GUN. But, sometimes, she'll beat them to the punch. There's a reason she's got a reputation as a treasure hunter - she's nearly as good at digging up information on the rare and unusual as she is at digging up the artifacts themselves - and, while her employers would probably prefer she reported any particularly juicy tidbits directly to them before heading out, Rouge has always liked striking out on her own more.

Well. Mostly on her own. This time, she'd picked up the trail of something that's either a Chaos Emerald or close enough in power that all her sources think it's one. Eggman's lack of involvement meant Omega wasn't particularly interested in tagging along, but she'd managed to rope Shadow in, which is almost a victory in itself. That's how they ended up here: two stories deep in some abandoned facility's basement. It's been suspiciously smooth sailing so far, which means Rouge isn't surprised when the next door opens up into a large open room. A little too open. Her radar ears twitch, and she hangs back at the entrance, not quite stepping out. ]

Hmmm... I smell a trap.

[limiterrings]

[ any signs of power that goes off the radar is something to be looked into, shadow's done this before, and despite the conclusion; he's found it's never over. it could be an obsession at this point, one of the constant drives that keep him moving, and if this is one of rouge's ploys to get him out then he can just leave.

it's as simple as that, but her insistence as well as urgency (to either obtain or see it before it completely disappears) encourages him enough to come along. days have been long, and his need to keep his mind busy outweighs taking care of himself. if he isn't searching for anymore signs of threats then he's, what others would claim it to be, wasting away.

it's none of their business what he does in his downtime, but sometimes he can't work. he's unable to act. memories haunt him much like long ago, they come in active bursts that reminds him his own pain and suffering stems from his existence.

maria's words still echo in his ear, reminding him that there's so much more to why he lives and what he must do. yet, it's hard to swallow down, at that moment he easily accepted those words because he had her in his grasp. he was spoiled. now he can only remember by thinking back to the previous events in that white space, and this is one of the issues that has been noticed with him.

his reaction time in conversations tend to be nonexistent or he takes longer to respond, this time it's the latter. he hadn't really registered what rouge has said to him, he does acknowledge the room for what it's worth. ]

Let's move.

[ an opposite to her wariness, before, he would have relied on rouge's intuition, and contemplated how they'd advance. nowadays, he moves forward without much thought, entering the room and scanning the area with crimson eyes. it's sloppy, and shadow doesn't do sloppy, but he doesn't do much right when he has too much on his mind. ]

[femmebatale]

[ it really isn't like him. She's noticed that he seems a little bit off - he's been reticent and distant, even by Shadow standards. Small things that others might not notice, but Rouge likes to think that she knows him better than most. Maybe he's not a social butterfly; however, he's usually always listening, even if he's pretending otherwise. Chalk it up to being a living weapon who was built to be on constant alert or to being a slightly more sensitive guy than people give him credit for (a bit of both, in her opinion); either way, he should have a firm grip on the situation at hand, and he definitely shouldn't be rushing out into danger. Which he just did.

Normally, he's the one telling her not to get overexcited and leap into trouble! Rouge reaches out a hand to try and stop him, but, unsurprisingly, she doesn't manage. ]

-- Shadow! [ she hisses from the wide delivery doorframe. ] Ugh! Did you even hear me?!

[ she has a feeling he didn't. Something's definitely on his mind - she just doesn't know what. Whatever it is, now's not the time to ponder it. As soon as he crosses a certain threshold in the room, a high-pitched alarm note that has her covering her poor ears blares out, loud enough to make the room shake. At least, it seems that way for a moment: it becomes unfortunately obvious only a moment later that the room shaking is also due to a massive hidden hatch near the center of the ceiling opening. An enormous turret descends, its rusty machinery grinding with disuse and age. A variety of weaponry rings its circular barrel, including at least one large main cannon with a laser sight that points immediately at Shadow before unleashing a barrage of bullets.

Well. She'll enjoy the I-told-you-so of it all after they make it out. Rouge slings herself immediately behind a bunch of cargo crates to avoid any ricochet and hopes Shadow's still on top of things enough to not get turned into swiss cheese. ]

pour versaux...

[anathemaw]

[ In a short time, Messmer crafts his wish as best he can. He prays for a path home, connecting the shadowed lands to the lands of the Erdtree through Marika's veil - a route magical in nature, linking both and damaging neither, well-hidden from the eyes of those who remain in the cursed realm, yet accessible to others whom he would grant access. He envisions a portal beneath his keep, at the black gate at the foot of the Scadutree. That's all he can do.

The rest is up to him. But as difficult as it may be, he's already set the wheels in motion. There's no turning back now. His betrayal of Marika is realized; all that remains is to push over the starting line. A speech must be prepared, firstly -- no, he would do well to speak of this with the Knights first, and Rellana and Gaius... And what of the jar-shamans still languishing in the infirmary? A plan must be devised to move them...

And, of course, there's the matter of Verso.

Messmer's been mostly lost in his own thoughts as the black carriage pulls them along, brow furrowed even more deeply than usual, as it often is when he's stuck in his own mind. The farther from the house they go, the more reticent he becomes, troubled, until finally, they pass through a tunnel and, inexplicably, emerge from the other end in the shadowed lands. He feels it - smells it, even, before he sees it, and inhales, lips pressing together thinly. ]

... Thou wilt know now the devastation of Messmer's flame.

[ it's one thing to talk about it, but seeing it will undoubtedly make it more real, and for all that Messmer both trusts Verso and has become accustomed to his own deeds, he can't help the way his mind grimly braces for whatever his reaction might be. The Gravesite Plain stretches beyond the windows of the carriage, its endless rows of graves continuing to the cliffs and to the feet of burned-out villages and dead trees bowing heavy with hanging corpses, all of it laid out beneath the strange gauzy light of the veiled sky and the blackened, twisted tree standing starkly silhouetted against it. A small pocket of people scatter from the road before their wheels, but it becomes clear in passing that they're only barely people at all - they look more like thin shadows, nearly featureless, an echo of a former life. ]

SLIDES IN DRAMATICALLY

[reverso]

[For good or ill, he allows Messmer a stretch of quietude as they travel, time enough for Verso to get lost in his own thoughts as the carriage rattles onwards. He does not speak it aloud, but there is a part of him that yearns to know where his wish would officially take effect, like a visible line he could cross that would dictate his newfound chance at life. The permanent avoidance of the oblivion he had condemned his Canvas to, and therefore himself, left behind him. There’s a slight, needling fear that they might wander too far, and despite the grand power of the wish they’ve won, he would still be fated to fade away — as though his selfishness will never truly go unpunished.

But there is no great fanfare that declares him to be still alive. There is no sudden fading of his limbs and body, fragmented into nothingness, his own personal Gommage. No, the carriage keeps going, and going, until it is swallowed by darkness and revealed again in hazy twilight, and Verso keeps living.

He lets out a guttering breath, not realizing he had been holding it for overlong. Messmer speaks up, and he finally returns his presence of mind to the space they share, noting that the demigod’s gone reticent and just as quiet as him. He cannot blame him; he cannot imagine, either, the entangled nature of his thoughts. Much of the burden of this new future rests upon Messmer’s shoulders, and though Verso will be there to aid him in whatever way possible, he knows that there is only so much he can do. He does not understand this world the way he does, nor does he command the authority to exact change in the same way. The terrible onus of decision-making remains in the other's hands.

…Perhaps this is what makes him seem distant now. Or maybe it’s related, instead, to his comment, which has Verso glancing towards the view and taking it in properly.]

…It seems like such a lonely place.

[Indeed, it has that eerie quality that one might equate to an expansive mausoleum — the state of things after so much death, pain, and tragedy has marched across the land, now veiled in a long-suffering silence.

It would almost be beautiful if he didn’t know better.

Yet if it’s genuine shock and condemnation that Messmer fears, Verso allays them by his reaction being not much more than this. Yes, seeing it in person drives home the fact that Messmer’s actions were sweeping and cruel, leaving permanent scars across this land, but he never doubted what he was told. He never sugar-coated in his mind; as the carriage passes what looks like shadowed, walking corpses, he cannot help but think to himself, What misery it must be, to be trapped in a place like this.]

CATCHES U AND SPINS U AROUND

[anathemaw]

[ With so much else on his mind, Verso's plight doesn't occur to him - something he'd feel quite guilty over if he knew. He's not to be taken for granted. But Messmer's thoughts are turned inward entirely, as they often are. A bad habit, built up over hundreds of years, and one that's certainly betrayed him prior to this, too. Verso's reply seems to bring him back somewhat from that distant spot in his mind, his eye drifting back to him.

Again, there's no outright fear or regret in Verso's face or words. Messmer didn't expect it, but it's a relief all the same, easing his taut nerves the slightest bit. (Internally, he scolds himself for placing such weight on Verso's opinion of him when he well deserves any ire he might receive -- but only a little. Even he can only deny the unique importance of their bond so much...) ]

... Aye. [ all he can really do is agree. ] In distant eras life thrived here; now only death gathers in this realm, adrift on the sea 'twixt light and dark.

[ it's his fault, mostly... but it's Marika's fault, too. She was the one who cut it off from the world. The blasphemous thought makes his eye sting; it's not the first time he's had it.

Messmer tries to ignore it - something he's become quite good at over his eternal lifespan - and instead focuses on Verso. He's compelled to offer some measure of comfort to him, feeble though it may be. ]

Mine army yet remaineth: some hundreds strong. In its ranks are those few who hath gained my trust - who hath learned well my cursed nature, yet name me comrade all the same. Commander Gaius, the princess Rellana, and what remaineth of my Fire Knights. Thou wilt not be alone in my keeping.

you know what?? *unfumbles your cr*

[anathemaw]

[ from here ... but different?! ]

[ it's obvious that Rom is baiting him to disagree; the temptation to simply swat down the leading questions and retreat comfortably into his familiar misery is strong. So many of the mortals here seem to think they possess some unique insight he's never considered - as if he hasn't been mulling over life's questions for ten times the span they've been alive - and he can't help finding it patronizing. But his sense that Rom is trying to be genuine remains. He's not just trying to make some point; he's trying to connect, even if Messmer still doesn't see where that connection lies.

So he sighs. ]

... I am the son of a god - one of growth and order - yet from the moment of my birth I have borne twin curses of destruction and chaos within. That which doth define me is heresy inherent. 'Tis by my mother's grace alone that my sinful nature is suppressed, and I may yet walk beside thee.

[ his true nature is so horrid and repellent that if he were to do anything other than hide it, it would lead to nothing but catastrophe - so say the teachings of his mother's Golden Order. What can he do but believe them? ]

seeing your edit note without knowing what the original comment was is hilarious

[phenomerom]

[ Despite the dramatic, almost unbelievable nature of what Messmer is saying, Rom barely bats an eye. Expression still trained in that perfectly opaque smile, he only looks Messmer over from under the brim of his hat, gaze inquisitive but neutral. -- well, there are still plenty of other things he'd like to figure out, but at least 'twin curses' explains a little bit of what he's seeing. Setting aside the question of why Messmer seems to be haunted by such a plentiful number of spirits, this does address the odd appearance of his aura.

Anticlimatically: ]

I see~

[ How infuriating it would be, if that was all he had to say in response to Messmer's confession. Luckily, he only pauses long enough for that to seem plausible (yes, it's on purpose) before continuing. ]

It's fortunate, then, that you were granted that grace. Where would we be without your wonderful presence? It would be quite a loss for us as a group, you know! [ He's sure this would sound insanely insincere coming from most people, but -- everything Rom says walks that line between sounding ludicrous and genuine, anyway. So it's entirely up to Messmer whether he wants to think Rom is just being facetious or not. ] You must have been very loved, for your mother to have given you such a blessing.

i'll leave it to your imagination........

[anathemaw]

[ predictably, Messmer doesn't doubt for a moment that Rom is being facetious. His presence is no blessing to anyone. Certainly not to this group, either, even if they're largely ignorant of his deeds. The comment strikes his ears as a veiled insult - but, at this point, he doesn't really care if people insult him, so he lets it fall to the wayside, closing his eye.

Very loved. He wonders. (What a blasphemer he is.) He neither affirms nor denies, merely offering a noncommittal rumble from the back of his throat before continuing. ]

Thou wert speaking against such concealments a moment ago.

[ is it love to suppress someone else's true nature out of fear? If it's for their own safety? It's not something he'd ever questioned until relatively recently in his hundreds of years. Instinctively, he wants to say yes - to cling to that soft notion like a lifeline. But the fibers of that rope have worn very thin. ]

GIMME POT MAN

[d957]

[ While the nomadic cities of Terra are truly a sight to behold, made of marvels of technology all working in tandem to create a thriving home for millions of Terrans across the globe as they grind through the wastelands of an otherwise ruined world in order to avoid the onslaught of cataclysmic disasters that can strike in such painfully short notice.

The rest of the world is... well, it's the wastelands.

Ebenholz himself has never done particular well on any sort of trip that involves leaving Rhodes Island for extended periods of time and setting foot in these wastelands, though he at least thought he would do well enough to keep up with the rest of his assigned team. The fast that they decided to leave him at one of the furnished outposts because he was struggling with the physical aspect of the travel is somewhat mortifying.

It's been three days since the team left, and there are still three more until they're expected to return, and Ebenholz feels like he's about to go out of his mind with boredom. He's traversed the area outside of the outpost several times now, and in a shocking lack of a twist, there has been very little to see in a land called "the wasteland". A lot of dirt, a bunch of rocks, and every now and then a little scrub plant if he's lucky.

He isn't expecting to see anything different than his previous ventures around in increasingly listless circles as he starts off for his second walk of the day, dully noting the fine layer of red dust that is coating his shoes and the legs of his pants as he trudges forward only to hear...

Something?

Both furry ears twitch as he perks them up, trying to make out the source of the sound as he stumbles in the general direction of what sounds like a muffled human voice. It's too soon for the other operators to return if things have gone right, but there's always the possibility things have gone wrong.

There's also the possibility of bandits, however, so Ebenholz reaches into his pocket to extract his wand, his other fist balled tightly around a set of dice made of the metal needed to properly use his Arts. ]

Hello?

THE POTMAN COMETH

[crackedpot]

[ Time and space are convoluted in the Lands Between, and most convoluted of all in Farum Azula, the land suspended in time far above the sea. A long, difficult journey had finally brought Alexander there, ever seeking stronger opponents; he suspected he might meet his match there. And, it turns out, he was right. Only the warrior that would finally overtake him wasn't his Tarnished friend -- no, it was gravity. A single misstep off the floating ruins sent him plummeting through the clouds. An ignoble end for a proud warrior jar - how shameful.

Or so he'd thought. When he came to, it wasn't at the bottom of the ocean, or in a hundred pieces smashed across the plains. No... he's somewhere new. Nothing but blasted rocks and sand as far as he can see - no environment he's ever seen in his homeland. Just how far did the wind carry him?! The only bit of familiarity in sight is his current predicament: wedged in a jar-shaped hole in the ground. An experimental bit of straining does nothing but dislodge a pebble or two.

Stuck again... And with no life in sight. But, if he's lucky, maybe in earshot. And, if he's extra lucky, not interested in murdering him for his insides. ]

Hello? Helloooooo?! Is anyone out there?! I need help!

Yeah!!!!

[d957]

[ He is lucky indeed, because Ebenholz has never once in his life found himself with a great desire to take someone's innards, and remove them from their container. This is, of course, usually a far more metaphorical way of talking about things like disembowelment, though strangely literal in the case of Alexander.

Either way, Ebenholz would prefer to keep his hands out of all of that, regardless of the supposed worth.

He is less lucky, however, in the fact that the man who finds him is slight in build, certainly not capable of giving a substantial smack to his backside to dislodge him without the use of potentially dangerous Arts, and also not overly inclined to trust.

While he does stumble across the scene of what look to be flailing... branches? Certain limb-like looking structures sprouting out of an overturned pot, he maintains some distance as he creeps around towards the front, wondering if there is someone in here hiding in ambush.

Though what a strange trap to set up if that's the case... ]

What sort of help are you looking for, mein Herr?

for aki

[stickery]

[ by the time they're facing off against Pucci - all of them, even Jolyne's wayward father - Ermes has a bad feeling about it. Trusting her gut never steered her wrong, and in that moment atop the space center, with the stupid priest seemingly calling down the divine into his Stand, it was practically screaming at her to run away, that this was certain death. She didn't listen, because she wasn't about to turn her back on a friend. So maybe she'd die. That was okay. Scary, but okay.

Then, before the first attack even came, it was over. They thought that Mr. Kujo must have managed to strike him at the last moment - it was the only explanation for the way the clock on the face of his Stand shattered as time slowed back down to normal. The sun was rising then. The damage was immense, but the priest's body was there, mixed amongst the rubble. They'd won... Somehow.

Ermes had doubts. It's been a few days, now, laying low while Jolyne's family's mysterious benefactors try to scrub their names from the wanted list, and she still has doubts. It can't be. Can it? Fuck it, she has to find out. In the chaos, she hasn't had time to message him at all; now, though, almost a week after they parted ways, Ermes finally pulls out that special phone they gave her and sends Aki a text. ]

hey
what did u wish for anyway

[truncation]

( funnily enough, aki had known something had happened the instant she made her wish. the bonds of fate had stretched and then snapped; its fabric twisted, folded, turned, and contorted until it became something new altogether. things like this just didn’t really happen, not even in a world of devils and the present reality of hell. the moment it happened, aki was not made aware by any sort of intrinsic understanding that he himself had to it—no, instead he was immediately and physically stopped by the future devil, which had apparently burst free of its place in his eye to loom right in front of him. and “loom” was right… the thing had leaned over him in a way that he struggled to read. was it threatening him? it quivered, the root-like protrusions all over its body rustling, and aki had reached for his sword, even knowing that putting up any sort of fight at this point would be a moot point. without his contracted devil, against his contracted devil, he was essentially disarmed. how had it managed to bypass the terms of their contract…?

the future devil had rattled a little bit louder, gone perfectly still in a moment of precipitous tension, and then it had laughed. it laughed, it twirled, it pumped its arms and gyrated what he supposed went for its hips. is it… dancing? after sifting through many excitable declarations of how much the future did, indeed, rule, the devil eventually told him that the cloud that the little game he’d participated in had cast over its vision of his future had finally resulted in something it’d never seen before: it’d changed. it was now completely different from the tragic, piteous fate it had once seen in him when they’d negotiated their contract—thus, in its opinion, making it null and void.

“so, enjoy that new lease on life you’ve got, or else! ahhahahahaha!! the future rules!”

and then it’d vanished. hopefully back into Public Safety’s secure cells, but… well, he can’t find it in him to care so much about that anymore. while much of what had changed his own fate had indeed been ermes’ wish, releasing his shackles and essentially lowering a ladder down into the pit he’d dug for himself, the vital component that must not be overlooked is… after all these years, he’d wanted it to change. the endless, bitter struggle against devils, done out of morality or petty revenge, no longer dominated his attention. throwing himself at the Gun Devil in some pointless, lethal shout into the wind seemed… stupid. he felt as though he’d woken up from a long, confusing dream. what’d any of it even been for, anyway? just one long death march—as if, though he hadn’t physically died alongside his family all those years ago, he’d been dead all the same. it just took him all of those years for it to finally catch up.

he’s not going to let that happen now. he can’t help but remember the crumpled cigarette pressed into his hand by Ghost before it died—a final gift from himeno. easy revenge! hm… one could say that living well was the easiest revenge of all.

the next day, aki hands in his resignation. he could’ve swore he actually saw a shade of shock on makima’s perfectly-composed expression. denji and power are a problem to be solved later—they’re still wrapped up in hers and Public Safety’s machinations, but he’ll find some way to get them out of it. they’re part of this, he thinks. if he’s finally decided he should live for more, that he deserves better, then they should as well.

and then, of course, there was—ermes.

similarly, he hadn’t really had the opportunity to reach out to her, with all that was happening; he has to assume the same was her, based on how she’d described the situation waiting for her back home. when that particular phone (rather anachronistic back in his time period, really) chimes with a received message, he can’t help but laugh when he reads it. he’s already starting to piece together an image of what might’ve happened—what must’ve happened… )

I thought you deserved another shot

( it wasn’t his exact wording, but it’d had a similar level of vagueness—his knowledge of her situation wasn’t so exact that he could get specific with the particulars. )

[stickery]

[ he really didn't know much of her situation - she didn't either, to be fair, but still, it makes it all the more shocking to read, even if she'd guessed. There's a difference between assuming things turned out so weirdly that there had to be some kind of external influence and having it confirmed that it actually was Aki, using his singular wish on her for some reason. Ermes would like to say that she's too cool and tough to do anything more than smile knowingly at the screen, but there's definitely a little flutter in her chest at the brazen kindness of it. They only just met, right? And even if she did the same thing for him, he was going to literally, actually die! It's different!

This sweetheart motherfucker.

She's glad Jolyne's not here to see her smiling in disbelief like an idiot at her phone. Ermes finds herself hunching down secretively anyway as she types out a response, keeping it close to her chest. Too long living in prison with no privacy, maybe. ]

didn't have to do that
u crazy bastard!
then again i guess that makes me one too

[ does he already know? She hopes so. She has no idea what breaking a demon's contract would have looked like; she can't even begin to guess. ]

thanks

coming back to this account is such a blast from the past dang

[decryptic]

[ 2B is probably doing something very normal and appropriate on her lonesome when Pod 153 floats on over and delivers... an envelope with her name on it. The letter inside is handwritten despite its perfect, font-like script. It reads: ]

Dear 2B,

It's me, 9S! Surprised? It turns out that humans had to communicate with each other just like this before they figured out long-range telecommunications and all that. Seems awfully inconvenient to me. You wouldn't even know the other human got it until they wrote back, and if the distance was long enough, that could take, I don't know, weeks? Is that even a proper conversation anymore?

Anyway, I left my pen and some paper with Pod 153 so you can write me back.

Sincerely,
9S

it truly is ... i did miss her

[undeserved]

[ Very normal and appropriate, yes - scouting for spare parts, which is much more efficient done separately, considering the length of time it takes to locate any usable defunct YoRHa models. Frankly, she doesn't actually like being away from 9S if she doesn't have to; it's illogical, especially considering that she firmly believes she probably shouldn't be anywhere near him, but he hasn't pushed her away yet and she hasn't had the mental fortitude to push him first. Some things don't change. Also unchanged: seeing Pod arrive on its lonesome strikes a chord of dread in her, at least until it offers up a piece of paper rather than any dire announcements. That's illogical on her part, too - obviously, communications would have been sent to her Pod first if something happened, and...

Whatever. It takes her a moment and a pointer from Pod to figure out how to open the envelope (it's a small miracle she doesn't accidentally tear it) and access the letter within. It's not an emergency. It's not even particularly interesting. But it is quintessentially 9S, and that makes her smile to herself. ]

Dear 9S,

Message received.
You must have already found the repair chips we need if you have time for this.
Don't let your guard down. Conditions are icy.

[ a pause. Should she...? ]

It's good to hear from you.

Regards,
2B

[ Her letter arrives in the same envelope his came in, now slightly rumpled. Her handwriting is also font-like, but it's blocky and inelegant -unsurprisingly, the battle model has slightly less fine motor control for delicate tasks like this. ]

the way i immediately died

[decryptic]

[ Whoa, she actually wrote back. He kind of expected her to just contact him via Pod despite the supplied writing materials, so it's great to see her playing along. Maybe there's something to this letter-writing thing after all? And he can't deny the anticipation of seeing the letter and getting to open it up... (Curiosity really will always get the best of him, in both senses of the word.)

He tuts fondly over the rough handling of the envelope and gives its contents a scan. "Dear 9S," really? Sure, it's just a common preface that he also used in his letter, but 2B writing it is kind of......

He thinks about teasing her for the self-evident "message received," but decides against it. Aaand he'll take the last bit as encouragement to keep going. Same envelope, new paper. Curiously, the envelope appears to be stuck flat to Pod 153's "face," but it's easily pulled off. ]

Dearest 2B,

I hit the jackpot! There's so much weird stuff out here, it's a shame I have to leave it all. I put a couple things in the envelope for you, so make sure to find them.

Found a few basic repair chips, but I can do better. The hunt continues.

By the way, humans used to fish when it was frozen over too. Maybe we can try it when I get back. Not sure what the point is when it's so much more trouble, to be honest with you, but I thought that about the letters too.

Good to hear from you too! There are some great sights around here, but they'd be better if you were here. We'll have to come back together sometime.

Doing anything fun to pass the time while I'm away?

Sincerely, (as opposed to fakely?)
9S

[ Enclosed are a number of stickers of flowers, animals, and other assorted cute things. There's also the reason why the letter was stuck to Pod 153: a large souvenir magnet of what appears to be a state park. ]