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Entry tags:
- !event,
- *npc: cyrus,
- arcane: silco,
- arcane: vander,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- ennead: set,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- final fantasy xiv: cid garlond,
- final fantasy xiv: emet-selch,
- final fantasy xiv: hythlodaeus,
- genshin impact: kaeya alberich,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- mortal kombat 11: shang tsung,
- oc: liem talbott,
- orv: sooyoung han,
- persona 5 strikers: sophia,
- tiger & bunny: barnaby brooks jr.,
- until death do us part: mamoru hijikata
TDM + GAME OPENING 🎉
Who: Shard-Bearers, new and old
What: Seeds take root
Where: The Tree of Life, Highstorm, Springstar
When: October 14th and onwards
Warnings: Potential for (mild) body horror, death, dismemberment
Welcome to Kenos! As a reminder, all players are required to fill out an application, which are now open. This does include characters/players from Aion Teleos, so please don’t forget to fill one out! Any character/player that does not submit an application will be swept from the communities and the Discord after applications close.
Activity Check is optional this month, but is highly recommend so Christy can check her fancy program so that you can earn Activity Reward Tokens! Activity will be able to be submitted shortly after applications close. You can find more about how we do AC here.
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 happens sometimes, since not every soul has a strong tether to Kenos and sometimes return to the Timestream. They’re fine and may even return to Kenos one day, but for now weren’t able to make the full journey.
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 saved 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 players are welcome to join our Discord Server if you haven't already!
When they emerge from their cocoon/the ground, characters may be wearing their normal clothes, or they might be 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 in which Faction they'd be drawn to.
New characters will not have access to any canon abilities on the TDM.
Your character will be offered temporary housing either at the Heliopolis district or Yima's manor for the first few weeks after their arrival. They will also be given a stipend for basic supplies like clothing and personal effects, and food is served in the cantina (Heliopolis) and at regular meal times in the Dining Room (Yima's manor). Once they Harmonize, they will get personal permanent chambers and a fancy retainer in their Faction's city. Wow! 🌈
Characters may be Harmonized to their Faction (if that makes sense for the character, of course!) by the time of this log. This is more for IC reference, and just wait until application acceptance to do the OOC paperwork!
General reminder that your character won't have access to their powers until they have Harmonized.
CODING
What: Seeds take root
Where: The Tree of Life, Highstorm, Springstar
When: October 14th and onwards
Warnings: Potential for (mild) body horror, death, dismemberment
I. 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.
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.
II. MORAL HAZARD
There are new Shard-Bearers at the Tree of Life, and Yima has asked that the earlier arrivals go to greet them and help them. These aren’t people from Horos, after all, so they’ll have many, many questions. As Yima explains, the roots of the tree rise up to create caverns underneath, and it’s there you’ll find the new Shard-Bearers. And indeed, with careful steps to not slip on the mossy roots, down you go. Perhaps Communion will help you find the new Shard-Bearers, but it might be a confusing process for them.
The roots all start to look the same, to the point that you’re sure that you’ve already been through this passage. You turn around, and most of the people you had come here with are gone, if not all of them. It’s confusing and unsettling, and strangest of all.. You’re starting to feel ill, even if that wasn’t something normally possible for you. But continuing forward, you do eventually find an unfamiliar face of a new Shard-Bearer. They look no better than you feel.
Before introductions, however, roots around you shift suddenly until you’re enclosed in a room together. From the roots, a face forms in the wall. It speaks in a creaking, uneven tone, as if it weren’t used to speaking at all.
Give to take. A sacrifice. To live.
Characters can pick one of the following options, but the decision must be made unanimously. If one character takes a drastic action (such as murdering another), it’s counted as a failure for the group.
This can be done in groups of 2 to 4 players, and Loremasters recommend three if you can swing it! It’s more fun when you get in philosophical debates, right? Regardless, when your group comes to a decision, please record it here. These don’t have to be fully threaded out to be recorded, so the conclusion can be discussed OOC if you prefer. Actions can be submitted until October 21st, after which groups will be informed of what comes of their choice…
When a group receives the antidote, they'll be released from the tree's thrall... But will have a hard time waking up. It feels like something has grabbed onto their spine.
The roots all start to look the same, to the point that you’re sure that you’ve already been through this passage. You turn around, and most of the people you had come here with are gone, if not all of them. It’s confusing and unsettling, and strangest of all.. You’re starting to feel ill, even if that wasn’t something normally possible for you. But continuing forward, you do eventually find an unfamiliar face of a new Shard-Bearer. They look no better than you feel.
Before introductions, however, roots around you shift suddenly until you’re enclosed in a room together. From the roots, a face forms in the wall. It speaks in a creaking, uneven tone, as if it weren’t used to speaking at all.
Give to take. A sacrifice. To live.
LET'S PLAY A GAME...
As the Dryad will explain, characters are now trapped in a room and have been poisoned by the spores that the lichens underfoot release. An antidote lays beyond the roots the dryad has curled around you, but to access it, you must make a sacrifice.Characters can pick one of the following options, but the decision must be made unanimously. If one character takes a drastic action (such as murdering another), it’s counted as a failure for the group.
- Each of you must offer up a personal/treasured memory. The memory will be shared in Communion with all characters assembled, and then will be destroyed. No character will retain the memory or memory of its Communion.
- Each of you must offer up something physical. A finger, a toe, an ear, it’s your choice. The dryad will offer a knife if this is chosen that will sever the body part of choice cleanly and immediately stop any bleeding.
- Offer up another. Kill one person in the room.
- Refusing is also a valid option. Characters will get more ill as they debate until they start to find it difficult to breathe, and they’ll die quickly after.
This can be done in groups of 2 to 4 players, and Loremasters recommend three if you can swing it! It’s more fun when you get in philosophical debates, right? Regardless, when your group comes to a decision, please record it here. These don’t have to be fully threaded out to be recorded, so the conclusion can be discussed OOC if you prefer. Actions can be submitted until October 21st, after which groups will be informed of what comes of their choice…
When a group receives the antidote, they'll be released from the tree's thrall... But will have a hard time waking up. It feels like something has grabbed onto their spine.
III. DREAMING OF HOME
You may wake with a start from your deliberations (or arguments) with a jolt of pain from the base of your spine as something is pulled away rapidly. A dark-haired man who looks to be in his thirties or so holds you carefully, but as soon as you start to regain your senses, he sets you back and holds up his hands.
Woah— Woah there, it’s fine! The tree was, uh, trying to take you back is all. You’re fine now.
As long as you’re not going to attack him, he offers a friendly smile and a hand to shake.
Name’s Cyrus. Sorry about the rude awakening. Let’s get your friend here unhooked too.
And indeed, glancing over, you can see the person you met in that room laying nearby, and it looks like a vine has snaked underneath them to exactly where something had just been pulled from you… Best not to think about it, maybe. Or if you've been unlucky enough to be one of the last people rescued, you might find vines and roots starting to grow into your skin. It's fine!
Cyrus will gladly introduce himself to everyone, and will further explain his position in Meridian and Springstar (see the NPC Page) and the goals of Meridian itself (see the Faction Page, save for the italicized section). But most importantly, he’ll explain that he knows it sounds like something overly optimistic. It’s fair to be skeptical. He’ll produce a small glass bead from a bag he’s carrying. It looks like the necklace he wears, though not lit up. He’ll explain that the force of Meridian is a gift and can be a tether to your home, if you let it. As his fingertips light up, the energy is infused into the bead, which he’ll hand to you.
Taking the bead into your hands, you’ll take a bird’s eye view of your home world as if your consciousness is split, since you’ll still perceive standing in front of Cyrus at the tree. Rather than a vision, the view of your world is absolutely real, you’re certain. It’s a glimpse at the world that you thought destroyed, and if you focus on a particular place or a particular person, you’ll find the view shifting rapidly to it. No one you watch is aware of your presence, but simply continues about their daily life, whatever that is. But after about a minute, the view will fade as the light in the bead also fades.
That’s an iliachtida, a sunbeam, and when infused with Meridian’s light, allows someone Harmonized to it to check in on their world, he explains. It also acts as an anchor that tethers their soul to their world in the Timestream. With it, their world can’t entirely disappear, so eventually, they can go home. It’s a gift he’ll allow anyone that wants it to keep it, but indeed, they’ll be unable to use it again without first Harmonizing to Meridian.
To help manage threadload for the Loremasters playing Cyrus, we ask that you only tag him with the character you are most likely to app. Similarly, new tag-ins will not be accepted after Monday, October 17th.
Woah— Woah there, it’s fine! The tree was, uh, trying to take you back is all. You’re fine now.
As long as you’re not going to attack him, he offers a friendly smile and a hand to shake.
Name’s Cyrus. Sorry about the rude awakening. Let’s get your friend here unhooked too.
And indeed, glancing over, you can see the person you met in that room laying nearby, and it looks like a vine has snaked underneath them to exactly where something had just been pulled from you… Best not to think about it, maybe. Or if you've been unlucky enough to be one of the last people rescued, you might find vines and roots starting to grow into your skin. It's fine!
CYRUS, THE TRIBUNE
Cyrus is the NPC heading up the Meridian Faction, and is available to thread with under this header. Cyrus has come to the Tree of Life to help rescue the Shard-Bearer’s from the Tree, so he’s not going to be inclined to explain too much right away, since he’s on a mission, but he’ll stick around once everyone is successfully freed from Prompt 2 to speak with anyone that wants to. The following is just an OOC summary of information in case you do not need to thread with Cyrus:Cyrus will gladly introduce himself to everyone, and will further explain his position in Meridian and Springstar (see the NPC Page) and the goals of Meridian itself (see the Faction Page, save for the italicized section). But most importantly, he’ll explain that he knows it sounds like something overly optimistic. It’s fair to be skeptical. He’ll produce a small glass bead from a bag he’s carrying. It looks like the necklace he wears, though not lit up. He’ll explain that the force of Meridian is a gift and can be a tether to your home, if you let it. As his fingertips light up, the energy is infused into the bead, which he’ll hand to you.
Taking the bead into your hands, you’ll take a bird’s eye view of your home world as if your consciousness is split, since you’ll still perceive standing in front of Cyrus at the tree. Rather than a vision, the view of your world is absolutely real, you’re certain. It’s a glimpse at the world that you thought destroyed, and if you focus on a particular place or a particular person, you’ll find the view shifting rapidly to it. No one you watch is aware of your presence, but simply continues about their daily life, whatever that is. But after about a minute, the view will fade as the light in the bead also fades.
That’s an iliachtida, a sunbeam, and when infused with Meridian’s light, allows someone Harmonized to it to check in on their world, he explains. It also acts as an anchor that tethers their soul to their world in the Timestream. With it, their world can’t entirely disappear, so eventually, they can go home. It’s a gift he’ll allow anyone that wants it to keep it, but indeed, they’ll be unable to use it again without first Harmonizing to Meridian.
To help manage threadload for the Loremasters playing Cyrus, we ask that you only tag him with the character you are most likely to app. Similarly, new tag-ins will not be accepted after Monday, October 17th.
III. SPRINGSTAR, αιώνιος ήλιος
After your ordeals at the Tree of Life, perhaps you’re drawn to Springstar, the city of eternal sun and the seat of Meridian.
It’s currently (and fittingly) Spring in Springstar, and the bustling city is coming back to life after finishing up winter. It’s not as if the winters are especially harsh here, but you’ll quickly get the sense that the people of Springstar are vivacious and happy to celebrate. You’ll find the Entertainment District to be the liveliest, whether it’s at a rowdy bar or a brothel, but no matter what, you’re welcome with open arms and without question.
Of course, if you’d just like to use the chance to explore the city alongside your fellow Shard-Bearers, that’s fine too. It’s easy to get lost in the crowds of Springstar and see all the city has to offer.
It’s currently (and fittingly) Spring in Springstar, and the bustling city is coming back to life after finishing up winter. It’s not as if the winters are especially harsh here, but you’ll quickly get the sense that the people of Springstar are vivacious and happy to celebrate. You’ll find the Entertainment District to be the liveliest, whether it’s at a rowdy bar or a brothel, but no matter what, you’re welcome with open arms and without question.
Of course, if you’d just like to use the chance to explore the city alongside your fellow Shard-Bearers, that’s fine too. It’s easy to get lost in the crowds of Springstar and see all the city has to offer.
IV. HIGHSTORM, луны-близнецы
Or maybe Highstorm, the city of twin moons and the seat of Zenith is more to your liking. It’s certainly the quieter of the two cities and is a relaxing, meditative place if that’s what you prefer. The chill in the air is constant, since it’s Autumn in Highstorm and the eternal night doesn’t help keep things warm, exactly. Snow isn’t out of the question at this time of the year, but it’s beautiful in the moonlight.
Because of the cooler weather than Highstorm is prone to, you’ll find many of its delights inside rather than outside. Libraries and museums are popular in the more introspective city, though it’s easy enough to find something that might please you. For example, the indoor hot baths are popular at this time of the year too. You’ll find the people are kind, if cool-tempered, though if you mention the fact that you’re a Shard-Bearer or allied with Zenith, they’re more likely to warm up.
Though much like Springstar, it may just be more interesting to explore the city with a fellow Shard-Bearer. And as a resident may warn you, it’s best to stay in the city. Wandering out into the marshes and forests isn’t advised. Of course, if you do, just contact a Loremaster to find out why. ♥
Because of the cooler weather than Highstorm is prone to, you’ll find many of its delights inside rather than outside. Libraries and museums are popular in the more introspective city, though it’s easy enough to find something that might please you. For example, the indoor hot baths are popular at this time of the year too. You’ll find the people are kind, if cool-tempered, though if you mention the fact that you’re a Shard-Bearer or allied with Zenith, they’re more likely to warm up.
Though much like Springstar, it may just be more interesting to explore the city with a fellow Shard-Bearer. And as a resident may warn you, it’s best to stay in the city. Wandering out into the marshes and forests isn’t advised. Of course, if you do, just contact a Loremaster to find out why. ♥
NOTES
PSYCHAGOGIA
'Gah! It's fine if I swallow it all; it just went the wrong pipe!' Is the excuse. 'Now, will someone take that idiot out of the ring? I could take him, but he's just so annoying!'
Broken nose, twisted wrist, a fracture in the left ribs, and on the big toe.
Mohawk didn't stand a chance. At least their survival instincts were intact.
Somewhat, anyway. No accounting for actual knowledge.] There's a limit to how much blood you can consume.
[Damp rag over his head, elbows on knees, in the backstage corner where he decided to 'rest his eyes,' Mamoru finally opens them.
(He doesn't need to, his shades aren't working after all. But an excuse is an excuse is an excuse.)] That's fine, though. I wouldn't expect a rookie like you to know.
[He still puts them on as he stands, tugging at the rag that falls on his shoulders as he does so, dropping it with a muted sound on the wood of the stands. Mohawk starts complaining, only to splutter on his own bloodstream before deciding to swallow his pride, spit the rest of the red, and tend to his irredeemably irreparable nose. Steadily, Mamoru walks through the complaints, the first aid kits, the stolen bandages, and the groans of both injured physically and monetarily.
He hears laughter in the ring. Even as he steps in, slowly, not waiting for the other party to tap out, he tilts his head, and listens. Ah, something just fell right next to his shoe. Wooden, by the sound of it. Long, how said sound lasts. Not sharp, which is a shame, but it's better than nothing.] Having fun?
no subject
What he has been visiting upon the hissing crowd and their handful of favored champions has been humiliation and degredation, his laughter shrill and mocking as he's clawed and bitten and cheated his way through a handful of fights. He'd even flung someone who'd tried to snag him with a catch-pole into the stands and demanded they take him seriously -- and it was then that the mood truly began to sour. Someone decried something about his being a madman, another pair of souls uttering words of concern -- He's going to die in there, if they don't stop him? / Honey, I think that's what he wants.
And finally, another opponent enters the ring. They throw him more meat, more bone, more pain to use to rip away at his thoughts and give in to the violence, the chaos of breaking an arm over his knee and sneering into the screaming face of an opponent who was less a combatant and more of a cleaner. Unrestrained, unhinged. And beautiful, in his ferality. Red hair flows, blood heavy and tacky at the ends, sticking the length of it together as he wheels on his toes towards the new voice, the new aggressor he may set himself upon.
Who needs wild animals, when the originator of bloodsport is in the ring? ]
That depends. Are you capable of entertaining me?
[ His voice is a nasty little hiss, the echoes of discord and disorder reverberating.
He takes a single step forward, and falls upon Mamoru in a flash. ]
no subject
It's all something he does to look nonchalant before this heat-seeking missile of a man sets his course on him. Mamoru frowns, despite the lack of sight, the hullabaloo of those hollering from the stands to take the pretty boy out, the laughter from those who only just arrived and commented on Mamoru wearing sunglasses indoors.
No stranger to extraordinary people and absolutely aware of his own normalcy, something doesn't feel quite right. The motions, tattered and ragged and (call it cheating, sure, but to him, that's only tactically valid) dishonorable, are means to an end that inevitably is met in a way that it's not supposed to work. Not even as you're battle-bred and know nothing else but violence. The way those feet land on the floor, the following coiled strings of muscles would unwind and soften for less than half a second to snap back into tension again no matter how strong you are, and yet, he feels nothing of the sort.
This is not something that is achieved with practice.
The eyes behind the red lenses of his shades widen slightly, not because of the hiss that reminds him of plastic explosives, burnt flesh, and the anger boiling when a father figure slathers his blood over his cheek fondly, not when his opponent finally lunges, and he's expecting the footwork to be just right—one, two... where are the three and four?!—only to unsurprisingly shock him again.
They widen when Set is close; for a moment, he smells gasoline thrown over sand, engine oil, and lubricant. The sound of thick tires on dunes, the ache of traveling in a humvee with injuries moving at every unruly piece of terrain, the dust released when his feet landed on dunes much too soft, covering otherwise dry lips and teeth. The blood of refugees and the distant machinegun of a so-called Messiah.
This guy up close feels familiar. It's good that Mamoru tends to reject that feeling if only on principle, or he would have become a goner in a second, along with the rest of them.
Instead, he lunges forward, too. If he can't dodge, then he'll break his timing, move through his reach. The hit is still strong enough that he has to bite at a groan, but Mamoru does swing the mop to whack at Set's side when he does, using the weight of it to compensate for the lack of momentum.]
You tell me.
no subject
Money has been lost, and money cannot be made on an unsanctioned fighter -- they're furious, out for blood. Some have been calling for an expedited allowance, hungry to recoup their losses on the promise of spilling Set's blood across the floor of the ring. They're infatuated with his rogue appeal, they hate him for tarnishing their orderly violence; he's shouted back at them until his voice was stripped hoarse, heedless of their needs and careless in his tempestuousness. And now, the new combatant to enter the ring is as unsanctioned as him.
( Yet, while Set has proven uncontrollable by standards, there is the obvious, lingering hope that Mamoru will wipe the floor with him and walk away when finished. Someone screams: Go get that red-haired bastard, Specs! in shrill support of Mamoru, and it only serves to incite Set's ire. )
When he collides with the other fighter, the resounding crack of their meeting is the only sound -- the solid handle of the broom smashing into Set's already-sore ribs, snapping something inside of him in a way that ought to send him stumbling. If anything, he just gets madder, hissing wordlessly as he plants a knee into the angle where Mamoru's hip meets his belly and wraps his other leg around the man's torso.
Things that ought to fell a human can be ignored, even if the pain is new and bright and terrible for him -- even as a demigod, he aches and winces, he feels new agonies and bleeds. But, he is still strong. A sleek, unarmored thing that bends his spine backwards and grapples at Mamoru's body with powerful legs - aiming to rip him off his feet and drag him into a punishing pin against the dirt. He doesn't want to be outside of the mop handle's reach, but rather inside of it, where he can use his fists to beat the shit out of this guy.
Were he in any better state of mind, he'd feel a similar call -- the recognition of this man as someone as close to his as sanely possible. But he's not, and he won't be for some time; it's in the way that he shivers and trembles against Mamoru, like a cornered animal, like something that only has the empty motions of combat left. ]
no subject
One, that he’s, apparently, a redhead. The second, if the crowd is anything to go by when something so subjective is concerned, is that he’s pretty.
None of that is beneficial to him. The spectators of this show know nothing of the art happening in this enclosure, only froth at the mouth at the violence and the ego trip of guessing someone’s victory or defeat by chance. They seek mindless escapism in the suffering of others and the spectacle of it as if it’s a circus. They could be showing magic tricks in the ring (’I’m going to make this pencil disappear,’ ‘I’m going to saw this person into two, come forth, volunteers!’), and it would be all the same to them.
If, say, a sword handily cut the beams that hold this building’s structure up, there would be no loss—
—He has no time for this. Eyes wide behind the acrylic, now that he can feel his opponent’s body heat, the tang of his breath slipping into the back of his throat as his lungs hitch to brace himself, Mamoru eschews the mop in his hand with a clang that isn’t as heavy as it should be (it broke, the goddamn thing broke and this guy didn’t even recoil) as he’s thrown into the ground.
Two valuable things: his opponent is only about an inch shorter than he is, and the lightness of his feet betray the fact that he is heavy, even though the athleticism is obvious, has been obvious since the beginning.
That he’s, apparently, not wearing any clothes from the waist up, as he can conclude when he presses his hand from stomach to chest, the sweat, grime, and whatever fluid lingered on this guy’s skin. He’s aiming at his collarbones to push him back, to gain distance because the fourth valuable thing to know about his opponent is that he’s a clever fighter, one of the most, even, breaching through their reach and the disadvantage of arms just being arms, connected to the junctures on the width of their chests, despite how coarse this whole thing is, all instinct and no reason.
The not-so-useful knowledge of all of this, though, lingers in the thrum of his opponents’ breath, raking him through his core. He feels it on the side of his hip, where a thigh quivers, hears it on the air seeping through his teeth as he hisses, and the inhales may as well be a sob.
Part of it sounds like wind over a dune, the drum of a landslide about to happen. But the other part feels like pale blue eyes lit by a full moon, blood-red lips, and a feverish shiver in his arms.
The fifth bit of knowledge tickles the back of his hand: his opponent is long-haired. So he twists his wrist and grabs a handful. Makes sure his fingers tangle. Lacking a gi or clothes to pull at, this is just as useful.
He’ll fight fire against fire. If Set wants to get close, then he’ll get impossibly closer.
His feet brace on the floor, leveraging his hips higher, but only so he gains momentum, they piston back down onto the floor, his core lifting his torso with a groan as he pulls the demigod down by his hair. The aim is to hit their heads so strongly, he doesn’t care if he breaks a nose or two. He vowed not to kill, but it’s not like he has a pretty face to protect to begin with.]