2023 catch-all

[sterngaze]

Who: Liem & various
What: Catch-all for non-event threads
Where: Various
When: Throughout the rest of 2023
Warnings: Will be in headers as appropriate

Comments

for Makoto / Gen — bite bite bites

[sterngaze]

[In a glossy, dimly lit bar nestled into one of Highstorm's niche little entertainment districts, Liem sits by himself in a quiet booth, tucked away in one of the establishment's many private little nooks. The spot is a popular venue for vampires, who visit the place for the drinks, the company, and of course the occasional bite to "eat," but he hasn't visited to slake his thirst for blood. Instead, he broods over a small collection of empty drink glasses, his posture still erect as ever but his expression vague and distant, as though he is seeing something other than the darkened bar around him.

Those who are familiar with the man may note something strange about him — aside from the strangeness of finding Liem in a bar meant for vampires, drinking by himself. He has always been pale, but he looks more so than usual, right down to bleached and fading colours in his hair and clothes. His eyes are dull and unblinking, like two stones; his hair, perfectly coiffed, does not move even slightly when he turns his head to speak to a passing server. He looks like an exquisite artwork, a sculpture worn and left bereft by the passage of years. His movements are slow, but mechanical, propelled only by the ghost of past habits and the weight of his desolation.

If you draw near, he will turn his face toward you (his shoulders don't move a single iota) with a look that is heavy with exhaustion, but as hard and cold as any he's worn since arriving at Kenos.

(Hairline fractures spider over his skin in the low light. The tip of one of his ears is missing, and the edge of it looks as rough and unyielding as shorn stone.)]

What do you want?

bite bite bite bite bite

[affal]

( since arriving in kenos and being taken to springstar under dextera's wing, makoto has spent precious little time in highstorm. even when he had been Unharmonized prior to the Oracle's ordeal, he had mostly wandered through either the perilously overcrowded streets of springstar or maneuvered and cavorted through the subterranean labyrinth of kowloon, indulging in occasional wanderlust to the satisfaction of personal curiosity. highstorm is so different, stark and still and somber in comparison to the bustle and verve he had experienced on the other island. he still isn't sure if it's to his liking or not. he supposes it does more closely match the atmosphere that the upper social circles of Hell had embodied, a meticulous and incredibly dangerous political landscape which only appeared cordial and placid on the surface to those not prepared for it — those that would be overwhelmed, subsumed, and ultimately devoured by it, just as any unprepared soldier with shaking hands might be upon a foreign and inhospitable battlefield.

yes, he enjoyed the vigor of springstar and the vice of kowloon, but they were not so far away in truth, so perhaps he should appreciate highstorm for its unique qualities and charms as well. he simply had to find them to do so. that is what brings makoto to this bar this evening, drawn in like a fly to honey with what he personally thought was a delightful concept for an establishment. there were similar places in kowloon, though perhaps slid more to the "seedier" side of the spectrum; all remind him of Hell, of places which had very nearly felt like home for the comfort and familiarity they had ended up giving him over years.

makoto drifts with self-assured confidence through the bar, spreading his attention and conversation among many different partners, though he always manages to fan the flames of either to a certain point of fever pitch before — he makes some sort of teasing comment or sly excuse to disengage, leaving for the next. this is characteristic of him, a tried and true method that he had used not only in the brothel, not only in banquet halls and ballrooms of demonic aristocracy, but when he had traveled to Earth to contract with humans. there had been no more efficient way to enrapture and exhaust the soul to the point where it was ready to give in to him at the slightest provocation, bursting into flame and ash and bone and the gold dust that was the object of interest for any demon plying their trade.

and he would have to admit. doing this sort of thing is fun, in addition. he personally doesn't intend to allow anyone's teeth to find his flesh — he would, of course, far prefer the opposite, but he wouldn't be so easily-satisfied as to stop at just blood. he's... not sure if that sort of thing would be welcomed or frowned upon here, so he's thinking he will err on the side of caution.

makoto spots liem, of course, because the man stands out. there are plenty of dark and brooding figures in this bar, but all the others have a very different local atmosphere about them, inviting with the sense of mystique and danger. liem's is a still, dull, and dour aura — an only slightly animate corpse rather than a creature of the night out for good time and a spot of fun. so, of course, makoto approaches him, sliding into the seat across from him and regarding him with the half-lidded eyes and sly smile of some sort of predatory cat. though his pale eyes remain riveted on liem's own dark, unblinking gaze, he absorbs all of the details of his countenance, his demeanor, his mien... ah, poor thing. just looking at him gives makoto a childish sort of impulse which he could only describe as half-way adjacent to wanting to play with one's food. ) What I want is to observe what I believe to be a marvel. Look here — a miniature rain cloud, manifested in the middle of this bar before me!

( and he's being generous in teasing you in this way, liem. there are far less flattering comparisons he could have drawn.

makoto doesn't remember him from horos. he doesn't remember how he had once attempted to bend him towards accepting the kenoma, how he had chased him and hayame through the streets of achamoth to halt his desertion. as such, he speaks to liem as if he were a stranger, and there is no recognition in his eyes — though perhaps he is just a very good actor, aggressively willing to let bygones be bygones.

his elbows resting on the table, he leans forward to rest his head in his hands, tone dropping to something conspiratorial and honey-sweet. ) Jokes aside, I believe we should be honest with one another. If you wanted to dull yourself with alcohol and glare holes into the walls, you could have done so plenty of other places. So why is it you choose to do it here?

[sterngaze]

[There is something familiar about this young man with the strange red eyes. Liem can't quite pierce the fog that the last few drinks have filled his brain with in order to puzzle out what it is, but he's certain that he's seen him somewhere before — aside from beneath the Tree, that is. Perhaps he visited Kenos on a previous occasion, though if he had, Liem can't place when he'd have seen him.

That faint bemusement is the only thing that keeps him from telling the newcomer to get lost when he slides into Liem's booth to lean on the table across from him. Although he had been sitting alone, the "rain cloud" aura he's projecting should have informed the other man that he isn't interested in company, let alone the kind that comes with unasked-for cheek.]

You're a nosy young man, aren't you?

[Didn't anyone teach him that it's rude to accost strangers with unflattering metaphors when they're minding their own business, trying to quietly drink themselves blind? As if in defiance of this uninvited inquisitiveness, Liem takes a slow sip from the stout glass in front of him.]

I picked this place on a whim. [A rather grim one, and probably ill-conceived, but he's already here now.] It's clean, and it isn't crowded.

[Also, unlike his home, or more reputable establishments elsewhere, no one would ever think to look for Liem in a place like this. Even if anyone he knows would frequent this bar, which he suspects most never would, they certainly wouldn't know to find him here if they started to wonder where he'd disappeared to. Given that he knows at least a couple busybodies, he doesn't think the precaution is unwarranted.]

And what brings you here this evening, if not the search for unusual weather phenomena?

[affal]

( to tell the truth, telling makoto to get lost wouldn't have had the effect that liem might have hoped it would — perhaps that's one bad trait he's picked up from his demonic master, ever eager to continue to press on where he is distinctly not wanted, as if the irritation caused by that further intrusion is sweet enough to him to warrant it in the first place. no, he would likely have made the same decision he makes now, persisting in his seat and setting his attention solely on liem, curious as to why a Shard-Bearer would appear in such a place as this, solitary and dolorous as he is, and obstinately refusing to acknowledge what makoto believes to be an apparent enough truth when all factors are viewed in composite.

because he can cast doubts on makoto's intentions and defend his own as random and purposeless, but the demon very much doubts that's the case.

he replies to liem's sharp-tongued riposte with a sphinxlike smile and something mischievous alight in his pale, heavy-lidded eyes. )

I've been told as much. ( though the only person whose opinion mattered to him had praised him for his cleverness and initiative, so it had washed away all of the negative reinforcement he had received from other demons' vexation and the confrontation he had had with kieran that had nearly gone dramatically and violently awry for him. ) But I like to think of it as a professional curiosity.

( he hums noncommittally in response, though he finds the justifications paltry and thin — yes, highstorm might be smaller and less congested with people and structures as springstar is, but it's not like it's wanting for places where one might hide away and drink themselves to oblivion. he hasn't been living in the city that much longer than liem, but his initial explorations have proved that those particular specifications aren't that difficult to find... )

Well, ( he begins to reply, his smile growing a little wider in delight that the stranger would play along with him, even if it's just a little bit (and even if it's likely in sarcasm), ) like everyone else that has found themselves here this evening, I have chosen to do so purposefully. This place... Mm, let's just say that when it comes to the atmosphere and the clientele, there is no other place in Highstorm that reminds me more of home.

( that inhuman creatures can come here and be so honest and forthright with their desires, those that might be considered taboo or unseemly in different places or among different company... he, of course, would never be so free or mercenary with his own, but he is still enchanted regardless. )

You know, ( he continues, something low and purring in his honeyed tone of voice, ) for someone to come to a place such as this and sit alone, dark and brooding... it tends to come across in a certain way. Are you truly so surprised I joined you?

( this is like, vampire 101, liem, come on )

[epiprocta]

[ He probably shouldn't be here, to be honest.

The moment he walks through the door, he can tell that he doesn't fit the vibes of this place; the stink-eye given to him by the first server who greets him just seals the deal. But you know what? That guy can get fucked. He's already a little buzzed from a drink elsewhere, he's not in the mood to go walking much further at the moment, and he's never been the type to balk at a pointed stare thrown his way, so. Gen looks the server dead in the eye as he walks past and heads straight for one of the booths deeper in the establishment.

He almost walks straight by that table littered with empty glasses, and physically does a double-take before circling back a few paces once he realizes who's sitting there. ]

Liem? [ The lighting here is dim, but -- he looks fucked up, right? He's definitely looking fucked up. Not his clothes or his styling (as prissy and perfect as every), but those cracks in his skin. Gen squints at him for a moment before giving a low snort. ] Nothing? I'm just here for a drink. But since you're asking -- I won't say no if you're gonna buy me a drink.

[ Said as he plunks himself down on the seat opposite Liem, then casually flags down a passing waiter to order 'something strong.' Delightful! Although -- despite how casually obnoxious he's being, there's a pointed pause where Gen studies Liem for a moment longer before speaking up. ]

Didn't take you for the type to let yourself go so much. [ A slight nod towards those empty glasses; a pointy canine ear flicks. ] S'that how you have the energy to be so prim and proper all the time? Gotta vent once in a while?

[sterngaze]

[In a way, Gen's commitment to his crappy teenager routine is comforting to Liem, who dreads the idea of this particular image filtering back out to Kenos at large to affect his reputation. That's one of the reasons why he'd chosen this bar to get trashed in; he is pathologically incapable of caring about the opinions of the kind of "people" who would be regulars here, and certainly none of his social circles would include any of their ilk.

He had not been expecting to see anyone he knew here — certainly not Gen. But despite that, the lack of reaction goes a little way towards smoothing his ruffled feathers. He doesn't even object as the young man flags down a server and helps himself to a drink on Liem's dime.

With a level look aimed Gen's way, he asks,] Do you feel full of energy after spending a night deep in your cups?

[Because personally, Liem is expecting to feel like death warmed over tomorrow. Copious amounts of alcohol have never treated him kindly; frankly, he's surprised that he hasn't succeeded in making himself sick yet. But perhaps the recent regularity with which he's fallen into the habit of drinking blood has something to do with that.

As if to punctuate this question, he lifts a delicate handkerchief to his mouth — and coughs violently into it. When he takes the little square of fabric away, tiny red flowers cascade onto the tabletop. He brushes them aside with a hand.]

It's not a habit, [he says. He just… ended up here. But there is nothing tentative about his seat at the bar table, or the pull he takes from the stout glass in front of him.]

[epiprocta]

[ Damn. Liem's really not in a good place, huh. Gen raises an eyebrow at the uncharacteristically sarcastic response he gets, then -- kneejerk, without really thinking -- responds with an equally dry: ]

Usually takes a bit more than that [ jerking his head towards the cups laid on the table ] to get me feeling shitty in the morning.

[ Oh, the benefits of being young, huge, and in possession of a healthier liver than he really deserves. (Let's not talk about his crispy lungs.)

Still, as shitty as he is, Gen isn't all mindless cruelty. And there's nothing particularly enticing about the prospects of kicking a guy when he's already down -- especially not when Liem is looking particularly pathetic today, between the alcohol and the sickly-anime-mom-coughs. Though he'd been fixing a long stare on Liem, Gen looks aside when the waiter brings him his drink (a nice, strong, but no-frills beer, Liem might be happy to note; nothing that'll break the bank for him) and takes a sip before leaning forward to place it on the table alongside Liem's many empties. It's at a deadpan when he asks -- ]

What's the occasion, then.

[ He can guess, of course. The days stuck in that miserable chamber hadn't treated anyone particularly kindly, and he knows Liem probably has his own demons he'd been forced to face down there. But he's never had much practice being frank, being gentle -- and so Gen prods, instead. Surely Liem will talk if he's poked hard enough. ]

Figured a guy like you would go someplace way more prissy. Someplace with the same vibe as those cooking classes of yours. Just wanted to try something different, hm? [ As if. ]

for Hayame — a desperate need

[sterngaze]

[Liem's weeks in Zenith have been spent alternatingly between despairing contemplation and, more and more, work in Alenroux. Despite the resolution he thought he had already come to, to bring Abadar to Zenith's new world to shape and shepherd it, his free hours are filled increasingly with the same whirl of thoughts that had swept him up beneath the Tree of Life, in the Oracle's cavern. He mourns for the world he's left behind, wonders at its fate, wonders if abandoning it is kindness or cruelty. He thinks of the people he knows who had chosen to abandon Meridian for Zenith's darkness — and the people who still remain, now separate from and at odds with him.

These thoughts chase him day and night, until he can scarcely sleep and work is the only respite available to him. During Alenroux's days, he assists the farmers with their work and oversees the final efforts on the test home (Hayame's home…) near the edge of the forest. At night, he disappears into the woods to hunt whatever monsters end up within range of his bow.

Yet despite this, his beard has not yet made a reappearance. In fact, he bears no signs of work or weariness at all; his face is unlined and his eyes unshadowed, his posture straight, his hair coiffed, his clothes spotless and free of wrinkles. He is spectacularly without flaw, suspiciously so—

Except.

Except for the cracks — literal, hairline fractures — in his facade, spiderwebbing over marble skin, over his face and hands and throat, over the unyielding, sculpted shape of his perfect hair, over the pristine planes of his coat and gloves. (He doesn't need to worry about the heat, though summer is fast approaching. Beneath the stony barrier of his clothing, his shard is colder than ice.) Here and there, a fragile extremity has snapped and worn away completely: the tip of an ear, some of the detail of his hair, a piece of nose, a lapel, a button, a fingertip. And all over his body, the colour seems to have weathered and leeched away from him; not just his clothes, but the brown of his hair and even the startling black of his eyes. He exists in off-whites and pastels, looking exquisite and ready to crumble to dust at even the gentlest blow.

But of course, he does not; not yet. There is a reason that he cannot die yet, even if he isn't sure anymore what it is. He is reduced to the motions of his work, to fixing fences and organizing supplies and cataloguing damages and hunting down threats; reduced to working toward the mission, without remembering why. It is not an instrument's place to wonder anyway, or even to understand. He only needs to

keep

moving.]

[warmare]

[It is not as if Hayame does not know that Liem Talbott is in Alenroux.

She had quit Springstar for the more familiar sights of field and forest as soon as she could upon awakening, unable to bear seeing herself reflected in the countless eyes of Meridian citizens who knew that their faction had lost an Oracle for the second time. She had found no comfort or succor in the words of the Tribune that urged the shard-bearers to show strength to the people, to unite in their loss and somehow put it from mind. There had been no joy to take from being around her fellows when she blamed a majority of them for weakness that had contributed to failure. In duty she finds reason to put one hoof in front of the other, to bother waking, to not just slit her belly open so deep in the woods that hopefully no one ever finds her shard.

She had seen him. From a distance in the fields she had spotted his familiar silhouette and stood there staring until her trainees had awkwardly begun to discuss who was going to be the one to risk a finger tapping her, before she simply turned and walked away with clenched fists.

She had smelled him. In the deep of the woods, stalking monsters that would endanger the citizens who might one day elect to stay the night on the island, she had caught a whiff on the wind of his distinctive scent. For a moment, she had considered changing her prey and hunting him, stalking him through the trees and putting an arrow in his back to make him suffer for his betrayal… and then she had changed course instead.

But eventually, one night, when she walks past the near-completed home he had been building that she never actually considered would be hers, because jinba did not have homes…

He is there.

He is there and there is no pretending that she did not see him.]

You have a lot of nerve showing yourself in this place, traitor.

[But there is only ice and steel (the pain beneath) in her voice when she addresses him.]

[sterngaze]

[It is not that Liem fails to notice her approach. He is aware, in the periphery of his attention, of the muffled sound of hoofbeats approaching over packed dirt, familiar enough by now for him to guess immediately who they belong to. Despite that, however, Liem does not stop his circuit around the work site, does not look up from the list he's compiling until Hayame draws near enough to speak.

Only then does he pause, his motions somehow unnatural in their smoothness, his head gliding around to look at her in a way that is just slightly out of sync with his body. His eyes glow like gemstones in the warm glow of early evening.]

And why should that be?

[The stone mask of his face betrays none of the desolate resignation that had gripped him beneath the Tree of Life, when Zenith's energy had been poured into him until it drowned everything else. His question is light and crisp in the face of her steely regard, but his appearance suggests no particular emotion at all.]

Should I fear to visit my own property? It is my house, Hayame.

[Certainly she had never given him reason to think that she regarded it as hers, even if he was building it for her use. Even though he would have given it to her, if only she would have accepted it.]

[warmare]

[What a fool she was.

There had been a part of her that still thought he would sigh and try to convince her that this was a place for her. That he would regret what he had done. That the despair would still be tormenting him, and she could somehow leverage that hopelessness to pry Zenith out of him and prove to him that he had made a mistake, that he needed to come back... But he looks at her as if he is settled in his role, content with his choice, sure and unbothered (but off somehow, slightly)-

Her fingers curl tightly into fists, her anger surging hot despite her intent to remain cold.]

This property was given to a loyal Meridian. A man rewarded for his service to the Tribune and to Springstar.

[Or so she thought. She doesn't care that Cyrus had never cut Highstorm off from accessing the island of Alenroux. She had never considered it wise, to take such half-hearted possession of something, and now look how they felt they could just crawl back, like they never left-]

If that man is dead, then what the hell do you think you are doing here?

for Link & Keitaro — Meridian Alenroux Expedition

[sterngaze]

Quest Info

[bakedapple]

[ For three days, Liem's unit in Alenroux have been slowly but surely tracking the remaining monsters towards their mysterious origin point in the northern reaches of the island. Although the group has three Shard-Bearers, none of them can be considered "heavy hitters" among the Meri; compared to some of the deities and sorcerers among their allies, their skills are better suited for investigation, scouting, and survival. For this reason, the group has prioritized safety over speed, allowing Liem to carve out a path for the rest of the group to take, while foraging for food along the way and maintaining their energy levels.

It's because of their diligent efforts to preserve their energy that Link finds it off, on the morning of their fourth day, to wake up feeling more groggy than usual. He is accustomed to staying up through the night and sleeping outside on the ground and rising before the break of dawn, so the feeling can't be attributed to their rustic lifestyle over the past few months. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he stumbles towards the center of their camp and makes it all the way to the burnt-out fire before he realizes... the soldiers are gone. The swordsmen and the archers. Even the mage who came along to act as their doctor and healer, normally impossible to miss by the bright red of her Legionary robes, is not in her usual spot next to the fire.

Blinking and gripped with alarm, Link spins around and scans their camp. The natural light is still low as the ALenroux sun has only just began to rise again after the long night, but there's nobody to be found. If it weren't for the remains of the previous night's fire and a few tents, there'd be no sign of any person having been here. Everyone's packs and supplies and equipment are gone too.

He doesn't know what's going on, but... this can't be good. ]

Liem! Liem, are you here?

[ He's most likely sleeping in the largest of the tents, assuming he has not disappeared like the others, but Link runs to a smaller one set up beside it. Is that new Bearer, Keitaro, gone too? Link has no said so aloud, but he was unsure of bringing a new arrival along on a mission that could prove to be so dangerous and had quietly steeled himself to make sure he stayed safe. How could he face Cyrus and the others if something were to happen to him? ]

Keitaro! Liem! Where are you?

[sterngaze]

[As their group penetrates deeper into Alenroux's north, the forest around their company becomes increasingly strange. Liem is reminded of the challenges he had encountered in the Beyond: illusory landscapes, deadly creatures, dangerous landmarks. Though he does his best to find a safe route for his team as they head north, the challenge adds long hours onto their journey, as they're forced to detour around hazardous elemental storms and pick their way carefully through illusions. At night, their travel is even slower; many of the members of their team are human, with only a smattering who can see well in the dark. Their choices are to travel through the dark, or to endure the entirety of the long night in one place, a stationary lure to every passing monster.

They have spent days' worth of time in the woods and fought off multiple attacks by monsters by the time a sudden icy squall forces them to end their night march early, setting up a hasty camp at the bottom of a forested slope. Liem's magic keeps the camp for the three shard-bearers dry and protected, but it cannot accommodate the full company of soldiers, nor can Liem create a second dome for their use. The Legionary troops are left to their own tents and their own fire, except for the handful who are able to fit into the magic hemisphere alongside them.

Strangely, when Link rouses with dawn's light, even those soldiers seem to have packed up and left.

Liem wakens slowly at Link's calls; unusually slowly for him, given that he has always been a light sleeper. He emerges in bleary haste from his bedroll, unsettled by the quiet and by the tone in Link's voice, and frowns around the deserted campsite.]

Link? Where is everyone?

for Rudbeckia — offerings

[sterngaze]

[On some days, ever since the unexpected occasion when Set ambushed Liem with a date and brought him back to his shrine to cap off the evening, Liem returns to that isolated little holy place to leave tokens of appreciation. Though he doubts that he ever would have come to give prayers to a god like Set in his own world, here in Kenos, he has been the recipient of the red-haired man’s devoted companionship, and been allowed deeper into his confidence than he suspects most others have. For a priest, and a man who has little else to offer, offerings for the god’s shrine are the least of what Liem might allow himself to provide in return.

On this day he comes much as he typically does on other occasions: quietly; not there one moment, but there the next, wearing a suit of gorgeously-patterned fabric that would suit Springstar perfectly, but which makes him seem rather out of place in Highstorm’s deep forest. He takes off his sunglasses as the cornerstone deposits him nearby, sliding them into a breast pocket with his free hand. His other hand supports a basket leant against one slim hip, its contents covered loosely with cloth.

As always, the sounds and scents of the surrounding forest call out to him, and he must put them deliberately out of his mind when he turns his soft, booted steps toward the shrine itself. He has not come here to delve into the Beyond; only to leave a gift, and return home with more of the collection of food containers that Set had apparently been stockpiling in an out-of-the-way little corner of the building. Perhaps to tidy up a little, should the place appear to need it. Then, he intends to take his leave.]

[appeale]

[ ever since Set first offered it to her, this place has been a sanctuary to Rudbeckia – but even more so of late, with her having found the courage to reunite with him and beg his forgiveness, and her rapidly growing fear of both Zenith and Meridian. in a world that is proving to simply be a third repeat in the cycle of misery that defines her existence, Set's shrine is an outlier. never before has she had somewhere else. she's certain that it won't last forever, as it will be lost when Set someday turns his back on her, but for now, she has no qualms about enjoying it while she has it. a place where none of those bastards and their insane ideological war can reach; a place where her friends can live without harm.

none of those "friends" cross Liem's path on his way through the Beyond, all of them alert to the approach of a being that they do not recognise as one of their own. none of them, though, are afforded the time to warn Ruby herself about the possible danger – and the dragon that accompanies her is soundly asleep within the shrine while she mills about, tidying at her own relaxed pace, both of them unaware of Liem's presence in all his silence.

currently, she is moving a stack of the very containers he came here to collect. her back is turned to Liem as he enters the shrine, muttering to herself: ]

Where is he getting all these, anyway... [ as soon as Ruby turns, and catches sight of a figure standing in the doorway, the containers clatter to the floor in a great cacophony of sound at the same time as she squawks— ] Waugh! S-S-Signore?! B-B-B—B-Buongiorno...

[ What the hell do I do?! Set! Help me!!

while the two of them have rarely had cause to interact, she recognises Liem, both from her time in Meridian and her new alignment with Zenith. someone who was made to switch, like her. someone who has since returned, unlike her. if he has any memory of her, Liem will find Ruby's appearance to have changed dramatically – her sclera have gone black, a sharp contrast to her bright blue eyes; her limbs are dyed in a black gradient, as though she has smeared her hands with charcoal, as though she is decaying from her fingertips up her arm; her long, golden hair ends in black wisps that fade at the tips. it is a mark of high Discord for the Zenites, leaving her with the look of something undead. (privately, she has thought that it is fitting for someone like her.)

curled up along the wall like a coiled serpent, the dragon's eyes are open, its gaze fixed on Liem. ]

[sterngaze]

[Even before he steps through the threshold, Liem realizes that the shrine is currently occupied. He can hear the faint scuff of footsteps muffled on carpeted stone, and see the flickering of a shadow cast by the candles inside. As he approaches, however, he thinks that perhaps Set is within; it isn’t until he brushes aside the drapes obscuring the entrance that he realizes that the one in the god’s shrine is someone else entirely.

He has a moment to register a petite, feminine figure; long, gold hair fading to black; and in the corner — a small, rather floral looking dragon, curled peacefully up as though enjoying a nice nap. Then, the figure turns and the food containers in her arms — his containers — go clattering to the floor as she lets out a startled yelp. Only the presence of the dragon keeps Liem from hurrying closer in order to help clean up the sudden mess. He stays frozen in the doorway instead, his basket still balanced on his hip.]

Oh—! My lady…

[So; she is the one who has been tidying up around here, on the occasions he arrives to find an unfamiliar scent still lingering in the air, or a bit of strange, feathery scale lying under a piece of furniture. He had wondered why there should be signs of monster activity in Set’s shrine. Liem had supposed it might just be from creatures investigating the curious location, but he’s never seen any signs of violence. Surely, had woodland monsters been attracted here, Set would eventually have encountered and disposed of them. Now, he sees, at least one monster has deigned to visit in the company of this woman.

He hasn’t seen Rudbeckia much in person, but it’s impossible to miss the changes to her appearance; especially her eyes, which now look eerily like Liem’s own, pale blue on black. But of course, the strange darkness to his sclera and the pale, greyish cast to his complexion are all natural; he has never looked any different.]

Were you tidying those? Please don’t trouble yourself; I was going to take them back with me once I left.

for John — what is life if not a series of increasingly creative fuckups

[sterngaze]

[Several days after the end of the Exalt Oracle trial, when news of Meridian’s victory has made Springstar merry and Highstorm’s residents more dour than ever, there is an incident on one of Springstar’s quieter roads. First-hand witnesses are in short supply, but news nonetheless gets around quickly enough: A dog-eared Zenite was arrested for attacking the esteemed Meridian Decurion, Liem Talbott, in a public street. It takes little time at all for the rumour to proliferate all over the city, branching out into speculation about why Lord Talbott was targeted, and just what exactly really happened.

For Liem, who would much rather go about his business with a minimum of fuss and recognition, the production quickly becomes tiring indeed.

On this particular evening — or as close to “evening” as there ever is in Springstar — Liem’s search for a bit of peace leads him to a quiet establishment in an idyllic part of the city’s entertainment district. Part relaxed bar, part evening café, the drinking establishment features cushioned seats and low tables; finger foods, served alongside steaming cups of wine and hard teas; and curtains draped throughout for quiet and privacy. He has come here before, on occasions when he’d wished to simply down a drink or two in peaceful, pleasant surroundings, instead of get himself blackout drunk and stumble home in Highstorm’s sombre gloom.

So it is here where he sequesters himself, lurking at a small table in one of his customary bespoke suits, a cup of wine resting half-drunk between his hands. Even in the shade of the building’s interior, he’s kept his sunglasses on. Eyes like his are rather distinctive.]

[hyperpotamous]

[ the atmosphere has drawn john here for similar reasons. he's already spent more than enough time in a state of perpetual mourning back home to go inviting the feeling by being in highstorm right now. since the mood is also partly, directly his fault: probably for the best.

he had also swung by the jail to see the Zenith dog in question — because he certainly hasn't gotten any less vindictive with age — and his desire for a drink before he returns to the lab has brought him here.

john is aware of liem as soon as he enters the space, having been around him long enough by now to recognise the unique things that allow john to tell people apart by their biology.

he orders a drink, and once he has it in hand, he makes his way over. ]

Trying to keep a low profile? You're so popular lately I don't blame you.

[ that's what the sunglasses indoors are saying. ]

[sterngaze]

[Sunglasses indoors do give off a bit of a “don’t look at me” kind of vibe, but in fairness, Liem radiates that vibe fairly often, just as he wears sunglasses indoors fairly often. Now is simply one of the times when he definitely doesn’t want to take them off.

When John wanders over, Liem looks up and notes the familiar figure making his way through the space. His first reaction is to be a little annoyed, but given John’s unique status given his relationship to both factions, his face is probably the least worrying one Liem could end up seeing right now. An ally might feel like interrogating him; an enemy might want to cause trouble. But John? He’s probably just here to drink whatever’s in that cup he’s holding.]

Fame is a pernicious affliction, [he agrees dryly. Freeing one hand from his cup, he gestures at the other seat at his table; since John came all the way over to talk to him, he may as well sit.]

Please, feel free to join me. As long as you aren’t also here to congratulate me for taking a light beating from a teenager.

for Dimitri & Karlach — A Quest of Brilliance

[sterngaze]

Quest Info

The Appetizer

[sterngaze]

[When the Church reaches out to Liem about some trouble with a monster roaming about the undercroft beneath its main structure, he seeks the assistance of other Meridian shard-bearers who might wish to delve with him to address the problem. It has been some time since he has explored a place like this; he thinks of Aetós’s facility primarily, with its magical traps and its strange, dangerous creatures. If the dangers beneath the church are anything like that, he doesn’t wish to venture down there alone.

So it is with a pair of tall, strong companions at his side that he hears the priestess’s brief description of the basement they’re to scour, and then passes through the magic door to begin the hunt. Liem is dressed for work in long, sturdy vestments of charcoal grey, embroidered and accented with gold, with the shining gold key of his divine patron hanging about his neck. It is garb that has served him well everywhere from bandit-riddled forests to subterranean cult hideouts, and he is confident as they move through the tunnels in search of their quarry.

But he cannot say that he enjoys the prospect of getting his garb being entirely soaked through, as it quickly threatens to become when they arrive at the maze’s flooded portion. With no way around unless they backtrack all the way to the beginning, he presently finds himself scuttling along the corridor’s ceiling like a dark, priestly spider, with only a few scant feet of room between him and the chest-high water that almost entirely fills this region of the basement.

Sticking to the ceiling does at least prevent him from getting soaked, but the activity demands both of his hands, so he’s hoping they don’t run into any dangerous creatures just yet. He won’t be able to so much as load his crossbow unless he consents to dunking himself in the water with his companions.]

Re: The Appetizer

[infernalcombustionengine]

[ Karlach is having a great time, as far as she's concerned. This sort of work, if you can call it that, is right up her alley--and she's doing it of her own accord to actually help people. No one holding a knife to her throat saying that she'd better fight or there are worse fates. She's taken something of the lead, a long handled axe in one hand and a light in the other to forge forward through the water, sloshing and splashing.

The fact that she's soaked up to her chest doesn't seem to bother her. In fact, she's humming softly to herself. Some sort of cheery, half-remembered drinking song. She glances up at Liem on the ceiling with a wry grin. ]

It's just a bit of water.

The Main Course

[sterngaze]

[Deep within the labyrinth, past seemingly-endless flooded sections, past infestations of mushrooms and dangerous vermin, the section of the basement in which they now find themselves resembles a natural cave network more than a church’s lower levels. Liem’s boots scuff gently over bare rock and earth as they progress, and he increasingly finds himself stepping cautiously over twining roots that threaten to choke the passage entirely.

At this point, he has to wonder what the Church is hiding down here, to have need of such extensive tunnels beneath their holy place. Surely no organization with nothing to hide would have something like this beneath it.]

When we return, I must have a conversation with the clergy who asked this of us, [he observes dryly. A thick root plunging from the tunnel ceiling obliges him to duck his head to pass beneath it, his eyes still scanning the tunnel for any signs of hostility.] I would not previously have dreamed that the complex beneath the church was anywhere near this extensive, or this wild.

[hauntedking]

Agreed...

[ Dimitri is, at least, not too much the worse for wear. Although like Liem he's a little mystified at how deep this place seems to go. ]

One wonders if this system extends under the rest of the city. Or where it does actually lead - and how long people have known of it.

[ He ducks under the same root. ]

This feels... far too big to have simply been ignored until now.