beleos: (pic#15952557)
beleos ([personal profile] beleos) wrote in [community profile] kenoslogs2023-08-18 09:53 am

Toxic Love: The Exalt Oracle


NOTHING GOES OFF WITHOUT A HITCH
You feel it, the moment that the Exalt oracle opens its eyes, like something that rips through your body from head to toe, something that feel like fire, wild. It sears into your veins, like acid and fire, something that triggers something that makes you want to run, or perhaps turn and face something head on. Before you can find what sets you off – if you could find it. Bearers know what this sensation is, it is different but the same at its core. The emotions, the feelings it sparks are different – but in the end, you know it for what it is: An Oracle.

Kenos groans from the awakening, like a part of a whole sparks to life, and though you do not know what it is that they want yet, you understand and know their existence down to your core. That feeling to attack or defend, perhaps even flee, does not leave you, but instead it fills your veins, you feel it thrumming, pulsing, like the beat of a heart – if one has one. With the sense of awakening, bearers know the shape of what comes next, they will be asked to act, to do. You do not know how it will happen, or what the Exalt will ask of you, but the knowledge that it will happen is borne from experience, not from the Oracle itself.

As you begin to move, to… look, you are not long for this day, it clouds your mind, a hazy, drowsy feeling takes over, the encroaching dark that threatens to swarm, crowding from the sides, taking over your vision – until… it fully takes over, and Bearers are put into a deep slumber.


When bearers awaken, it’s difficult to make sense of what your sleepy eyes see. Structures begin to swim into view, and they like tall figures looking down upon you. It’s difficult to tell what they are at first, but as you wake up, you begin to see, they are not people, or creatures, but long spore-like stalks. Some have ribbed overgrowths that you can see, and some end in growths that ripple and hang over, but have no “cap”. They tower over the bearers, like towering spires and buildings, on all sides, as if they were trapped in a ring of them. As bearers look around them they will notice tall green spires around them as well, and it takes a moment for things to really settle in. Mushrooms. Blades of grass. The springy moss about them is almost as tall as they are, low to the ground. There are pebbles that appear as boulders, and the thunderous steps nearby indicate an insect or arachnid walking by, far larger than you. There is a stillness to this space, like a held breath, and as the bearers awake, and regard one another, and then to the center of the circle is – a small effigy in the center.

It is here, the Exalt Oracle, and you feel compelled to regard it, before you are given a pang down to your core. It compels you – pleads, asks, begs, and demands, all in one – for what it wishes for. Precious mementos and precious items that they are missing. They have been lost, and they are somewhere within the Liosachán. It beseeches the bearers to return its items, and begs they be returned here to the circle. There are no words, but there is a pleading sensation, a feeling that these items are treasured by this Oracle.

You feel at your sides, your pockets, and find one item on your person, a weapon, a companion, whatever it is you would bring with you to the conflict, shrunk down to a tiny size with you.

Stay steadfast, bearers, and capture the flag Oracle!
SURVIVAL OF THE SMALLEST ( DAYS 1 - 5 )
Unlike the still, stale apocalypse that had been the setting of the Iconoclast Oracle, the greenhouse is lush and vibrant with activity.

The Effigy present within yearns to be reunited with what belongs to it, fixated upon the five items lost within the greenhouse. The swell of its longing fills all Shardbearers, urging them to take action, claim the items and present all five to it to attain victory for that Faction.

Over a period of ten days, Shardbearers of both factions will have to navigate environmental dangers, and the normal procession of time, as the greenhouse is going about its daily routine. Workers plod around like towering goliaths, weeding and watering and pruning the greenhouse's contents. The Liosachán's native population of fae begin to take notice of the newcomers in their midst, emerging from grassy mounds hidden in the natural landscape to spy and pry about the newness surrounding them.
Naturally curious, and equally dangerous, the fae of the Liosachán are Highstorm natives. They range in cool coloration, from soft violet-greys to deep stormy blues, and wear clothes fashioned from of goods pilfered from the pockets of workers, dropped on the ground or handcrafted from the environment itself. Wielding bits of copper tightly wound into blades and spears, they are a ferocious and cunning little people who seek to trick, trap and toy with Shardbearers. Direct violence is anathema to them, but violence that happens as a result of falling to one of their ploys is a badge of honor.
DAY ONE - THREE. The Effigy initially urges Shardbearers to build bases of operation for defense and practicality, as surviving ten days without supporting one another is a surefire way to meet a grisly, tiny little end. Resources must be gathered: gather food and water, prepare shelter, establish unity and organization and prepare to set off into the wilds soon.

For Shardbearers demonstrating particular selflessness, favoring the protection and defense of another, the Effigy responds warmly from the third day onward — rewarding them with a sign of their dutiful nature towards others in the form of fairy wings, the form of which are unique to the Shardbearer themselves.

DAY FOUR. The sudden thunderous sound of a storm begins. No, not a storm, the tumble and crash of water pouring down upon the greenhouse — the workers of the Liosachán perform their routines faithfully, after all. In watering the garden, the danger of the environment threatens to overtake Shardbearers and their work alike. Drops of water fall, their size equal or larger than even the tallest of characters, and trickles of water muddy the ground in the form of raging rapids.

The security of Meridian and Zenith's camps is even called into question, because as simple as the act of watering a garden is, it is a nightmarish situation for such itty bitty Bearers to be in!

DAY FIVE. By day five, the fae of the Liosachán no longer lurk and linger in the corner of one's eye. They make themselves known, having prepared a banquet below one of the mushrooms, within sight of the Effigy. A table draped in spider-silk lace awaits any Bearer who comes near enough, the sagging piece of driftwood polished to a gleam with golden sap, leaving it waterproofed and pretty to behold. A handful of corks serve as seating, with most of the fae draping themselves across scraps of cotton as though they are simply at a picnic.

They invitingly wave to Shardbearers, chattering brightly in their foreign, lilting tongue, waving tiny sandwiches and little clay pots full of jams and honeys, brandishing sugared berries that they bite into with gusto, staining their arms and faces in swathes of blue and red. They clearly are welcoming to whomever comes upon them, urging them to avail themselves to the bounty they have prepared. Perhaps some characters know better than to eat the food of the fae, recalling legends and lore about the mystical properties and implicit bargains made in becoming a guest. Perhaps some have no idea, and are simply hungry enough to dig in!

UNWILLING TEN-ANTS ( DAYS SIX - EIGHT )
The scuttling, scrabbling feet of ants crawling over surfaces, winding their way through this grassy playground, has become normal. Their feet thunder as they go about their business, and it seems to be a normal cadence to life here in the underbrush, in the greenhouse. It is normal, and it is has become nothing to really concern oneself with. They are ants, after all, what do they do, but work? Endlessly, continuously.

That is, until the heavy, loud sounds of their feet draw closer to whatever place that the bearers have found to camp in. Whether solitary or as a group, these workers are no longer content to simply ignore the bearers, but they are a curiosity, perhaps even a bother. You have disrupted their lifestyle. The sleepy pattern of obtain food, return ot the hive, and back out again now has obstacles. Now there are not simply the fairies, who live their own lives and existences, a part of the ecosystem, but now there are these tiny bearers. Fighting, working together, arguing and disagreeing.

You are disruptive to their way of life.

The ants have come to collect on this due, and some bearers that are vulnerable, or perhaps merely caught, are taken away, your weight so light compared to the rest of their burdens that they carry. The strength of these ants is overwhelming, incredible at this size, and try as you might, if you are caught in their strong mandibles, you cannot escape. An ant, after all, carries 1000 times their weight with those powerful jaws. You, bearer, are nothing to them.

They squirrel away the bearers within their hill, a complicated network of tunnels, junctions, and large spaces. Down within, where the air becomes stifling, and stale. The ants guard their pray, and you get the distinct sense that they see you not as people, not even as enemies, but as prey. You will be food – perhaps to the eggs that are gathered within this room, where you can see the stirring of new life, just beneath the surface. You may not have very long to live, if these little larvae get their mouths on you.

Or perhaps, your friends will save you? Once it is discovered that bearers are missing, the trail of ant prints on the ground is apparent – they are not stealthy creatures – and the feet lead from the locations of several kidnapped bearers toward the grainy ant hill that lies not far away. The hill itself swarms with life, with worker ants all over the surface, scuttling about, looking for the next meal for te colony. Or perhaps for more bearers to bring back for their young.

It will be dangerous, bearers, to save your friends. Should you choose to do so, you will be kicking the anthill, and the ants will protect what is theirs. Even if they just took it. Those bearers belong to them, now! Rescuers will find not only your average worker ant, ready to defend, but winged male ants will attack from above, and deeper, within the nest, near where the bearers are kept, lies the strongest ant in the colony: The Queen. Staggeringly large, strong, and vicious, when her subjects begin dying. She will do everything in her power to protect her colony, and that includes killing bearers, if need be. Or trying, at least.

Good luck rescuing your friends, bearers!
IN SMALL PACKAGES ( DAYS NINE - TEN )
The day after the ant-pocalypse brings with it the brush of recognition — the Effigy has foreseen the likely victors, and calls to them to approach it once they have suitably recovered. It judges them the ones whom are most devoted to what binds them, loyal to memory and remembrance, and begins to clamor for them to restore to it what belongs rightfully. Thus begins a full day of resting, locating last-minute items, shoring up defenses and preparing for the sprint to the finish line.

Certainly your rivals will not allow you to simply walk to the Effigy unassailed and unchallenged.

Eat, rest, ensure your fellows are close and bolstered, for tomorrow begins the final rally.

On the morning of the tenth day, Meridian Shardbearers approach the Effigy with its five items in hand. In the midst of the mushroom ring, the Effigy stands as it had in the beginning — arms outstretched and back bowed skyward, gnarled fingers seeking contact with that which has been lost to it. It awaits, it strains, and even as it does, it requires one last test of ability. From the shadows of the towering mushrooms, the rasp of scale and soft hiss of a great beast descends upon the fae ring.

A gleaming garden snake, with glossy black and green stripes, blocks the way between approaching Shardbearers and the Effigy.

Between its bright eyes, pressed upon its brow is a scattering of brighter scales that appear to be in the shape of a delicate, three-leafed plant with spiraling patterns for leaves. It braces itself against the approach, and there is no doubt that to claim victory, the serpent must be subdued. Though Meridian approaches with victory in hand, they have not yet attained it — their rival faction and this beast remain in their way.

MISSING LINKS ( THROUGHOUT )
As the Effigy desires to be reunited with what belongs to it, the swell of its longing stirs something more within all present Shardbearers.

With that foreign longing arrives knowledge: beyond the five items prized by the Effigy itself, there are other lost things within the greenhouse. Like a compass, each Shardbearer's mind points them in direction after direction, urging them to seek and explore. Implicitly, the thrum of comprehension fills your mind: these are things that do not belong to you, per se, but seek to have your hands ferry them home.

Amidst tangled brush, hidden under doffed acorn cap, tucked away in the belly of a fae's glittering den, lost in the depths of a puddle of spilled water that seems an insurmountable lake now, folded secretly into the petals of a towering, skyscraper-like flower, there are three additional items hidden within the tumultuous landscape that each Shardbearer feels a draw towards. Things that belong to someone else, eager to be reunited with them, but subject to whim.

Upon locating and retrieving one, the Shardbearer is filled with a sense of information — they know who this item belongs to, and they will know that they have a choice. Bonds are fragile things after all, and they exist to be enforced or abused, in order to advance a goal or to deepen a connection. How will you treat someone's precious bond? How will they treat yours?
NOTES
Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle! — The theme of this Oracle is a loose edition of capture the flag, where the Effigy's items can pass through multiple hands within the ten day allotment.

— For additional ideas and fun, it is known that several Shardbearers have concluded their efforts to fulfill the Greenwood Yards' sidequest request.

— All details of the Exalt Oracle can be found here, and questions for the mods can be submitted here.
CODING
baltimores: (029)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-10-08 08:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ His gaze meets hers, unflinching as she details to him what he'd been unable to grasp on his own. What he's still unable to grasp, unfamiliar with her biology as he is. People bruise. People bleed. They don't automatically die from it.

He looks into her eye. Looks back down towards his dagger, still with her. Back into her eye. And heaves out a forceful exhale, frustration present in it. ]


Fuck's sake, you're not going to die. You think I would've just left you here if I thought you were going to? I would've snapped your neck and brought your shard with me until I could hand it off to someone on your side, not leave you here to suffer.

[ She said she didn't want to be put down like a horse with a broken leg, but that's not what it is in his eyes — it's euthanizing a sentient being in lieu of letting them lie there in agony for who knew how long before they finally succumbed. He isn't a sadist; he's practical, and her injury didn't call for anything drastic, so he left it alone.

Amos finally breaks her gaze to dip his head, massage at his temples. ]


You don't need to... fuck. [ This is tied to her sense of honour, isn't it. What is that with her. He lifts his head to look back up at her. ] You're not using my dagger to kill yourself just in case. Jesus. Look, you need something else, we'll figure that out. Stab yourself in the throat with one of your arrows if you feel you need to or something, I don't know. But that thing's mine, and I'm leaving here with it.

[ Because it's the only weapon he has on him at the moment; because Yima gave it to him; because he sounds vaguely offended by Hayame's request? Like he thought she had more sense than all of this.

But if she isn't going to budge, then he's just going to have to find some way to play along regardless, isn't he. ]
warmare: (真面目)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-10-08 10:47 am (UTC)(link)
[So it wasn't flattery enough to be flattery from this woman. Fine. Now she knows. Not that she thinks she cares.]

If you wish to survive, you should learn survival tactics beyond "thievery".

[That, she is adamant about, stern and serious. Not that her expression has been anything but stern when interacting where Midna has seen her.]

If you want charity, you will not find it from me.

[She sees very little point in caring for or coddling the members of Meridian she views as less useful or enterprising in the fight for the Oracles. She never has, and she has said as much to many- which has endeared her to very few.]

The only thing I am willing to grant you in charity is showing you how to forage yourself with those pretty hands.

[- But would this woman put forward the effort?]
warmare: (躁状態)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-10-08 04:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's Hayame. Or rather, it's Hayame demonstrating exactly why jinba were so valued by warlords that they were hunted down, enslaved, and sold to the highest bidder. No matter how human-looking some parts of her were... it is a half ton of muscle and sinew and sharpness and power bearing down on them across the field. Her hooves churn up dirt, her dark mane and tail whipping out behind her, and though she might have time to fire off another arrow... She covers ground so quickly that she's already close enough to-]

Move, Byleth!

[If Gavial doesn't move quick enough... she might get trampled. That, or hooked by the large bow Hayame is prepared to wield like a staff to crack bones or choke.]
warmare: (壊れた)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-10-08 05:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[You're not going to die, he says... But he does not know that. Zenith counted psychotic "researchers", demons, drug lords, and honorless opportunists all through their number... and if a Zenite finds her before her own then she is an easy target. If a centipede or mantis came around... she is food. If her own body betrays her...]

You do not-

[She starts to say it, that he cannot guarantee that to her, that the risk is why she needs the blade... but he keeps speaking, and she bites her lip with sharp, inhuman canines, cursing the fact that... that she had made promises to try an survive. (Why did people even care anyway, why did they want her to live so badly, when living was so much harder than the honorable death she'd always been taught to admire?) Cursing that a part of her feels almost happy to hear that if Amos killed her he would see to her shard.

So she is worth only an arrow or her own teeth digging into her tongue until she chokes on her own blood. Messy, less sure ways to die that will prolong the effort, potentially fail... But again, she cannot feel righteous in being offended. An Oracle is at stake. She and Amos understood that. She just wants to, wants someone to understand what it meant to her.]


I know it is yours. It is because it is yours that I ask for it.

[... What did that mean?

She tears her gaze from him, to look down the hill of dirt he had helped her up with his weight magic. Down there somewhere... her arrows had spilled from her quiver in the fall. She could ask him to retrieve one for her... but it's humiliating. Almost as humiliating as needing to end her life at all, at not being able to defend herself. So she spitefully (to whom?) refuses to ask. If he leaves her weaponless... she will just have to drag her weakening body down there herself, no matter how painful movement was.

So... it is decided, then, wasn't it. Her head turns back around, but it takes a moment for her to look at him again. To find the words to say something steady, when instead she wants to rail against her loss.]


... You are the victor. It is your decision.

[If he moves to take it from her... She will not resist.]
gravings: (061)

[personal profile] gravings 2023-10-09 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ She glances at Amos helplessly before looking back at the wing, flogging her brain in the hope that it might suddenly dispense genius-level solutions. ]

Maybe... oh no.

[ She panics when the wing wiggles away from itself. She automatically pokes the escaping half with a ginger finger to try to get it to stick to the web alongside its other half. What happens instead is that half of the half sticks to the web; the remaining quarter crumbles to dozen fragments like a fall leaf under a boot.

Gray snatches her hand back in horror. ]


Mr. Amos!

[ help ]
youngprodigy: (≎ we are the ones)

[personal profile] youngprodigy 2023-10-09 05:43 am (UTC)(link)
...Perhaps so.

[Was Tibbs the Oracle, though? Cid isn't so sure. Well, it hardly matters.]

You are right, of course. Things are far too uncertain at present.
kinaesthesia: (16)

[personal profile] kinaesthesia 2023-10-09 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
[Gavial’s been in battles way more chaotic than this before. A lot of them. From the simple large-scale brawls of her homeland, to the the more lethal battlefields staged across Terra as a whole… and the number one thing she’s learned from all of them is how to be quick to react to changing tides.

She’d let her focus stay narrowed as she tussled with Byleth, but the sting of the arrow in her shoulder knocked a very sudden clarity into her. Her opponent scrambles away, shouting a name—and she fully registers now the thundering of hooves that had almost seemed background noise a moment ago. She half-rolls to get her feet properly on the ground again and pushes off to move, tail whipping behind her to keep herself from stumbling.

She can feel the rush of air as the familiar angry kuranta woman barrels past, a very narrow miss. Gavial doesn’t turn to track her right away, instead letting her momentum carry her forward to where she’d dropped her axe nearby. She makes a one-handed grab for its haft with her uninjured arm before she straightens up, finally turning to assess the change in stakes.]


Oh, we’re two on one now, huh?

[Breathy and excited, it doesn’t entirely sound like she minds the disadvantage.]
gravings: (082.0b)

[personal profile] gravings 2023-10-10 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ His shout sounds more affronted than panicked, so she can assume he isn't in danger of dropping out of the sky and splatting on the ground. With an internal apology, Gray takes advantage of what little time she's bought herself to make her way to the top of a blade of grass. She surveys the area for what might be making that tinkling sound...

What she sees is evidently not to her liking, because she quickly drops down from her vantage point, alarm alive on her face. As she descends toward Atsumu the sound of a bell rings again, but instead of becoming more distant, it rapidly approaches, increasing in intensity. ]
erbe: (238)

[personal profile] erbe 2023-10-10 05:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[Tohsaka doesn't know him yet, but her future mage professor Waver is much the same way — taking the foundations of others and reworking them into his own perfected end result.]

Keep pushing your luck and I'll feed you to that centipede personally.
settingup: (and i got tits)

[personal profile] settingup 2023-10-11 03:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ For all that Atsumu didn't seem as combat enthusiastic as Gavial herself, this much had to be given to him, if he was going to toss himself into the fray, then he wasn't going to half-ass it. The minute she yells at him to go for the leg, he lunges forward, chainsaw sweeping out as he bears down on the ant, cutting into the injured leg without a giving it a moments breathing room.

It's a risky position in some ways. While the ants do seem to be giving them space after all the chainsaw threatening the two of them have been doing, this still puts their backs to the rest of the colony. Being surrounded means having to put your backs to someone at any point in time though, so there's little they can do about that as they try to press forward and out of this mess.
]
baltimores: (088)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-10-11 10:20 am (UTC)(link)
[ ... It's because it's his dagger that she asks for it?

That throws him, his annoyances evaporating in lieu of bafflement. He kneels beside her, stunned — what the fuck does that mean — before she continues. Cedes all power to him.

... He's annoyed all over again. Amos pushes himself up off the ground, turning his back on her to head back down the mountain, taking the light from his spell with him. ]


I'll be right back.

[ And that's all he offers her, leaving her to the sliver of moonlight they'd dug out together and whatever sounds from the garden seep through with it. For several minutes he's gone, the only indications of his presence the occasional sounds of something rustling and his light bobbing along with him as he goes.

And then, soon after the tinkle of a bell breaks the air, he reappears back at the hilltop — bell tucked under one arm, her bow in his other, a quiver full of arrows resting over his shoulder. He makes his way back over to the exit they've dug, wordlessly putting the bell down first, well out of her reach. Walking a healthy distance around her, he deposits her bow — not close enough for her to reach out and grab; not far enough that she can't get to it eventually, even though it might be painful to manoeuvre her way over there.

That just leaves her quiver. Amos looks back at Hayame, shadows from his light casting themselves over his face, before he deposits the full quiver on the ground. She will have to strain to reach it, yes. But she should be able to reach it on her own.

But he's still staring down at her, face unreadable and silent, before— ]


First guy I ever killed, I just walked up and shot him. He didn't know it was coming. Second guy I ambushed. Pulled his chair out from under him before he even knew what was happening, got on top of him, got his gun and shot him in the head. The third guy...

[ There's a little exhalation there. ]

See, the second and third guy were together. I got the drop on the second guy, and that gave the third guy time to get the drop on me. He didn't wait, he just came barrelling out at me, shooting. Could've just as easily killed me first, and I wouldn't have had the luxury of time to deal with it.

[ His gaze grows flat; cold. His eyes narrow. But there's still that very human annoyance in his voice. ]

You gotta stop fucking around with this shit. I get it, we're from different places, we got different standards, blah blah blah. But if I'd acted the way then that you do now with your honour and whatever I'd've been dead lots of times over. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. We're all just slabs of meat and one day that'll be it, and the way you go out isn't going to mean shit. All it's going to mean is that you're fucking dead. All we're ever gonna have is to scrap and claw our way into continuing to survive until we aren't anymore, and then we won't be around to give a shit about anything after.

[ He leans down, then, to take his dagger back from her — to grab it from her, maybe with more force than necessary, but, fuck it. It's his. He's allowed. And then he stalks back around her, kicks at the hole they've dug out together. Making it progressively bigger, his body in between her and the bell — he'll be heading out soon; sooner than she can grab her bow, at least.

He should probably regret telling her to be more like him if she wants to keep on surviving — she is, ultimately, the enemy, with convictions as strong as his, and this is potentially ceding an advantage he has over her.

But fuck it — he likes her well enough that he doesn't want her to go out stupidly, even if they have very different views of what that entails, so it's worth the risk. ]
baltimores: (074)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-10-11 10:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ His eyes widen as the wing just does... that.

He is still holding the blade of the glaive. His hands are still sticky from spider web. He is staring down at something that they are most assuredly not gluing back together.

He is looking back up at Gray, just as freaked out as she is. ]


Fuck. [ A beat. ] Fuuuuck. Okay, um, we...

[ They what? If they touch it again it might break even further apart. Amos stares back down at the wing, shattered beyond repair. Back up at Gray, again. ]

... Help me get this off of me. [ The web is. So sticky. ] Maybe if we keep it balled up like this... we keep all of it together here... maybe that'll count?

[ Or is nobody winning an Oracle now?? Why would the Effigy do this???? ]
lockedon: pid 4667155 (052)

[personal profile] lockedon 2023-10-11 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Wow? How dare Atsumu just go and assume that Zenith is going to win again? Though he does have good reason to believe that they will, all things considered.

Fortunately for everyone involved, being cursed into pining uselessly over a youthful-looking immortal means that there really aren't any braincells left for things like rational thought, and Eustace just lets that commment slide by, more interested in the part where Atsumu is okay with carving time out of his schedule to help out with gift shopping. ]


That's fine. I'll need a few days to come up with ideas and a better plan of attack.

[ And then the debuff will wear off and he will realize the grave error of his ways and Atsumu will be left hanging when Eustace never calls him back for their shopping date. 😔 ]
settingup: (uh-oh running now)

[personal profile] settingup 2023-10-12 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Even as a small child, Atsumu was almost never picked up this way. Then again, he had a brother to contend with as well, so inevitably they were slung over shoulders, or grabbed around the middle when their parents needed to haul around two rambunctious kids with way too much energy.

So no, this is not the coolest that Atsumu has ever felt, but you know what? Being a splattered mess on the ground seems even less cool to him, so he'll wrap his arms frantically around the big, burly man's neck, and let him princess carry the fuck out of him if it means he doesn't break every bone in his body. He's surely living someone's dream anyway, even if in his own fantasies Atsumu has always been the carry-er and not the carry-ee.
]

Easy, dude!

[ Amos is actually doing a pretty good job taking them down, but Atsumu's grip notably tightens for a second with each particularly jerky motion. He's getting used to taking falls, but there's something uncomfortable about not being in control of the downward motion himself. ]
settingup: (around i know i rock)

[personal profile] settingup 2023-10-12 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ The nice thing about Gray getting ahead of him is that at least she can do the scouting for him, whether she means to or not. He doesn't have to expend more energy reaching above the grass when he sees her dropping back down after surveying the area.

And especially not when he hears the sound of that bell himself. Unfortunately for him, the nature of his power means he's unable to stop moving and listen properly, but his secondary ears do twist towards the direction of the sound as he changes directions in a wide turn as he tries to weave through the grass instead, heading in the direction he thinks he heard the sound coming from.

Thanks for one thing, new fox ears.
]
zauneyete: (You mean a rat made this food)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2023-10-12 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ Silco nodded with a silent bob of his head, as he focused his...disdain at this. His hatred. It really was the same as cursing to the man who truly didn't understand all this magic stuff well. He'd come to use it as a tool, of course. Respected it.

But he did not understand it in a way that others did. He was a man of numbers and books, extortion and back alleys, not... cerebral pathways to power. Silco was smart, and certainly charismatic in his own way, but he was not a genius like his daughter was, or even Singed. He could make up for his lack with pure stubbornness, as he did now, but it truly was just that.
]

I believe, that should do it.

[ He said, as he tucked the item into a pocket, so he could add it to his growing collection later. ]

Hopefully, it will do us some good, to curse these objects against our enemies.
zauneyete: (Hurtful)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2023-10-12 05:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ If given enough time in the water, perhaps the will would have returned to him — later, Silco will insist that it would, as it had every time before — but in that moment in the cold, with so little left to him, it had been so easy to just let go like that, to imagine that perhaps that oblivion he'd glimpsed so few times could have taken him too. In the cold, he was so tired. What was there left to rail against when this world had over and over tried to show him a scrap of something that he valued, only to take it away from him?

He would not, could not admit this thought, so it would be easier later, to admit it had only been momentary, and brief, should Sebastian ask.

As soon as something... something odd grabbed him, and tugged him upward, he thrashed, almost out of instinct, but it doesn't matter, he can't fight it, because it's so... different. Hard, oily, firm, and liquid all at once. He hates the way it feels, and struggles to try and rip it off, but he can't breathe and there are no knives to tug at to release him.

He's only left with struggling futilely, until they breach the surface of the water, until Silco gasps, and expels water from his lungs. When he is released, on all fours on the surface of the ground, he coughs more water, before he tipped his head, one eye closed, the other burning and vision blurry from the water, to look up at who (or what) saved him.

It's the voice more than the sight of him. He may not be fully human, but Silco's vision is blurry enough from the water in his blackened eye that he barely can tell — at first.

It slowly comes into focus, and though the sound of water against Sebastian's shadows almost forced him to flinch, he grimaced and dug his fingers into the ground. Angry.
]

Sebastian. [ His voice is rough, and strained. ] I find it insulting that we could struggle against water.
zauneyete: (Get the point across)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2023-10-12 06:11 am (UTC)(link)
So we must move onward, with our one goal in mind. I am certain we will learn plenty with time, but that hardly matters.

Not until we know more, and when that happens, I intend that we Zenites will be the ones in Control of more than the Meridian, so we can sway the tide toward our goal.

[ Or his, really. He does intend to destroy everything. That has not changed. ]
envoyoftwilight: (send my love to you)

[personal profile] envoyoftwilight 2023-10-12 02:17 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm very good at indulging, so I'm inclined to agree with you.

[She smiles in that impish fashion that she so often seems to carry about herself.]

That said, perhaps you'll indulge me. If I'm to accompany you for a bit, I'd like to better know who I'm keeping as company. Yuri has said some here and there about the world you've come from, but he's a secretive man. [Which she can appreciate and respect.] You're clearly a soldier of some kind. A leader, if I'm recalling correctly. But there's so much more to a person than their title, wouldn't you say?

[...This is probably not the time for her to pry into him, but if not now, when?]
envoyoftwilight: (never a thought for ourselves)

[personal profile] envoyoftwilight 2023-10-12 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
I've never quite heard it put in such a way, but I'll take that as a compliment.

[Midna would say that she's rather proud of her sorcery, though in this world it pales in comparison to the true capacity she carries. That very skill is precisely why she's in the role she is. It's how she was established the ruler of her people. In many ways, still, it defines precisely who she is. Perhaps too much so, in many ways. Maybe a lesson she might learn here in this world where she is separated from what she knows and deems secure.

It seems to be doing the trick, regardless. She can see the web beginning to give way and free Gavial from its sticky embrace. For just a moment, her gaze scatters along the threads of spider web, looking to see if they've yet to attract any unwanted attention. It's not necessarily sound she's concerned about. It's vibration. She's holding her breath for some moments, but...

She doesn't see anything yet. And that doesn't mean something isn't there.]


Let's not procrastinate, hm? I love a little bit of laziness, but best not to tempt the unwanted. Don't suppose you're carrying something sharp on you.

[But of course that'd be the easy way out, probably.]
envoyoftwilight: (When I think of all)

[personal profile] envoyoftwilight 2023-10-12 03:46 pm (UTC)(link)
I prefer to think of it as practical assistance.

[If someone has an excess of something, chances are they won't be using it. Why let it go to waste when she's perfectly right there and in need of it? Of course, that's a very skewed way of looking at it.

All of that aside, Hayame has made it quite clear that she won't be tolerating Midna's antics and the princess of Twilight makes a note to... perhaps dial back a bit. She bites back the temptation to gently goad her newly-found companion about the nature of her hands. Hayame, she suspects, is probably being sarcastic, after all. It doesn't stop her from grinning, however.

Issuing a sigh, as though it's the most effort in the world to do so, she concedes.]


Oh, very well. Gods know when the next face I see in this mess of plants and creatures will be. [That is to say, Midna understands she's in a very special predicament.] Learning something new will not kill me, most likely.
hauntedking: (07)

[personal profile] hauntedking 2023-10-12 06:08 pm (UTC)(link)
I would not call myself secretive, at least, but I try to be more than any title. Clinging to such things... it leads to heartbreak. Titles bring responsibility as much as they bring privilege.

[ He shakes his head. ]

I would rather help people than worry about titles.
envoyoftwilight: (to leave her)

[personal profile] envoyoftwilight 2023-10-12 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah, so you're an altruistic, heroic leader. One of those types.

[The Link she knows would love him. Peas in a pod. Come to think of it, maybe he does make her think a little of Zelda. She would say the same thing, most likely.]

I think there's value in a title. If and when it's used in the right way. It's not everything, of course, but it's practical. But you probably already know that. I doubt I need to say it.

[Even though she already has.]
hauntedking: (06)

[personal profile] hauntedking 2023-10-12 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
I suppose you could call me those things.

[ He laughs quietly. ]

As for titles - well. I can use mine. But I also feel like I shouldn't depend on it too much.
envoyoftwilight: (to her husband)

[personal profile] envoyoftwilight 2023-10-13 04:58 am (UTC)(link)
Sounds logical.

[She hates it, even if she agrees. Probably because he's just so willing to admit it. Fearless, even. And Midna, who would like to say she isn't, absolutely is.]

I also suppose it doesn't mean much in a place like this when you don't have people to lead. Hard to be a leader when you don't have followers.