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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arknights: gavial,
- baroque: koriel xii (dextera),
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- boy's abyss: gen minegishi,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): midna,
- locked tomb (the): john gaius,
- oc: liem talbott,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- vampire hunter d: d
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 theflag 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
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.
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!
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!
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.
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?
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.
— 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.
» john + dark | day three
but for all her general grumpiness over the past two days, there's nothing that makes her so incredibly angry as what's come in front of her.
the sight of john alone is enough to spark that on any given day, and when he's there, suddenly, a small distance away, catching her eye with his ugly ones, she can feel it start to rise. but here, now, it's not him, exactly, that makes her blood start to fucking boil; it's the pair of gloves he's holding, dangling from his palms, like he knows exactly what he's doing.
fuck him. fuck him.
that's the only thing going through her mind, not the shock of seeing something she hasn't seen in a while or the grief they represent or anything else (that'll come later), as she stalks over to him through the grass with furious, single-minded purpose.
as she snarls,]
Those are mine.
i'm sorry lol
this does not endear him to the idea of simply returning jyn's property, however, because thinking of mercymorn reminds him of what she'd done. that does nothing for his mood, and he's feeling a bit petty. john doesn't care about a pair of used gloves even a little bit, but he knows jyn does.
the smart thing to do would've been to ask nicely, but if that had happened, he would've suspected some sort of fae trickery anyway.
john smiles fleetingly, just the briefest flash of teeth before he holds them up at eye level to examine them. ]
R e a l l y ? [ he draws the word out to make it worse. ] Are you sure? I don't see your name on them...
[ it's a grade school tactic, but the classics never go out of style. ]
lmaaoooooooo
if looks could kill, he would be murdered on the spot.
but underneath that, even, something else is visible that she can't quite suppress: she's so angry that she's actually shaking with it. that's in her voice, too, when she says,]
I forgot. You don't know how to find anything of yours unless it has fucking ass written on the side of it.
[for a moment, it looks like she has another zinger to add to this already zinging retort; her mouth is open, halfway, to doing so, and then closes, lips pursing into a thin line. and she —
simply decides to cut out the proverbial middleman and reach for them, intending to snatch them right out of his hands, because she can't fucking take this anymore. he's more than several inches taller than her so it takes some time — and some effort — to try to cross that distance.]
no subject
[ he takes a step back and lifts them above his head before he tucks them away... somewhere. ten thousand years is plenty of time to have mastered some basic sleight of hand for just such an occasion. ]
It's rude to snatch things, you know? But I forgive you; I can see how much these mean to you.
[ he puts a hand over his heart. ]
I'm touched. I love the sentiment.
It makes me wonder what you might be willing to do to get them back...
no subject
of all times.
to be in john's hands, of all fucking people's.
or — not in his hands, as the case may be, because she blinks, and they disappear. and her chest tightens, and for a second, it feels like she's going to be sick. she gets a handle on that, maybe, on keeping herself standing without tipping over, but not on the shaking. it's visible, obvious, and completely out of her control.
the thing is, though? she's not going to just stand here. no, even if her legs shake, she takes another two steps forward, until she's in his face. says,]
Fuck. You.
[each individual word is its own emphasis, its own blow to be delivered.]
no subject
[ he smiles again, but this one is forced and tight and does nothing to soften his eyes. there isn't really enough here to make this a two-sided feud, but that doesn't mean it doesn't irritate him sometimes.
jyn has hated him since the moment they met — which he thinks is hardly fair — and her explanation hadn't seemed to account for the intensity of it, even before today, which occasionally manages to bother him.
he possibly handles rejection poorly.john doesn't get keepsakes, because he's sure that's what it is. if they were jyn's she could've given up and gotten new ones. no, there's something irreplaceable there. it's an easy sidestep from petty to bitter after that; why should anyone else's loss hurt less? ]
Show me some respect for once in your life, and they're yours.
no subject
it does nothing to soften the hardness in her eyes, or anything in her face. both of her hands are still curled into fists, too, her nails digging into her palms like this is what she has to cling to for dear life in this moment, but nothing about her or her anger has changed.
not even the venom in her voice.]
What makes you think you deserve respect?
no subject
[ And in the distance, there is Dark Schneider: riding the back of a red centipede. It was the most heavy metal-looking bug he could find and enslave, and his stupidly flashy entrance perhaps reminds everyone just how ridiculous this Oracle Event actually is. Dark reins and steers his spiny-legged mount towards John, pointing at him from afar and shouting at him from the top of his makeshift saddle— ]
Who the fuck are you?! You bullying Jyn?!
[ Because as high rank as he is in the John hater club, Dark has actually never met John. Welp!
Long white hair lifts off of Dark's shoulders and the sinister energy around him is growing palpable. Well, palpable and easily sensed for little guys and girls like all of them are right now. ]
no subject
john doesn't really move, remaining still and keeping his arms folded as they have been. his matte black eyes focus on dark now, the hollow white rings following his movement as he approaches. john's own unsettling aura intensifies, and his average face takes on an inhuman quality in its inability to contain whatever he's allowing to bleed through. there seems to be an incessant low hum around him, like the buzzing of wasp's wings. his usual tactic: let them think he feels threatened; that's like space god-emperor 101 — don't reveal your true power level any sooner than you have to. ]
Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you?
[ he doesn't justify the second question with a response. ]
no subject
at the sound of a familiar voice, jyn whirls around on her heel, and some of her overwhelming anger levels out, replaced with another feeling she can't quite identify; she's touched, grateful, a hundred other things, that someone's actually looking out for her. she doesn't need it, of course, because she can take care of herself, but —
it's nice to have. (and maybe it isn't so bad to want to have it.)
for a beat, a smile forms on her mouth, turning just a shade soft, but just as quickly, it shifts into more of a smirk. then:]
This is who I was telling you about.
[aka the fucking asshole
go nuts, dark :')]
no subject
But anyway, to answer John Gaius' question: ]
I'm the main fucking character!
[ Dark stomps a boot down to force his centipede to behave and at that, a moist, stinky breath falls from its mouth. He dismounts, flinging himself off the mount before landing beside Jyn, hair and loud attire billowing after him when his feet hit the floor.
John's energy is definitely something. The sound of the inhuman aura about him is just about enough to give Dark a headache. ]
This guy's your daddy? Well, at least I like his contact lenses.
[ He assumes that John is Cassian. ]
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What?
[her mouth is hanging open as she looks toward dark, and she's been stunned into such a deep shock that she's almost forgotten that john is even standing there.
what, indeed]
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[ He jabs his thumb at John, also as if he is not there. ]
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when she comes back online, she blinks once, twice, three times, her mouth still hanging open.
then, finally —]
No, he's not Cassian. [like, the fuck ?????????] What would make you think he's Cassian?
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Okay, but you didn't really tell me about many other guys.
[ Despite the fact, Dark is starting to piece together what Jyn's reply means. If the person beside them isn't Cassian, by process of elimination, there's only really one other option. His nose crinkles with distaste when he looks at John again a second time. Dark squints at him, expecting confirmation of what's suggested next— ]
John? The "fun one" that killed Rin?
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which is great because he just looks confused about jyn and dark's exchange, and not why cassian is being mentioned here right now. cassian? daddy???? and jyn? john wouldn't have expected him to be into difficult women; he seems very quiet and sad. but then, john hadn't accounted for this other side either, which is very interesting when you otherwise don't really know a guy other than he's a spy and he's willing to die for something. in any case, he can respect cassian for this because he gets the allure.
this might be weird if they all knew each other, hahaha......... ]
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[ he shoots the shittiest look at jyn before he returns his attention to dark, giving a little wave at the mention of his name. ]
Glad you could join us. I know that must've been hard for you.
As for Rin, she and I have already had a conversation. It was very nice; we shared cotton candy and everything.
[ his pleasant tone and easy smile are perfect, but his eyes stay just as flat as before. ]
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she turns, sharply, regarding john with steel under a raised brow.]
Really? You think you look better than him? [don't make her fucking laugh — oh wait, there's another one of those dark, bitter little scoffs.] Last time I checked, he wasn't the one who killed someone for fun.
[it's also unfortunate that jyn has done absolutely nothing to dispel the myth of "daddy".]
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Dark misses the offhanded insult meant for him. Instead of it clicking, his eyes are instead crazed when John makes mention of Rin— ]
And I'm supposed to believe she's besties with her murderer now, hah? Like that's all fine and good?
[ Kff! With nostrils flared, his expression contorts to one of rage. ]
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No. [ he sighs, muttering for fuck's sake under his breath because he hates having to explain himself. ] Not for fun, I'm not an animal. I had an excellent reason, and her sacrifice was not made in vain.
[ every death is special, guys. ]
And we are not "besties", [ air quotes? yes. ] Rin is simply a smart girl who is good at what she does. We exchanged information and parted ways peacefully, but I suspect she hates me quite a lot.
[ it's funny! ]
I don't blame her, and she's a much better person than I am. I wouldn't have been able to resist killing me back at least once. No guarantee she won't, but I'll have earned that, right?
[ he looks down as he brushes something from his sleeves. maybe something that isn't even there, but the dismissive gesture is clear.
john is old and tired and has been angry for a very long time; it's hard to motivate himself to give a fuck about other people's rage. ]
Now then, what is your grievance exactly? I know why Jyn wants me dead, but I still don't even know who you are.
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and, oh, he's trying. he's opened his stupid mouth to all his usual bantha shit — and for fuck's sake, does he ever get tired of listening to himself talk? it would be so easy to go for her blaster in the holster on her hip and silence him for a long time. a part of her is tempted.
but she, unlike him, doesn't go around killing people like this. (an excellent reason; that's bantha shit, too.) no, she'll keep her hands right where they are, crossing her arms over her chest for emphasis — and she'll roll her eyes so visibly.
she'll say, quietly, sarcastically, while dark figures out his answer:]
Can't imagine why she'd hate you.
[someone else might've said i don't want you dead, but, frankly, jyn can't, because she, unlike some people she knows (john), isn't in the habit of telling lies just to try to manipulate people with what they want to hear; if things happened to turn out that way one day, that he were to be dead, somewhere, she wouldn't exactly pretend to be sad about it.]
cw: suicide
That's just how he's going to treat this, isn't it? In an arrogant, dismissive way, with snooty, high-horse excuses that aren't going to work. When Dark sees John, he's reminded of how Lich the Eddie was, back in his home world. Satan's Ring on his finger. The lack of eye contact, the self-importance of being something so inherently connected to the undead— fuck, if the man dares be any more condescending, Dark doesn't know if he'll be able to keep himself from slugging him right in the nose. ]
An excellent reason?
[ Dark scoffs. John's going to push into this holier-than-thou I Did What I Had to Do TV trope now, isn't he? By this dialog alone, Dark can tell he's definitely a Never My Fault kind of character. He bares his fangs. ]
Shut up, John, with your dumb basic name! You talk so fucking much! Why'd you bring up your stupid cotton candy date in the first place?
[ Dark can only assume the necromancer's trying to humblebrag or something. ]
Listen, I'll lay it to you straight: you just better hope whatever you got from that Aetós guy changed you, your dog, and your grandma's life up until now because you sure made a piss-baby mistake by dragging my woman into your buddy's mad scientist bullshit! You should've done this whole cast a favor by deleting yourself and giving Aetós your own shard instead!
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[ john chuckles quietly, brows lifting in a questioning expression as he peers across at dark. he expects people to throw moral objections at him, but this is a new one. he sidesteps the question of his reasoning to focus on this instead. ]
Yikes, is that what this is about? I never would've guessed. She must have some reason for sticking around, I suppose. Couldn't be for the conversation.
[ perhaps that other soul he can perceive occupying the same body? john can only guess. ]
You're wasting your time, in any case. I only brought it up to illustrate the fact that Rin could've had her revenge whenever she wanted. I sat right next to her the whole time and was a little drunk besides, but I'm not who she wants to be punished.
[ john hardly thinks he's blameless, but it's not like yelling at him will suddenly awaken him to the error of his ways. it's clear they want something out of this, but can't imagine they're going to walk away anything less than disappointed.
jyn wants her gloves, of course, but he hasn't gotten what he'd requested as his price yet either. ]
The fact that you think confronting me and telling me what a naughty thing I've done accomplishes anything just proves how out of touch you are.
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[ The other's attitude is still annoying as fuck, but John at the very least hasn't disputed Dark's claims. He folds his arms over his chest. ]
Rin's like. Two. [ Like he's picking fun at her ageー ]
And frankly, I don't care if she didn't kick your ass for what you did to her, because it doesn't change the fact that I'm about to, whether doing so "accomplishes" [ He makes some air quotes with his fingers and lifts his voice higher, attempting mock the other's tone. ] anything or not.
[ Dark spits, ] Ha! Actually, seeing you bleed would be juuust the accomplishment I needed in spite of this garbage, granted how pissed I was that weren't around for me to beat the shit out of the first time.
[ Dark turns to look over Jyn, because right. Something had been going on between these two before he'd arrived. She's got beef with him too, doesn't she? ]
Something wrong, by the way? What'd he do to you?
[ Because if he can get back at John for both his wrongdoings toward Rin and Jyn, it's two birds with one stone. ]
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ughghghghgh i am sorry
LMAO HELP
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