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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.
no subject
He pauses for a moment between steps, shifting his hold on the boy to readjust, then resumes making his way through the complex maze of tunnels. There is something so oddly familiar about this boy and the way that he speaks. Dokja's thoughts are moving in several different directions as he carefully moves, and he's reminded of another time he's had to deal with mysterious appearances of children in Kenos.
... The pieces are coming together. ]
You're the only one I've come across, but someone else might have gotten him out.
[ If he sounds distracted, that's because he is. ]
By the way, what's your name?
no subject
Once this mysterious boy has traveled a bit with Dokja, he finally ends up resting his arm on Dokja's shoulder. He keeps his head turned away, looking out ahead with a pair of eyes which dimly glow red in the dark.]
He would have attacked them if they tried.
[Boy who looks like him sounds like a bit of a bad egg maybe...]
...Our names are D.
no subject
D?
[ He practically shouts the name, clear surprise written across his face as he whips his head to the side to fix the boy with a disbelieving stare. What the hell, it makes so much sense now... The pale skin, the manner of speech, the doom and gloom hanging over him.
Don't mind Dokja having a moment of clarity and realization that he may, in fact, be actually stupid. ]
No way. Even as a kid you were like this!?
no subject
D finally looks down at Dokja again, the ???????? so apparent it almost turns into question marks above his head. Hello?]
What?
[I like your funny words, magic man!
He has always been a kid, so he doesn't know what the hell Dokja is smoking. A little weird Dokja talks like he's known, though.]
Did you come from the future?
[Just wondering. Advanced vampire technology and magic is a thing which exists... unfortunately.]
no subject
In the middle of his crisis, he can't help but think that's it so weird that little D is so nonchalant about everything. What has this kid been through?? And how can he make it stop?? ]
I... [ Falters, because yes, he did come from the future but isn't it taboo to say things like that... ] I guess so? It's more like you came from the past.
[ Oh, right, they are leaving the tunnels. Best go back to doing that, even if Dokja is still shaken over this reveal. ]
It didn't seem strange to you? Suddenly appearing in a place like this?
no subject
Not really. A lot of the tests make me unconscious, and then I wake up in another room.
[After so many tests, you accept your life is full of tests, so closing your eyes and opening them to yet another test is not a big deal... This will not alleviate Dokja's concern at all.]
The ants are coming, [he says in an ominously calm, Children of the Corn voice.] Behind us.
[After a moment or two, the ground beneath Dokja's feet starts gently quaking with the marching of giant ant feet.]
no subject
Ultimately, he's left with one choice, and that's to run. And boy, can Dokja run.
Keeping a firm hold of D, blue lightning crackles beneath his feet, and then in a split second, they're off. Their surroundings become a blur, wind whipping past them until the gleam of sunlight can be spotted at the opening of the ant tunnel.
Too bad a cluster of ants has gathered there, forcing Dokja to skid to a halt. ]
Shit...!
no subject
His attention swivels to the front and the gathered ants blocking their path. Hm. He peeps over Dokja's shoulder and head to the back... Pincered.]
Do you want to fight them?
[D will fight them if Dokja wants... D will help Dokja fight them even if he doesn't think Dokja should because Dokja has been kind to him.]
no subject
So no, he does not set D down and let the little guy go batshit. ]
I'll blast through them. [ Digs his heels into the dirt and leans forward. He is now using two hands to hold on to D. ] Keep your head down.
[ Here comes the familiar whistle and crackle of lightning as it builds behind Dokja, then begins to crawl up his legs and arms. Like before, the world becomes a faint blur, and then like half a second later, they're going through the ants guarding the entrance, spraying ant guts and parts all over the place and themselves. Nice. ]
no subject
Oh. Dokja is going to Flash them, okay. He gives one short, last glance at the ants, and then he sort of balls himself up a bit more and tucks his face into the bottom of Dokja's neck out of the way of air resistance. And, uh, getting neck snapped.
The lightning and noise doesn't bother him. They are almost... nostalgic? People would be surprised what all you hear inside a laboratory day in and day out.
The gut spray doesn't bother him either, but nevermind that.]
no subject
It's then that he finally sets little D back down on the ground, partly because he's exhausted, while another part wants to wipe the ant guts from his face and where some of it had gotten into the corners of his eyes. ]
... Gross.
[ There was probably a better way to do that. Anyway, blinks down at D. ]
How was that?
no subject
His body unfurls when Dokja returns him to the ground, legs catching him and straightening him upright. His lifts his dark, rusty eyes up to Dokja slowly, studying Dokja's face.
Nevermind he also has nasty ant spray on him, but the ant viscera on Dokja and the question gets him to..... very hesitantly smile. It's a better smile than he ever gives when he's older, but it's still not wild or bold.]
...That was amazing.
no subject
But oh. Little D definitely looks more like a child without all the doom and gloom hanging over his head. In response to the modest smile, Dokja grins brightly. ]
Look at that. You even know how to smile.
[ Offers his hand. Are you ready to get lost, D? What would normally be like a 10 minute walk back to where everyone is will take Dokja about 45 minutes to get there because his sense of direction is so bad. ]
Let's get you back.
no subject
Wait NO. Don't call out the smile. He makes a bit of a face when his brows furrow even if the linger of the smile is still there for a moment. It fades when his eyes lower to the offered hand.
Well, Dokja had helped him, and Dokja hadn't attacked him. He wonders if... this is the trick. If this is the test, the one where he learns not to trust anyone. Carefully, he lifts his small hand and puts it into Dokja's palm.]
Back to the laboratory?
no subject
What kind of fucked up life has this kid lived... Dokja's brows come together in concern, and his smile grows a little tighter, a little harder to keep up, but he doesn't allow it to fall. Instead, he closes his fingers around D's hand, gentle as he pulls him along on their trek back. ]
I don't know about any laboratory. I'm taking us to the camp. You look like you could use a meal and a long nap.
[ Or several of the above. ]
no subject
The fact Dokja does not crush his little hand bones...? Strange to him. D falls in by Dokja's leg, holding onto Dokja's hand with the same kind of stiffness that comes from never really having held anyone else's hand before in this way. His stride is very confident and sure.]
I don't need to eat, [he admits matter-of-factly with zero childishly dejected emotion. He's such a weird creature.] Or sleep.
But I can.
[Wait. He glances up.]
...Thank you.
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Which is kind of what Dokja is currently going through, too. He guesses that makes sense that D doesn't need to eat or sleep? Since he isn't a normal person... or child... Damn, the way Dokja just knows he's like an inch or two away from unlocking tragic backstory, but doesn't want to go there because feelings are uncomfortable and also maybe he likes D the adult enough to not want to pry. ]
You're welcome.
[ He doesn't think he deserves any gratitude, but he'll respond like a normal human being. ]
Let's look out for each other while we're here, okay? I'll make sure to keep you safe.
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Dokja standing outside of the FMA Gate before putting on his Yusuke shades and saying he's not gonna let that ruin his day. Also, ACCEPT HIS GRATITUDE for saving him from the ants even if he is relatively strong on his own from being inhuman and also had just accepted his fate in there.]
Okay. I can help.
[A good gothic black bean.]
Do you think... I can find my mother?
[Just questions kids ask. Like the one Eastman book.]
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But oh, this question feels more like something a normal child would say. Have they moved past the freaky shit? ]
I guess that depends. Where did you last see her?
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D glances up at Dokja, and the hesitant uncertainty is in his silence. He looks ahead again distantly, like he's trying to figure out how to answer this very simple question when it isn't very simple at all.]
I didn't, [he finally says softly. At first, it seems like this may be all he says. But then he finally adds:] Ever see her.
[Had he...? Had it been a dream? Maybe wishful thinking.]
Do you think she misses us even though she gave us to the man? He said he had to cut us apart.
[Dokja did not escape the freaky shit.]
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Dokja's expression immediately falls at such a sad response. He's had his own share of family problems, after all, so this is hitting closer to home than he'd expected.
While his steps falter for just a moment, he recovers quickly, fixing his expression to one of thoughtfulness as he considers the question. He's a liar by default, so it would be easy to come up with something, anything, but in the face of such an honest child, Dokja finds the truth slipping out of his mouth. ]
I was separated from my mother, too. I felt abandoned by her for a long time, and I couldn't understand why she did what she did. Eventually, I found out the truth and the sacrifices she had made for my sake.
[ There's a faint smile on his face when he glances back down at D. ]
I'm sure she misses you. There's nothing more precious to mothers than their children.
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D's head lifts; he looks up at Dokja with large, curious eyes. Dobby has been given... a scrap of lore. He Will Remember This.]
I thought she did want us because we were stuck together. [Because they were UGLY and MUTATED. Dokja can have the conjoined twin lore, too.] But I can remember... a woman singing.
[Just trotting along holding Dokja's hand like this is the most normal conversation in the world.]
Did she get to hold us when we weren't...?
[Just some personal musing.]
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But yes, this is fine, probably. Distant sounds of a bustling campsite can be heard, so at least they're headed in the right direction.
Meanwhile, Dokja looks thoughtful as he actually gives the question some consideration. ]
I bet you she did.
[ WHO WOULDN'T HOLD A CUTE KID LIKE D...... Cute... mutated kid.... ]
When you find her, you should definitely ask.
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Mom definitely held them lovingly while they were conjoined at the back... maybe.
D stares off into the middle distance thoughtfully as they draw near the campsite. He wants to say he probably won't find her. Logically, she is probably dead. He does not know how much time has passed in the laboratory for him, and she was human.
Instead, he says:] I will.
You should ask your mother, too.
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But no, Dokja is definitely feeling a bit sad about little D... It feels somewhat nostalgic, too, and he's surprised to find that he doesn't hate that. Proof that he's managed to work through some things in life. ]
... Yeah. I will.
[ He repeats the words back at D just as they arrive at the campsite, even if he knows it's a lie. There's no going back to that world and his people for him, but D doesn't have to know that. Instead, Dokja will be spending whatever time he can with D for the rest of this event to make sure he doesn't end up in another ant tunnel. ]