Your fidget cube's accents are Cirrus Network blue.
~
The vision opens in a dojo or training hall, with a few... distinctive touches to the decor. The walls are hung with scroll paintings depicting [happy] scenes: a smiling man in gold [throwing his arms] around another man's neck, a figure [laughing happily] as he kneels before a pair of black boots strung with silver chains. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling burn with a wan green fire, casting the dojo's corners into gloom and shadow.
Two people are sparring in the middle of the dojo: 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️, a lean man in dark grey, and 🎭🎭🎭🎭, a tall, spare woman wearing a black metal mask shaped like a bird's long, hooked beak. Both of them wield pairs of [very big spoons]. As they move back and forth across the mats, the woman barks out instructions and corrections in a harsh voice: watch your left, switch grips faster, defend yourself.
Even to an untrained eye, 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ clearly has skill with [very big spoons]. He's also at a marked disadvantage to 🎭🎭🎭🎭, who seems to be barely breaking a sweat, even as she starts pressing her attack with flurries of movement, faster and faster, faster and faster, limbs blurring—until one of her [very big spoons] scythes down faster than 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ can block it, right into the side of his neck.
But right as it bites into his flesh, right as blood begins to spurt from his jugular, the 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ on the mats vanishes in a puff of [confetti and glitter]. The edge of 🎭🎭🎭🎭's mouth, just barely visible beneath the edge of her mask, curls up in a satisfied smile.
The vision shifts to show 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ up on one of the rafters, hidden in the shadows just under the roof. He watches as, down below, 🎭🎭🎭🎭 slowwwwly turns in a circle, flipping one of her [very big spoons] in her hand, up and down, up and down. "Little fledgling," she calls out. "Where aaaaare youuuuu~ Come out and play, won't you?"
As 🎭🎭🎭🎭 turns away from him, 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ takes his shot, dropping out of the rafters nearly on top of her, [very big spoons] braced to tear into her back. But just before they connect, 🎭🎭🎭🎭 abruptly turns around and lashes out with a kick. "There you are," she croons, right before her foot connects with the center of 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️'s torso, landing with enough force to send 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ flying halfway across the dojo and into one of the support pillars by the far wall.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ slams into the pillar back first, hard enough to shake dust from the rafters above, and falls to the ground, gasping for breath. 🎭🎭🎭🎭 strolls up to him at a leisurely pace. "Better, fledgling, better," she says. "Now, back on your feet. The long night has many hours yet."
After another long moment to catch his breath, 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ slowly pushes himself to his knees, reaching for his fallen [very big spoons].
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timeasmymeasure
MOON
Date: 2025-11-14 11:00 pm (UTC)~
The vision opens in a dojo or training hall, with a few... distinctive touches to the decor. The walls are hung with scroll paintings depicting [happy] scenes: a smiling man in gold [throwing his arms] around another man's neck, a figure [laughing happily] as he kneels before a pair of black boots strung with silver chains. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling burn with a wan green fire, casting the dojo's corners into gloom and shadow.
Two people are sparring in the middle of the dojo: 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️, a lean man in dark grey, and 🎭🎭🎭🎭, a tall, spare woman wearing a black metal mask shaped like a bird's long, hooked beak. Both of them wield pairs of [very big spoons]. As they move back and forth across the mats, the woman barks out instructions and corrections in a harsh voice: watch your left, switch grips faster, defend yourself.
Even to an untrained eye, 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ clearly has skill with [very big spoons]. He's also at a marked disadvantage to 🎭🎭🎭🎭, who seems to be barely breaking a sweat, even as she starts pressing her attack with flurries of movement, faster and faster, faster and faster, limbs blurring—until one of her [very big spoons] scythes down faster than 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ can block it, right into the side of his neck.
But right as it bites into his flesh, right as blood begins to spurt from his jugular, the 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ on the mats vanishes in a puff of [confetti and glitter]. The edge of 🎭🎭🎭🎭's mouth, just barely visible beneath the edge of her mask, curls up in a satisfied smile.
The vision shifts to show 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ up on one of the rafters, hidden in the shadows just under the roof. He watches as, down below, 🎭🎭🎭🎭 slowwwwly turns in a circle, flipping one of her [very big spoons] in her hand, up and down, up and down. "Little fledgling," she calls out. "Where aaaaare youuuuu~ Come out and play, won't you?"
As 🎭🎭🎭🎭 turns away from him, 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ takes his shot, dropping out of the rafters nearly on top of her, [very big spoons] braced to tear into her back. But just before they connect, 🎭🎭🎭🎭 abruptly turns around and lashes out with a kick. "There you are," she croons, right before her foot connects with the center of 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️'s torso, landing with enough force to send 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ flying halfway across the dojo and into one of the support pillars by the far wall.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ slams into the pillar back first, hard enough to shake dust from the rafters above, and falls to the ground, gasping for breath. 🎭🎭🎭🎭 strolls up to him at a leisurely pace. "Better, fledgling, better," she says. "Now, back on your feet. The long night has many hours yet."
After another long moment to catch his breath, 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ slowly pushes himself to his knees, reaching for his fallen [very big spoons].