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aboveallthings) wrote2025-11-14 04:42 pm
aboveallthings) wrote2025-11-14 04:42 pm
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[Limelight] Vision Swap Visions 2: The Receivening
[In your hand is a fidget cube, a rounded white cube accented with buttons, dials, and switches in the color of a certain Family on the ship.
Play with any of the fidget cube's six sides and you'll receive a vision. There are two problems with this:
1) some very important information seems to have been blocked out, and
2) you know, with a bone-deep certainty, that this vision isn't yours.
But if this vision isn't yours...then whose is it? Maybe the color of your cube is a clue.]
BACK TO THE EVENT POST
Play with any of the fidget cube's six sides and you'll receive a vision. There are two problems with this:
1) some very important information seems to have been blocked out, and
2) you know, with a bone-deep certainty, that this vision isn't yours.
But if this vision isn't yours...then whose is it? Maybe the color of your cube is a clue.]
BACK TO THE EVENT POST
JACKSON UMBRA
~
Cantaloupe is in a giant coliseum-like stadium, surrounded on all sides by crowds from every corner of [bird squawking]. They are cheering loudly for both contenders as the two of them step out onto the platform. On one end is Cantaloupe, and on the other, Melon. Rather than scoffing at Melon, Cantaloupe gazes upon Melon with interest and admiration for making it so far from [bird squawking]. They clash against one another, Cantaloupe swinging Cantaloupe's ding-a-ling while Melon throws punch after punch [bird squawking] until Melon eventually overcomes Cantaloupe. Though Cantaloupe loses, Cantaloupe remains proud of Melon and in awe of Melon's prowess.
CANVAS
~
You hold a cold, cold [CLOWN SHOES SQUEAKING] as you stand in front of a dwindling flame. The doll, in the shape of a young girl, does her best to tend it. The red-haired girl next to you won't look at you, but she pretty much did just break up with you. The doll says, Her moment is coming, but your decision approaches even more rapidly. Are you prepared?
It seems like a stupid question. You're more exhausted than you've been in your life. You're more terrified than you've been in your life. You're more angry than you've been in your life. It's been days of intense fighting, and you are losing. Days of war, years of war, and time is running out. You look at the [CLOWN SHOES SQUEAKING] in your hands, knowing that the spirit of Whistle flutters inside. You were told that you could free Whistle, and Yo-yo would take it as your surrender. They would show you kindness. You'd thrown the offer in their faces, but...now? You want to do it.
Surrender. Otherwise your home will be destroyed. Your precious toy store will burn.
You want to give up Whistle. Things are messed up with your closest friends. Your parents are in danger, and you can't protect them. Your city is burning. Your army, your friends and peers, are dying and dying and dying. You are surrounded and outnumbered by the enemy. The dolls are failing, and the dolls are cruel. You know this. You've seen so much of it. You don't want to keep fighting. It would be so easy to stop fighting. Everything is going to be destroyed anyway. What's the point?
Then you look at the doll, and you see something different. You remember the good you've seen in your friends, over and over. You remember the best times with each other, with your family. Your mom's unceasing kindness. Your stepdad's humor and warmth. There's no point in defending the toy store if you guys die. All our friends are here. Everything that matters is here, and it's worth defending until the bitter end. It's worth your life, and more. So you can't give up. So you remember what you're fighting for. You remember why you can't stop fighting.
You give the [CLOWN SHOES SQUEAKING] to the doll as an offering. She asks why you trust her with this, when she's the most unimportant of the dolls.
— You're the last Barbie. And the most important.
— And why is that?
— Because Whistle survives best at the hearth. Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give up again.
She smiles, accepting the [CLOWN SHOES SQUEAKING]. Her power glows a little brighter.
— Well done. May the dolls bless you.
FERN/VIN
~
GOSSAMER
~
Findin’ somethin’ irreplaceable will lead to your death.
I need to punish the person who betrayed me for the sake of those who used to be with me.
The [HORN HONKING], Brandon, should be followin’ those precepts as a matter of course.
I know that, Elise.
But those beloved principles of yours are just tyin’ me down.
I’m fine dyin’ because of my own pride, but I refuse to die a captive.
I’m the one in charge of my destiny.
-----
You spot Nathan standing among the others, taking in the victory that you all helped gain. Your thoughts aren't on the spoils you've won though. It's on something else entirely.
"Nathan."
Nathan looks to you, way.
You nod your head towards the nearby alley. "C'mon. We gotta talk."
The two of you walk to the alley, and Nathan Waits with baited breath for you to spill whatever secrets you have. So, you take in a breath, and you say what has been on your mind for a while. "Why'd you run?"
The question just makes Nathan look all the more miserable. "I was tired of being with you. Because I couldn't be what you needed me to be." He shakes his head. "But that ain't your fault. I was the one in the wrong. I just couldn't [HORNS HONKING]."
"Now that ain't true," You start to say, but any further thoughts of argument die before they leave your tongue.
Both of you fall quiet once more, unable to put your thoughts to words. But Nathan finally breaks the silence, though his words are of little comfort. "I loved you, Brandon. Even now, I'd still die for you. Though I bet you wouldn't believe me."
Nathan's words dig into your gut like a hot ball of lead, leaving you feeling more miserable than you had before. How had you two grown so far apart?
"...you promised me your life, didn't you?"
"...yeah."
"So that means I get to decide [GEESE HONKING], right?"
Nathan Looks at you curiously. "Where are you going with this, Brandon?"
"Let's kill 'em," you say, "Everyone who wronged us. I wanna take 'em out, and I want you by my side when I do it, Partner."
"...okay."
-----
If the thing lockin’ me up is me myself, then I’ll just run away from that cage.
Let’s have some fun.
Even if my chosen dance partner leads me to oblivion.
ASTER
~
[luke] waits for you [outside hermes cabin] and says he'd like to talk to you with a smile. more ominously, he suggests you head to [tartarus]... because nobody can get in your way there. [grover] is shocked by the invitation, but agrees the two of you are strong enough that you should be fine.
he still warns you to be ready for anything and to be careful, before you leave. you both know what [luke] has planned.
you follow him into [tartarus] anyway, surrounded by its oppressive dark, and only ask him what he wants when he stops.
[luke] turns and points [backbiter] at you.
you're surprised, but you're not surprised. it's too soon -- but of course [luke] would have wanted this all along. maybe you did, too.
"remember what i told you? if you ever won against me [in capture the flag], i'd take you on with everything i've got." he wants to duel you without holding anything back. your insight, wit, and quick growth has left him dissatisfied with anything else; you've exceeded his expectations in every way.
fine, then. you accept.
"you won't be able to defeat me unless you actually fight with lethal intent. now, show me your true skills."
you fulfill half of that request; [luke] is strong and that's where the joy of it comes from, even if both of you really do go for each other's throats, [riptide] clashing with [backbiter].
you lose --you win --
[luke] is the one who concedes defeat, though not without a frustrated laugh. he understands: this is why you're the leader, isn't it? but he also acknowledges that if you go any further, you'll both go beyond the point of no return. he wistfully says he'd love to see just how far you can both go, but you have an important mission coming up. until that's finished, you're vital allies.
you leave [tartarus].
he flatters you for your strength, claiming it's reassuring and that he's ready to rely on you in a pinch. you concur and think you might even understand him better -- but he's still fixed on the results. if you'd kept going...
the friendly mask fractures.
"i'm going to be entirely honest with you: i hate you."
he rattles off all the ways he hates you, surprising you with the realization: a not insignificant part of this had been personal all along. haughtily, he says he'll let you have the win today -- but next time, he'll be victorious. he pulls a glove off one hand and flings it into your face. you catch it.
he tells you there's a tradition to throw one's glove at their opponent when demanding a duel. should the opponent accept the glove, the duel is also accepted. he wants a rematch -- in a future where you know he'll betray you, just as much as you know you'll shove him down in order to climb to the top. to win. to survive.
you both know how this ends.
he smiles at you, anyway, mask slotting neatly back into place. "ah, look at the time. let's call it a day for now."
ORIOLE
~
gallery link
WISTERIA
~
You're running through a corridor, following behind a man older than you. Given the coordinated way the two of you move, it seems that you’re working together. You’re running incredibly fast, faster than anyone should be able to. You feel... wrong, as though this place itself is sapping your energy. Still, you know that the two of you have come to this place to find something important.
Ahead of you, two soldiers step into the corridor. [NAME] doesn’t hesitate before slamming feet first into one of them, then flipping and jamming [WEAPON] straight into the other one’s neck.
After the two soldiers are dispatched, you both see a doorway with a brighter light shining inside, and you move towards it. This chamber is wide, with a high ceiling and murals made of silver. [NAME] strides forward, and you follow in a nervous crouch. It’s suspicious to you, how empty this room is, if it’s as important as the two of you are imagining. There must be other guards or soldiers nearby. Still, the two of you approach a large door leading further into the building, and [NAME] opens it without hesitation.
You were right to be worried. A [MONSTER NAME] stands in the doorway, a slow smile spreading on its face. Both of you freeze for a long, shocked moment, looking at the humanoid form standing there, processing the sudden danger.
Your thoughts are interrupted when [NAME] starts to yell. “Run!” As soon as he says that, the [MONSTER NAME] reaches out almost casually, grabbing him by the throat. You see two other [MONSTER NAME]s heading towards you. The one holding onto [NAME] lifts him with an iron grip. The smile remains as he looks at the man. “[NAME].” His voice sounds like grinding stone, before he turns his attention to you. “And... you. I’ve been looking for you. I’ll let this one die quickly if you tell me [PLOT DETAIL].”
[NAME] coughs, struggling for breath, and the [MONSTER NAME] turns back toward him. He coughs again, trying to form words, and the [MONSTER NAME] pulls him closer. Immediately, [NAME] takes advantage of the proximity and shoves [WEAPON] into the thing’s neck. As the creature stumbles, he slams his fist into the [MONSTER NAME]'s forearm, shattering bone. The [MONSTER NAME] drops him, and he falls to the floor. He looks back towards you. “I said run!”
He throws an [ITEM] at you, and you reach out to grab it - but it moves unusually fast, propelled by an unseen force. You realize that he was trying to throw it at you, not to you, and it pushes you backwards as it slams against your chest, propelling you past the other two [MONSTER NAME]s who were approaching. After you skid on the floor, you look up, disoriented. You see [NAME] standing, and the first [MONSTER NAME] moving towards him, apparently unconcerned about the [WEAPON] stuck in its neck. The other two [MONSTER NAME]s stand between you and [NAME]. “Run!” He screams. For a moment, the word echoes in the domed chamber, and one [MONSTER NAME] turns to you with its unnatural gaze. Finally, the word cuts through your daze.
You rush to your feet and start sprinting for the nearest doorway out of here, using [POWER DESCRIPTION]. When you hit the ground, it’s unexpected, and at an awkward angle. Your head hits the stone floor, and for a moment, everything spins. You wonder what happened and why you didn’t make it to the destination you were aiming for, before you remember the [ITEM] you’re holding - someone [POWER DESCRIPTION], pulling you backwards. Just as you realize this, you see the [MONSTER NAME] running down the corridor towards you, and you pull some [ITEM], throwing them towards the [MONSTER NAME] - until he [POWER DESCRIPTION]. You’re thrown backwards again, and when you come to rest, you see the him moving towards you once more.
You pick yourself up and run through the first doorway you see, grabbing an [ITEM] from the wall as a makeshift weapon - but as the [MONSTER NAME] comes into the room, it’s ripped from your hands easily. You jump, using [POWER DESCRIPTION] while the [MONSTER NAME] continues moving towards you. He reaches into a bowl atop a pillar, pulling out what appears to be [ITEM]. His hand bleeds at contact, but this doesn’t stop the way he throws them towards you easily. You only barely dodge them by ducking behind a pillar.
“You are trapped. Come with me.” It says. You look around to see that there aren’t any other doors in the room, and when you look towards the [MONSTER NAME] around the pillar, another [ITEM] shoots towards your face. You duck behind the pillar again before it can hit you. Behind the altar, you see a leatherbound book, and you wonder if this is what you came here to find - you reach towards it. When you look back towards the [MONSTER NAME], something fundamental has changed. You can [POWER DESCRIPTION]. The [MONSTER NAME] looks shocked for a moment, before he [POWER DESCRIPTION].
You run out of the room, and see several soldiers - normal humans, not like the [MONSTER NAME] chasing you. They’re easy enough to get past when you can foresee their movements. You don’t kill or even wound them - that would only take more time. You’re focused on escape. As you pass the last man, you turn around a corner, relief flooding through you at the possibility of escape–
Everything happens very quickly.
Before you’ve had time to process that there’s another [MONSTER NAME] standing right there, it’s too late to dodge before he shoves a weapon into your stomach, and it pierces out through your back.
You gasp in both shock and pain, hearing a sickening noise as it rips the weapon right back out with no thought or concern. You see that it’s a [WEAPON]. You grasp your side, feeling a terrifying amount of blood seeping out from the large, jagged wound, immediately [POWER DESCRIPTION]. You realize this is the [MONSTER NAME] from the room you left [NAME] in, and there’s a terrifying moment where you have to wonder if that means he’s been killed.
“Who is [PLOT DETAIL]?” The [MONSTER NAME] asks. The soldiers near you step aside to let another [MONSTER NAME] through the corridor you just ran through, and as you look down at the wound - it’s a severe one, and even with the [POWER DESCRIPTION] you’re using, you don’t know how long you’ll be able to stand - both [MONSTER NAME]s start to descend towards you, the first one still holding the weapon coated with your blood. You don’t know where to go. As you think, panicked, that you have no way out of this—
The memory ends.
MAGGIE
~
Far below the temple balcony, down in the streets, the streamers for the festival flutter in the breeze, orange and yellow, vibrant as summer.
The voices of the festival-goers rise up on the air, all shouts and laughter, occasional snatches of song. The sound of the parade drifts to them from three blocks down, a bright and wending tone of flutes with the rhythmic backdrop of drums.
[A WHISPERING OF WIND]'s eyes flicker out and away – trace over the sea of humanity, the children with orange-gold flags clasped in their hands.
His own hands cradle a hand pie, the crust still flaky and warm. The smell of it, hot and savory, makes his stomach twist with want, but he makes no move to bite into it.
“Will you need to go soon, to begin the ceremony?” he says, tone carefully measured.
The young woman seated beside him snorts, indelicate. Her hair is a blonde so pale it nears white, tied back into a sloppy tail. She wears a men’s vest over a loose cotton shirt, the laces partially undone. She does not look prepared for a ceremony of any kind, much less as though she means to lead one.
“They can figure it out themselves,” says [A BRIGHT PEAL OF LAUGHTER]. “I told them you were coming this week.”
[A WHISPERING OF WIND] stares down at the pie in his hands.
“Your [THE CREAK OF A SIGNPOST],” he says, very softly. It does not sound like a question, quite – but it is a question all the same.
“I told him you were coming, too,” says [A BRIGHT PEAL OF LAUGHTER], firm.
Down below in the streets, the parade has drawn nearer. A troupe of men and women in vibrant yellow and sunset orange are performing a dance that looks more carefree than elaborate, more joyful than planned.
“I see,” says [A WHISPERING OF WIND].
There is a touch against his shoulder, and when he turns to look she has settled against him, comfortable, as though she means to stay there and watch the parade.
“Eat your pie,” she tells him. “You have three days yet.”
[A WHISPERING OF WIND] nods, uncertain. He bites into the pie, rich chicken and mushroom gravy. He chews it, careful, and by the time he finishes, the first of the floats carried by the festival-goers is passing by below.
[A BRIGHT PEAL OF LAUGHTER] passes him another hand pie.
This one is full of peaches, he discovers, as a spray of water blooms to life in the streets beneath them, beset with colored lights, and the flutes strike up a new refrain.
ELEGY
~
You see the priestess as you're walking to the greenhouse, fretting at the fence. That's never a good sign -- is the thing damaged? There's enough problems lately without adding more killing ghosts from the mist beyond it to the mix.
"Miss ■■■■■■■?" you ask.
"Y-you have a lot of nerve coming this close to the fence! Our deal's null, end of st--eh? ■■■■■■?" She spins to look at you, startled.
You look into the mist, even as she yelps that you need to run. The stuff confuses your eyes, as always, but it only takes a moment for the wrongness in it to resolve itself: a red light -- no, an eye? An enemy?
You scoop her up hurriedly and back away, but it pushes forward: the flickering, glowing eye sitting in the socket of a badly-damaged skull, a single crumbling horn, the melted remnants of gold ornaments clinging to the bone. You don't panic -- you've very good at not panicking -- but you know you are in enormous trouble. You start to cast a spell, knowing you probably won't get it off in time.
We made a deal, priestess, the creature whispers in your heads. I WILL fulfill my end, and you yours, one final time. This ■■■■■■■■ will do nicely.
You fling the priestess as far away as you can, as the creature's golden tendrils snare you with impossible strength. The last thing you hear, before the muffling despair of the mist closes in on you, is her screaming for it to stop.
CALICO
~
As always, ★★★★★ lands beside you without a sound.
"You're really going to lose your balance one of these days," she teases. "Then I'll have to clean it up."
"Am not," you retort, without taking your eyes off the scene below. It's a bloodless massacre, as always. Why kill others and have to live with the guilt, when the ⭙⭙⭙⭙⭙ erodes living matter without discrimination?
★★★★★ laughs, settling down next to you on the roof's edge. It's a long way down, not that it matters. The ⭙⭙⭙⭙⭙ would take you before you could even blink, let alone scream. Even if your physical form lasted long enough to hit the ground, your mind would be long gone. Unlike the surface-level clusters that spawn and vanish without rhyme or reason, the ⭙⭙⭙⭙⭙ clusters between height zones remain ever-present.
It's why being up here is so safe. ♁♁♁♁♁♁♁♁♁♁, the standard passive ward, is already rare enough. Having an active anti-⭙⭙⭙⭙⭙ skill is even rarer. If you're foolish enough to pass through the ⭙⭙⭙⭙⭙ on purpose, you'd better hope that you have both.
★★★★★ slips her hand into yours, and you finally relent - by turning and blowing on her face. "Hey!" she protests, eyebrows creasing with mock offense even as the sparkle in her violet eyes betrays her. Her silver hair shines in the fading dusk light, and not for the first time you wonder how someone so radiant could have ended up here.
A filthy half-■■■■, holding hands with a ■■■■■■■. Who would have thought it possible?
TRITIUM
~
It's dark, so dark, with only the twinkling stars in the sky to shed even a little light. Oscar has run ahead, rushing to meet up with the bright glowing dog-shaped souls. They look similar to the squirrel that stands at your side, protecting you from the unending darkness, but different in a way. You know this isn't just a [GEESE HONKING], this is their very essence of being.
Their souls.
You run after Oscar as he reaches a pair of ethereal dogs. One small, a chihuahua you think, but the other you know well. The taller, more majestic dog- a greyhound- sits there looking at the smaller dog with a sense of pity.
"Oh, my precious Tanya," the greyhound says, "What has happened to you?"
Though it is a quiet moment among family- both living and dead- you know what this is. This is a final goodbye, your last chance to make peace with [WAVES SPLASHING LOUDLY].
You feel that old ache return to your chest, stronger than before. Goodbyes are always the worst.
VINCENT C. FROST
~
Ting, ting, ting-- The moon, which was so bright in the night sky that everything was bright as day, wept. Countless silver threads swayed as if in a gentle breeze, singing a song that only I could hear.
[If you abandon just one thing.]
The chime of the bells whispered to me. It would have been easy to back down and grasp the ordinary life that I longed for. As always, it was a sweet temptation. If I took just one step back, I could live peacefully.
"You can't take anyone here," I said as I looked up at her. "Neither ▮▮▮▮▮ or me." Or ▮▮▮▮, either.
[You’re always in my way.]
This time, it wasn't a whisper meant only for me. At what sounded like a threat, the people around me shifted, anticipating a fight. But her tall, otherworldly figure cloaked in silver moonlight only smiled down at us indulgently.
[Even so, you are dear to me. Every path you choose, each way you go—they are all beloved.]
I felt my breath release. All things, right or wrong, were the same to her. I already knew that. Yet it left me feeling hollow and stifled. What was the point of a love that disregarded what kind of person I was? The choices I made? Even that frustration would never reach her.
"If you think so, then withdraw and leave us alone. You already lost this round."
I felt her gaze on me--on everyone else, like a spider contemplating those caught in her web. But she didn't argue; her figure scattered into fragments, blending like mist with the moonlight.
"Is she...really gone?" ▮▮▮▮▮ sat down on the ground in disbelief. Before anyone could move, I motioned the rest to stay back.
“For now, don’t get too close to ▮▮▮▮▮! She might still be controlling him.” But since I had half of ▮▮▮▮▮'s power right now, I didn't hesitate and closed the distance separating us. Still, I approached cautiously; I didn't think he'd hurt me, but if he was being controlled it was hard to know how he'd respond. And my mind was a mess.
'If she's really withdrawn, and I still have half of ▮▮▮▮▮'s power for now, then I could finally...'
My heart began to pound. I could bring him back. ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮. I could end everything perfectly, tie it all up with a neat bow. I wouldn't even have to persuade ▮▮▮▮▮ much since I had part of his power already...Still, I calmed him down as he cried and clung to me and took my time explaining basic things like how to respect people's human rights. These were still important things for him to know, after all.
"Listen, ▮▮▮▮▮. About my friends. We need to send them back to our world. You can do it, right?"
"...I can do it if I had my full power, but not right now."
I nodded; that's about what I had expected. "That's okay, we just need to make a deal. Once you regain your power from me, you'll send my companions back home and grant a wish of mine."
▮▮▮▮▮ blinked back surprise. Maybe he wasn't expecting me to work with him so easily after the mess he'd caused. "Really? Even though she might try to control me again?"
"Well, do you feel her presence now?" I prompted.
He tilted his head and thought. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw ▮▮▮▮ and ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ approaching us since it seemed safe.
"Hmm, no, I don't feel her at all. Maybe she really is gone!"
I'd be happy if she was, but it seemed odd. Would she really let us go that easily? Maybe things didn't have to be a struggle after all. Maybe, just this once, we could end things perfectly.
I felt a small wave of relief as ▮▮▮▮ stepped over, reaching out his hand. I let myself relax. ‘Maybe...This is really it.’
[It’s the end.]
As soon as the tension in my body released, and I felt a unusual calmness settle over my mind as well. I began to move before I could process what was happening to me.
[Once ▮▮▮▮ is dead.]
▮▮▮▮'s eyes widened as he looked at me. My hand reached for his heart. We both sensed her grip on me, realized it, yet I saw no reason to stop, and he couldn't avoid it. I was too close, stronger, and faster with all of the power currently at my disposal.
Crunch. The sound of bones breaking reached my ears. Blood poured down my arm. His eyes looked down at me, the light in them slowly fading. There were shouts of alarm behind me, but they sounded distant compared to the labored breathing from the man in front of me. I caught his collapsing body. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, I shouted.
“Everyone, stay back!”
I caught a glimpse of ▮▮▮▮’s startled face near me. ...He'd been right. She'd completely let go of her control over him. Instead, all of that focus had turned to me, whispering and waiting.
But why? Why was I holding ▮▮▮▮, blood on my hands, in a daze? Before I could think of a reason, I heard his breathing stop.
SNOW
~
You sit in an empty space.
You've been sitting here for what feels like hours when you're not even sure if it's been minutes.
The space you're able to take up has gotten increasingly smaller with time, now only a small circle of power around you.
Outside of it the being known as ■■■■■■■ continues to batter at the walls of your magic, of your sense of self.
And while she has not quite won it is all you can do to keep it together.
You're tired.
You're not strong enough.
You tuck your head inside your arms and wait for the end, the one that will calm if you fail here.
She keeps trying.
You almost think it's her again, just for a moment when you sense a difference in the air around you.
Instead, when you look up it's a boy stepping through a green portal. You're still as you watch him, not moving to get up, "You know, she's sent tempting visions before. Trying to get me to leave the circle. Tried you too, but couldn't get the details right. How are you here."
"■■■■■■ ■■■■■■. He got it back when he confessed. He was manipulating us all along, it seems."
"So you think he was lying about us?" You inquire, not letting hope sink in. The thought still rolls in your mind - why is he here when he said he couldn't be near you?
The boy smiles. "I don't care if he's lying," He answers firmly, moving to take the hood down from your head so you can't hide from him. His hands shift to take yours at the moment hope wells in your chest, that the air begins to shift. The small circle turning into a larger, more colorful star.
"We're not."
He pulls you to your feet and your kissing. The energy has entirely shifted. Distantly you hear the groans of that being known as ■■■■■■■ the moment your own power becomes greater than hers. For a moment, the end of the universe as you know it doesn't matter. It's just him.
When you break apart he speaks first.
"She's not my mom, ■■■■■. I know you wanted to help but..."
"I know," You agree readily, "I'm sorry. I guess..."
A moment of hesitation and acknowledgement, "...I guess I have to do some stuff."
"Uh-huh," it's a simple sound but it's encouraging. It's the most encouraging thing you've heard of all day.
The world pulls away.
No, that's not it, it's like something in you shifts to something higher. Like you can grip the story with your own hands and shift it with your own might. "Okay, let's see..." You look at the pieces in your hands, how to rip the spell asunder, "hmmmm."
And in a few moments what you couldn't have done before takes place: That being's power is melted to pieces until she's no more. Her army given no reason or motivation to fight, now lost aimlessly in space. For as hard as it had been minutes prior to just exist, it takes almost nothing to rip it apart. The work begins to reset things to how it was.
The world, no, the universe spreads out in all directions at your feet. All realities, all possible timelines, their stories are use to manipulate and control how you would like. But right now, at least, you're too focused on righting the changes that had been made by the other being.
You replace the panels as they should be, "And... done."
Except you do not come down. ■■■■ had suggested if you came too close to this power you might lose yourself for good. In that moment, as you walk across the space of your own story, it's tempting.
"... So, I'm the ■■■■■■■. This is nice. What can I do? Anything."
That weight solidifies on your shoulders.
"Yeah, anything. I'm giving birth to the future right now. And the past. And, oh, this is strange. It's like cradling all of reality in my arms. They all look so cute from up here..."
The pages shift and turn as you walk, the power flooding through you. "Oh, it's tempting," You start on particular pages, pulling them up to scrutinize them more, as if to change them, "but do I really want kids?"
You put them back before you do anything, though the temptation remains. Expression thoughtful as you peer down at the lives being born beneath you, "I have all this power... and so the responsibility to use it," You decide, "but I've also the responsibility to know how to use the power."
It's this knowledge that makes the next step easier, literally, as you step away from the pages with a smile.
"And ■■■■■ ■■■■■? You don't know what the hell you're doing. Yet."
EUGENE RIVER
~
Daytime. The merciless sun beats down on the outside world, baking everything in its rays. But inside your fortress, it's sheltered and cool. The thin, regularly-spaced slits in the walls let in just enough light to highlight the shape of the warrior that kneels before you.
"Defense report, sir. A suspicious figure is approaching our lands. Should we kill him?"
"No, wait." You don't need to raise your voice. Your word is law, and the warrior's obedience absolute. He bows and retreats, sending your order rippling through the ranks.
You walk to the gate, the intruder's voice echoing toward you.
"Steel dragons! I'm the guy who sent word the other day that he'd be visiting!"
"I let Gore Magala do all the introductions for me, so I apologize if he was rude to any of you!"
"Let me give you my name again! I am called Jagras! And someday, I will rule across all of the realms!"
There is a moment of silence. Then the ractious laughter of the gathered warriors fills the air, overflowing with mocking disbelief.
You step out, taking effortlessly to the air. At the rippling force of your presence, every other voice falls silent.
"All of the realms?"
A path parts between you and this upstart.
"Is that so...?" You meet his eyes, looking him over. "... so you're the Avian General's successor, and the one controlling the Banbaro from behind the scenes?"
His face lights up as he sees you.
"Hey! You're Kushala Daora?"
"I am."
"Huh, you don't look any different from the rest of 'em! But you know of me, huh? What an honor!"
"No one among the Banbaro would wage a losing war like that. And yesterday, that wanderer of the wastes - friend to no one - came here bearing your name. Why else would I be aware of you?"
"... that's what I like to hear." He grins, fierce. "Yep! As you gessed, I'm the one behind the scenes. I come from the Fanged Wyvern clan."
It takes you a moment to place the name, and match his features against your meory. "The Fanged Wyverns? I forgot about them. They were hardly worth remembering."
"Ha-ha! Can't argue with you there. They were a pretty lousy clan, yeah." His fierce smile returns. "But that's the kind of lousy clan you're going to lose to."
Something in his words, in his *confidence*, grabs your attention.
"And then the name "Greatest Jagras" will be etched into your very soul."
... and just like that, your alarm is gone. You stare, expression flat.
"A name as common as Jagras is not worth remembering." It is the least threatening thing you could imagine. Like an assault staged by a vespoid. "But... I know your face now." And you take a long moment more to study it, to study *him*, before your hand lifts. "A swing of my arm and my warriors will stage a large-scale attack aimed squarely at you." He doesn't flinch. Curious. "Scamper off before that happens."
Better to end this. Eliminate this fool, and wipe out the Banbaro and other rabble gathered around them once and for all. "The next time we meet, it will be on the battlefield."
He's still happy. And has, it seems, at least enough good sense to take the escape you're offering. "Sounds great! Let's do that, then." He pulls sharp on the reins, and the beast under him turns in retreat."Thanks for the chat. Later!"
You watch, noting the speed of his mount. It will be difficult to aim boulders or magic bolts at him.
Is that creature his own, or do they have more?
You turn, dismissing the figure already disappearing into the distance. Your clan waits, ready for your direction.
"We'll need to brace ourselves for this fight."
LEA D. GUNMETAL
~
The room is plain and shabby, with a single glassless window and layers of dust blown into every corner. The only thing here is a long table surrounded by many mismatched chairs.
The people who pile into the room are mismatched too: a few are small, barely toddling. A few are older children or teenagers. A few are young adults in their own right, and a few are even carrying infants of their own. An old woman with unruly grey hair is shepherding the entire flock.
You feel a little out of place, which is why you put yourself on kitchen duty. The plumbing and running water are new, and they certainly make the job of preparing a stew easier. You hear yelling and laughter from inside the dining room, from outside the kitchen’s small window, from somewhere more distant.
It’s not entirely ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ outside, yet, but it’s more ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ than it’s ever been before. The air smells good. The laundry on the line will probably smell amazing rather than dusty.
You’re not paying attention and burn your thumb on the stove. You don’t even care; you’re too happy.
⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ducks into the room suddenly, looking frazzled, almost pleads: Do you need any help?
You lift a spatula in warning: no help needed here. Be on your way.
Small hands appear from around the doorway at the same time, grabbing at ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ clothing, dragging ⬛ back into the dining room.
Just as intended.
You’re finishing up the meal preparations when ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ finally stomps in, shaking grit from ⬛ clothing and dropping an impossibly heavy toolbag in the corner.
Did you finish it? you ask, looking up from the stove.
‘Course ⬛ says, gruffly. As if to suggest ⬛ wouldn’t be in here if not.
You turn down the stove so you can slip past ⬛ and out into the ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ to inspect the finished product: a greenhouse, charmingly lopsided, but stable enough to protect the delicate baby plants that will grow inside it. It sits atop a plot of dirt filled in some years ago, after the ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ was removed. You feel a pang of old sadness, but it’s quickly covered over when you notice a few of the structure’s nails bent at awkward angles.
Cute.
It’s perfect, you say when you step back into the kitchen. You suppose you must have a particular look on your face, because ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ flusters a little at the praise. Brushes it off. Kicks the dirt from ⬛ boots.
Did ya set the table yet? ⬛ asks instead.
Nope, you reply, cheerfully.
⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ grumbles about needing to do everything around here as ⬛ starts pulling out bowls and utensils, taking care to grab each kid’s favorite one -- even the kids who aren’t really kids anymore.
Could starting showin’ the kids how to make the seeds grow, ⬛ says as ⬛ stacks plates.
Tomorrow? you suggest, turning off the stove.
Tomorrow ⬛ agrees, and you both grin as you carry the meal into the rowdy dining room.
JOJO
~
NOTING: This memory involves mentions of eating disorder/self-harm.
MY YOUNGER BROTHER TROTS SLEEPILY down the stairs. Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas. Teddy in his arm. I’m glad that he’s never understood what’s wrong with Chance.
“You all right, Oscar?”
“Mmmyeah.”
“You gonna go to bed?”
“What about Chance?”
“He’ll be fine. Leave it all to me.”
Oscar nods and ambles back up the stairs, rubbing his eyes. I rush toward the kitchen door, which is closed.
I feel sick. I’m not even fully awake.
“Chance.” I knock on the door.
Total silence. I attempt to get in, but he’s blocked it with something.
“Open the door, Chance. I’m not joking. I’ll break the door.”
“No, you won’t.” His voice is dead. Empty. But I’m relieved, because he’s alive.
I turn the handle down and push with my whole body.
“Don’t come in!” He sounds panicked, which makes me panicked because Chance is never panicked and that is what makes him Chance. “Don’t come in here! Please!” There’s a clattering of things being frantically moved around.
I keep heaving my body onto the door, and whatever is blocking it begins to move away. I make a gap large enough for me to slip inside, and I do.
“No, go away! Leave me alone!”
I look at him.
“Get out!”
He’s been crying. His eyes are dark red and purple and the darkness of the room drowns him in a haze. There is a plate of lasagna on the kitchen table, cold, untouched. All of our food has been removed from the cupboards and the fridge and the freezer and set out in order of size and color in various piles around the room. There are a couple of bloodstained tissues in his hands.
He’s not better.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks, slumped in a chair, head rolled backward, eyes vacant. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
I can’t do anything. It’s hard not to throw up.
“I’m sorry,” he keeps saying. “I’m so sorry.”
“Where’s Nolan?” I say. “Why is he not with you?”
He goes deep red, and then mumbles something inaudible.
“What?”
“We argued. He left.”
I start shaking my head. It goes from left to right to left to right in an uncontrollable act of defiance. “That bastard. That stupid bastard.”
“No, ■■■■■■, it was my fault.”
My phone is in my hand, and I’m punching in Nolan’s number.
“Hello?”
“Do you understand the severity of what you have done, you absolute prick?”
“■■■■■■? What are you—”
“If Oscar hadn’t called me, Chance might have—” I can’t even say it. “This is entirely your fault.”
“I’m not— Wait, what the hell’s happened?”
“What the hell do you think has happened? You left Chance during a mealtime. You can’t do that. You can’t do that. You can’t leave him while he’s eating, let alone upset him. Didn’t you learn that last year?”
“I didn’t—”
“I trusted you. You were supposed to look after him, and now I’ve walked into the kitchen and he’s— I shouldn’t have gone out. I should have been here. We’re—I’m the person who is supposed to be there when this happens.”
“Wait, wh—”
I’m holding the phone so tight, I’m shaking. Chance is looking at me, silent tears falling from his eyes. He is so old now. He’s not a little kid. In a couple of months he’ll be sixteen, like me. He looks older than me, for God’s sake. He could pass for eighteen, easy.
I drop the phone, draw up a chair next to my brother, and put my arms around him.
CHANT
~
[You’re reclined in the pavilion your lord husband built for you, laughing merrily as you sip fine rice wine from the jade cup in your hand. The musician bows his way off the stage, the last echoes of his lewd song fading. Your ears twitch where they are hidden in your headdress, listening for which courtiers politely mask their distaste and applaud, and who murmurs of scandal to their friends, foolishly thinking you cannot hear.
Your lord husband leans over to you, chuckling, red in the cheeks from alcohol and mirth. “A fine performance, wasn’t it, ■■■■?”
His humor is as genuine as his lust; he’s a creature as shameless as yourself, given a little encouragement. It’s why you like him. It won’t stop you from playing your games until he burns as well, but you do regret a little that he’s human, and not like you in body as well as mind.
“It was pleasing, dearest.” You pluck a piece of meat from the filigreed branches hanging low nearby for your convenience, then trail your cup in the running stream from the central pool, refilling it with wine. “But I think Lady ■■ is not as appreciative, no?”
The lady in question blanches behind her powder and paint, and you smile at her with your bright eyes and small sharp teeth. She’s at least smart enough not to scream when your lord husband beckons the guards with a lazy wave, to take her. Perhaps you’ll let her take a very warm walk later, as a reward, instead of just letting her waste away in a cell.]
VERGLAS
~
Wolf is making dinner, tonight. You didn't stock fresh foods on your [JET ENGINE FIRING UP] until he and Worm started traveling with you, because you mostly survived off of premade meals, coffee, and booze on a normal day, but Wolf's standards were both higher than yours and he required more food to begin with. With just the two of you, though, it's a simple enough meal in good company, your heart warmed by his laughter and the good food. It's more than you've had in a long time, honestly.
During the night is usually when you take a glass of whiskey and sit in the [MURMURING OF RADIO CHATTER] to watch the [A DEEPLY UNSETTLING AND OPPRESSIVE QUIET] and wind down, and sometimes Wolf joins you. But tonight you find him perched in front of one of the artificial window-wall displays that gives a larger, clearer view of the [A DEEPLY UNSETTLING AND OPPRESSIVE QUIET] outside it. He stares out into it, unblinking and unmoving, his ears fully upright as if listening to some distant call. You knew the [MUFFLED YAPPING OF A WOODLAND ANIMAL] always yearned for the sky, yearned for beyond... but you could not imagine it, yourself, desiring something so deeply it was burned into your species. You quietly go over to sit next to him instead, your thoughts lingering on the temptation of more.
PHOENIX
~
You are escorted through a lavish palace, passing through guards and checkpoints until you reach a set of doors with fluted glass windows where the shorter woman besides you moves to a security panel next to the door and requests entry. When the door opens, you nervously step into the room, taking in the ornate facade all over the walls and the cathedral-like ceiling, though you think it's maybe just someplace to receive guests—a parlor? At the far side of the room a tall man waits with a sedate, ponderous air. Light pours into the room from above, showing off how crisp and clean his suit is, and his tail sways slowly, relaxed. This was the Commander in Chief. The woman, your recruiter, introduces you bruskly and gives you a firm shove in the back with her staff, commanding you to step forward—you don't bother to disguise feeling a bit discombobulated as you do.
The man greets you with politeness, tone gentle and cool, commenting that the weather is lovely and that his physical condition today is also STATUS. As he does this there is another jab from behind you, this time at the base of your head. You hear the words of a spell and yelp as you feel a tingle shoot through your skull and out in familiar wisps before your eyes, though the sensation passes as you rub the back of your head in offense.
"For the next five minutes, you are SPELL EFFECT," your recruiter explains. Even though you both are capable of using ELEMENT, you had no idea it could do that. She breaks down the process, or rather, dispassionately rattles off what she did with a bunch of complex words which you feel like just complicates it—but you get the gist and privately file it away as interesting. The point is that you have to conduct this interview while only speaking the truth.
And unfortunately the first thing the Commander asks is whether or not you already have a connection to his enemy, your new boss as of SHORT TIME ago. You break out in a cold sweat and.. well, answer honestly, because what else can you do? You're definitely already working with OPPOSITION.
He looks at you with a languid but searching gaze. "May I infer that you came to our ORGANIZATION to ACTIVITY?"
"Yes," you say, standing straight, mouth pressed into a smile though your heart is shuddering at the potential for everything to be cut short (including your life).
"Why? That's practically suicide," the Commander asks with cool interest, as if it weren't him that would be giving the order if he decides he doesn't approve of the arrangement.
You find yourself calming despite the situation. Maybe it's just that he's still asking a question like 'why' when the woman who introduced you was already ready to toss you out after the first answer. There is some sort of prioritization here. Some sort of need, you think. "Well, I'm cut out for it... and it seemed like it'd be fun," you say. That's perhaps too cheeky an answer, but it's the truth.
AYA
~
You walk into one of the most popular host clubs in [RECORD SCRATCHING]. It has been decorated to the nines for the [CROWD CHEERING] season, but no champagne tour or glittering lights can compete with the way your older brother [BEAT BOXING] shines in your eyes. Afterall, he's the reason you came out to this club, but you and your younger brother [BEAT BOXING INTENSIFIES] both actually. However, when his eyes land on both of you, it isn't with the same excitement. Blinded by brotherly affection you both run to him and immediately set about complimenting how cool he looks, just like you knew he would. He's your older brother afterall, of course he could pull of a suit. He asks about your outfits....both you and your little brother have dressed in well....dresses. Dress and wigs and heels and everything necessary you appear like the usual client of a place like this. The shoes hurt and the long wig is hot even in the cool weather, but it was a worthy sacrifice to get to see [BEAT BOXING]. Before you both can set another foot inside a staff member shouts out, letting you know you can't be here dressed like that. Anger and indignation flashes in both you and your younger brothers eyes, just like your brother's with your coordinating SPECIAL EYES. You both take turns arguing with the staff member, not giving him a moment to argue as you let him know you have money! Money you want to pay for a champagne tower for [BEAT BOXING]! That's as far as you both get before you turn on each other, [BEAT BOXING INTENSIFIES] offering to send you home as long as he can be let in. He has the gall to call you an imbecile and suggest you're interrupting [BEAT BOXING] at work. You dissolve into a physical fight, clothing be damned, surroundings forgotten as the staff member anxiously let's you know fighting isn't allowed in the club. Your big brother has reached the end of his patience however, smacking both of you and letting you know to go home. You both plead with [BEAT BOXING] to let you stay! That you just wanted to help! If you can't help as customers, at least also let you work alongside him! It isn't long before a flashy blonde man arrives, none other than [LADIES SCREAMING IN EXCITEMENT] a member of [RECORD SCRATCHING] division's [MEN BARKING]. Your brother explains the situation to him and [LADIES SCREAMING IN EXCITEMENT] lets you know that while he appreciates how much you both want to help your brother... It's more than you and [BEAT BOXING INTENSIFIES] can take, hackles raising again. An exhausted looked [YOWLING] worker appears in a rumpled suit, another member of [MEN BARKING]. You shout at him and he makes a strange noise and begins apologizing profusely, apparently bullied by a couple of [GUITAR FEEDBACK]. The blonde steps back in and explains that you both helping would cause more problems for your brother not less. It seems [BEAT BOXING INTENSIFIES] understands and you demand he explain it to you. In the simplest terms, because you are [GUITAR FEEDBACK] the club would definitely be shutdown if you worked there. You are saddened by the realization that you really can't help your brother with this particular job. Heads hanging low, you both turn and leave, the sound of your heels clicking on the floor as heavy as your hearts.
AMARETTO FORNAX
~
A sorry parade dressed in the [CROW CAWING] uniform trudge their way down the hall of a somber stone hallway. Their expressions twisted in anger and confusion, but most of all worry. Like a school of minnows they travel in the same direction, as if compelled against their will, each with a matching DUNCE HAT adorning their person, a mark of their shared failure and fate. As they enter the CONFERENCE ROOM, they are met with the sight of none other than [THE SOUND OF A PEN SCRATCHING AGAINST PAPER] flanked on either side by his two matching SECRETARIES. A spotlight turns on, highlighting him, his sharp suit and sharper smile as he addresses the room, advising them that their performance was not good enough and that, as per the contract, they are going to have to LIP SYNC FOR THEIR LIVES. He looks quite pleased with himself even as the mob cries out in anger. He does not flinch or back down even as threats come rolling in, he doesn't need to, afterall he has an ironclad contract, two SECRETARIES who are eager to keep the mob in line and the ability to make everyone here WORK WEEKENDS. He smiles again, glasses flashing, truly if you love what you do then you will never really work a day in your life.
FRIDAY
~
Three individuals meet in a room of indeterminant nature, with a fourth relaxing in a chair off to the side. The first two are interrogating the third, who attempts to lie his way out of the situation. He didn't ignore the original summons on purpose, you see, it's just that he was sick! This doesn't fool the other two at all, and the first one looks to the second to get a proper answer out of him.
The second individual, Jasper, the focus of this vision, steps up to the third boy, who seems to have lost all nerve. "There's no need to be scared," he says in a voice that would infer the opposite. "I'm not going to harm you. Come, look this way." He holds the other boy's head so that their gazes meet and the sound cuts out to the loud beating of a heart as he speaks a short phrase. His victim falls to his knees and at once begins blabbing the true reason for his absence, which is basically his disdain for the one who'd brought him in for questioning.
This gets a cruel smile from Jasper, while the first of the boys calls over the fourth to deal out punishment on the poor confessor, who doesn't understand why he just answered against his will. The vision fades out before any real violence is shown.
HERON
~
You’re in Europe - somewhere in England perhaps, for those who are actually familiar with locations on Earth. Just a regular, bustling town, with you just another face in the crowd.
Your target is a rather tall teen with light brown hair, effortlessly avoiding the crowds with an incredible grace - so much so that it would be easy to miss, were you not paying close attention to him. It actually takes some effort to approach him, your head down just enough to blend in, yet still able to look out from under the brim of your cap to keep an eye on his movements.
You manage to bump into him, and you even make it seem natural despite his best efforts. It’s enough to instantly put him on the alert, but that’s fine - you have his attention now, and that’s exactly what you wanted. With a wary expression, he begins to apologize, but you cut him off:
“Oh, no, it was my fault. You’ll have to forgive me... [DUCKS QUACKING]”
The change in his expression is subtle enough that the masses around them don’t notice the exchange, but he grows very, very tense when he hears that name. When he speaks, it’s not with the soft, if confused tone from before, instead something much lower. Dangerous. “Who are you...?”
You smile. “Oh, no one important.” With a flourish of a bow, you introduce yourself. “My name is [CAR HONKING], the younger brother of [TIRES SCREECHING]"
His expression becomes shock, plain and obvious to any who might happen to look - not that anyone pays you any mind. And then, when the moment passes, the fear, confusion, and most importantly - utter despair kick in.
You take a grim satisfaction in your work. This is, after all, exactly what you were after all along.
SATIN
~
[PERSON A], an absolutely average looking man, is walking through the streets of a lively city. He isn't attracting any attention and seems to totally slip below the notice of anyone he walks by. He occasionally pulls out a written note to cross-reference landmarks and streets to get his bearings. After a while he comes to a lavish estate surrounded by a large wall.
He briefly considers the height of the wall, then shakes his head and turns to go to the gate, where he knocks and talks his way inside - apparently the guard didn't get the notice that he was an expected visitor today, but is more than willing to escort him inside to wait while this whole thing gets sorted out.
As soon as [PERSON A] is left alone for more than a minute he slips out into the rest of the estate, still attracting as little attention as possible, until he gets to a smaller outbuilding - still lavish and beautiful, but off to one side - and enters there. There's more guards there, and he fabricates some kind of crisis they should look at immediately - as soon as he lures them out of the open [PERSON B] swings down off the roof and knocks both of them out, leaving the building free for entry.
There is a maid inside, but she's a noncombatant and easily charmed out of acting anyway, so [PERSON A] and [PERSON B] are free to get ahold of what they came here for, which is apparently three children between the ages of five and nine. The kids seem confused - they do not recognize these two people - but [PERSON A] pulls out a necklace and says their mom sent him, which makes them much more willing to come with them.
Around this time, the first guard has gone to report to his superior and learned that they weren't expecting any guests today. Scrambling up onto the roofs of buildings and over the walls is a LOT harder when carrying children, but both [PERSON A] and [PERSON B] make it unscathed and get out into the wider city, scrambling through back alleys to avoid attention.
The oldest child asks where their mom is and where they're going, and [PERSON A] tells them they're going to the harbor, because they've got a boat heading east to catch.
ZINC
~
He drives his motorcycle through the desert, looking out at that endless, endless horizon and trying to ignore the munching from the nonchalant passenger sitting in his sidecar. Eventually, though, he can't take it anymore. The rumble of his own stomach is enough to drive him crazy, even if the heat of the sun wasn't. He stops the motorcycle with the express purpose of venting his frustration.
"God damnit, ya piss me off! Why don't you drive for once?! Ya idiot!"
"Well, you see..." His passenger obligingly hops onto the main seat of the motorcycle to demonstrate how incapable he is. "I can't drive these things." True to his word, he somehow manages to only flip the whole motorcycle upside-down rather than move it an inch forward.
Grudgingly, he hops back into the driver's seat and continues the journey; they have a long road ahead of them.
"By the way..." his passenger asks once he's finished eating, "Where are we going?"
"[LOUD MOTORCYCLE NOISES]," he replies. "That's the closest town with mass disappearances. I told ya about it, right? About the people just vanishin' into thin air? [MORE LOUD MOTORCYCLE NOISES] is a ghost town now. With his name etched on the stone monument at the center of town...Pickles."
His companion eyes him with some renewed curiosity. Perhaps even suspicion. "Come to think of it, you never did tell me. How do you know so much about Pickles?"
He's quiet for a long, long moment, his expression turning serious. It's information that isn't exactly a secret, but, still, he doesn't feel like revealing it just yet. So instead of answering he blatantly points to something off in the distance.
"Wow, it's a [INCREASINGLY LOUD SOUND OF A USELESS PASSENGER EATING FOOD RIGHT NEXT TO HIM]!"
"Hey! Don't change the subject!"
Instead of answering, he keeps driving to the ghost town.
VIENNA VELA
~
A woman is in a room full of torn/dirty books. Iris arrives with two other people; the leader announces that the CEO sent them to help. The woman calls the third person to help her, while directing the leader to "do his thing" but keep Iris away from her books. As she says this, Iris pokes a book and it bursts into flames. The woman irritably says this happens every time Iris touches a book, so Iris should go be on garbage duty. Iris sulks as they turn away. As they do so, the woman calls after them to say that there's probably some makeup available downstairs, but they'll have to apply it themselves.
JEWEL
~
A man sits in his apartment with all the lights off, though a fair amount of city light filters in from the wide glass window. He's working on a styrofoam container of street food (skewers of meat and spicy peppers), and a can of beer. A second can sits across from him on the low table, opened but full. From his slumping posture on the couch, he seems quite tired.
He pauses with the last skewer halfway to his mouth, and flicks his gaze up at a rooftop across the street. A small creature ducks out of sight, not quite fast enough. He sighs and snaps his fingers twice; there's a brief glitching in the room around him, and the creature appears -- not exactly in the room, though, but in the wall...? It's somehow become a living, moving thing in the wall, like a cartoon. He watches it dash around the apartment's circumference, skittery and baffled.
"Yo," he greets it. "We meet again."
He finishes his food as it runs around awhile, then addresses it again. "One doesn't visit a temple without purpose. Once you're tired out, you can tell me why you're here."
It skids to a halt, eyeing him. "Don't you know...that ■■■■ need to go out for walks every day?" it hedges.
"You've been following me since I got off work. That's a little too much of a coincidence for just a regular walk."
It looks away, then tries a different tack. "You must actually be afraid of becoming a demon, aren't you?"
"I don't know what you're saying," he says after a moment, then snaps his fingers again. The creature tumbles out of the wall, onto the carpet.
"Forfeit the tournament! Before you become a public enemy!"
A raised eyebrow. "That's why you came here? And what if I refuse?"
A grim declaration: "Then I'll expose your real identity to everyone."
The man laughs, a single soft hah, and leans forward, pushing up his glasses. "Oh? I thought you'd already exposed me. How do they know I'm here?"
The creature startles and stares at the window -- at the small army of armed, uniformed men that have appeared outside the window.
The glass shatters inward, and the memory ends.
ARIEL
~
It’s the middle of the night. You creep out of an inn room and out into the snowy cold of the outdoors, although you can see even in the gloom that above looms a cavernous ceiling. You are armed with a cake knife and not much else, but the cake knife holds a secret you are well aware of - anything it stabs into will become cake. You hope this will be the case for whoever your target tonight turns out to be.
Your hopes are quickly dashed as the only other person awake turns out to be a warrior in an ostentatious golden armor, their movements stiff and not unlike a ball-jointed doll rather than a person. The only thing you can think to do is flee, not that your legs can carry you very far very fast at all, given how physically feeble you are.
They catch up to you at the library, and in a flailing swing, you manage to knife something. Unfortunately, it’s the wall of the aforementioned library and not, in fact, your attacker. While the entire building does become cake as a result, it’s mostly a distraction as you continue to flee in terror, away from the snowy little town and deeper into caverns echoing with the sound of small waterfalls.
They catch up to you, of course, picking you up by the neck of your hoodie. And then, in those same stiff, inhuman movements, they begin to slam you into the nearest cave wall. It hurts, and you can feel your bones shattering upon impact, but... it’s a blessedly quick end as well, one final impact to the back of your skull causing everything to go black at once.
BLACK
~
[you are standing watching I*****, a robot girl, fix a streetlight, as the blond traveler walks up.]
I: ...Repairs complete. It was just an old circuit, nothing serious.
[you]: Such remarkable efficiency, Miss I*****. If it weren't for you, this street light would have had me stumped.
[you]: If it had proven beyond fixing, I may have had to take my own lantern and hang it in its place.
Traveler: You wouldn't have needed to go that far...
I*****: A**** previously proposed a solution. She said she could train the Ratniki so they'd have the basic knowledge to perform simple tasks, like repairing circuits.
I*****: That way, you wouldn't need to inform A**** every time a street light goes out and then wait in the dark until I arrive to repair it.
Traveler: The Ratniki are responsible for fixing the lights?
[you]: Yes... and no. Strictly speaking, "maintaining the brightness of the lights" has been their traditional role.
[you]: Before the use of kuuvahki became widespread, the street lights were powered by regular oil. Back then, people were needed to light and extinguish the flames.
[you]: Because of how dangerous said streets were at night, the Ratniki took on this role — they already carried lanterns, in any case, and were adept at using them while fighting.
[you]: But, as I'm sure you've already noticed, the current street lights are powered by kuuvahki — and it's not so easy to light or extinguish them using traditional means.
[you]: Because of this, whenever a light goes out nowadays, all I can do is stand here helplessly and wait for a professional to come along and solve the problem.
Traveler: Have you not arranged to have classes?
I*****: A**** organized an engineering seminar, but all the Ratniki made excuses to leave halfway through. They said things like "I have an urgent task," or "I need to go on patrol," or "it's time for me to make a report."
[you]: I didn't leave. It is, after all, disrespectful to the host to leave a seminar early.
I*****: True, but the biscuits you brought were too much of a distraction for A**** — she stopped teaching completely. And then I was so busy trying to stop her from eating that I could not take over the seminar. So please, the next time you attend a class of any kind, don't bring anything sweet that might attract A****'s attention — and don't bring any toys, either.
[you]: Ah, I promise I won't.
I*****: Please say it in full. The last time you promised not to bring anything sweet, you brought a toy, and A**** was completely unable to continue.
[you]: I promise I won't bring anything sweet, any toys, or anything else that might unduly divert Miss A****'s attention.
I*****: That's better. I'll notify you when she next holds an engineering class. For now, I have to pick some Lakkaberries for her. Goodbye.
[you]: Hmm... [Traveler], do you know of anything else, besides sweet treats, toys, and small, fluffy animals, that might keep Miss A**** quiet for a while? Half an hour shall suffice.
Traveler: I think you'd be better off studying.
[you]: sigh Since you feel that way, too, it seems I have no choice but to submit myself to her baptism of erudition. I only hope I don't drown in the ocean of knowledge she wishes to impart...
LOREN HAZE
~
You are on trial. It has been decided by your leader that a meeting be called to decide your punishment...whether or not you should lose the position you worked so hard to earn. This is no small matter, this is not the sort of job you can just walk away from and there is far more at risk than just a paycheck. Each of your coworkers will have a say in your fate. The room is dark, a single light shines down on you and a giant golden scale sits before you, both you and it encircled by the nine other [CRACKING SOUNDS]. A woman's voice can be heard, MS.GREEN explains the situation....[A SINGLE PIANO NOTE] has been reclaimed, but at what cost? Something important has been destroyed, a [SHATTERING NOISE] has been completely destroyed. Totems of what was lost and gained drop into their respective sides of the scale. You make your case... You are aware you promised to protect it, to treasure [SHATTERING NOISE] with your life. You took an oath....all of you did. However, it's destruction, it's death...your death...was a necessary part of the plan. MR.PURPLE speaks up, smug and condescending as he argues that death was not necessary, but just a wasteful extravagance for yourself, casting his token cast against you. Another, younger woman's voice pipes up, annoyed. MISS GOLD reminds him to not ignore the facts in favor of making assumptions. Her token is cast in your favor. MS.GREEN pipes up again in that elegant voice of hers that [CRACKING SOUNDS] have always valued results; her token joins MISS GOLD's. MISS BLUE argues that some value oaths more, her vote clearly not in your favor as she does not mince words, voicing that she is in favor of punishing you. MR.ORANGE appears to be missing in action,MS.BLACK voting in his place. She wants a blood bath, finds this all too timid. Her and MR.ORANGE's votes against you tip the scale heavily in favor of stripping you of your position....and possibly more. However MS.YELLOW, although she has no love for you, prefers to remain neutral, voting in your favor to even out the scale. MS.WHITE decrees that she thinks you should have more justice in your life, as though your life has been particularly unfair, casting her vote in your favor. The scales now are perfectly even. There is one vote left. This one vote will break the tie. And the one left to cast that vote has never been a particular fan of yours. MR.PURPLE can't help himself, making another smarmy comment to draw attention to your precarious situation. The final vote speaks up...the amused drawl of MR.PINK's voice not doing much to calm the racing if your heart. They don't rush their words, although they don't mince them either. They simply state a fact you are all aware of. That you are all 'united'. That you are all that 'same'. That you all band together merely for the sake of obtaining what you 'want'. His conclusion is simple....why not continue to use you? It just makes sense. His vote falls in favor of you. And with that your [SHATTERING NOISE] repairs itself, landing in your hands once more. Your expression is unreadable, blank. It is not the look of relief one would expect. It would be tough for any of them to say what that expression was though. MR.PINK continues on without paying it any mind; announcing that your time isn't up yet. The golden scale turns [TWINKLING NOISE], apparently this outcome is endorsed by your leader as well. As [CRACKING SOUNDS] you will all follow the PATH until the end in this war, you must all of you risk everything. Everyone joins in at last, speaking in unison your most important oath and mantra, 'All for the [COGS TURNING]'.
AMARANTH
~
A long-haired man wakes up to a teenaged boy and girl yelling at him. They call him stupid for trying to be a lone wolf and do everything by himself. Standing off to the side, Luna watches this in amusement with an older man and another young girl. She smiles and tells the long-haired man that his animal companion led them straight to him.
The long-haired man says that the rest of them don't understand what's going to happen, but the group objects; he doesn't need to do things on his own. Luna adds that he should believe in them a little bit more. They're friends, after all. The long-haired man sighs and agrees that they're all in this together until the end.
ALOE
~
A group of about a dozen people, all in matching uniforms, is walking through a run-down building. It appears to have once been a type of laboratory based on what equipment still hasn't been destroyed. One woman speaks up and mentions that there's a suspicious-looking door around, wondering if they should check it out. One of her coworkers, a man who carries a baseball bat, scoffs and says that it's her choice, as the self-appointed class president.
The woman sighs and opens the door without acknowledging the shot at her. Inside is a massive grotesque creature- maybe once human, but with a giant tree growing through its body and out of its face. It's chained to the floor, and makes a wheezing noise as it looks at the group.
The woman immediately closes the door again.
There's a beat of silence.
One of her coworkers tells her that was a smart move, others asking what happened, and then a voice over the loudspeaker - some kind of announcer - cheerfully makes fun of them, calling the attempted retreat an impressive display of spinelessness. Yet another coworker, a small blond energetic woman carrying an enormous lance, immediately gets steamed up, demanding to go back inside to regain their honor.
Apparently embarrassed, the woman who opened the door reasons that there's probably a reason it's there and they can't just ignore it entirely. When they go back in they notice a coin hanging around the thing's neck. They've got a coin collection of their own, tied to the belt of another coworker.
They reason that they can probably retrieve the coin by beating up the monster. It's muttering to itself, talking about repenting eternally, repeating a mantra about wanting only to repent.
The coworker who has the coin collection quietly remarks that this isn't a monster. He says it's a person, one of [NAME REDACTED]'s condemned.
Before they can discuss that further the monster charges at them, and they have to fight it.
SCARLET
~
🩷🩷🩷🩷, a blonde beauty dressed in white and black, stands before you on the platform. You extend the bouquet of white roses toward her, and as the love of your life stares down at the gift without a single trace of emotion, you feel your heart skip a beat—
"Of course." Of course she accepts. Why wouldn't she? Together you lift the floral representation of the long-awaited union between the perfect couple, and for a single fleeting moment you allow yourself to believe that it's real.
"Everyone here in person and online, you heard that, right? 🩷🩷🩷🩷 has said yes to 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️'s proposal, and the two will end their three-year love journey by stepping into their wedding ceremony!" The reporter's overly-enunciated commentary slaps you in the face like a bat, and you don't need to look at the drones and cameras and swarm of fans around you to remember why you're here.
It's for show. All of it, right down to the white and gold hero costume you're wearing to your own wedding. Your cape sits neatly on your shoulders, fastened above your chest by a circular blue gemstone. It's beautiful and flowing and heavier than it looks, but to you it feels light as a feather.
"I object!" The intruder's voice cuts through the air with a melodramatic head-turning ferocity that could only belong to a villain.
"It's 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️'s nemesis, ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡!" Right on cue, the reporter once again states the obvious, quaking in his formal leather shoes as ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡, clad in form-fitting black armor and a matching mask and crown that can't be at all comfortable, stalks toward you and your beloved wife with a growl.
"If I can't have something, neither can anyone else!" ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡ points his black sword at you, issuing a challenge.
You spread your arms, projecting innocent confidence toward the waiting audience. "I haven't taken anything from you. Why say that?"
"It's you that I want, 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️!" That's the only warning you get before ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡ dashes toward you, leaping over 🩷🩷🩷🩷—who, ever vigilant, has already stepped in to intercept—with impossible agility as he swings his sword at your feet.
The lovely white platform doesn't stand a chance. It cracks like china, sending debris flying everywhere, including at the now-screaming audience. But you fly higher, dodging both the blow and its aftermath perfectly. You summon your golden wrist gauntlets as you land, just in time to greet ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡ with a cross arm guard as he swings his sword directly at your face.
"Why don't you reply to my messages? My emails, phone calls... what's your deal?" ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡ shoves his weight behind the sword and attempts to push you down, but you're strong enough to maintain a stalemate, for now.
"What's my deal? What's your deal?" The words take effort. You have the raw strength advantage, but he has the experience.
Using her portal gun, 🩷🩷🩷🩷 arrives back on the scene to intercept. "I know you're envious of 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️'s perfection and want to leave him with lifelong regret. So your target is actually me!"
⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡ makes an annoyed sound. "This woman's too loud. Let's talk somewhere else." With that, he bends his knees and recenters his weight and drives you backward into a different section of the luscious green park. Trees and hedges topple in your wake.
Here begins a hectic exchange wherein ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡ continues to hound you like a jilted lover, 🩷🩷🩷🩷 continues to intercept, and 🔪🔪🔪🔪 🔪 makes a guest phone call appearance via drone. You backflip dramatically out of harm's way from time to time, but spend most of the exchange getting pushed around by Sword Meets Cross Arm Guard, Round 2.
It's the last straw for ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡. "Looks like I'll have to take this elsewhere!" he yells as he thrusts his sword into the ground. This time the sword crackles with black lightning, and you barely have time to blink before taller and uglier anime St*nehenge forms beneath your feet and suddenly you're in the stratosphere.
⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡'s here with you, screaming hysterically from atop his own malformed rock pillar. "No one will disturb us here. Speak. Where is 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️?"
"I'm right here, aren't I?" you protest, knowing that it's not the answer he's looking for.
"No! I could tell from our exchange earlier." Finally, he takes off his stupidly-tight mask, revealing a young man with black hair that's far prettier than a jilted ex has any right to be. "You're not the 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️ I know!"
Your heart sinks.
But then 🩷🩷🩷🩷's here again. "You can't escape from me!" she declares, oblivious, running at ⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡ like he's still an actor on a stage and not a genuine threat. When he flings her away with such force that it sends her crashing to the ground like a useless ragdoll, she beams. "Good. He's finally getting into it."
He thrusts his sword into the ground mere inches from her chest. "Wait!" you cry out. This isn't just for show. The drones haven't even made it here yet.
"What are you waiting for? Do it!"
"Tell me, or I'll kill her!"
On the ground, 🩷🩷🩷🩷 jitters with anticipation. "Do it, do it, do it, do it!"
"Wait, no! 🩷🩷🩷🩷, he's serious!" You're fast. In almost any other situation, you could simply grab her and fly the both of you back to safety. But he's your nemesis, and you're still too new. For all you know, he could be faster.
"Tell me! Where's the real 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️?!"
He's your nemesis, so it's no wonder that he realized. And in turn, you realize that no matter how perfectly you play the role of 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️, no matter how much your performance earns the public's trust—it's not enough to fool a friend. And now you understand that you need to tell him. You need to tell him, or it's 🩷🩷🩷🩷 that will pay the price.
"🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️, he..."
MOON
~
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].
SPARROW
~
Kazoo is hiding inside a closet with a plate full of [ loud oven ding ]. Kazoo is writing a letter, and for the observant, it appears to be addressed to Cymbal. As Kazoo is writing, Kazoo is munching on a delicious [ loud oven ding ], eating more than Kazoo probably should. The scene jumps to a music room with a single elderly man staring down at him. As Kazoo attempts to sing, Kazoo's voice comes out in a rough and broken warble that would make anyone's ears bleed. No matter how hard Kazoo tries, it simply sounds terrible, and Kazoo immediately gets yelled at for sounding atrocious.