[Ardyn really didn't know what he expected the afterlife to look or function like. All things considered, being left to wander the world with something resembling sanity...wasn't so bad. He was seeing Lucis in a way he'd never done before, without the constant shrieking of fury and hate staining his body and soul. He'd wandered as far as the Tempering Grounds to have a long discussion with Gilgamesh that was only mostly screaming before it leveled out into something calmer.]
[They'd split up, for today. Shield or not...this was something the would-be king wanted to confront on his own. Ardyn was almost certain he'd know where to look; there were only two remnants of Solheim left in modern-day Lucis, even if they were a troubling distance apart.]
[But he came to the Fallgrove, to the ruins of Costlemark Tower. It had once been a grand and beautiful thing, floors of research materials and magitek and he couldn't even remember what else--yet today it was who was outside that was his focus.]
Izunia.
[Even without the hatred and darkness of millennia...the name was still snapped like the jaws of a Midgardsormr.]
[It wasn't even that he cared any about the tower. Most of the remnants of the things he knew were long gone, and Izunia was never not the type to see all the world had to offer.
But... He knew where he would be expected, and if he dared to hope that something -
- that anything -
- that Ardyn still existed, then he would come here. To this that had been once as much home as they had ever known, to the memories of their days passed together -
Izunia waits, with the patience of a man who has held out hope for two thousand years that someday, he'd hear his brother's voice again.
... Well, maybe not in that tone of voice. He flinches.]
...Ardyn.
[If it is Ardyn. He's almost afraid to turn around, for fear that he'll see once again that monster using his brother's face.]
[ Yuuri's been here on Enso for a while now. Long enough that she's gotten a... sense for things and she's started to settle in and find a role for herself. It helps a little to have a routine and even though she's waiting every waking moment for the other shoe to drop, the only regularity has been how often newcomers arrive. So she makes it her monthly duty to go out across the islands and find anyone who needs help.
(And it's certainly nothing to do with wanting to see familiar faces. Nothing to do with still hoping against hope that after being so thoroughly disappointed on her arrival. Nothing whatsoever.)
They're arriving on the beach this month, it seems, washing up like driftwood and she's just glad there don't seem to be any injuries -- there's only so much patching up they can do with such rudimentary medical supplies. She's mulling over their luck that this set of arrivals seem to be happening with such little fanfare and
then
she sees a sodden but heart-stoppingly familiar mop of black and silver and wine-red in the sand, just like all the other newcomers and she comes to a sharp halt. For a split second she wonders if maybe it's just the Ardyn she knows is already here, but why would he be here on the beach with all the newcomers? But why would there be another Ardyn here when the Storyteller had already pulled one in, unless he was different enough to provide the Storyteller with new tales, unless, unless, unless...
Her heart's in her throat when she approaches, her steps slow and cautious. Yuuri knows well by now that she can't just charge in blindly and expect any less than a disaster. So it's with that thought in mind that she makes her way over to him, appreciating more than anyone the irony of the fact that she looks like she's dressed head to toe in Lucian fashion but totally, blissfully ignorant of the irony that comes with her addressing him as - ]
[At first the girl's voice doesn't even register. Izunia is busy trying to figure out exactly how he came to be on a beach - complete with tropical heat, sand in places sand doesn't belong, and salt water soaking his hair and clothes - to notice anything outside his own head at first.
But then he hears the girl's voice, and he looks up -
and then he realizes
she called him Izunia.
Thanks, Yuuri, there is now a giant beanpole having a complete heart attack at the sight of you. His eyes are a natural hazel instead of Ardyn's uncanny yellow, and the clothes are in a bit better repair - true black instead of faded grey, a navy swirl of a scarf instead of an orange one - but still the same style, and -
And no one should know him to be Izunia. No one save Gilgamesh, and the girl is very clearly nothisArdyn'stheir the Shield of the King.
Izunia's reaction is to freeze. But he's trained himself well, and Ardyn's reaction - Ardyn would get angry. So he does.]
[Prompto thinks he's having a dream about Pryna, but when he starts dreaming properly instead of floating in sleepy nothingness, he finds he's dreaming of Insomnia instead. It looks weird, though. The really old stuff's there, the imposing Citadel, a statue here and there, but--well, the old stuff looks new, and the new stuff's just not even there. It looks golden and young in a way Prompto's really not used to, and he scuffs his feet through the silent streets, whistling to calm his ever-fraying nerves.]
Noct? Noooooct. Luna? ...Lucina?
[It's too open here to really echo, but he adds the sound effect himself in his head, imagines a tumbleweed blow by. Was this how Max felt, stuck in his old hometown with no one around. Prompto shivers, then shivers harder and rubs his arms, hating the feeling of cold when he knows he's not actually cold at all.
He raises his voice and allow himself to sound just a liiiittle more desperate.]
Hello? Is anyone here? Come out, come out, wherever you are!
[Even as Prompto watches, the Insomnia around him continues to fade into something older - multi-story buildings slowly vanish, until even the Citadel is gone. Streetlights vanish, then reappear as old-style oil lamps, then vanish and reappear again, now magitek devices that look more at home in Gralea than Insomnia.
Under one of those lampposts, eventually, leans a familiar-looking figure in a familiar style of trenchcoat and shawl - though this coat is a proper Lucian black instead of a faded grey, and the scarf wrapped around his neck is a swirl of navy instead of orange.
At the sound of a voice, 'Ardyn' lifts his arm and waves, calling back - ]
[You meet all sorts when you're out in space mall. And Church has lost track of his god damn boyfriend who's probably off getting some ridiculously sweet Spacebux and abandoned him to the ravages of carrying all the shit he's bought and judging looks from mall teens. Because that's one thing that will never change with time and distance. Judgey teens at malls.
He sees the flash of messy and frankly unmistakable hair and nudges him in the side.]
Ohhhh no, no no no you are not wearing that again. Did you get really nostalgic for it, because, no. Put that back in your armiger, so help me. [Without missing a beat, he hands (not-)Ardyn a couple bags.] Put these in there, too, while you're at it.
[You do meet all sorts when you're out in space mall, and given that his brother is a space celebrity, Izunia is used to getting mistaken for Ardyn.
In fact, he has something of a reputation as an extremely dedicated cosplayer around the local shops, which he's allowed to continue mostly because of hilarious irony. He can't bring himself to actually watch the infamous show, but he gets the gist, and he has more experience with Ardyn than anyone.
But this is different from the occasional fan making the mistake, because that's not a gushing 'ohmygod' but instead -
A casual intimacy. And, more to the point, knowledge of the Armiger and exactly how it works.]
Um -
[Look again, Church, because someone here is just standing holding these bags with a major deer-in-headlights expression and a blue scarf hanging off his neck.]
[Zegnautus Keep is, in Noct's opinion, the worst place he's been. Ever. He's alone, cold because it's Niflheim and it's apparently always cold, exhausted, and terrified (for Gladio and Ignis because he has no idea where they are or if they're all right, for Prompto because who knows what the hell that asshole freak Ardyn has been doing to him and because what if it's all an illusion and Prompto's still in the valley by the train and -- no, no stopping that train of thought right now-- and for himself because this place and the deranged MTs give him this creeps and every new document he finds as he pokes through the labs to try and find his way makes everything worse). Even setting all that aside, he knew wearing the ring was going to be bad. He could hear the whispers and feel its pull even just holding it. Plus, he'd seen how it affected his dad over the years. Even without a Wall to maintain, he still knew he'd be paying for the power. But gods, it's worse than he imagined.
The pain sucks, of course. It's an unpleasant burning at best, and it makes his back and leg ache like they do in the rain pretty much constantly (though the fact that he keeps pushing himself forward with as little rest as possible is probably the real culprit there) and the sensation of pieces of himself being torn off at the worst, but... the pain's nothing he can't handle. Nah, it's not the pain that's the shitty part of it. No, it's the voices that get to him. The way he can see things he knows aren't really there. The symbols of his family blood magic flickering in and out of sight, a ghostly miasma gathering at the edge of his vision, almost like he's constantly on the verge of blacking out. And gods, the whispers. They get worse when he's drawing on the power, draining the lives from the daemons or banishing MTs into some forgotten void, but he can never quite pick out what they're saying -- and honestly? He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know.
Still... he wonders... are they the voices of the past kings and queens within the ring? His father had told him once that if someone not of his bloodline puts on the ring, the ring tests them and demands to know if they're worthy. He supposes it's some comfort that his ancestors apparently approve of him enough not to reject him, but part of him wonders if they're just obligated to lend him the power and if maybe they really don't approve. Maybe that's what the whispers are - them telling him off for not putting the ring on sooner, not getting back to the crystal already, not ... who even knows anymore.
Or maybe it's just this place and Ardyn's sing-song taunts over the P.A. system getting to him.
Lost in his thoughts, Noctis trips over some canister left in the hallway and loses his balance. All that saves him from crashing face first into the wall is the fact that the wall is actually a door, and instead he face-plants across the threshold of a dormitory. Face burning with embarrassment, Noctis stumbles to his feet, grimacing and rubbing his shin where it connected with the canister. He leans on the door frame and stares around the room. Part of him wants to ignore it and keep going, but a larger part of him knows he's at his limit, and so far no daemons have turned up in the dorms so with a glance back down the hallway, he decides to chance it.
Staggering in, he activates the lock on the door and makes his way to one of the beds. He sinks down on it and fishes around in his pockets to see what he might have to eat, Ignis' voice echoing in his thoughts that he should have dinner before sleeping. In luck, he finds a partially broken granola bar and pulls it out. He makes himself comfortable, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed and stretching his one leg out carefully. He gazes dully at the ring on his finger as he unwraps the bard. If he didn't need it, he'd be tempted to just throw it down one of the elevator shafts. As it is, he's thinking of taking it off while he takes a quick nap to see if he might sleep better that way rather than waking up after, like, an hour gasping for breath and trying not to scream.
But as he's pondering it, a thought occurs to him. What if the voices are the past kings and queens? What if ... what if he can find a way to talk to them? Then maybe ... maybe he can see his dad again...!
With this in mind, he sits up a little straighter, studying the ring closely. Finishing the granola bar, he sets the wrapper aside and then clasps his hands so that both are touching the ring. He's got no idea what the hell he's doing, but ... gotta try something, right? He reaches out with his mind, closing his eyes and trying to see if he can sense the ring that way and maybe just maybe talk to whatever's inside.
He gasps when suddenly he seems to break through to -- to something, and equal parts eager and nervous as hell, he calls out:]
[There is definitely something in the ring. Like a curtain parting, folding around Noctis and blacking out the outside world, until it just feels like -
Like he's sitting back-to-back with someone on the bed, except for the fact that the other person's body doesn't have any weight to depress the mattress.]
You're starting at the wrong end to reach him, I'm afraid.
[The voice is both - unmistakably Ardyn's, and unmistakably not. Surely, even if the faint dry wit is the same, Ardyn has never sounded so genuinely sorry about anything in his life.]
[So this is what her father meant when he said he believed there would be peace, and perhaps more, waiting for them on the other side. Perhaps he didn't take traveling to strange places into account, but - but it's somewhere new. Something more than the long, long vigil she'd kept.
So that's fine.
Thankfully, she knows that the strange fellow in front of her isn't that one. So here, Izunia, have a tall, gangly marionette tilting its head and waving awkwardly at you. It shrinks pretty quickly, of course, down to the height of a child. She's more comfortable this way, now that there's no reason to be tall anymore. So now she's looking up at him instead of down, one three-fingered hand waving slightly.]
Hi.
[The quiet, tinny voice from the strange puppet is very much that of a little girl, maybe ten or so. She sounds shy and also curious. You dress funny, mister. :o]
[He dresses perfectly fine what are you talking about?
It's not often that there are people taller than him - Gilgamesh, the only one he can really remember - so Izunia is not used to looking up. And by the time he realizes he should, well, the
daemon?
is much smaller. And speaking to him, so probably not a daemon. With one glaring exception, they tend to not be intelligent enough to greet people.]
[Despite the fact that the power the Kings of Old lent him has long vanished, Ignis is only now starting to feel the fire fade from his body. It draws back slowly, lingering the longest behind his eyes and along his left arm. Rain drops that should bring a blessed coolness instead strike his face and send ripples of pain out across far too sensitive skin. Once he's managed to ask about Noctis, and Ravus had seen fit to answer before walking away. He wants to ask again for confirmation, but it's so hard just to keep breathing let alone get words out.
If he passes out, will he wake again? It's not fear of looming death that keeps him awake, though, but worry for Noctis. He's come this far. He just has to push on a little longer. Someone must stand guard until the others arrive even if that someone can't actually stand at the moment.
Unconsciousness has a way of overwhelming those fighting so hard against it. One moment, Ignis is focusing himself on the feel of Gladio's hand resting gently on his chest. The next?
Well, it's not silent and dark, surprisingly, but at least the pain has lessened. Ignis' eyes blink rapidly as he tries to puzzle out where he is and more importantly, why he can see. It doesn't take a long for the feeling of being watched to wash over him, and he has to fight back a shiver, the feeling of the Kings of Old judging him still fresh in his mind.]
Who's there?
an ignis is never late, he arrives exactly when he intends to
[The idea of the Kings judging him isn't entirely wrong, except that it's just one king, now -
A tall, thin, painfully familiar figure of a king, except that Izunia has opted to dress as himself instead of Ardyn for the first time in...
Well, a ridiculously long time. So, while the hair is similar and the posture is the same, the man in front of Ignis is outfitted significantly less like a walking charity donation box and instead in well-fitting - if archaic as hell - dress coat and tall boots.
Ardyn had played his hand, just a little, just enough - even if it was a different color than he was used to, Ignis would have recognized the warp for what it was. If not then, then eventually, replaying events in his mind.]
One whose power you borrowed quite recently, to admirable effect. I don't think I've ever quite seen that look on his face.
[ Yuuri likes to think she's been nice and patient.
It's been just over a week now since Ardyn and Church came back from their disastrous little shopping trip and the exact details had come spilling out. Yuuri has a hundred and one questions, mostly hows and whys but the most important one, of course, is just where this shop is and if anyone will miss its absence.
She's mostly joking. Mostly.
She gives it a week more for Ardyn's sake than anything else, because he deserves the chance to decompress from this without Yuuri causing any more drama. But that's about the limits of her patience and she doesn't even bother to make any excuse for it when she leaves for the mall with a sunny smile, giving Ardyn and Church a jaunty little wave as she goes.
It's an easy enough shop to find now that she knows what she's looking for and Yuuri doesn't even miss a beat as she goes striding inside. She's still smiling pleasantly like she has been this whole time but quite frankly it's a terrifying sort of smile that makes you wonder if you're about to meet some kind of terrible end. ]
Excuse me. I'm here to speak to Izunia-san. [ and yes, that's the name she immediately uses. she wants this man to know just how much trouble he's in. ] Is this a bad time?
[Thank fucking crystals there are no customers around when she says that, is Izunia's first thought.
His second thought boils down to 'well this has been fun.'
He's at the counter as usual, in Lucian blacks and his navy blue scarf - even without the cosplay setup he's more than enough Ardyn-looking to make people doubletake.
He's also not stupid enough to not know who she is. So she gets a slow nod in response and a smile that is clearly a Customer Service Face.]
I can always make time for family matters. Just give me a minute to close up shop so that we have some privacy.
[He reaches under the counter to flip the switch for the retractable window shutters and steps around her to lock the door.]
[And so the end of Altissia brings with it two covenants, one more unexpected than the other. Few will notice the kingly spirit that now follows Ignis as the royal retinue reach Cartanica. Fewer still notice the lady standing in serene silence at the side of the platform, her hands clasped, her eyes closed.]
Ignis doesn't even seem to notice her, walking right past even as she speaks. Izunia, however, will.]
[He's limited to Ignis' senses, still, unless he really pushes- but it's still better than being in the ring. At least out here he can do something, and, if he's honest, feel the breeze through Ignis' hair and listen to Prompto's cheerful chatter -
That voice, though.
It would take a lot to keep him from noticing, and startling, at that. 'Second King' indeed.]
Hello, Gentiana.
[Forgive me if I'm not exactly pleased with your patrons at the moment, considering they've been lying to me for two thousand years. He doesn't say it, but the thought is there all through his posture, a specter as invisible to all as she is.
Naturally, he offers her an arm. He's still a gentleman, after all.]
Walk with me? I am rather shackled to Ignis at the moment. Can't stray too far from my dear host.
[Of course, being blind isn't nearly as much a problem when you're a spirit that can harmlessly drift through obstacles.]
[Perhaps it was a dream, or some other similar liminal space. Because the situation was an impossible one--in the streets of modern Insomnia stood a young man of twenty, with wine-red hair messily pulled back and clothes in shades of gray and crimson.]
[Even if his appearance and demeanor (bright and cheerful, fascinated by the unfamiliar terrain rather than unsettled) weren't unmistakable, the long and thin greatsword in a sheath on his back definitely was. Someday it would be called the Blade of the Mystic--Ardyn tended to just call it his sword.]
Quite the change in scenery, isn't it, Gil-...Gilgamesh?
[He looked over his shoulder, frowning in faint curiosity; his friend could certainly take care of himself, so a few moments separated was nothing to really worry over. Still...being alone in a sunlit and apparently empty city was approaching 'concerning' levels of strange.]
[It surely must be a dream. That's the only thing that could explain what's happening right now. This is the Insomnia of Noctis and Regis, not of Ardyn and Izunia, and yet...
Here they both are. Izunia hears the calling voice and comes running, but nothing could have prepared him for - ]
Ardyn?
[He's. so young. Perhaps even before the healing gift that had taken everything from him...
In spite of appearing to have somewhere between fifteen and twenty years on Ardyn, Izunia is immediately recognizable. The years have increased the complexity and quality of his clothes, but the style is still fundamentally the same - a duelist's coat and high boots, now in the ornate black and gold of the Lucian kingdom. His hair is grown a bit longer, allowed to fall into the attractive kind of disarray Ardyn favors, and there is no rapier at his side.
The king has no need to carry a weapon. The king is a weapon.]
--aaaaAAAAAAAAA, SHIT DAMN MOTHERFUCKER, are you kidding me?!
[Some detective espers just can't leave other people's memories well enough alone. Or something. Who knows what's going on here, or how a man long-dead can be meeting all these hip youths.
Either way, send help, this is not a nephew-friendly zone and it sounds like Junpei's maybe been having fun here for a while.]
[ Most of the time, Noctis's dreams are bad. He dreams about Luna and Prompto dying, just out of reach, Luna's hair loose and spilling out beneath her and turning red with her blood, Prompto blue and cold as ice as he reaches out for Noctis, mouth forming his name...
Sometimes he dreams about Blaze falling into the craters of grease and coming for Noctis, asking him to end his suffering. It doesn't make sense, but do dreams ever? Sometimes he dreams about the girls dying, their eyes wide and disappointed and asking why he wasn't there. Sometimes, he dreams about falling through the endless expanse of space, unable to move or do anything but scream.
This is not one of those dreams. This is... strange. He's back in Insomnia, which he hasn't dreamed about for some time. It's whole and intact, and Noctis puts his hands in his pockets as he stands in the middle of the city, head turned up to look at his old home. ]
[Insomnia never stops being Insomnia. Even after the darkness - even after the dawn.
On the nearest bus stop bench sits a familiar-looking figure - but it's not quite right, is it? Surely Ardyn never managed to dress that well, or to pull off what's a relatively normal posture instead of a full-body lounge. It's not quite a normal person way of sitting, turned at the hip to sling an arm across the back of the bench and face off down the road in Noctis' direction, but then again...
Well, who knows? Stranger things have happened.]
I keep expecting it to rain.
[The comment's almost not addressed to his descendant, but instead halfway up at the sky - which is, indeed, grey and cloudy. Not quite sun and not quite dark, a good in-between place for closing the gap between first king and last.
The eyes that eventually meet Noctis' are not Ardyn's unnatural yellow.]
...Hello, Noctis. I was hoping that I would get to meet you eventually.
[The girl who wanders in to Izunia’s space antiques shop looks like she came out of a space anime. But hey, this is space that's somehow poached a millennia-dead spirit king and his plague carrying brother, so why not this girl with her pink cat backpack?
She takes a long hard look at Izunia when she notices him, obviously recognising something.]
...you're cosplaying someone from Airlocked!, right? That … show… that's airing a new season soon.
[He doesn't cosplay much anymore, really, but the natural resemblance and the fact that he does still prefer Lucian blacks means that he passes for cosplaying anyway. Closet cosplay, what a concept.
He gives the girl a nod, not showing at all the way his stomach drops out at the reminder.]
[It was... nice, getting to do a little shopping. Normally he wouldn't go out alone, but as long as he dressed down and wore his glasses he wasn't usually mistaken for "Xander of Nohr".
Plus, while he would have shopped with Jane, this time he wanted something FOR her. A blade. Something small to match Lightning's combat knife. Which is what lead him to the mall, and the shop.
...he didn't realize the wares wouldn't be open air so he could handle them. So he stood there, frowning down at the display. ]
[Hello, Xander, don't be surprised at that very familiar voice from behind your shoulder. Even the accent is very much the same - possibly even more so than Ardyn usually speaks with now. Episode one level Ardyn accent.
And when Xander turns - well. It's easy to believe that a hardlight or something is in play here, because the man is a dead ringer for Ardyn in face and build as well. Aside from the clothes - which are more carefully maintained than Ardyn's preferred improvised outfits, though in similar style and Lucian black still - and the fresh tattoo of a crow in flight tucked into the left side of the man's neck ruin the impression.
...That may well be a women's shirt, with how ruffled the collar is.]
If you'd like a closer look at something, I'd be happy to fetch it for you.
[Finding the small shop tucked away in a corner of the mall is fortuitous, because Soma feels twitchy without a weapon when he knows they're going to be fighting for their true freedom sooner or later. Much as he wishes for some of his bigger, more powerful blades, his sealed powers prohibit their concealment or easy use. Smaller swords and daggers will have to do. Fortunately, he's proficient in their use as well.
He steps into the shop and immediately casts an appraising eye over the displayed knives. They're... not of the best quality. Tourist flash, basically, not reliable in a real fight. He doesn't see a clerk, so he calls out as politely as he can.]
Um, excuse me? I have a few questions, if it's not too much trouble?
After Xander, he's really starting to consider giving Ardyn or Church or someone shit for not warning people that he's here.]
Just a moment!
[If the voice wasn't enough, the sight of the man who sweeps from the back of the shop - and it is a sweep, somehow, complete with the spin and flare of a long coat that might match one of Soma's own, save the color - is probably enough. He's carrying an unboxed ridiculous dragon lamp, because that's the kind of bullshit they sell here.
Except for the clothes, he's a match in height and built and voice and accent for Ardyn in a way that zips straight past resemblance into uncanny. And yet there are still differences - his hair isn't quite the same ambiguously colored shade, and after he sets the lamp in an open space on the shelves, Izunia turns, which reveals both his blue scarf, hanging off his neck, and the tattoo of a crow in flight visible on his neck over the top of it.]
How can I help you?
[Also, Ardyn has probably never pulled off a successful Customer Service Face without looking snide or sarcastic in his life.]
[Hey yeah he's not doing okay. You can tell because he's forgetting his ending punctuation.]
@gamerchiaki I won't stop you @gamerchiaki But my reaction is not the most pleasant right now. @gamerchiaki Truthfully I might break something @gamerchiaki That wonderful fool impulsive girl
[ There's a new arrival, out of the Fissure near the Station today. That's not so unusual -- new faces pop out of there all the time but maybe this girl might catch the attention of someone with a discerning eye.
Maybe it's the way she's walking. Her footwear couldn't be less suited to the terrain but she's having absolutely no trouble whatsoever striding up and down the wet sand with pin-neat posture. Maybe it's the look on her face. Puzzled, but not afraid. Not the face you'd expect to see on someone who's just been interdimensionally kidnapped. ]
Hello? Excuse me? Might I be able to speak with someone...?
[ Or maybe it's her voice. Or more specifically, what she's saying. Because the language she's speaking (and the way she's dressed) make it perfectly clear to that hypothetical discerning observer that the young lady on the beach is a young lady of Solheim. ]
[The beach isn't much of a concern any longer; Izunia is familiar with its dangers and the day's work has seen it at least partially stabilized. He's perched high up among the rocks, taking a bit of a lunch break with a soda and some of the baked goods Coriander left out -
And ah, that's a voice, isn't it? At first it doesn't even register that the language is one he knows; he's grown familiar with the way this world's magic translates things. He returns the half-finished soda to the Armiger and scans the beach - there, that must be her.
There's a flash of blue and then he's there - well, okay, about ten feet away, because you never know how someone's going to react to someone warping into their space, especially someone who may not be familiar with it.]
Are you alright, miss?
[He's slipped out of the modern tongue - picked up from however many generations of watching descendants - and into his native language without even realizing it. The girl is... somehow heart-achingly familiar, even without a clear view of her face.]
[Six candles, now, burned down to nothing. The empty jars are full of offerings to the dead - flowers for Yuuri and Thomasin and Natsuhi, spigs of dried rosemary for Soma (and a few drops of blood, after Chiaki went home for the night, because his brother's brother is his brother), money for Togami, the first draft of a manuscript rolled and shoved into Varric's.
And then, this motive. Queenie's gingerbread and Kip's Sex on the Beach are still burning as Izunia comes back to his seat for the second half of the episode. Jane and Arianna are just beginning their seance.]
Do you think it will work? They've certainly more than enough ghosts about...
[She watches some episodes with Izunia because it's easier if you're not alone. She's never been alone before right now, even before the rest of the class came in there was Monomi, and solidarity just helps in a murdergame situation. And while Izunia takes care of the human (....lucian?….) concern of memorials, she's been tapping away on a laptop. Guess what she's working on?
Well, looking up information on IG7 mostly, but her research is compiled in gamerchiaki’s Airlocked! GameFAQ. It's not actually up in a public server but it's written in a style similar to those old school walkthroughs, logging in recent conspiracy theories on filming locations and projected endgames.]
I don't know about real ghosts, but if it's a simulation… it's possible the system will respond to them.
[So, as usual, Nanami's got a standing invitation for investigation and trial days.
This time, however, there's not a door swinging open to invite her in, which is... odd?
It's very odd.
When she inevitably knocks, there's... well, it could be called a voice - ]
Let yourself in.
[ - but at the same time, it isn't? In comparison to a normal voice, it's heard in the bones and the heart, not the ears. And it distinctly isn't the same voice that she's used to hearing, not the smooth deep sound Izunia shares with his brother but something deeper yet and unsettlingly primal.
So it probably isn't that much a surprise when she comes in - the door's unlocked - and finds not her usual companion, but an ancient-looking armored spirit standing behind the couch. He seems to be made of ethereal light, not quite solid, and if she tries, she'll find that her hand passes through him with only a shiver-inducing tingle.
The TV isn't on. It's not even time yet for the episode to air, not for another half an hour. And yet - ]
It was Ardyn. Late last night.
[ - that voice leaves no room for doubt. The Mystic holds a greatsword in one hand like a lifeline - the only visible point of emotion, given the helm and armor. And yet his 'voice' - as much as it can be called such - is heavy with grief.]
[She doesn't have the human instincts that would have her run at the sight of… what is this? Nanami stops a few steps into the house, and stares
and stares
and stares,
……….]
Good afternoon, Izunia-san.
[She seats herself at her usual spot on the sofa, quiet as usual. Later when she boots up her laptop she will Spoogle search “what’s an armored spirit”, “what’s the best way to help them ", “what can be done when one who lived millennia in remembrance of a sin has what penance they've found rendered asunder?” But for now, as she waits for it to load, she folds her hands in her lap and simply looks.
Like SIS, she was made to serve, made to make the best of a ruined situation. Nanami knows not the love of a brother, but she knows that to love is the strongest thing on her planet.]
Would it help if you talked about what you're feeling right now?
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alright asshole let's do this
[They'd split up, for today. Shield or not...this was something the would-be king wanted to confront on his own. Ardyn was almost certain he'd know where to look; there were only two remnants of Solheim left in modern-day Lucis, even if they were a troubling distance apart.]
[But he came to the Fallgrove, to the ruins of Costlemark Tower. It had once been a grand and beautiful thing, floors of research materials and magitek and he couldn't even remember what else--yet today it was who was outside that was his focus.]
Izunia.
[Even without the hatred and darkness of millennia...the name was still snapped like the jaws of a Midgardsormr.]
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But... He knew where he would be expected, and if he dared to hope that something -
- that anything -
- that Ardyn still existed, then he would come here. To this that had been once as much home as they had ever known, to the memories of their days passed together -
Izunia waits, with the patience of a man who has held out hope for two thousand years that someday, he'd hear his brother's voice again.
... Well, maybe not in that tone of voice. He flinches.]
...Ardyn.
[If it is Ardyn. He's almost afraid to turn around, for fear that he'll see once again that monster using his brother's face.]
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makes up some jamjar bullshit
(And it's certainly nothing to do with wanting to see familiar faces. Nothing to do with still hoping against hope that after being so thoroughly disappointed on her arrival. Nothing whatsoever.)
They're arriving on the beach this month, it seems, washing up like driftwood and she's just glad there don't seem to be any injuries -- there's only so much patching up they can do with such rudimentary medical supplies. She's mulling over their luck that this set of arrivals seem to be happening with such little fanfare and
then
she sees a sodden but heart-stoppingly familiar mop of black and silver and wine-red in the sand, just like all the other newcomers and she comes to a sharp halt. For a split second she wonders if maybe it's just the Ardyn she knows is already here, but why would he be here on the beach with all the newcomers? But why would there be another Ardyn here when the Storyteller had already pulled one in, unless he was different enough to provide the Storyteller with new tales, unless, unless, unless...
Her heart's in her throat when she approaches, her steps slow and cautious. Yuuri knows well by now that she can't just charge in blindly and expect any less than a disaster. So it's with that thought in mind that she makes her way over to him, appreciating more than anyone the irony of the fact that she looks like she's dressed head to toe in Lucian fashion but totally, blissfully ignorant of the irony that comes with her addressing him as - ]
... Izunia-san? Um... that is you, isn't it?
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But then he hears the girl's voice, and he looks up -
and then he realizes
she called him Izunia.
Thanks, Yuuri, there is now a giant beanpole having a complete heart attack at the sight of you. His eyes are a natural hazel instead of Ardyn's uncanny yellow, and the clothes are in a bit better repair - true black instead of faded grey, a navy swirl of a scarf instead of an orange one - but still the same style, and -
And no one should know him to be Izunia. No one save Gilgamesh, and the girl is very clearly not
hisArdyn'stheirthe Shield of the King.Izunia's reaction is to freeze. But he's trained himself well, and Ardyn's reaction - Ardyn would get angry. So he does.]
How do you know that name?
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Oh, oh, oh-oh-oh, here we go
Noct? Noooooct. Luna? ...Lucina?
[It's too open here to really echo, but he adds the sound effect himself in his head, imagines a tumbleweed blow by. Was this how Max felt, stuck in his old hometown with no one around. Prompto shivers, then shivers harder and rubs his arms, hating the feeling of cold when he knows he's not actually cold at all.
He raises his voice and allow himself to sound just a liiiittle more desperate.]
Hello? Is anyone here? Come out, come out, wherever you are!
here we go, oh no?
Under one of those lampposts, eventually, leans a familiar-looking figure in a familiar style of trenchcoat and shawl - though this coat is a proper Lucian black instead of a faded grey, and the scarf wrapped around his neck is a swirl of navy instead of orange.
At the sound of a voice, 'Ardyn' lifts his arm and waves, calling back - ]
Is everything alright?
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He sees the flash of messy and frankly unmistakable hair and nudges him in the side.]
Ohhhh no, no no no you are not wearing that again. Did you get really nostalgic for it, because, no. Put that back in your armiger, so help me. [Without missing a beat, he hands (not-)Ardyn a couple bags.] Put these in there, too, while you're at it.
i don't have an appropriate icon for this DEAL
In fact, he has something of a reputation as an extremely dedicated cosplayer around the local shops, which he's allowed to continue mostly because of hilarious irony. He can't bring himself to actually watch the infamous show, but he gets the gist, and he has more experience with Ardyn than anyone.
But this is different from the occasional fan making the mistake, because that's not a gushing 'ohmygod' but instead -
A casual intimacy. And, more to the point, knowledge of the Armiger and exactly how it works.]
Um -
[Look again, Church, because someone here is just standing holding these bags with a major deer-in-headlights expression and a blue scarf hanging off his neck.]
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uses phone icon b/c it's like a ring phone :D
The pain sucks, of course. It's an unpleasant burning at best, and it makes his back and leg ache like they do in the rain pretty much constantly (though the fact that he keeps pushing himself forward with as little rest as possible is probably the real culprit there) and the sensation of pieces of himself being torn off at the worst, but... the pain's nothing he can't handle. Nah, it's not the pain that's the shitty part of it. No, it's the voices that get to him. The way he can see things he knows aren't really there. The symbols of his family blood magic flickering in and out of sight, a ghostly miasma gathering at the edge of his vision, almost like he's constantly on the verge of blacking out. And gods, the whispers. They get worse when he's drawing on the power, draining the lives from the daemons or banishing MTs into some forgotten void, but he can never quite pick out what they're saying -- and honestly? He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know.
Still... he wonders... are they the voices of the past kings and queens within the ring? His father had told him once that if someone not of his bloodline puts on the ring, the ring tests them and demands to know if they're worthy. He supposes it's some comfort that his ancestors apparently approve of him enough not to reject him, but part of him wonders if they're just obligated to lend him the power and if maybe they really don't approve. Maybe that's what the whispers are - them telling him off for not putting the ring on sooner, not getting back to the crystal already, not ... who even knows anymore.
Or maybe it's just this place and Ardyn's sing-song taunts over the P.A. system getting to him.
Lost in his thoughts, Noctis trips over some canister left in the hallway and loses his balance. All that saves him from crashing face first into the wall is the fact that the wall is actually a door, and instead he face-plants across the threshold of a dormitory. Face burning with embarrassment, Noctis stumbles to his feet, grimacing and rubbing his shin where it connected with the canister. He leans on the door frame and stares around the room. Part of him wants to ignore it and keep going, but a larger part of him knows he's at his limit, and so far no daemons have turned up in the dorms so with a glance back down the hallway, he decides to chance it.
Staggering in, he activates the lock on the door and makes his way to one of the beds. He sinks down on it and fishes around in his pockets to see what he might have to eat, Ignis' voice echoing in his thoughts that he should have dinner before sleeping. In luck, he finds a partially broken granola bar and pulls it out. He makes himself comfortable, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed and stretching his one leg out carefully. He gazes dully at the ring on his finger as he unwraps the bard. If he didn't need it, he'd be tempted to just throw it down one of the elevator shafts. As it is, he's thinking of taking it off while he takes a quick nap to see if he might sleep better that way rather than waking up after, like, an hour gasping for breath and trying not to scream.
But as he's pondering it, a thought occurs to him. What if the voices are the past kings and queens? What if ... what if he can find a way to talk to them? Then maybe ... maybe he can see his dad again...!
With this in mind, he sits up a little straighter, studying the ring closely. Finishing the granola bar, he sets the wrapper aside and then clasps his hands so that both are touching the ring. He's got no idea what the hell he's doing, but ... gotta try something, right? He reaches out with his mind, closing his eyes and trying to see if he can sense the ring that way and maybe just maybe talk to whatever's inside.
He gasps when suddenly he seems to break through to -- to something, and equal parts eager and nervous as hell, he calls out:]
-- Dad...?
so he's hearing... the ringer?
Like he's sitting back-to-back with someone on the bed, except for the fact that the other person's body doesn't have any weight to depress the mattress.]
You're starting at the wrong end to reach him, I'm afraid.
[The voice is both - unmistakably Ardyn's, and unmistakably not. Surely, even if the faint dry wit is the same, Ardyn has never sounded so genuinely sorry about anything in his life.]
*oh my god* - yes
a dead ringer
*i'm* dead now
bows
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...
you get a spoiler, and *you* get a spoiler, everyone gets a spoiler!
So that's fine.
Thankfully, she knows that the strange fellow in front of her isn't that one. So here, Izunia, have a tall, gangly marionette tilting its head and waving awkwardly at you. It shrinks pretty quickly, of course, down to the height of a child. She's more comfortable this way, now that there's no reason to be tall anymore. So now she's looking up at him instead of down, one three-fingered hand waving slightly.]
Hi.
[The quiet, tinny voice from the strange puppet is very much that of a little girl, maybe ten or so. She sounds shy and also curious. You dress funny, mister. :o]
[completely canonblind] this is fine
It's not often that there are people taller than him - Gilgamesh, the only one he can really remember - so Izunia is not used to looking up. And by the time he realizes he should, well, the
daemon?
is much smaller. And speaking to him, so probably not a daemon. With one glaring exception, they tend to not be intelligent enough to greet people.]
...Hello?
canonblind buddies brofist
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Stumbles in here a millions years late
If he passes out, will he wake again? It's not fear of looming death that keeps him awake, though, but worry for Noctis. He's come this far. He just has to push on a little longer. Someone must stand guard until the others arrive even if that someone can't actually stand at the moment.
Unconsciousness has a way of overwhelming those fighting so hard against it. One moment, Ignis is focusing himself on the feel of Gladio's hand resting gently on his chest. The next?
Well, it's not silent and dark, surprisingly, but at least the pain has lessened. Ignis' eyes blink rapidly as he tries to puzzle out where he is and more importantly, why he can see. It doesn't take a long for the feeling of being watched to wash over him, and he has to fight back a shiver, the feeling of the Kings of Old judging him still fresh in his mind.]
Who's there?
an ignis is never late, he arrives exactly when he intends to
A tall, thin, painfully familiar figure of a king, except that Izunia has opted to dress as himself instead of Ardyn for the first time in...
Well, a ridiculously long time. So, while the hair is similar and the posture is the same, the man in front of Ignis is outfitted significantly less like a walking charity donation box and instead in well-fitting - if archaic as hell - dress coat and tall boots.
Ardyn had played his hand, just a little, just enough - even if it was a different color than he was used to, Ignis would have recognized the warp for what it was. If not then, then eventually, replaying events in his mind.]
One whose power you borrowed quite recently, to admirable effect. I don't think I've ever quite seen that look on his face.
[Where to begin? Let Ignis lead, then.]
Too true, too true.
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time to THROW THINGS at a SAD OLD DUDE
It's been just over a week now since Ardyn and Church came back from their disastrous little shopping trip and the exact details had come spilling out. Yuuri has a hundred and one questions, mostly hows and whys but the most important one, of course, is just where this shop is and if anyone will miss its absence.
She's mostly joking. Mostly.
She gives it a week more for Ardyn's sake than anything else, because he deserves the chance to decompress from this without Yuuri causing any more drama. But that's about the limits of her patience and she doesn't even bother to make any excuse for it when she leaves for the mall with a sunny smile, giving Ardyn and Church a jaunty little wave as she goes.
It's an easy enough shop to find now that she knows what she's looking for and Yuuri doesn't even miss a beat as she goes striding inside. She's still smiling pleasantly like she has been this whole time but quite frankly it's a terrifying sort of smile that makes you wonder if you're about to meet some kind of terrible end. ]
Excuse me. I'm here to speak to Izunia-san. [ and yes, that's the name she immediately uses. she wants this man to know just how much trouble he's in. ] Is this a bad time?
as long as those things aren't shitty swords
His second thought boils down to 'well this has been fun.'
He's at the counter as usual, in Lucian blacks and his navy blue scarf - even without the cosplay setup he's more than enough Ardyn-looking to make people doubletake.
He's also not stupid enough to not know who she is. So she gets a slow nod in response and a smile that is clearly a Customer Service Face.]
I can always make time for family matters. Just give me a minute to close up shop so that we have some privacy.
[He reaches under the counter to flip the switch for the retractable window shutters and steps around her to lock the door.]
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uh
Ignis doesn't even seem to notice her, walking right past even as she speaks. Izunia, however, will.]
The Second King takes liberties.
EYY i'm guessing this is for iggy's AU
That voice, though.
It would take a lot to keep him from noticing, and startling, at that. 'Second King' indeed.]
Hello, Gentiana.
[Forgive me if I'm not exactly pleased with your patrons at the moment, considering they've been lying to me for two thousand years. He doesn't say it, but the thought is there all through his posture, a specter as invisible to all as she is.
Naturally, he offers her an arm. He's still a gentleman, after all.]
Walk with me? I am rather shackled to Ignis at the moment. Can't stray too far from my dear host.
[Of course, being blind isn't nearly as much a problem when you're a spirit that can harmlessly drift through obstacles.]
aaayy yes
hella
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1/2
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still gotta reply, sorry
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[Even if his appearance and demeanor (bright and cheerful, fascinated by the unfamiliar terrain rather than unsettled) weren't unmistakable, the long and thin greatsword in a sheath on his back definitely was. Someday it would be called the Blade of the Mystic--Ardyn tended to just call it his sword.]
Quite the change in scenery, isn't it, Gil-...Gilgamesh?
[He looked over his shoulder, frowning in faint curiosity; his friend could certainly take care of himself, so a few moments separated was nothing to really worry over. Still...being alone in a sunlit and apparently empty city was approaching 'concerning' levels of strange.]
Hello? Is anyone here?
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Here they both are. Izunia hears the calling voice and comes running, but nothing could have prepared him for - ]
Ardyn?
[He's. so young. Perhaps even before the healing gift that had taken everything from him...
In spite of appearing to have somewhere between fifteen and twenty years on Ardyn, Izunia is immediately recognizable. The years have increased the complexity and quality of his clothes, but the style is still fundamentally the same - a duelist's coat and high boots, now in the ornate black and gold of the Lucian kingdom. His hair is grown a bit longer, allowed to fall into the attractive kind of disarray Ardyn favors, and there is no rapier at his side.
The king has no need to carry a weapon. The king is a weapon.]
Is that really...?
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just uses this icon the ENTIRE THREAD b/c he's never letting go
two can play that game
two accounts enter, one icon leaves
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Meanwhile, in Pitioss
[Some detective espers just can't leave other people's memories well enough alone. Or something. Who knows what's going on here, or how a man long-dead can be meeting all these hip youths.
Either way, send help, this is not a nephew-friendly zone and it sounds like Junpei's maybe been having fun here for a while.]
aka 'meanwhile, resting in fuck'
Really, the afterlife is considerably oversold and quite boring. He revisits old haunts, finding little of interest but ruins -
Aside from young men screaming as they attempt to jump up onto moving platforms, fail, and hit the dirt.
Have a somewhat familiar face in an unfamiliar hat poking out at you from above, Junpei, he's kind of. Concerned about your yelling.]
Are you quite alright?
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Sometimes he dreams about Blaze falling into the craters of grease and coming for Noctis, asking him to end his suffering. It doesn't make sense, but do dreams ever? Sometimes he dreams about the girls dying, their eyes wide and disappointed and asking why he wasn't there. Sometimes, he dreams about falling through the endless expanse of space, unable to move or do anything but scream.
This is not one of those dreams. This is... strange. He's back in Insomnia, which he hasn't dreamed about for some time. It's whole and intact, and Noctis puts his hands in his pockets as he stands in the middle of the city, head turned up to look at his old home. ]
Been a while, huh...
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On the nearest bus stop bench sits a familiar-looking figure - but it's not quite right, is it? Surely Ardyn never managed to dress that well, or to pull off what's a relatively normal posture instead of a full-body lounge. It's not quite a normal person way of sitting, turned at the hip to sling an arm across the back of the bench and face off down the road in Noctis' direction, but then again...
Well, who knows? Stranger things have happened.]
I keep expecting it to rain.
[The comment's almost not addressed to his descendant, but instead halfway up at the sky - which is, indeed, grey and cloudy. Not quite sun and not quite dark, a good in-between place for closing the gap between first king and last.
The eyes that eventually meet Noctis' are not Ardyn's unnatural yellow.]
...Hello, Noctis. I was hoping that I would get to meet you eventually.
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Airlurked! [likely sdr2 spoilers?]
She takes a long hard look at Izunia when she notices him, obviously recognising something.]
...you're cosplaying someone from Airlocked!, right? That … show… that's airing a new season soon.
terrible
He gives the girl a nod, not showing at all the way his stomach drops out at the reminder.]
So I've heard. I'm quite anxious about it.
[UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE CENTURY...]
knifecats
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two can play at the dramatic trailers game IG7
Shitty swordshop au etcetc
Plus, while he would have shopped with Jane, this time he wanted something FOR her. A blade. Something small to match Lightning's combat knife. Which is what lead him to the mall, and the shop.
...he didn't realize the wares wouldn't be open air so he could handle them. So he stood there, frowning down at the display. ]
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[Hello, Xander, don't be surprised at that very familiar voice from behind your shoulder. Even the accent is very much the same - possibly even more so than Ardyn usually speaks with now. Episode one level Ardyn accent.
And when Xander turns - well. It's easy to believe that a hardlight or something is in play here, because the man is a dead ringer for Ardyn in face and build as well. Aside from the clothes - which are more carefully maintained than Ardyn's preferred improvised outfits, though in similar style and Lucian black still - and the fresh tattoo of a crow in flight tucked into the left side of the man's neck ruin the impression.
...That may well be a women's shirt, with how ruffled the collar is.]
If you'd like a closer look at something, I'd be happy to fetch it for you.
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private Spit from @gamerchiaki:
@elevencrows you were right. [AIRLOCKED | ep 1. watch airlocked! live on starflix.co]
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Ardyn is going to murder Xander, in all likelihood.
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Airleft shopping trip
He steps into the shop and immediately casts an appraising eye over the displayed knives. They're... not of the best quality. Tourist flash, basically, not reliable in a real fight. He doesn't see a clerk, so he calls out as politely as he can.]
Um, excuse me? I have a few questions, if it's not too much trouble?
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After Xander, he's really starting to consider giving Ardyn or Church or someone shit for not warning people that he's here.]
Just a moment!
[If the voice wasn't enough, the sight of the man who sweeps from the back of the shop - and it is a sweep, somehow, complete with the spin and flare of a long coat that might match one of Soma's own, save the color - is probably enough. He's carrying an unboxed ridiculous dragon lamp, because that's the kind of bullshit they sell here.
Except for the clothes, he's a match in height and built and voice and accent for Ardyn in a way that zips straight past resemblance into uncanny. And yet there are still differences - his hair isn't quite the same ambiguously colored shade, and after he sets the lamp in an open space on the shelves, Izunia turns, which reveals both his blue scarf, hanging off his neck, and the tattoo of a crow in flight visible on his neck over the top of it.]
How can I help you?
[Also, Ardyn has probably never pulled off a successful Customer Service Face without looking snide or sarcastic in his life.]
Airlurked! ep3: post investigation / trial
@elevencrows hey hey. do you want me to come over?
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@gamerchiaki I won't stop you
@gamerchiaki But my reaction is not the most pleasant right now.
@gamerchiaki Truthfully I might break something
@gamerchiaki That wonderful fool impulsive girl
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phanrift riibot let's make it happen
Maybe it's the way she's walking. Her footwear couldn't be less suited to the terrain but she's having absolutely no trouble whatsoever striding up and down the wet sand with pin-neat posture. Maybe it's the look on her face. Puzzled, but not afraid. Not the face you'd expect to see on someone who's just been interdimensionally kidnapped. ]
Hello? Excuse me? Might I be able to speak with someone...?
[ Or maybe it's her voice. Or more specifically, what she's saying. Because the language she's speaking (and the way she's dressed) make it perfectly clear to that hypothetical discerning observer that the young lady on the beach is a young lady of Solheim. ]
aw yiss
And ah, that's a voice, isn't it? At first it doesn't even register that the language is one he knows; he's grown familiar with the way this world's magic translates things. He returns the half-finished soda to the Armiger and scans the beach - there, that must be her.
There's a flash of blue and then he's there - well, okay, about ten feet away, because you never know how someone's going to react to someone warping into their space, especially someone who may not be familiar with it.]
Are you alright, miss?
[He's slipped out of the modern tongue - picked up from however many generations of watching descendants - and into his native language without even realizing it. The girl is... somehow heart-achingly familiar, even without a clear view of her face.]
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airleft volume... 5? seance edition
And then, this motive. Queenie's gingerbread and Kip's Sex on the Beach are still burning as Izunia comes back to his seat for the second half of the episode. Jane and Arianna are just beginning their seance.]
Do you think it will work? They've certainly more than enough ghosts about...
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Well, looking up information on IG7 mostly, but her research is compiled in gamerchiaki’s Airlocked! GameFAQ. It's not actually up in a public server but it's written in a style similar to those old school walkthroughs, logging in recent conspiracy theories on filming locations and projected endgames.]
I don't know about real ghosts, but if it's a simulation… it's possible the system will respond to them.
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airleft FUCK THIS: supernatural bullshit edition
This time, however, there's not a door swinging open to invite her in, which is... odd?
It's very odd.
When she inevitably knocks, there's... well, it could be called a voice - ]
Let yourself in.
[ - but at the same time, it isn't? In comparison to a normal voice, it's heard in the bones and the heart, not the ears. And it distinctly isn't the same voice that she's used to hearing, not the smooth deep sound Izunia shares with his brother but something deeper yet and unsettlingly primal.
So it probably isn't that much a surprise when she comes in - the door's unlocked - and finds not her usual companion, but an ancient-looking armored spirit standing behind the couch. He seems to be made of ethereal light, not quite solid, and if she tries, she'll find that her hand passes through him with only a shiver-inducing tingle.
The TV isn't on. It's not even time yet for the episode to air, not for another half an hour. And yet - ]
It was Ardyn. Late last night.
[ - that voice leaves no room for doubt. The Mystic holds a greatsword in one hand like a lifeline - the only visible point of emotion, given the helm and armor. And yet his 'voice' - as much as it can be called such - is heavy with grief.]
sdr2 spoilers
and stares
and stares,
……….]
Good afternoon, Izunia-san.
[She seats herself at her usual spot on the sofa, quiet as usual. Later when she boots up her laptop she will Spoogle search “what’s an armored spirit”, “what’s the best way to help them ", “what can be done when one who lived millennia in remembrance of a sin has what penance they've found rendered asunder?” But for now, as she waits for it to load, she folds her hands in her lap and simply looks.
Like SIS, she was made to serve, made to make the best of a ruined situation. Nanami knows not the love of a brother, but she knows that to love is the strongest thing on her planet.]
Would it help if you talked about what you're feeling right now?
pretend I can be assed to do the font thing on mobile
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