[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.]
[ 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 - ]
[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!
[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.
[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:]
[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]
[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.]
[ 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?
[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.]
[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.]
--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. ]
[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.
[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. ]
[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?
[ 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. ]
[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...
[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.]
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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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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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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?
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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
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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?
*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
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
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
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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
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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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'
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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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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
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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1/2
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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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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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Airlurked! ep3: post investigation / trial
@elevencrows hey hey. do you want me to come over?
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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
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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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1/2
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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
pretend I can be assed to do the font thing on mobile
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