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Entry tags:
- ! mod event,
- 2ha: chu wanning,
- arknights: rosa,
- arknights: shalem,
- assassin's creed: eivor varinsdottir,
- attack on titan: levi ackerman,
- bleach: grimmjow jaegerjaquez,
- danganronpa: fukawa toko,
- encanto: bruno madrigal,
- ennead: set,
- fe3h: claude von riegan,
- fe3h: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd,
- fe3h: felix hugo fraldarius,
- ffvii: cloud strife,
- ffvii: vincent valentine,
- ffvii: zack fair,
- ffxiv: cedrik reede,
- ffxv: noctis lucis caelum,
- hades: zagreus,
- htwmho: rudbeckia de borgia,
- marius titus: ryse son of rome,
- naruto: uzumaki naruto,
- nier replicant v. 1.22: kainé,
- original: kaito nagano,
- orv: han sooyoung,
- orv: yoo joonghyuk,
- oxenfree: jonas,
- sandman: johanna constantine,
- shadow and bone: the darkling,
- stranger things: steve harrington,
- supernatural: castiel,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- treasure planet: jim hawkins,
- vampire hunter d: d,
- vld: keith,
- vld: takashi shirogane
MOD EVENT #001
It isn't rare for the seasons in the Netherworld to be a little erratic, though many days have passed now without much of a hint of its typical mercuriality, a good and a bad omen all at once. This respite is commonly referred to as the proverbial "calm before the storm", but it also marks the beginning of merrier celebrations. The Moons above are gilded silver, the twilight sky edged with faint pink and orange -- a sunrise phantasm, spilling over the horizon. It's an infrequent spectacle, accompanied by a dulcet breeze and light drizzles that seem to encourage growth nearly everywhere. Unfortunately, under its influence, people seem a little on edge, quick to anger, but no matter; around Stygia, Restless have begun hanging
decorations and ornaments on trees and windowsills, left to catch the moonlight and give off marigold and ginger glows, warmly lighting up the city. Rather than fish, the smell of freshly ground spices permeates the air in the Harbors, Mirth keeps its doors opened to all, but just before the festivities officially begin, a cacophony of chimes resounds all over, a transmission difficult to ignore.
On the screen of your cellphone, nothing; only a voice, ragged, out of breath...
...and the feed abruptly ends, a dull chirr of static. Will you ignore the stranger's call for help and feast, or venture into the woods?
On the screen of your cellphone, nothing; only a voice, ragged, out of breath...
“The woods... Oakwoods! They've come alive! O-One minute he was complaining about the water seeping into his boots, and the next he was... he was being yanked up into the trees! We didn’t see what happened to him, but we heard... the screams, ohh, the screams. Please! Come to Serene, I beg you. This is our safest sanctuary, and the lan... oh, no... wait, no, please... please... NOOO--”
...and the feed abruptly ends, a dull chirr of static. Will you ignore the stranger's call for help and feast, or venture into the woods?
► I. KNOCK ON WOOD (OH PUCK, HE'S HOT!)
When you cross the gates of Serene, an old woman welcomes you, palm flat against her chest and disquiet in her eyes. Myrtille, her name. Oakwoods loom dense and dark in the distance behind her, groaning low as leaves rustle without wind. The Mourning Lantern was stolen, and malevolence rose in turn, dooming them all.
So you've decided to be brave. Commendable, or foolish? The wood is dark and shrouded in mist, and the trees crowd around you, an absent wind somehow whispering foul nothings in your ear as dead leaves rustle around your feet. Your Shadow basks in the murmurs, sensing the malign presence in Oakwoods as a faint, garbled scream echoes in the distance. You wander deeper and the canopy thickens, thin streaks of moonlight peppering the woods in deep patches of darkness. Behind you, a creature you can't see hisses, and a fluttering of wings nearby alerts you to the arrival of snickering harpies lurking on branches. “Dead,” they croak, in a sing-song chorus. “Dead as daylight.” Oddly enough, they seem content to just watch and stalk you, perhaps expecting you to die quickly, an easy and effortless meal.
It's a frustrating errand if you've ever known one. You barely know what you're looking for, and your Shadow thrives in the dark, taunting, coaxing. You hear it then; a haunting melody, the silhouette of a boy on a fallen tree trunk, strumming. “Come,” he says, with a voice that shimmers like the sun on moving water. If you remember what that's like. “Rest a while. Forget your troubles.” For anyone familiar, you'll recognize him as a Puck, famous prankster, and from his hand dangles a lantern.
► If you attempt to take the lantern from him, he'll immediately drop it to the ground, causing it to break. You may choose to kill him and offer his blood to the woods, or let him go and bleed in his stead. Myrtille should be able to repair what's left of the lantern once the offering's been made.
► If you politely ask to return it, he promises that he will... if you indulge him for the night.
No matter what you choose, you will come across camps, either on your way in or on your way back: pitched tents, most moth-eaten, and some containing vestiges of prior expeditions such as putrid corpses or rotten food. You've been wandering for a while, and sleep sounds terribly inviting. Unfortunately, a wind finally picks up, and leaves begin to blow around you. A nick, then a cut, then a slash reveal the leaves to have razor sharp edges. Sleep well yet? If you've spared the Puck, he'll encourage you to sit with him around a campfire, where he'll sing and tell stories. Or are they. Perhaps you've heard of Bloody Mary before. Slenderman? The Devil that'll make you dance until you die? While the lantern remains in stranger hands, the thread between reality and fiction narrows; protagonists from the Puck's legends come to life, and the only way to rid of them is by quenching the flames of the fire.
Your journey unfortunately doesn't end there. The Puck has a riddle for you:I am a word that is hardly there. Remove my start, and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?
If you fail to answer correctly, he'll vanish before you, and you can bid the lantern goodbye. You'll be forced to gather the bones from the corpses scattered across the woods, and feed it your blood -- or a friend's -- before you escape and return to the woman. The offering will leave you drained and exhausted, weak on your legs. If, on the other hand, you do answer correctly, the lantern is yours, and you'll be teleported out of the woods with a boon in your pocket: a piece of parchment invites you to visit your home in the Shadowlands. There, you'll find an object (or a pet) that belonged to you in your world.
“It was once kept here, a sacred Artifact crafted
from the bones of Serene's first founder, who gave her heart’s
blood willingly to the woods in an act of contrition.
It's the absence of the lantern that
is contributing to the wood’s unusually active
malice, and if you lot cannot retrieve it, then we must sacrifice another. Go! Take these torches and go, before Oakwoods swallow us whole.”
So you've decided to be brave. Commendable, or foolish? The wood is dark and shrouded in mist, and the trees crowd around you, an absent wind somehow whispering foul nothings in your ear as dead leaves rustle around your feet. Your Shadow basks in the murmurs, sensing the malign presence in Oakwoods as a faint, garbled scream echoes in the distance. You wander deeper and the canopy thickens, thin streaks of moonlight peppering the woods in deep patches of darkness. Behind you, a creature you can't see hisses, and a fluttering of wings nearby alerts you to the arrival of snickering harpies lurking on branches. “Dead,” they croak, in a sing-song chorus. “Dead as daylight.” Oddly enough, they seem content to just watch and stalk you, perhaps expecting you to die quickly, an easy and effortless meal.
It's a frustrating errand if you've ever known one. You barely know what you're looking for, and your Shadow thrives in the dark, taunting, coaxing. You hear it then; a haunting melody, the silhouette of a boy on a fallen tree trunk, strumming. “Come,” he says, with a voice that shimmers like the sun on moving water. If you remember what that's like. “Rest a while. Forget your troubles.” For anyone familiar, you'll recognize him as a Puck, famous prankster, and from his hand dangles a lantern.
► If you attempt to take the lantern from him, he'll immediately drop it to the ground, causing it to break. You may choose to kill him and offer his blood to the woods, or let him go and bleed in his stead. Myrtille should be able to repair what's left of the lantern once the offering's been made.
► If you politely ask to return it, he promises that he will... if you indulge him for the night.
No matter what you choose, you will come across camps, either on your way in or on your way back: pitched tents, most moth-eaten, and some containing vestiges of prior expeditions such as putrid corpses or rotten food. You've been wandering for a while, and sleep sounds terribly inviting. Unfortunately, a wind finally picks up, and leaves begin to blow around you. A nick, then a cut, then a slash reveal the leaves to have razor sharp edges. Sleep well yet? If you've spared the Puck, he'll encourage you to sit with him around a campfire, where he'll sing and tell stories. Or are they. Perhaps you've heard of Bloody Mary before. Slenderman? The Devil that'll make you dance until you die? While the lantern remains in stranger hands, the thread between reality and fiction narrows; protagonists from the Puck's legends come to life, and the only way to rid of them is by quenching the flames of the fire.
Your journey unfortunately doesn't end there. The Puck has a riddle for you:
If you fail to answer correctly, he'll vanish before you, and you can bid the lantern goodbye. You'll be forced to gather the bones from the corpses scattered across the woods, and feed it your blood -- or a friend's -- before you escape and return to the woman. The offering will leave you drained and exhausted, weak on your legs. If, on the other hand, you do answer correctly, the lantern is yours, and you'll be teleported out of the woods with a boon in your pocket: a piece of parchment invites you to visit your home in the Shadowlands. There, you'll find an object (or a pet) that belonged to you in your world.
the answer to the riddle is sparsely! it's up to you whether you'd like your character to fail..
legends told around the campfire can be any of the ones mentioned above or any other that might strike your fancy! go wild, have fun!
remember that if you pick an item from your character's world as their boon, it'll eventually disintegrate unless reforged with a soul.
► II. GO BIG OR GOURD HOME
Welcome to the Frightful Harvest, a festival that marks the beginning of the Respite, a temporary period of tranquility between seasons. It acknowledges the blessings offered and the role that both good and evil play
in the Netherworld. It is a time to give thanks, but more
importantly, it is a time of reflection and warding. Warding against not only
the darkness of the next seasons to come, but of the nefarious
creatures and struggles that will undoubtedly follow.
Carved pumpkins and straw bales are placed everywhere around the city, and streamers and banners are hung from every home and storefront. Decadent cakes, candies, and pastries are made in over-abundance in order to accommodate everyone, and from the lush gardens of Radiance, an elderly, dark-robed man addresses the Netherwork. You'll learn by eavesdropping on nearby Restless that his name is Doran, the oldest among you and loved by all. His smile stretches kind, and while not an official member of the Hierarchy, it's clear he has certain privileges -- well-deserved, or so you hear.
And without further ado, let the festivities begin!
► BARDIC BLITZ
The bardic blitz is a friendly competition that pits talented musicians against one another in an attempt to win over the affection of the crowd through festive melodies or personal compositions. Although it can be hosted just about anywhere, the bardic blitz is normally held in a large canvas tent directly in the heart of Mirth, though smaller crowds also gather in Serene and the Harbors around bonfires.
► FEAST
Although all cultures around Stygia bring their own tastes and specific flair to the celebrations, there are a few staple trade goods that you can find at nearly any celebration of the holiday throughout the city. Many producing the various cakes, beverages, and cookies also use the time to test and perfect their recipes, teaching others or using them as guinea pigs.
The harvest hunt happens in a corn maze located in Mirth's amusement park, specifically created for the occasion. Because of the labyrinthian horrors dwelling in the Tempest, some find the terror-free replica a little inappropriate, yet participants still abound every time. A favorite seasonal game of the exuberant and athletic, characters take on the role of either hunter or prey, racing through the maze to either corner their quarry or escape the hands of their pursuer. As long as Shadows behave, it's a relatively safe activity. Friendly spars sometimes occur, picnics, and star-gazing.
► THE PARADE
The parade is the activity most looked forward to by younger Restless. Citizens clad in colorful costumes walk the streets to the rhythm of festive music, and according to tradition, it helps ward away any lingering evil that might try to hide in the community. For reasons unknown, incidents where Restless unwillingly swap bodies sometimes occur.
Carved pumpkins and straw bales are placed everywhere around the city, and streamers and banners are hung from every home and storefront. Decadent cakes, candies, and pastries are made in over-abundance in order to accommodate everyone, and from the lush gardens of Radiance, an elderly, dark-robed man addresses the Netherwork. You'll learn by eavesdropping on nearby Restless that his name is Doran, the oldest among you and loved by all. His smile stretches kind, and while not an official member of the Hierarchy, it's clear he has certain privileges -- well-deserved, or so you hear.
“Let us gather, feast, dance and celebrate. Let us hold our glasses high for those who heroically perished, for goodness, and for the Ascended. May their journey inspire us to change our lives and the lives of others, to resist evil, and to triumph. To you, dear friends!”
And without further ado, let the festivities begin!
► BARDIC BLITZ
The bardic blitz is a friendly competition that pits talented musicians against one another in an attempt to win over the affection of the crowd through festive melodies or personal compositions. Although it can be hosted just about anywhere, the bardic blitz is normally held in a large canvas tent directly in the heart of Mirth, though smaller crowds also gather in Serene and the Harbors around bonfires.
► FEAST
Although all cultures around Stygia bring their own tastes and specific flair to the celebrations, there are a few staple trade goods that you can find at nearly any celebration of the holiday throughout the city. Many producing the various cakes, beverages, and cookies also use the time to test and perfect their recipes, teaching others or using them as guinea pigs.
► Firstdawn Tea: This revitalizing crimson tea soothes the mind and body and is brewed from the roots of the dawn flower, which only sprouts during the Respite.. ► HARVEST HUNT
► Grablenuts: These fist-sized brown nuts have a hard, stippled outer shell and soft, delicious spicy centers. A single bite will slightly lower your inhibitions, and you may find yourself seeking proximity and warmth.
► Elysium: A nonalcoholic beverage that smells and looks as bad as it tastes. Only those with the strongest will manage to gulp it down. Once drunk, the person experiences true bliss, which seems to last for hours; in reality, it's only a few minutes.
► Will-o-the-Whiskey: Whisky with minor hallucinatory effects, visual and auditory.
► Sundrop: A pound cake coated in a sugary lemon drizzle. No side-effects, just delicious!
► Shadowfell Candy: Chewing on this candy will grant the character a deep and rejuvenating sleep, during which they will appear dead to anyone.
The harvest hunt happens in a corn maze located in Mirth's amusement park, specifically created for the occasion. Because of the labyrinthian horrors dwelling in the Tempest, some find the terror-free replica a little inappropriate, yet participants still abound every time. A favorite seasonal game of the exuberant and athletic, characters take on the role of either hunter or prey, racing through the maze to either corner their quarry or escape the hands of their pursuer. As long as Shadows behave, it's a relatively safe activity. Friendly spars sometimes occur, picnics, and star-gazing.
► THE PARADE
The parade is the activity most looked forward to by younger Restless. Citizens clad in colorful costumes walk the streets to the rhythm of festive music, and according to tradition, it helps ward away any lingering evil that might try to hide in the community. For reasons unknown, incidents where Restless unwillingly swap bodies sometimes occur.
► III. WAYWARD SUN
The Warding Ritual is a private affair, a behind-the-scene execution on the last day of the festival as you dance and feast and frolic, blissfully unaware. Something goes awry. First, a shriek in the distance, and soon, birds
flying away in apparent surprise as the landscape rustles with the sounds of creatures and Restless alike fleeing. A vague sense of dread knocks the air out of your lungs, an iron grip around your throat. And you see it then, a headless figure shrouded in a black veil of cloth, sword in one hand and a bright flaming pumpkin in the other. Its head. It thunders through the night on its skeletal horse, its blade flashing in the moonlight in search of prey. Heads fall. You might get injured during the chase -- collateral damage. 10 members of the Hierarchy won't ever rise again, and the rider eventually charges into the Tempest, leaving behind bloody puddles and a slather of confusion. If you opt to help clean up the mess, you might come across stained sheets of paper on the ground, a painting of a white scorpion in the middle. Otherwise, it's time for you to go home.
ooc note
► Welcome to Nightfell's first event! If you'd like additional, more casual prompts, the Notice Board is right here! New prompts will be added next month, if you've already had your fun with them!
► You'll find some answered questions here, but if you'd like to ask something else, please comment below!
► For a little spooky ambience in the woods.
B1! Also I finished Arcane and it was wonderful
And it's hard to feel charitable anyway, being battered back and forth by the crowd like its a mosh pit gone wrong. A holiday sale on the hottest new accessory. A pop star meet and greet? She wasn't able or allowed to attend such things before, but the shrieking frenetics of the mob feel roughly in that ballpark. Alas, it's no tight-panted hottie they're gunning for, but rather a decapitated dude on a horse gunning for them.
She wriggles out of the throng of armpits and elbows and spots another man who's managed the same. Too old and too spidery for her tastes, yet when the Horseman gallops his way she feels a sudden lurch in her gut.
As her fingers coil into the arch of his collar, as she heaves him backwards and behind herself, she has to wonder: has she gone soft for real?
There's whoosh of a blade — she bends back and evades, and barely a breath passes before she makes a swing of her own. The horse whinnies in shock and stumbles, as blood seeps from the flawless line her scissors have cut through the haunch. The horseman yanks the reins and steadies his mount as Syo laughs, high and hard.]
Hard to see that coming with no head, huh?
I'm glad you liked it!!! It's so good
Which... worked to his advantage, didn't it?
When they landed, his feet found pavement, and he started to move away, to a safe distance. Whoever this was, she went at it with scissors (Scissors??) and Silco watched with careful attention. He isn't used to being saved by anyone short of Sevika in a pinch, but he can feel how close he'd gotten to being decapitated. It would be just his luck to get killed within the week of dying previously, wouldn't it?
H doesn't say anything, yet. He lurked back, trying to get out of the damn way from this thing, to keep himself from getting injured, but when the... headless rider (impossible, he thinks) swung around with attentions on his rescuer, he wondered if he would be next, if she failed. ]
IT REALLY WAS!! Sad that ***** is gone already but still hype for s2
Syo grins bright. Sure, she's never fought a specter before. Never tackled someone on horseback. But she'd managed against all kinds of automatons, killing machines of malevolent function and size. What's the harm in trying a new flavor of fuckery?
He bears down, swiping for her head. She batters the blow away and slices through his side. The scissors may be short but she's found ways to make them work. The horse rears back and she has to duck and dodge flailing hooves.
In the thin second it takes for her to regain her stance, her opponent has called the affair off. There's figures ahead, far off, and he's galloping for easier prey now. Unfettered by the wound, unbothered by retreat.]
What?! [She screams, face livid red. Her arm swings back, ready to throw him a parting gift.] Fucking coward!
[Syo holds. Watches him gallivant off. Ahead there are more screams, more crowds.
But she's not in range to do shit about that, and now that she's got time for second thoughts? Why would she waste a precious pair of scissors when she's not sure how or when she'll restock?
So she huffs, straightens. Wipes the hot blood off on her ruined skirt. Only then does she cock her head to the side and see the old timer huddling for safety offside.]
...Huh. You're still here?
SAME weeps... but I live in eternal wait for s2 to see what happens!!
He wasn't about to get hurt, after all, however... this girl was strong -- and she'd saved him -- which at least garnered a conversation. The why, who she was, what kind of power she had. Silco wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. ]
Yes. It would hardly be polite to let you fight that Thing, and scamper back into the shadows.
[ He said it, with a wry twist in his tone, the tip of his head, and curl of his lip, into a half-smile. With his scar, it looked twisted. ]
Don't worry, I wasn't about to waste your efforts by running back into the middle of it all.
i hope it's everything you could ever ask for ;;
Oh sure, manners are manners, but where would you be if I got completely creamed? That guy's a big bad ghostie-man after all, and I'm just a sweet little glasses girl, with naught but my scissors to save me! [A point punctuated by a saccharine hand clapped to her cheek, though the lethal scissors threaded over her knuckles quite spoil the illusion.] You'd be dead in the ditch, I'm guessing.
[That's neither here nor there. She's cleaned up as best as she could and their assailant has a-sailed away, lopping heads far beyond their reach. Whatever. She did what she could. It's not like she's trying to achieve nirvana here. Obviously good and bad behaviour netted you the same fate, and you still had to deal with mortal peril on top of it all.
s͍͖͕o̢̼͓ w̼̦̪h̝͙̺a̝̘͜t͕̠͜'̻͇͕ș̟ t͔͙h͎͓͇e͖̻͕ s̡̫͖e͇̟͚n̙͓̠s̪̫͉e͇͙͙ i̫̝͔n͎͕͉ h̢̡͉o͍͔l̺͎͎d̝̦i͔̙̼n̡͕͕g̢̻̝ b̢͇͍a̙̪͎c̡̫͜k͇̫̼?͎͜͜
Irritating as the voice always is, it has a point. But not one she'll concede just because some incorporeal asshole was whispering it to her.
Let's focus on the here and now, shall we? Namely, this guy. What the fuck happened to his face? Did he get pressed to a hot stove? And come to think of it, she doesn't think she's ever spoken to anyone so old in her life. Gloomy had, naturally, but that's because she was the one facing society day to day. Syo got to moonlight for all the fun parts.
Just what's he doing, lingering around a freak like her? Did he have a schoolgirl kink?]
So. What the hell do you want?
no subject
[ His voice is low, and he looked between her, and where the thing had been. His eyes don't linger -- definitely not any weird kinks, at least. ]
I don't think you have to worry much about me dying. [ Beyond the. You know. Already dead thing. ] I'm a survivor, and that thing wasn't nearly enough to do me in.
[ He's putting on a front. It is absolutely well out of Silco's depth. He would have been turned to powder. ]
Do you always do...Good Deeds like this, in the middle of... large attacks like this?
CW: self harm mention, Danganronpa Spoilers
No matter! They've escaped with all their bits and pieces in tact. Two for two. Not bad, considering she's used to combat of a different flavour.]
What's a good deed? Are we measuring by motivations, or outcomes? [Syo flicks the scissors and waves her hand, bobbing from side to side. She always had difficulty staying still. She's a creature of action, passion, and robot-smashin'! The only person with the balls to chat her up in Towa City was sweet, stupid Dekomaru, so it's been a while since she's enjoyed so much personal attention.] If it's the pure act of slicing and dicing, then yes! Frequently, all the time! Can't get enough of it!
But if it's all those lofty heroic ideals you're after? I'm afraid I'm gonna let you down. I help out in large attacks, to be sure, but most stragglers were already dead, underground, or safe and sound far, far away. You just might be the first civilian I've snatched from the jaws of death! And without orders, too! I think I'm going soft! Rotten as last week's peach!
[She splits into laughter then. It's a raucous cacophony, nothing maiden-like about it, and that's before she brushes her thoroughly torn skirt aside. Not indecently, and not necessarily for show. Only the tops of her stockings are exposed, along with two unusual features: a holster on one thigh, where she slips her scissors back among several spares, and a cruel set of tallies carved into the other. The latter is a blink and you'll miss it detail, partially obscured and gone the second her blades are stowed. The skirt swishes back into place and Syo carries on.]
In light of a complete global collapse, I've been told to put my nefarious skills to use! [Syo hums and gives a shrug.] Let's just say, I used to have more in common with him than you.
[The Horseman that is. Three guesses as to what she'd been counting.]
no subject
If you're worried I'll start calling you a hero, you need not worry. The slicing and dicing part was what I was interested in.
[ He waved a hand, before his eyes moved the direction that the horseman had gone -- but only with a cursory glance at her, to the show of her weapons collection. Impressive, no guns, but then again -- that might have hit a touch too close to home for Silco -- and he wondered what the purpose of the thing was. He couldn't fight it, certainly. There was no way he could have, but that didn't mean that he wasn't without his own tools.
And while he didn't care about the people here, he did care about his own skin, and that was enough to make him curious about where it had gone. More importantly: where it had come from. ]
Were you as...mindless as he seemed to be? [ There was no speech from that thing. Interesting. ] Or as lacking in speech?
no subject
It quiets her mind some. Has her heeding his words more closely, watching the way he moves. He's curious, but anyone taking a keen interest in the likes of her is either a cop or an even bigger freak than she is.]
Mindless? HA! Only with passion! Like I told you, I'm still just a sweet little lady! All flesh and blood and nothing extra! [Pause.] Well. Whatever passes for flesh around here.
[There's a shrug of nonchalance, hands palm up, what-can-you-do.]
I just meant I liked killing!
[She could throw in an addendum. That she's retired, that she's picky. That her devotions in life had tied her hands, and in spite of her shadow's input she intends to keep the clean streak.
But this one's a dangerous guy. He's affable but his edges are as sharp as a knife, and he's definitely seen some shit. Smart too — that's the most dangerous thing to be of all.
Let him decide what the next beats are. She's good at following the rhythm.]
no subject
She moves with exuberance, talks with her hands. It's all the things that he knows and understands, because well -- Silco raised someone just like that.
The thought is idle, but it comes with some measure of...pain? Not anger, he doesn't think. Silco knows what anger feels like, violent to burst, sharp and hot, but this is more of a pit of...something. He's not used to evaluating his emotions, so he doesn't. ]
Who doesn't?
[ He said, with a shrug of his shoulders. ] Where I'm from, that's prerequisite for survival.
You think that thing liked that too? I just figured it was... [ A wave of his hand now, descriptive. ] Somewhat less driven by passion, more like a force of nature.
no subject
Sounds like home sweet home to me, too. [Though there were caveats, and she wasn't allowed to do her dirty deeds anymore. Not like she'd want to, not in the way that's needed. She's no solider. Taking orders from anyone who wasn't Byakuya-sama was a no go, and that's a cold and emotionless gig. She was in it for love! Anyone who fell by her blades was near and dear to her heart, and a total hottie to boot. But living in a dog eat dog shithole? For the past three years that's very much been the case indeed.]
What happened to yours? Are you in a shady organization? On the run from the law? Or has humanity itself fallen to bits and you gotta duke it out for cans of beans?
[He seems too smartly dressed for the last one, but you never know.
As for the Horseman?]
Hmmm...Hard to say! Perhaps it's just a manifestation of mortal fears. Or a soul so old and so lost, all it remembers is the thrill of the hunt! Re-enacting the chase until the end of time. [Isn't that just romantic? She gives a giggle.] How the fuck should I know? You'd be better off asking Gloomy. She's the bookworm, not me.
[Though he probably doesn't know who that is. Still, if he wants to hear The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, only one half of her is gonna have the Coles Notes.]
no subject
Still, she'd asked about Silco's favorite subject that he would openly talk about, and he pulled out a cigar, and a lighter. After all, idle hands were just a way to look weak, but if one was doing something, they looked busy, capable. Silco clipped the end of the cigar, as he spoke. ]
Nothing happened to where I'm from. Or at least, what did happen was a few millennia ago. Where I'm from, we live in the shadow of another city, and we're what you could call the... undercity. [ A liar's name from Piltover's lips, but that's what they were. They could not escape the location they were from, any more than they could change their situation.
She wasn't wrong about the shady organization part, though. Just look at him. He lit his cigar, and took a long inhale of it, before he spoke again. ] We're simply with limited resources, and any time a city has limited resources, it comes with... a certain requirement for violence, to survive.
[ Silco was small, sure, even lean, but he did not look like he was suffering. His clothes that he wore were from there -- out of fashion with this new world around him -- but then again, there was that... eye. ]
Sjdjdj sorry about the half-finished tag earlier, I'm traveling right now
Though — had she spoken up sooner back in the day, maybe more of her classmates would be alive. They'd been so quick to kill each other for prizes that couldn't be won, and she was the only one who knew it.
Where were they, anyway? Wasn't this the afterlife? Where was her damn high school reunion party?
Syo tracks that ashen glow. The slick ease with which he takes his vice. What an interesting fellow. She's never had the privilege to meet the likes of him, even now that she's allowed out on longer leashes. He's as much a trope as she is, only a far more refined one. Slobbering madman versus mafioso don: which would you prefer?]
Aaaaah, I see, I see. How delightful! [She claps her hands with gusto.] A den of theives! Shady dealings, crooked bribes? Oh, it's all such romantic fare! The stories you must have to tell. Anyone who thrives in such a place has my congratulations!
But what am I saying?
[Syo drops into a curtsy, head bowed low, but her eyes remain on his mismatched set. One good, one foul. What happened there? Tragedy, comedy, or high stakes drama — no matter which, she bets it's thrill.]
I don't even know who you are! How do you do, total stranger! I'm Genocider Syo!
no worries! It happens!
Silco very nearly shook his head at the formality of it, but it's also... oddly random. Out of place with this time, with this place, the sort of thing one would do at a fancy party, or when meeting royalty. Certainly not the kind of thing Silco is used to. He's all slick veneer and sharp edges, and this girl is all wild chaos, a tangled jumble of actions and words that reminds Silco just a touch of someone who he expected to never show. ]
Genocider? [ He asked, and it's not...judgemental. If anything, he's curious, piqued. It's the sort of thing someone doesn't just call themselves, borne from action -- or even intent at the very least.
It's also not the sort of thing he could see someone just picking for themselves. ]
I'd wonder how you got a name like that, but... you did say you like killing, didn't you?
[ Another puff of the cigar, before: ] I'm called Silco.
ty ;;
[Too bad it's totally misleading. You need to kill a hell of a lot of people to commit a genocide, and that's the kind of target she's never had interest in hitting.]
Just Silco? [Hmm. Sounds like he'd filed the edges off half his identity. But who is she to judge?] All righty then! Nice and simple, straight to the point! Pleased to meetcha!
[And she is, rather more than expected. Imagine that! Slobbering, mangy Syo, having a good old fashioned chinwag with an ancient one! You'd expect them to clash, two opposing forces of ill intent. Their manners completely contrasted, their methods at two ends of a blood-soaked spectrum (she assumes), and yet neither has pulled a knife on the other. Remarkable! Unprecedented! A little suspicious, but fuck if she's going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Besides, if this turns out to be bad business later? She'll deal with it.]
Soooooo. Is there anything else I can help you with? I think our horse jockey's not coming back for a second lap. He probably found prettier heads to pop off somewhere. Great news for me!
[Being the bottom end of the barrel pays off sometimes.]
no subject
Just Silco, as if that's all he hasn't ever been. ]
Silco's the name I've had my entire life, so yes. "Just" Silco.
[ Although, some did call him the Eye of Zaun, but that didn't exactly work here, now did it? He couldn't claim to be an eye of a place that didn't exist. ]
Your offer is kind, but I think now that the danger's passed, I'm quite fine. [ He looked down the way, where the Horseman would have gone. Nothing, there's not even the sound of screaming in the distance now. Odd, and somewhat disappointing. ]
Although if you don't mind, I'll keep you in mind for the future -- paid work, not this... heroics nonsense.
[ That she saved him was something Silco needed to...repay in part. Debts were a sword of Damocles over his head, and he could not abide having a debt for long. ]
no subject
Any tension wafting off the discussion goes wholly unnoticed. As far as she knows, there's no reason to get testy and therefore she's crossed no lines.
Besides, he's teed up another ball before she can question anything.]
Paid? You'd give money to me?
[It's not often Syo gets gobsmacked. Well and truly shocked. Forgive her, she bursts out laughing, high and riotous with tears at the brim of her eyes.]
Oh man, who woulda ever thunk?! Putting the boy-crazed serial killer on the payroll! That's what's kept everyone from paying me back home!
[She cared much less about the position than Gloomy did, but Syo's whole existence was reason one to ninety-nine of why the Future Foundation stuck them with a crummy intern gig. Didn't matter how useful she made herself, did it? Some records don't get expunged so easily.]
And now, in the hollow echoes of this sorry afterlife, my services have suddenly become valuable? My my my, what a charitable soul you are! Perhaps I'll accept this gracious offer. [Syo flashes him a grin, pearly whites on full display.] Unless the work fucking sucks. Ring me up when you've got it figured out, Silky.
[Sorry. Her nicknames are numerous, but rarely clever.
Syo spins on her heel, starting off in the direction that nasty Horseman went. Maybe he left some bodies behind. It'd be good to keep track of who all got the axe. No one she's got an eye on, she hopes.]
Until then, my good man! Until then! Sayonara!