thusia | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: Anyone
When: Day 89, morning
Where: Wherever
What: Mingle

[With the directory back up and working again, some people checking it may notice that two new pages have appeared in the directory, with pictures of the faces of all the people who are currently with Dathusropi, either surviving in the wilderness or people he has discovered taken by the jungle and added to his cache of unconscious people. Apparently one of the more info-oriented gods finally tracked him down and had him organize something for them.

Otherwise, it's a quiet morning. How were your dreams last night?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She's lonely?

She's tired.

I think it's the same thing, a lot of the time.

It may be at that, though the latter is something I am far less able to empathize with.

If this is something you are sure of, and for all intents and purposes you have well expressed that it is, would you like to begin now?

[He hesitates a moment... but nods]

There's no sense in waiting.

Your enthusiasm is palpable.

Please follow me.

[Sets his cup down, and gets up and walks over to a dark, square hole in the floor.

And jumps lightly down.]

[....

Is this really...

....

... Oh to hell with it.

After another long moment of hesitation, he follows.]

[The apartment below is dimly lit, and the main room almost entirely empty. There are a few signs of lingering habitation—graffiti on the walls, the suspicious lack of dust. But it's quiet and still.

The adjoining room is far more interesting. Through the open door, he can see three large glass . . . well, artichokes, for lack of a better word, glowing softly. Two hold recognizable human forms: Hydra's Fang, and Gazelle, both suspended and still, eyes closed as if in sleep. The third is empty.]

Given our mutual experiences, I realize this request is one not entirely comfortable. But in order to proceed, I will require a sample of your memories.

[Even as he responds, his eyes are fixed and unwavering on the suspended figures.]

I sort of assumed that would be the case.

Still, it's best to confirm it.

. . . they are all right. Resting, still, and still fevered, but all else is well.

... They have that illness, then?

Yes. Ikki was the third one.

...

I'm sorry.

Dwelling on it changes little.

. . . Ikki has left this building for the wilderness. Luka as well. Whatever the composition of my household, it seems determined to remain a small one.

[There's a brief flash of shock at Luka's name, but he shuts it out quickly. That is a conversation someone needs to have with Natsume soon.

He settles for looking away, uncertainly.]

... Do you regret it?

Regret which?

Allowing yourself to be in a position where you would lament the size of your household.

'Allowing myself' . . .

You're not altogether clear on how friendship works, are you.

So that's a no?

Ikki and Agito were individuals I called friends when the very notion should have been impossible. Luka is a cherished forebearer and one of the last survivors of my world.

Regretting that I have known them, that I care for them, would be to do them the greatest disservice I possibly could. Even were we never to meet again, I will still keep them in my heart.

[He just listens, expression neutral, but nods once he's done speaking. Like he was hoping for an answer like that.

He wastes no time turning away from the glass tubes.]

How much do you need from me?

[You are unfathomably perplexing.]

If you've endured blustery days, this will hardly be more. There may be some disorientation, but it will be brief.

[Pot. Kettle.]

If that's all, I think I can pretty much guarantee I've had worse...

By your tenure in Sabra alone, I can guarantee you have. This is hardly comparable to any of the manipulations there.

Still, it would not do to return you home in any condtion that would cause others to worry. Do you have any notable weaknesses when faced with gravity arts?

[... That would be better for your sake. And Tempest's.]

Aside from extreme annoyance, no.

Excellent. Please try to hold your ground.

[A circle of the floor behind Chrono falls into shadow. Wind reaches out from it—first a breeze, then a whirlwind, then a full-out cyclone, the moving air almost visibly dark as it pulls everything in its reach to its core.]