(no subject)

[cloakanddaikon]

Who: Any unfortunate individuals wandering by
When: Day 120, evening
Where: The fourth floor
What: FUN THINGS

[Sunset and cool evening air creeps over the fourth floor, but this evening there's something else in the air. The lights are dim and the shadows between them dark, and something within isn't quite the way it should be.

No, bring the light closer and it's normal. Everything is perfectly normal. Isn't it?

The smell of wildflowers and char is just your imagination. The way the grey stone slides into concrete lit by neon lights, or the smooth white of a castle wall is nothing more than a trick of the light. It's surely not raining in here, nor are those clouds between the dim arches of the ceiling.

The trail of blossoms growing intermittently along the wall between Pi-Lambda and the south windows, though, are most definitely there. The colours seem to shift and change of their own accord, inviting a closer look.]


(( Sometimes, when an illusionist has a memory hangover, everyone gets to have a hangover.

The kaliedoscope blossoms (for those that recognize them) are as hypnotic as ever, their petals (mixed with water) are just as intoxicating, and the barbs they stick out when touched are just as sharp. Watch your fingers, and please consume responsibly. ))

Comments

[cloakanddaikon]

[Half slumped against the windows is a slightly less familiar figure than normal; he seems to have misplaced his usual coat and gloves, the cuffs of his white shirt undone as he rests one hand on the glass, looking out.]

[misterious]

[ Something is very not right right now. ]

Hey...

[overclocking]

[... Why did it have to be you.

Approaching, warily. What have you done now...?]

I think... you should probably be sitting down somewhere.

[grewuptootsun]

[..grabs by the arm]

Into bed for you.

[deretsune]

[ Had only really come out to grab something from Sparkles before heading back, but... really, illusions that blatant are going to attract her attention first.

Raising a brow upon finding who it's coming from, though. ]

...Zexion?

[tothedepths]

[....

Quite abruptly, a fist curls in his lapel and hauls him up, none-too-gently]

[responsetoregret]

[He has a trench coat now! Still need to get new clothes. And your country invited him home, so...]

Hey, you okay?

[andiwantitnow]

[ WELL THIS CAN'T GO BADLY ]


Haaah? Now there's a pretty thing...

[cloakanddaikon]

[Not at all. Wind blows through your hair—the clear breeze from the edge of a parapet, one from which the view stretches out toward the horizon in all directions.

Ahh, but you're inside, and there's a wall here. A wall with a flower . . . come take a closer look?]

[anoceanaway]

Rider . . .?

[misterious]

[ Oh god, not these again. ]

[cloakanddaikon]

[But they're so beautiful. And it's been so long, surely it must have seemed like they were wiped out. Isn't it good to see them whole? And part of such a lovely garden—

No, there's no garden there. Just old patterns on the stone; it must just have been a trick of the light.]

[thevineintervention]

[ blink. blink blink. WELL I GUESS I WILL PUT THESE NEEDLES SOMEWHERE SAFE. ]


. . . Hmmmm. And thus ends craft time.

[cloakanddaikon]

[Safety first, yes. Safety always.

That would be a good thing to tell whoever started a fire here; the smoke isn't entirely pleasant.]

[luxuresombre]

[wh]

[Standing in place, very slightly wide-eyed.]

[cloakanddaikon]

[It seems normal. So normal, but there's just something off . . .

The blossoms glow on the far wall, light catching on their shifting colours.]

[nolongerslate]

Oh, what the hell now?

[cloakanddaikon]

[What the hell indeed. It's not exactly a good thing (and it says more about his life experiences than anything else), but at least the scent of burnt buildings in the air is an easy one to place.]

[melonlord]

[stops and focuses -- she can't see things, but aural illusions still affect her]

[cloakanddaikon]

[And there are some things she can tell that no others can. Like how the building beneath her is solid, but the ground beneath that . . .

There are cracks. Cracks that run deep, their edges brittle and somehow lifeless; an energy never before notable (it's always been there after all, always, the pulse and life of the world itself) somehow . . . gone.]

[expectant]

[ frown, sniffs and wrinkles his nose. ]

. . . this place . . .

[cloakanddaikon]

[It smells like . . . rain, oddly enough, just without the matching scent of damp earth so common here.

This place can be a bit of a mystery.]

[grewuptootsun]

Seriously....

[cloakanddaikon]

[Quite seriously. Far off, there's even the distant ruble of thunder . . . strange, though, with the far windows still showing clear sky.

It is getting dark, though. The only things that seem to catch and hold the light are the flowers blooming against the wall—flowers formerly only preserved in Zexion's small closet garden.]

[likebigboats]

...Did I black out from sheer sobriety, and make a deal with one of the gods for drugs or something?

[cloakanddaikon]

[It does rather seem like that could be the case.

For a hallucination, though, the flowers on the far wall are remarkably captivating.]

[autorejoin]

[ spies the flowers, and grins ]

Fuck yes, something that's actually worth something.

[ reaches out to take one ]

[cloakanddaikon]

[It flinches away from his fingers, the protective flower pod snapping shut to protect the blossom—

and those sure are thorns

spiky thorns

right were those poking fingers were.]

[hyanaimne]

[. . . oh I remember these]

Oh dear.

[overclocking]

[SOMETIME after making faces at Zexion. You know what the problem with that plan was

He had to walk back through a Kaleidoscope blossom-lined hallway.

That was the problem with that plan.

Mmmmmight not be entirely steady as he approaches...]