![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
TDM // #2
REBIRTH ALWAYS FOLLOWS DEATH
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
► I. REAP WHAT YOU SOW
a. A CLOAKED FIGURE STANDS BEFORE YOU, EERILY QUIET. It only stares, faceless, towering well over you as you struggle to find your balance on your weakened feet, the air you breathe in scorching your throat. Your senses are annoyingly muddled, and it's enough of a distraction, perhaps, to overlook your state of undress. And then it finally speaks. The Reaper. It's surprisingly polite, its voice a melodious string of low hissing notes as it calmly explains what and where you are; a Restless, citizen of the Netherworld. You were reborn here for reasons unknown, another soul among thousands with seemingly unfinished business, cursed or blessed to roam a world slowly devoured by an entropic force. Hell? Perhaps, if it suits your beliefs, though some do thrive here, and keeping Oblivium at bay is a collective effort.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
THINGS YOU MIGHT HEAR OR OBSERVE
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
THINGS YOU MIGHT STUMBLE UPON
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
if you choose to address the netherwork directly as one of your prompts, reapers or any other npc might reply to you. otherwise, feel free to speculate with other characters!
additionally, if you wind up poisoned or injured by a badaliscus, the occasional scaleberry can sometimes be found in the shadowlands, often rotten and scattered around withered trees. you'll find this kind of information in your smartphone's database, but anyone with healing abilities could also come to your aid: just remember that magic in the netherworld is unpredictable.
lastly, if l'appel du vide is too strong for you to resist, and if no one is able to keep you from falling to your death, a reaper will eventually give you a hand, immediately poofing out of existence afterwards.
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
► II. OF SOULS & SHADOWS
a. WHETHER YOU'VE FAILED TO FREE YOURSELF OR MANAGED TO BOARD A FRIENDLIER SHIP, you won't escape the storm, a tempest within a tempest.
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Deaded things slam into you, spat out of the tornado. The sight snaps you out of your daze, but you don't have time to ponder whether this eerie interlude was real. It won't speak again, never directly. You'll know it's there, viscerally, as your Self and Shadow struggle to come to grips with this new antagonistic yet symbiotic relationship. If you've never been kind to yourself before, learn how to, because it won't be.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Enjoying your first taste of sea-salt horrors? You can feel it, can't you. The pull. It's eating at you, subtly, but it's there. You can’t run. You can’t
get away from me either, because I’m you, and I’m just as
much a part of you as all the noble ideals you hold. All the awful
thoughts you ever entertained, all the things you were ashamed of or couldn't bring yourself to say, and all the
lies you told... that’s what I am, and you can’t make me go
away. You can’t outlive me. I’m going to remind you of
all the terrible things you did or wanted to do, and I’m going to
get you to do more of them, because you’re still
you and you still have all those nasty little urges
floating around. Only now I’m here to highlight
the opportunities you have to indulge. Don't be shy. If you won't speak your mind, I'll do it for you. If you ever considered redemption, think again. Fight me or silence me if you wish, it doesn't matter. Even if you succeed. I may go dormant for a while, but I'll always come back stronger. I'm your Shadow, and Oblivium awaits us.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
a. Teleportation, allowing you to vanish into thin air and relocate anywhere you wish, the same way a Reaper would. Usable 4 times.
b. Mind-reading, albeit a bit murky. Think of it as a weak signal reception. Pry some information about the Netherworld out of an NPC's mind, or try to find out what a friend think of you. Lasts 12 hours.
► III. THE ETERNAL CITY
IF YOU'VE ELECTED TO REACH STYGIA INSTEAD OF MATERIALIZING BACK INTO YOUR HOME IN THE SHADOWLANDS, you'll be welcomed by fishermen in the Harbors, and most of them seem... well, a little annoyed, honestly. Additional mouths to feed, and all that. Stygia has been at max capacity for decades, and resources aren't always easily obtained. But they were like you, once -- freshly undead, overwhelmed -- and if they sigh and glower as you pass by, quick to dismiss you, you'll soon be guided towards what seems to be a Notice Board, a map of Stygia pinned just below. Make yourself useful, you're told. If you hope to survive here, better start by earning your keep!
If you're injured, a healer will tend to you in Hale. Poultices can also be found in the Marketplace, as well as bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
If you're injured, a healer will tend to you in Hale. Poultices can also be found in the Marketplace, as well as bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
ooc note
► Welcome to Nightfell's second TDM! All threads can be considered game canon and may be used as samples if you choose to apply.
► Check out the Notice Board for additional prompts! Older quests can be found in the comments if you'd rather do them instead.
► For your convenience: Bestiary, Glossary, Setting.
► If you still have questions regarding the game in general, please refer to the FAQ. For questions specific to the TDM, ask them below!
► We hope you enjoy your first experience in Nightfell!
no subject
He breathes slowly, one, two, and then that charming smile is back in place. Perhaps a tad bit more excited now that he's with someone knows and admires. ]
Doesn't matter which one of them looks interesting to me. I asked you first, girlie.
[ Childish? Maybe, but that's just who he is. ]
So pick one. We'll make a good team no matter what.
no subject
in any case, she says nothing for one long moment as she considers the pros and cons of each request. she'd usually pick up all of the requests on a good day and go about with them without batting an eyelash, but she's not too keen on spending too much time on requests today.
the fishing request, for one, would take a while to get the same amount of coins as going to the hinterlands. same with looking for missing items. ]
Finding the star fragments seems like a request that might yield a higher reward.
[ with greater risks, knowing about the hinterlands and all. but like he said, they'll make a good team. ]
Unless you'd prefer to go fishing. I won't blame you if you decide to choose that instead.
no subject
[ That said, he makes sure to look over the request again. This one requires them to go to the Hinterlands, which... he has no idea where that could even be. Someone like him shouldn't take too long to track it down but maybe Lumine already knows where to find it. ]
Have you been there before? The Hinterlands.
[ This doesn't sound like an easy request given that the reward is so high, but that's what makes it more fun. ]
no subject
[ there's that voice at the back of her head returning to life once more, gleefully reminding her of her sputtering power, of the fact that going to the hinterlands is a one-way trip, of the fact that this could very well be a request she won't come back from. but isn't that good, she'll be able to reuni—
lumine presses her lips together, her hands closing into fists at her side, as she stares intently at the request for one longer moment, almost as if boring a hole into the board. ]
We should visit the person requesting the fragments, though. He might have something that would let us handle the stars with our hands.
[ if they truly are looking for stars, then they're looking for pieces of rocks that could burn through their palms. of course, the possibility is that it's now cooled down but lumine likes her hand intact, and she's sure childe likes his too.
in any case, she gestures at him towards the direction of the blacksmith in question. go on, she'll lead you there. ]
no subject
(He makes a mental note to be careful once they're headed out to the Hinterlands. The way she reacted when he asked is enough to make him cautious.) ]
Sure. I'd say we don't need help with that, but seeing as I've yet to find my Vision... [ well ] Better safe than sorry.
[ So he heads towards the general direction she pointed to, body turning to start walking backwards so he can keep talking to her. ]
So— what did you hear? About the place we're headed to, after this quick detour.
no subject
unless childe has heat-resistant hands now, which she'd be surprised if he had suddenly developed such an ability. and his vision is missing, too. here she was, hoping she could use his hydro abilities to try and cool down the star. looks like they'll just have to improvise or do something else. ]
You've heard about shadows and soulmates, right?
[ her reaper wasn't too forthcoming with information, and so were apparently others. but it's something the other restless had been talking about. ]
How ... shadows can affect us in more ways than one?
no subject
He has better things to do than to indulge the whims of a monster. ]
I might have heard a thing or two about that. Aren't shadows something we should ignore though? I haven't been listening to mine, if it's trying to speak to me.
[ It has been for a while now, but— he's no longer that boy who was so scared of the dark. Not anymore. He won't go back to that place again. ]
Unless I should be...?
no subject
[ and lumine can see why.
it isn't just the feeling of someone trying to drag her to the precipice of destruction, hellbent on seeing her suffer. there's delicious seduction in the voice inside her head, even if it sometimes sounds like paimon with its nagging, reminding her of the handful of insecurities she's stuffed deep about herself, of her own deepest desires. the only reason why she hasn't succumbed is because of her one-tracked mind. ]
Those who're slowly yielding to their shadows sometimes choose to go to the Hinterlands.
[ and who knows what those restless are capable of doing? she honestly doesn't want to dwell on it for far too long, keeping her expression impassive. ]
If you decide to finally listen to yours, let me know and I'll helpfully drag you there.
no subject
He shakes his head. ]
We just found each other and you already want to get rid of me? You're so cruel, girlie.
[ And then, just like that, he's back to simple amusement. ]
But I'll let you know if that ever happens.
[ He glances around, as if on the lookout for something. Or someone, more like. ]
Where is this person anyway?
no subject
but then, a part of her still believes that this isn't the afterlife at all. it's just another world, another universe they could escape from eventually, if she can attribute people's disappearances to that. ]
He should be around here ...
[ lumine also glances around before she walks over to one of the storekeepers nearby. a few questions later, she's pointed toward an alley a few feet away. ]
Do you want to wait here and look around? [ she asks upon returning to childe, glancing up at him. ] It won't take too long to get what I need.
no subject
It's better if I go with you. That way, we can both listen to his explanation.
[ That, and while he knows Lumine can handle herself, he doesn't trust anyone around here. Better safe than sorry.
Not that he waits for her before heading down the alleyway himself... ]
no subject
lumine sighs inwardly before she trails after him, quickening her pace before she loses him and only slowing down when she finally catches up. the marketplace is busy as usual, with its usual merchants and patrons, and the alleyway provided very little space for her to look around or to walk next to him. ]
You were the last person I expected to come to this place.
[ for all of his lofty declarations about fighting her and reminders that she should survive until the end, here he is. ]
What happened?
(1/2)
Those words are enough to make him freeze mid-step. Dull ocean blues seem much sharper when they look at her for a split-second and then it's gone within the next, melting into something unreadable. Uncertain. ]
I could say the same to you, Traveler.
[ He hasn't forgotten everything he'd told her. The fact that she's here is bringing up all sorts of confusing feelings that he couldn't quite process. ]
Weren't we supposed to fight to the death? You owe me, you know.
(2/2)
So who got you? Are they here?
[ If they are, that just means he needs to kill them, that's all. (And yeah, he's answering her question with one of her one. Sorry, but this is more important.) ]
no subject
not that childe needs any of those, even if the expression that momentarily crosses his face seems to say otherwise. ]
What makes you think someone got me? I could've fallen off a cliff, for all we know.
[ not the first time that she's gotten seriously injured from a fall, the recent events in liyue resurfacing in her mind. sumeru wasn't exactly the easiest nation to traverse, either. ]
Stars, too, have a lifespan and we will all burn out eventually ...
[ but this soon, and before she managed to find her brother? lumine shakes her head inwardly, unwilling to dwell on her mission for too long. ]
no subject
A star like you, girlie? I doubt that. A tsunami couldn't slow you down, [ if she forgot...... ] so a cliff? Not a chance.
[ She can downplay it all she wants, but nothing is going to change his mind. That said— he looks back at the path ahead of him and begins to walk again, keeping an eye out for this blacksmith. The hustle and bustle of the streets is such a stark contrast to the kind of conversation they're having. Serious, and maybe a little morbid. ]
As for me, I haven't got a single clue about what happened. One minute, I was in Inazuma, and then I'm here. [ ... ] Who knows though? Maybe a cliff got me too.
no subject
There's no shame in falling off a cliff, Childe. Everyone has a clumsy moment once in a while.
[ as amusing as the mental image is, considering the harbinger, she doubts he would ever succumb to such a pathetic end. that's just not like him, she thinks, reminded of warriors she's read in books who would prefer to die in battle. which makes her wonder even more about what got to him in the first place.
still, her mind lingers on what he said about being in inazuma, and she regards the back of his head curiously. did he, too, like signora ... ]
... You didn't request an audience with the Shogun, did you?
no subject
[ Despite his words, he takes no offense to it. The way the edge of his lips curves up in an amused grin says it all too. Not that it stays there forever. He immediately understands what she's trying to ask here.
He shakes his head. ]
And no, I was too busy looking for Scaramouche. Unless I took a detour somehow, I doubt that's what would have taken me out.
[ A part of him is curious to know how he would have held up against the Shogun, but not so soon after Signora's untimely demise. ]
no subject
[ it must be the most comforting thought in the world, to have his life and safety in the hands of her floating companion and rely on paimon's very sound and not at all chaotic judgment of basic human sense. anyone would probably consider that as a form of torture.
but he's not entirely wrong about that. and given the connections and ties she's made in inazuma, she would've known if another harbinger had been felled by the shogun. ei or miko would've told her, she thinks. ]
The Balladeer might not be in Inazuma anymore, though ...
[ if ayato's information were truly accurate. ]
no subject
His eyes narrow ever so slightly. ]
He isn't? Then I guess that saves me the trouble.
[ That also means the Balladeer is someone else's problem now, especially if he has no way of reversing his fate. ]
What's the last thing you remember?
no subject
that also makes her wonder what happened to the balladeer. ayato never told her where the boat he went on was headed off to. then again, she supposes that it doesn't really matter anymore to the commissioner as long as he was beyond the borders of inazuma and no longer at risk of harming anyone or subverting anything.
her hand catches his arm in the middle of his question, tugging him towards the stall described to her. the woman in question is busy with the forges as expected. ]
I was in Sumeru, helping out the forest spirits with their festival.
[ she knocks on the wooden table to catch the blacksmith's attention, offering a smile when she addresses her and starts asking about the request. there's not much else they provide as information that they don't know about from the posting on the notice board, but lumine can tell that she might need it for something important. ]
One more thing ... [ her eyes flicker to something on the table. ] Can we borrow your flame-resistant gloves? The ones you use for forging. We'll be sure to return it when delivering the star fragment.
no subject
When Lumine catches his arm, he can't help the instinctual reaction to close his hand into a fist. Nothing to it, but he must be getting distracted if Lumine managed to snatch him like that without him noticing in advance. Then again, she's always been quick with her reflexes too.
He remains quiet while the blacksmith explains the rest of what they know. Looks like they won't be getting any information regarding what they plan to use it for, but that's fine. A fetch quest shouldn't be too hard beyond the complications the Traveler brought up earlier on. Even then, he isn't worried.
What's the worst his Shadow can do?
The blacksmith cuts through his thoughts when they chime in about the gloves. They're permitted to use it, but only if they promise to pay for it if they lose the pair in the Hinterlands. ]
Don't worry. As long as she's the one holding onto them, we'll bring them back to you with no problem.
[ There's your vote of confidence. ]
no subject
lumine stashes the gloves in the same space where she keeps her sword before she offers the woman a nod and tugs her companion away. that should at least make sure it survives their trek through the hinterlands. the question is if she'll be able to summon it or not, but she's trying not to think about it for now. she'll cross that bridge if/when she gets there. ]
Since she's a blacksmith, I suspect she wants to create a weapon out of the star fragment ...
[ that's obvious enough, and she won't be the first to use a meteorite as a material for forging. the question is, of course, if it'll last longer than the usual item in this world.
lumine shakes her head as she walks purposefully across the city towards the hinterlands. what if it's possible, though, without soul-forging? stars contain various types of metals and minerals; it might make for a better blade. but how dangerous would it be to try and carry two fragments? she wants to try, but. ]
You never found your Vision even beyond the door with your name in the Shadowlands?
no subject
[ And spoiled, but hey. If someone told him they were going to make him a bow out of the stars, he isn't going to refuse it either, but given what he's heard about weapons... He wonders if it'll be forged with someone else's soul too.
He glances at Lumine for a split-second, and then keeps his eyes on the road, shaking his head. ]
It wasn't there. I have no idea where it could possibly be, but if you ask me, I'd rather have my Delusion back.
[ That was the Tsaritsa's gift, after all, so that makes it way more important than his Vision. ]
It has to be here somewhere though. I'll find it one way or another.
no subject
[ that's, of course, not counting herself and her twin brother ... but she assumes childe knows what she means; after all, falling stars were a subject of interest and debate months ago, the balladeer even showing his face to her for the first time.
at the mention of his delusion, lumine briefly wrinkles her nose but says nothing about it further. whatever opinion she has about his missing delusion remains unspoken, unwilling to get into a debate about it. it isn't as if childe is unaware of the events in inazuma, anyway. ]
It's not one of your Tethers, is it?
[ if it was, then could it still be used in its state? she sure couldn't with the her serenitea pot and her journal. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)