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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
[ Man, mama Drango would be so disappointed in her daughter's bad manners. Smh. So uncultured.
Hurriedly dusting herself off, Nina promptly sticks out a hand complete with 'gimme yours' wiggly fingers, fully prepared to turn the full force of her grin on Kaito at close quarters.
Resistance is futile - you will be befriended. ]
Nina Drango! Pleased to meet you, Kaito.
no subject
Heck. Not another golden retriever!There's a bit of hesitance on his part to actually return the handshake, but he eventually clasps her hand with his gloved one. Shake, shake.
I swear to the kami if you use Crush Grip right now— ]
Yeah, nice to meet you, I guess. [ A beat. He smirks. Okay, he's asking for it. ] I'm pretty sure we'll catch a boatman in the next ten minutes if we start making our way to the closest coast, but just in case...
There's a non-zero chance we'll be attacked by some monsters. Reapers might also try to start trouble with us, but they're arguably easier to deal with in a straight brawl. Can you fight?
no subject
watch her smack him into the ground a couple times during a handshake one day completely by accidentExcuse him? Can she fight? Who does he think he's talking to, huh? Nina puffs her chest out, hands on hips, tilts her chin up, and assumes the 🔥POWER STANCE🔥. It's... not exactly an outright answer to his question but she sure has the confidence of a cage wrestler at the top of their game.
Then again the complete lack of any notable muscle mass could also mean she's delusional af.
Six of one, half a dozen of another. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ]
You bet I can. [ Queue the bicep flexing - like the embarrassing little nerd she is. ] Undefeated arm wrestling champion Nina, at your service!
[ ...
Listen, nobody's gonna judge him if he gets the hell outta dodge and tries to ditch her somewhere along the way, okay. It's 100% relatable. ]
no subject
Settle down now Bam Bam.Kaito feels a headache start to settle in as he watches Nina put on her frankly dazzling display of confidence. If he's going to ditch her for any reason, it's that she has way too much energy for him to put up with at any given moment. This isn't what he signed up for when he died!
So, perhaps predictably, the empath just stands and stares down at her with golds that practically bleed skepticism.
Or so it seems, because he eventually nod and starts taking off in the direction of Towards the Sea. After a moment, he leisurely pivots on his heel to actually speak. ]
Okay. Since you're not lying to me, I'll choose to put some faith in you. 'Sides, if you do get hurt, I've got medical supplies on hand. Just try not to get poisoned by a Basilicus.
Let's go.
no subject
she protecc, she attacc, and most importantly she'll give you a smaccHe makes it several steps away before Nina has the presence of mind to quit her one man miss universe competition and drops the posing - much to the relief of everything with functioning eyeballs in a mile radius.
A bit of undignified scurrying to catch up has her peering sidelong at him with tangible curiosity, fingers laced behind her back, slightly leaning forwards to get a better look at her new companion's face. ]
Wait, what? How can you tell I'm not lying?
[ Mysterious... reveal your secrets, detective Kaito. B|a ]
Uh... not that I am! Obviously! You just sound really sure, for someone I just met.
no subject
Kaito glances sidelong to match her gaze, and he even has the audacity to flash a knowing smile. ]
It's all over your expression. You're too earnest to be able to tell a bald-faced lie. At least, that's what I'd say if I was a self-proclaimed 'body language expert.'
[ A beat. He chuckles. ]
The truth is that I can read your emotions, so lying to me is out of the question. Make sure to protect me with your strength in case any bad guys try to steal my berries, okay?
no subject
Aside from Nina scrunching up her nose at him like a mildly offended cat, she'll let this super shady ESP thing slide for now. Expect much pestering in your immediate future to explain this 'emotion reading' magic of yours, boyo!!! ]
Are berries around here that tasty? [ Peers at bag... ngl, she's kinda hungry, and even mystery fruit is pretty tempting on an empty stomach. ] You'd think dead people wouldn't bother to eat anything.
no subject
Some of them are. These are not. [ He slings the bag over to retrieve a few scaleberries from within. Contrary to their name, there are no scale patterns on them. They look just like any other generic berry lacking an exact description because the worldbuilding page has none and I won't be waiting to have a FAQ post answered before tagging. ]
Scaleberries are primarily used for medicine here. Eating one raw can cure just about any disease—at the cost of inflicting another in its place. [ Gloved fingers quickly close around the fruits in case her impulse control isn't very strong, and they're deposited back into the sack. ]
There's a running theory that we may not actually be dead, and that this may be a purgatory between life and death. There are a lot of theories. So long as my heart keeps beating, I'm not going to commit myself too fiercely to any of them.
—Anyway, if you're hungry I can share some of my dried mangoes.
no subject
Wow, waving food around under her nose and not giving her a sample? Rude!
After gazing longingly at the bag of hidden berries, she wraps her arms around herself and sets to chafing each upper arm in a vain bid for warmth instead. ]
Not a snack. Got it.
[ Oh, Kaito. The casual offer of mango treats only encourages Nina to instantly go from 'forlorn waif that's never had a crumb of food in their life ever' to maximum cuteness in the blink of an eye. He didn't expect to escape the curse of the puppy eyes forever, did he? B) ]
Yes please! I don't think I've had anything to eat for... actually, how long have I been down here? [ Thinking, thinking -- ] Hours? Days? Maybe a week?
[ It's assuredly been less than a week. Don't mind the dramatics. ]
no subject
That's a joke, of course. Kaito's not afraid of a golden retriever in a dragon's body. No one can out-puppy his little brother!
...He misses Yukito. ]
Probably a few days, though it's possible you've been sleeping in your Shroud for the better part of a month. Some of us lay there for a long time before we're torn out.
[ Happy to play the straight man for her theatrics, the empath whips out an unassuming satchel and lobs it her way. It's actually quite weighty, and inside are the dried mangoes he promised—alongside some nuts and other dried fruits. Trail mix! ]
There you go. Don't eat it all at once, or you might make yourself sick.
[ A futile warning, he's sure. She's probably torn through the whole thing in the time it took for him to issue that warning. ]
no subject
Nina freezes in the act of shoving a whole fistful of edible goodies in her open mouth like the giant toddler she is because, of course, her table manners are simply atrocious at the best of times. Fortunately, even if the weight of a forthcoming judgemental stare isn't enough to put the brakes on a dragon's gluttony she can at least respect how wasteful it would be to scarf down everything only for it to reverse course later.
Que nervous chuckle while she
shamefacedlypicks a single piece of mango out of the bag to nibble on. ]I won't! Don't worry about me.
[ She might not eat it all at once, but there's bound to be a considerable dent in the remainder by the time they get where they're going. ]
no subject
[ Nina might just be pleasantly surprised to see a lack of rightfully judgementality from he who would be judging her mentality. Instead, she gets a treat. Literally, but also.
Wait for it... Wait for it...!!!
Once he's detected that her hand isn't going to be in the way for the next few seconds, Kaito dumps out roughly half of the satchel's contents (and boy there is a lot inside that tiny pouch) before casually dumping it all into his mouth.
And he stares her down the whole time. This is on purpose! He's bullying a dragon! ]
Rule number one of many, [ he remarks after swallowing that titanic portion of snaccs. ] I worry about just about everyone I see, even if in life I wouldn't give them a second look. Bad habit of mine, I know.
[ Yeah, and your table manners aren't?! ]
Bruh moment
no subject
'Cause you said you were an empath, right?
[ Boy, that sounds muffled around a full mouth, but at least she makes an effort to swallow first before continuing, dunking a hand into the Communal Snack Pouch to fish out a couple nuts next. Nobody taunts this dragon and gets away with it. ]
What's that like? Isn't that distracting? Can you turn it off, or is it on all the time?
[ He would be forgiven for thinking the rapidfire series of questions is just Nina's typical lively personality matched with natural curiosity. It's genuine, after all! But underneath that, keeping him talking has the secondary effect of giving her a bigger window to chow down on nuts and dried fruit like a squirrel on caffeine.
A dastardly plan indeed. Ohohohoho. ]
1/2
2/2
No, being an empath has nothing to do with why I can't mind my own business.
[ He quickly moves forward. ] Think about your inner thoughts. Now imagine there's a consistent, constant stream of noise filling your head. There are no exact words, but every sound that disrupts you fills you with some kind of emotion that you know you didn't voluntarily feel. Doesn't matter now, because you're feeling what someone else thirty feet away is currently feeling.
That's what my powers are like. And no, I can't turn them off. I know some psychics can, but... I guess I'm a little broken.
[ The fact that she thinks she's being a smooth criminal while he potentially dredges up past traumas is honestly kind of endearing. In any case, this talk is a good distraction from the fact that they've been on the coast for about three minutes now, and that a ferry is rowing its way over. ]
Aside from your alleged super strength, do you have any powers or abilities? And no, stuffing your cheeks like an overgrown squirrel doesn't count, though it is impressive.