aionlogs | [open] some Kenoma come up to Godsblood the other day...

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[open] some Kenoma come up to Godsblood the other day...

WHO: Amos, Gen, Eustace, Childe, any Pleroma
WHAT: Amos wants a gun, Eustace wants to make a portal, and in order to make it happen they go to...
WHERE: Godsblood.
WHEN: Towards the end of Visoseri/start of Soviseri
WARNINGS: None, unless you count bullying of various Pleroma; will add as necessary

The content of this entry is intended to be an OOC explanation of what's going on to keep everyone up to speed; any characters who may be in Godsblood during this time period are free to top level or tag out. This is not an event and simply a unique instance that some characters are kinda sorta technically in enemy territory, which opens itself up to thread opportunities that would not otherwise be possible.

Basically: four Kenoma are journeying up to Godsblood, albeit not all together and through different means.

Amos and Gen will be arriving via a boat directly from Achamoth, and accordingly, will be outed as Kenoma Aions right from the get-go — the populace should know who they are, and word of their arrival would likely get around. Amos is there because he wants to build a higher quality gun than what they have in Achamoth and Godsblood is the place to do it; Gen is there to serve as backup/moral support/because they're friends, okay. Story plotting link here for more details.

Eustace and Childe will be sneaking in via carriage from the Artisan shrine/a portal and will therefore not be known as Kenoma Aions upon entry to Godsblood — unless there are characters there who already know who they are, that is. Eustace is setting up a portal to facilitate travel between Achamoth and Godsblood. This is not public knowledge and non-Kenoma Aions/NPCs are unlikely to know about this. Story plotting link here for more details.

The mods have also provided some guidelines for how interactions could go between characters so that any Pleroma wouldn't necessarily have to out themselves as Aions when it comes to interacting with Amos or Gen, who are publicly declared as such. Highlighting what was said further down in Amos' plotting comment:

It wouldn't be unreasonable for a visiting Aion to be chatting up people within Godsblood so sharing a meal ... wouldn't be a dead give away, but it might tie them to the Aions on the rumor network if they do it in public. Whether they are just strangers Gen and Amos are dining with or whether they are connected to Achamoth won't be clear, but it would definitely have implications ... It's definitely a risk, at any rate.

As for meeting in a busy street or a public park the connection is still possible but a lot less likely, since the odds of them chatting up some rando in the park is a lot more likely than sitting down for dinner with them. It'd also be a lot more obvious if someone was spying on them, unlike a closed environment like a pub or eatery, so that'd probably be the safest option without going somewhere deserted or private.

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Only one.

[ That's a hell of a lot of judgement packed into two simple words but you know what, if that's all it takes to knock Dokja flat on his ass then he deserves that judgement. ]

If you black out, I'm not carrying you out of here.

[ Factually incorrect: he will be carrying Dokja's pathetic corpse out of here, if only because he owes the guy one.

But he does sit down, if only because there's not quite enough room at the bar to stand up comfortably, and accepts his own drink with a soft murmur of thanks when it's slid across the countertop towards him. Also a beer from the hefty layer of foam on top, but darker and smokier. He takes a careful sniff of it but doesn't take a drink just yet. ]

[ Sorry that everyone has different levels of alcohol tolerance?? ]

I'm not going to black out.

[ It's said with all the petulance of a poorly behaved child, and he frowns at Eustace from the rim of his mug before he takes another drink. It's just as nasty as the previous times, but it's followed up with a pause, mug held in the air, as Dokja's gaze slides down to stare at, uh. ]

... Did you grow a tail?

[ His face scrunches up like he's weirded out by the sight. Possibly even spooked. It might have to do with the fact that someone else that he knows spontaneously grew a tail, and now unpleasant thoughts are surfacing yet again. ]

[ Glad to help increase Dokja's trauma levels, bit by bit.

But the comment is enough to redirect Eustace's attention away from Dokja's pisspoor alcohol tolerance and towards his own problems, and it's his turn to frown and take a gulp of his own drink in irritation. It's—actually not bad, the flavor surprisingly complex for something as straightforward as a beer. Who knows if their wines are any good, which is probably what Kaeya's more interested in, but at least the beers on tap are passable. ]

I did. It's annoying.

[ Can Dokja tell that Eustace is not pleased by this development? Even his ears are twitching back and forth, to match the agitated movements of the tip of his tail. ]

[ Cool, good to know his addled mind isn't hallucinating appendages on other people. Still feels bad, though.

Dokja tears his eyes away from the tail, stomach twisting itself into knots as he forces himself to breathe evenly. No, he will not be thinking about a certain someone else with a tail at a time where he should be throwing a pity party for himself. ]

Yeah? [ He wouldn't know. ] You look better without it.

[ That last part is grumbled out, no thought really put into it, but he says it anyway because the alcohol's loosened his tongue enough that he can say stupid shit like that. ]

[ Uh huh.

He can't help but look over at that careless remark, one eyebrow raising. ]

I didn't realize you were such a tail expert.

[ Or a..... man expert? Has this guy ever dated a single person in his life. Actually, is that why he's here drinking his sorrows away, because he'd just gotten dumped by someone? Eustace leans back just a little, voice turning clipped. ]

I'm not interested in being your rebound, if that's what you're implying.

[ Sorry but you are not his type, according to this giant character survey that I've now filled out. ]

[ Dokja and I both take heavy psychic damage.

Actually, Dokja takes less because he's used to these sorts of assumptions, despite being as wildly inaccurate as they are (he's never even dated once in his life), and he just rolls his eyes in response before he turns away, a hand coming up to rub at his head in frustration. He tries to pay a guy one compliment and this is where it lands him. Story of his life. ]

I wasn't... [ A loud sigh. As usual, he doesn't have it in him to protest. ] Forget it.

[ Ugh, he's definitely feeling the alcohol take hold of him now. Even so, he raises his mug and starts chugging down what's left of his drink. ]

[ Just kidding, we're not done here yet.

Apparently he'd been off in his assumptions, though maybe that's not surprising given his own lack of romantic experience. The correction, mild though it is, has him frowning. Not because he's wrong, but because it makes him wonder what the actual problem might be that's led Dokja to this point. ]

What is it then?

[ He sounds more serious about things now at least. ]

[ YOU JUST MADE THINGS WORSE

He sets the empty mug back down on the bar, shoving it away from him so that both his hands are free to aggressively rub at his eyes. Not for any reason other than the fact that his eyelids feel especially heavy. Shit, he's definitely drunk. His whole face is warm, and there's absolutely no way he's not completely glowing red right now. ]

Does it have to be something?

[ His words are slower this time, carefully picked out, and Dokja rests his elbows against the counter, eyes peeking out from the space between his fingers to stare straight ahead for a moment before they cautiously turn to Eustace. ]

I just felt like drinking.

[ Which is a thing that he never feels like doing. ]

[ "i can make him worse" i say, rubbing my little fly hands together

Eustace does not rub his little dogman hands together but he does look pointedly at Dokja, gaze unimpressed. There's absolutely no reason for him to get entangled in this man's business, but Dokja looks so goddamn pathetic that it's hard not to intervene.

Maybe Ciel is rubbing off on him. ]

You just felt like drinking, except you aren't pacing yourself and you don't actually like your drink.

[ Don't think he's missed all those grimaces every time Dokja's taken a swig of his beer. ]

If you're going to lie, learn how to do it better.

[ Ummmm, why does this feel an awful lot like caring? There's no way. Here Dokja had been, thinking that Eustace would just drink his own drink and say nothing and that would have been that.

... It's not turning out to be the case at all? But there's no way that Eustace actually cares, because Dokja thinks so. Because that's the kind of person that he'd decided the other man is, and it's giving him a mild headache that Eustace isn't fitting into the Eustace-shaped hole that Dokja is trying to force him into.

Wait. Holy shit, why is everything spinning? ]

I'm not— [ He suddenly grabs on to the edge of the bar with both hands, like he'd been a second away from slipping and falling when really, he's just sitting there? ] ... Not.

[ Ah. What are they talking about again? ]

[ Stop assigning people neatly shaped little holes to fit into, Dokja??? Also stop looking like you're about to topple off your seat any second now.

The sudden lurch, mostly verbal but a little physical, has Eustace tensing, one hand detaching from his drink in case he has to use it to keep Dokja upright. For crying out loud, hadn't the man said one drink? Had he actually downed more than just the current one or is he actually so ill-equipped to handle alcohol that this single beer is enough to get him flat-out drunk?

He reaches out, jabbing Dokja none too gently on one cheek before pulling back and fanning out his fingers. ]

Hey. How many fingers am I holding up?

[ The right answer is four, by the way. ]

[ Yup, one drink did this. Also, what is the importance and/or relevance of how many fingers there are? Dokja doesn't get it, and he waves aside the hand so he can try and slide out of his seat. ]

I need to get some air.

[ Yeah, that'll fix this right up. The words come out jumbled and slurred at the ends. Chugging the rest of his drink had not been a great idea, too much all at once making his chest feel congested and all his movements sluggish as he finally stands with way more effort than necessary for such a simple action.

Unfortunately, there's no balance to be found, and the unsteadiness of his feet means he staggers back when he tries to move forward, causing his chair to topple over while his arm shoots out to re-grab the bar in a poor attempt to catch himself.

To think it could get even more pathetic. ]

[ To think that it could get even more pathetic....

The rattle of the chair clanking against the ground draws half a dozen pairs of eyes onto them, all wondering just what is up with that red-faced dude at the bar. The sudden attention makes his skin crawl, especially after he'd spent so long carefully blending into the crowd.

So much for a quiet last night in Godsblood.

Frowning, he slaps a handful of jools onto the counter, compensation for the drink he's barely touched, and then grabs Dokja by one arm, practically dragging him away from the bar and towards the exit. ]

You need to go home.

[ And apparently he is going to need a babysitter the entire way there. ]

[ If it helps any, Dokja would at least be genuinely mortified at the slight scene he's caused, but he's too plastered out of his mind to pay it any thought. He's barely aware that he's being dragged out, all of his concentration going into putting one foot in front of the other so that he doesn't plant his face into the floor.

This is so stupid. This is so fucking stupid. The distant thought that Eustace is with the Kenoma tries to nag at him, but he can't bring himself to care. He wishes Eustace would try something with how miserable Dokja feels, with how much he just wants it all to end.

Once outside, he's not thinking as he pulls away to stumble along the side of the pub, using the outer wall to lean most of his weight there to keep him standing until he quickly reaches his limit. He sinks to knees not far from the exit, one hand curled against the ground while the other is pressed over his chest, his gaze vacant as he tries and focuses on the act of breathing.

Shit, shit. He's never gotten this bad before. ]

[ Sorry, but someone has to keep Dokja alive for Gen to kill.

It truly would be so easy right now to pull out a dagger and plunge it straight into Dokja's unsupecting back. It'd be a nice bonus too: go to Godsblood, set up a portal, come back with a shiny Pleroma shard. Surely the Regent would praise him for a job well done.

Instead of doing the right thing (according to the rules of this ridiculous war), he does the right thing according to his own personal code.

Which is to hunker down in front of Dokja, his back facing the man. ]

Get on.

[ His voice is quiet but insistent. ]

[ It takes a couple of seconds for Dokja to register what it is that's happening and he stares blankly at Eustace's offered back, his thoughts still swirling around inside his head with no definite beginning or end in sight. At the very least, he's so fucked up that he's not thinking about all the things that have led him to this moment, so that's some kind of reprieve.

Too bad that it leaves him feeling physically unwell instead, but also slightly more agreeable as hesitant hands finally reach out to pull himself up on Eustace's back, loosely looping his arms around the other man's neck.

Dokja can't remember the last time he was carried like this. ]

... Thanks.

[ It's mumbled into Eustace's shoulder, a bit of shame coloring his voice. He's never been one to rely on others, but at this point, he can fully admit that there's no way he's getting anywhere on his own. ]

[ Sometimes you just gotta let a strange furry man piggyback you all the way home.

It takes a bit for Dokja to clamber on, and a bit longer after that for Eustace to unfold back into a standing position, his movements slower than usual lest Dokja accidentally slide off halfway through. But the arms around his neck seem to be secure and a test step forward doesn't lead to an uneven sway of the body on his back.

Unlike when he'd carried Misa back after the Kenoma welcoming party, his body is stiffer now, not quite as relaxed as before. He doesn't share the same camaraderie he does with Dokja as he does with Misa, and the fact that they technically qualify as enemies has never left his mind. But Dokja hadn't abandoned him back in Venera, when he easily could have, and the imprint of that kindness still remains on his heart. ]

Which way? [ Or, just in case Dokja is too drunk to narrate the way back to his apartment: ] An address is fine too.

[ He's not so antisocial that he can't stop to ask a stranger for directions. ]

[ Oh, right. He should... go back. To that empty room he calls home.

With a great deal of effort, Dokja lifts his head and is briefly distracted with how close that puts him to Eustace's ears, and after a moment of staring, he frowns. What's up with these things that has so many people obsessed with them...? He'll never get it.

Anyway. Directions. ]

It's not far, [ he says with a squint of his eyes as he tries to make out where they are. Everything is swaying, or is that him? ] Go... go straight. I'll tell you where to turn.

[ If he's still conscious by then. ]

[ This would be a lot more convincing if Dokja hadn't hesitated on the very first direction. It's a good thing he can't see the eyeroll being directed at him right about now. ]

Fine, but if we end up lost because of you I'm calling someone.

[ And by someone he means Abel or Ernesto, because those are the only two Pleroma he knows know Dokja.

But for now, he does as told, slowly ambling down the street with his drunken passenger in tow, turning when directed. Either they will end up in fron of Dokja's place or they will end up in a back alley somewhere, at which point Eustace will be wresting control from Dokja's limp fingers. ]

[ They probably get lost a couple of times, but nothing so egregious that it can't be fixed with a little bit more walking. Dokja fights to stay awake the entire time, and the crisp, cool air along with being forced to use his head to figure out how to get home at least helps him not feel as sick as before.

By the time they make it to Dokja's place, he's mostly just tired, and it takes a while for him to pull himself out of his sullen silence. ]

... This is it.

[ Back into his depression cave he goes. After a bit of fishing around in his pocket, Dokja produces a key and holds it out from over Eustace's shoulder.

Pwease open for him. And do not mind the mess of books and scattered papers that will immediately greet them upon opening that door. ]

[ Cripes, what is he, some sort of nanny?

The thought of dumping Dokja right at his front door and leaving him there for the rest of the night crosses his mind, but instead of acting on impulse, he instead takes the key wobbily held out to him and sticks it into the keyhole, sighing as he does so. Inside is..........well, it's a mess, books and papers and other assorted household debris littering the place. Eustace wrinkles his nose, obvious displeasure clear on his face as he stares at this extremely sad Depression Cave™.

Damn bitch, you live like this?

Instead of saying anything though, he just flicks on the lights and then starts heading towards wherever the bed is, whether it be pushed against one wall or tucked away in a small bedroom branching off from the main living room. Hopefully there's no porn just sitting out on a desk somewhere out for anyone to see.

Dokja gets dumped unceremoniously onto the bed whenever they arrive there and then Eustace is turning right back around and leaving. Bye Dokja. 👋

(Just kidding, he's going to the kitchen to get a glass of water.) ]

[ There is ZERO porn. 😐

But yeah, he does live like this and it's extra sad considering how much he was internally getting on Dextera's case for the same exact thing. Well... it's actually different, isn't it? Because Dokja has never really seen the hypocritical way in which he operates so this is fine. His issues are something else entirely.

He falls into bed (it's just pushed into a corner) with a grunt, head spinning at the sudden movement so he stays as still as possible while he rides it out. He's not sure how long he lies there, vacant eyes staring up at his ceiling, before it starts to dawn on him that Eustace is in his place. That he knows where Dokja lives now.

... Eh. The Kenoma seem to know enough about him. What's one more thing if Eustace blabs?

His apathy has truly grown to several degrees with his drunkenness, but he still manages to slowly sit himself up, grimacing as he does, before he peeks out from under his bangs to where his guest is filling up a glass of water. Ugh... He should say something. ]

... Hey.

[ Zero porn, but at least there's a rock hard dick to make up for it all. (Just kidding, apparently I had to edit that part out. 😔 No more mysteries about the size of Dokja's dick.)

What's not a mystery is what Eustace is doing, which is grabbing the first clean glass (or..... the cleanest glass here can find, because this place is a mess) and filling it up three quarters of the way with water before striding back to Dokja and holding it out in front of him expectantly. ]

Drink this. Slowly.

[ Before he makes a mess all over his shirt. Dokja is not the one taking off his shirt in this thread, after all. ]

[ It's probably average???

Now that he's sitting up, something's not right. It's as if his room starts turning on its own, and his gaze grows more and more unfocused while everything spins. He feels so distantly aware of everything, of the fact that there's no way his room is actually moving, that his heart is beating way too fast and loudly, and it's like he's not in control of his body. It's like he's not even in his own body.

He barely makes out Eustace's words, and when he automatically reaches out, he misjudges the distance, fingers clamping down on the other man's wrist instead.

Then it comes up. Dokja bolts upright on his feet, takes about a single step forward, and then

pukes

all over the front of Eustace's shirt. ]

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cw: emeto