aionlogs | EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

The Empty Throne Pt 2

ESCAPE

As more and more of the prisoners awaken to the Pleroma's power, it soon becomes clear that conflict is inevitable. Strength that was locked away blossoms once again, and simply waiting is no longer an option; those that remain in the cavern have made their choice, and they will not be kept there so easily.

By means that may not be immediately apparent, the Pleroma have found themselves able to cast a spell that will ensure their freedom... but only if they can last the half hour it may take to complete. Whatever this power, Xishen, the Aion orchestrator of the Kenoma's ritual, seems able to sense it. As it begins, she will appear at each of the Kenoma's sides.

"The Pleroma has taken hold of them," she says. "Stop them now, or when you see them again, it will be as your mortal enemies. If you believe in the Kenoma's promise, take a stand. The Regent is watching."

For those that heed her, it will not be hard to find the congregation of Pleroma, the first seeds of their teleportation magic taking form. What's more, the fires of their hope have been stoked by this new chance at survival, granted them a surge of energy born of the Pleroma, compensating for the poor state of their bodies. The tension comes to a head, between those that would follow the Regent's path towards a better universe, and those that would seize the wild power of the Pleroma to escape.

Whatever violence ensues, eventually it will come to an end. Despite the Kenoma's efforts, the teleportation spell will come to fruition, enveloping the Pleroma in a sea of light and warmth. The Kenoma can only watch as fractals of blinding color whisk the Pleroma away.

VALLEY OF INNOCENCE

You will find yourself at the Shrine of the Innocent, surrounded by a valley of flourishing wildflowers. As you step from the shade of the monument, you will find your arrived here just in time to enjoy a warm spring spring morning, the sound of birds and gentle breezes tickling your ears. The sun slowly drifts past the horizon, its rays reaching out to you, as if in comfort. The air itself is alight with a strange aura of peace, as if committing violence here would be a sacrilege. There are no man made structures as far as your eyes can see.

Flowers of all shapes and sizes can be found here, and so can fresh water and various fruits and berries. All of them are safe to eat, and seemingly grow in abundance. There are animals here as well, all the common types one would expect from a place like Earth, with the occasional odd addition. While you can try to hunt them, you will find yourself unable to follow through on any attempts to hurt the creatures here. In turn, they regard you as familiar, and will fearlessly wander close as they inspect these new arrivals. In the distance, you may even catch sight of what appears to be a unicorn, only for its ephemeral shape to disappear from sight just as quickly.

The Pleroma will find safety and comfort here for a time, before they recover enough to travel onward. At some point during the afternoon of the first day, they may spot the occasional humanoid figure moving in the distance; when attempting to move in their direction, they will find an assortment of clothing set out across the grass as if in offering. It will come in many sizes but in mostly plain colors, fitting a general aesthetic of 'things a fantasy peasant might wear'. There will also be some blankets, wrapped cheese, jams, jerky, and bread left alongside them.

While there are trees and brush enough to find shelter, the Pleroma will find they hardly need to while resting here. The weather will be picturesque, a comfortable temperature even at night, and there will be no disruptive rain or aggressive wind. Of course, nothing lasts forever, and even though there could stay here for days, what if the Regent's forces are on their way? Once again, they must find the strength to carry on.

THE TRIWATER

As the Pleroma vanish, those claimed by the Kenoma are left in the darkness of the throne room. The Hylician soldiers are clearly agitated by the fighting, but Xishen herself seems unflustered. She will only sigh before quietly coming to the aid of any Kenoma that still need it, providing some light healing magics and explaining that their work here is over. With the Pleroma gone, all that's left to do is to return to Achamoth.

Things move quickly from there. The camp grounds are packed up, and soon enough the Kenoma will be ushered towards the river at the edge of the forest, to board a particularly large river vessel. As the Hylician soldiers prepare to go their separate ways, you will be told that you are to take the Triwater river to the capital city of Achamoth, where you will finally meet your new master, the Regent. The vessel is big enough for all of you, and it will set off the moment everyone is boarded. Suddenly, the world of entrapment and ruins you've been living in since your arrival will be left behind, leaving you to ponder the nature of your future.

The boat itself is well equipped and comfortable for what it is. A variety of colorful hammocks are hung in the lower decks and are open to be claimed for the journey back, which will take a day or two. The Kenoma will be offered a change of clothes of a similar style to what they already have if necessary, and there are plenty of blankets and cushions available to make life in the hold more comfortable. There are dice available for games of chance as well as some mystifying decks of cards that seems to have twelve suits with five cards each, themed around the Legacies. The twelfth suit is for the Regent.

Though the sailors controlling the vessel will mostly keep to themselves and leave the Kenoma alone, one of them will occasionally play harp music on the deck. Though they probably don't actually need help running the ship, they will let the Kenoma help them with chores and ship running tasks if they are so inclined; generally speaking, these sailors just seem like normal people, albeit a bit shy of their passengers. If you're polite to them, they may even gives you a river tour of Horos. On this ride alone, you'll get to see several magnificent bridges spanning the Triwater's width. At night, you are treated to a clear spring sky filled with stars.

As you make it closer to Achamoth, you'll notice the landscape shift, becoming mountainous and dotted with more and more military watch posts. The land becomes increasingly lifeless in a way that's hard to put your finger on, nature giving way to man-made creations of impressive architectural prowess. Soon, you will meet the person behind it all.

QUESTIONS

Can my Kenoma character fight against other Kenoma and/or help the Pleroma?
Yes, though if you do this you must describe what your character has done in a reply to the "Committed Actions" top-level below. This way, the mods can be aware of what happened and have your character treated accordingly. They are unlikely to receive immediate consequences if they don't hurt their fellow Kenoma, but their choices will follow them into Achamoth. If a Kenoma vs Kenoma conflict escalates into serious violence (attempted or successful) committed by the Kenoma rebel, Xishen will intervene and consequences will happen immediately which may restrict their actions until the next event post.

Can our characters leave the valley?
They can, yes, but really this event is just meant to cover the day or two they spend recovering before finding a more permanent place to go. You are free to have your character investigate the valley and probe the spaces beyond it, but please save any plans for large scale travel to the next event, which will be happening on April 2nd. The game will move into a 1:1 time ratio as of then.

Can our characters leave the boat?
Technically yes, but any Kenoma who wander too far will get in trouble. You are expected to report to the Regent, and behaving as if you are considering doing otherwise will not make an good impression.

Does the hope-based Pleroma boost last into the valley?
The boost to Pleroma characters will fade shortly after arriving in the valley, like coming down from a high. They'll have to recover the normal way from there.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ RIP to Eustace, about to be slapped in the chest with a holy purification wrecking ball.

Almost. He has enough presence of mind to catch the sparks of light emanating from Dextera's fingers and enough experience under his belt to know that light radiating out from a person's hands on the battlefield is always bad news bears.

Eustace is fast but Dextera is just as fast, and though Eustace does his best to duck and dodge out of the way, Dextera still manages to catch him square in the arm, sending shockwaves of pain radiating up and down. A shout of pain lodges in his throat and he stumbles backwards and down, uninjured hand shooting out to steady him against the ground before he topples over completely.

For a moment, he's left wide open, vulnerable to any further attacks as he catches his breath. After already tussled a few times that day, his endurance is running low. ]

Silco cast an unblinking, mismatched gaze at Emet-Selch, his lip curled in disgust. Not at him, of course, apparent when he looked back over the water, his scarred face -- more than simply the area over his eye, given the nicks around his lips -- thoughtful, for just a moment. Despite the way he held himself, confident and in control, he'd clearly lived a hard life.

"Enforcers will do that," he said, simply. "The mines are valuable enough, I suppose, and they can't lose the source of what makes them so great, can they? If you ever meet someone from Piltover, you'd notice they'd likely never worked a day in their life."

He looked back over at him, more confident than the situation would warrant. "Perhaps someday -- well, I suppose never, now -- but they had started to...fear us, you know. There had been a possibility..." well, before the death of the world, he supposed. Silco had every confidence that he would accomplish that, despite what lies the enforcer tried to tell him.

[ It's probably for the best for both of them that Gen resists the urge to ask if those ridiculous dog(?) ears are common where Eustace is from, or if it's just good obedient soldiers that get them.

And while Eustace is largely correct in reading Gen as little more than a bluster-y, brash teenager, he does at least have the ability to buckle down and treat matters seriously when necessary. Eustace's explanation of his skillset, curt as it is, is answered with a small nod followed by a long moment of silence as Gen considers it. Eustace had said it with such simple confidence, and he doesn't seem to have much reason to lie, so. ]

Dunno about magic. [ 'Magic' is still such a nebulous idea to him, something that he still can't believe is real. ] And I'm probably not the type to be good at support. [ He has at least that small shred of self-awareness. ] But I've always been good with my fists, so ...

[ Ugh. Ugh. Give him a second. He's not used to having to ever ask anyone for anything, far more accustomed to simply demanding or taking. But he's brought the conversation this far, and since he's already imposed on Eustace earlier ... might as well. Gen shifts uncomfortably where he's sitting, averts his gaze, takes a hoarse breath before muttering, quiet but level: ]

... could you teach me something useful?

[ acting like a normal human being is just so. hard. ]

[ checks off hand holding anyway

Down they both go, Dokja's own fall mostly cushioned by the body under him, but he's not left with much time to think up his next move as he keeps hold of Eustace's wrist to prevent the dagger from making contact with his torso (his torso?? that's where his important organs are??). The sudden kick shoves his leg out from where he'd been trying to reposition it for better balance, and he topples over, successfully rolled to his side, then his back, then... back up...?

Sorry, but in this timeline, Dokja tops.

He releases Eustace's shirt to grab his other wrist instead, forcing both hands down to pin them against the ground while Dokja straddles the other man. He's breathing in harsh pants, stamina at an all time low, and he's doing this more for his sake than anything else. Buddy, we need to chat. Kill some time. Shoot the shit. ]

Just stop for a second!

[ At least Ernesto gets a few moments of not-getting-yelled at, just because it takes Gen that long to realize Ernesto is still sticking to a relatively pacifist route.

It also helps that Gen's distracted by that swift attempt to pin him down. Though he has the benefit of youthful energy and being relatively well-rested on his side, that can't quite win against experience -- his attempt to jerk away from the grab at his arm is inefficient on top of being a beat slow. And having lost his momentum for a moment, he buckles before Ernesto's attempt to pin him down, giving a stifled grunt as his back thumps against the cavern's rough flooring.

He automatically steels himself for a punch to the face, of course. It would be the natural flow to any fight, right? You pin your opponent down and then beat the shit out of them? -- so he understands what's going on when that blow doesn't come. ]

-- hit me, you coward.

[ It's a demand spit out at a paradoxically furious snarl, and Gen makes a messy grab for Ernesto's hair to try and keep him in place, corner him. ]

The hell is wrong with you, doesn't it piss you off that someone you helped is doing this to you?!

[ Gen, of course, completely misinterprets the look on Dextera's face. He sees those wide eyes, those parted lips, that look of muted shock on Dextera's face, and he has to assume that the guy had truly expected that stupid offering of hairs to be accepted with gratitude and a change of heart. ]

What, did you think I wouldn't hit you just 'cause I let you hold my hand once?

[ Of course not. Of course he wouldn't let such an insignificant little gesture affect him in any way. Of course that's something he doesn't think about at all. Gen gives a bark of laughter, sharp and derisive, though Dextera may notice it sounds forced. ]

Don't get uppity just 'cause you saw something I remembered. You don't know shit about me, and I don't owe you anything. [ Is it telling that he offers these denials without being prompted? Maybe. He's usually more careful about these things, but it's been so hard to holding his tongue; nobody here acts like the should, he can't understand any of it, and it's maddening. That's partly why his voice drips with ire as he hisses, ] I already beat another guy to a pulp. I'll do it to you, too. So if you don't want that -- unless you're gonna turn yourself into that creepy bitch for me, fuck off.

Luo Binghe watches him like a hawk, waiting for any opportunity to lunge at him while his back is turned or his guard down. He doesn't get one, to his frustration. This fucking guy!!

[ We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Eustace and Gen—just kidding, the monumental leaps in character development Gen has taken by mustering up all of his willpower to ask for this small shred of help.

But Eustace can respect the amount of effort it takes to ask a complete stranger for assistance, being just as much of a prickly jerk as Gen is most days. If this kid is willing to place some amount of faith him, the least he can do is respect that. That's why he meets Gen halfway, his own tone just as solemn. Still brisk and businesslike, but there's no longer a layer of dismissal coating his words. ]

Once we get back.

[ Which is as much of a promise as he's willing to make without explicitly stating it as a promise.

For now, he's shaken out the worst of his stiffness (and reintroduced a fresh wave of pain through his body). There's not much more he can do here, and if he wants actual rest he's better off heading back to the ship than loitering around here. They're both better off doing so. ]

You should get some rest in the meantime.

[ Actual rest, not sitting around leaning on another man's leg rest. ]

[ Matt frowned, thoughtful, as Silco talked. Maybe he was wrong to think so, but he felt like this was a little more--revelatory, self-aware? Something like that. There was a piece of Matt that was inclined to give a self-professed selfish person some credit for admitting they were selfish.

Slowly, he nodded. ]

I guess I am ... taking on some risk, this way, [ he allowed. ] But I wanna make a better world. I want it to start as soon as possible. And I think that means not getting rid of potential allies.

[ He wasn't sure Silco would be impressed with that, but it was the truth. The only truth he knew how to say. Matt expelled a sigh, reaching out to rap lightly on the edge of the shield. It made a sound like a knock, but it felt like the echo of a bell. ]

This should wear off in five minutes, [ he said. ] Maybe ten. I'll come back and check on you.

[ And with that, Matt turned to leave, headed back towards the noise and clash of the conflict. ]

Eleven's hands lowered. He frowned and looked to the Aion. Though he couldn't see her, he had the oddest sensation of her still, and he disliked it.

"I don't, but.. I have hope it will be better than this." And really, that's all he has, but it has to be enough.

He holds out a hand. "Come with us. We might still be able to save you."

[ Absolutely cannot believe Dokja is topping right now.

Eustace seems just as unwilling to believe in this particular timeline, his whole body straining against the impromptu bindings holding him down. Not that there's much that he can do with both arms against the ground, but he is absolutely not willing to take a chill pill and do as advised.

Well, if he can't use his hands then it's back to his legs, Eustace barely letting more than a few seconds pass before sharply bringing up one knee to try and knock Dokja forward, ideally into close enough range that he can try and headbutt (another man) a second time. Not that he really needs to give himself more head trauma, but desperate times call for desperate measures. ]

[ Why is Eustace trying to fast track the death of his brain cells...?

Unlucky for him, because Dokja's body is reinforced with all the strength he's accumulated throughout the scenarios along with the fact that he's not human. He's a constellation with powerful stories backing him. So when he's knocked forward and realizes what it is the other man is aiming for, he doesn't shy away or wait for Eustace's head to slam against his first.

He hits back.

Dokja smashes his forehead against Eustace's own, an infuriated fire in his eyes as he literally meets the blow head-on. The burst of pain is secondary to his obvious anger at this situation, skull pounding from the collision, but he's otherwise fine and in one piece. The perks of being OP. ]

I said stop, you dumbass!

[ This is actually a much better reception than Matt expected, given that the would-be escapees are taking an awfully firm stand against the deal Matt accepted. On top of that, Abel's kind of in the middle of something.

Naturally, as soon as Matt's invited to expound, every coherent thought flies from his brain. He's left with the first breathless remark his mouth can make. ]

I agree. Our options suck. [ A faint, startled smile, more a twitch of his lips than anything else. ] And I don't know how great this sounds, but I just, know ...

There were a lot of people where I came from, right? Amazing artists, and scientists trying to cure cancer, and like, babies who were born that day--a lot of them were better and cooler people than I'll ever be. And they all deserve another chance. [ Matt blinks a moment. It'd be incredibly stupid and un-suave of him to cry in front of this nice stranger. Luckily, tears don't seem imminent. ] Everything has to die sooner or later to make room for something new. It can feel scary when it's our turn, but that's how things keep going. What's left now is ...

[ He swallows. ]

It's barely anything. Shadows and rot. We have to restart, we just--

We have to.

( there's almost no point in trying to source the whims of makoto's capricious nature. the surface of his heart is treacherous ground, marred by abrasions put there both accidentally and intentionally, so it is often surprising what words or actions might be met surprisingly well or extremely poorly. even for one that might claim to know him fairly well, it might be a stretch for them to understand how he rationalizes past torments that he had suffered: that, regardless of how much they might have hurt or humiliated him, that he had at least been of enough importance to its perpetrators in the moment to fall under that attention.

the forward motion of the dagger is already in a state of arrest, even before dextera's fingers encircle the entirety of makoto's narrow wrist. perhaps he should, but he hadn't expected him to grab at the blade; the sensation of the blade becoming trapped in a cage of flesh and bone even as it cuts into it is a novel one to him, and it causes his heart to stagger in its relentless war march. the heady copper scent of blood fills the air, and it — along with the ready willingness to accept pain for this outcome — puts him into a state of pause just long enough for the holy light to begin to pool in the palm of dextera's other hand.

he notices it by sight first, then by sensation: a vague tingling, then a bristling, then sharp. for the Kenoma that has taken root in makoto's soul, it has no effect — it merely causes it to coil in displeasure before lashing back out at the source of the invasive force. but it wasn't the only thing in makoto there was to rattle with the decree of purification. whatever J had done to him, both in transforming him into a demon and bringing him into hell and then everything after that, had its own indelible mark upon his heart and soul. where its effect on the Kenoma was displeasure, the attempt at purifying that from him is more like hundreds of needles being driven beneath the skin, of an acidic wash thrown over the substance of his soul, threatening to burn it all away. his breath hisses through his clenched teeth before he makes an undignified gasp of pain. he yanks his hand back and out of dextera's grasp; completely numb from what he'd done (and the additional shock of it), the dagger topples out of his grip and clatters to the stone floor of the chamber, still painted in dextera's blood.

makoto staggers a few paces away from him, staring at his hand in shock and horror before returning his wide-eyed and wild gaze to dextera. )

What was that? What did you do? ( because it put far more frenzied and feral fear into him than any simple tug of the wing might ever do. )

Amos glances over in the direction of the other decks when Emet-Selch points them out; looks back at him as he continues shuffling. He doesn't feel the need to keep his hands busy; it just feels like the appropriate thing to do in the current environment.

"Think it might be more plausible if we assign a value to each suit. At least that way we could get some kind of hierarchy going. Figure out who has the better hand that way," he says. "You know what all of the Legacies are? 'cause really, I just know my own, and I got no clue how to rank these things."

"Of course. I wouldn't be a witch if that wasn't the case. But I am a witch that had to fight to survive, so I really only know the sort of magic I could use to defend myself." Again, a very simplified and incomplete version of things. And also a lie, but that is another matter entirely! "So I can't do fancy things like open portals, teleport around, fly and stuff like that. Just hurt people. Its served me well so far."

She definitely doesn't seem ashamed of that 'limitation'. "My 'expertise' is magic that creates corpses. I used to be interested in other kinds, of course. But I doubt I'll ever get a chance to study it, particularly in THIS situation. But at least what I know will probably be enough for the one they're taking us to meet."

[ He has to get on the same level as Dokja and Abel somehow.

But fine, he'll stop, if only because he truly is mourning the rapid loss of his brain cells right another, another burst of pain flaring up inside his skull. No more headbutts after this, even if it might help expedite further fights. Please know that this was entirely his decision though and has nothing to do with Dokja's request-demand.

He sets his head back down, grateful for the support - and clarity of mind - provided by the cold ground. Unfortunately, he doesn't look particularly apologetic or rueful of his previous actions; instead, there's only a hard stare as he looks up at Dokja. ]

Do you really have the time to lecture me right now?

[ Especially when Ernesto is crumpled on the ground with a knife still sticking out of his shoulder. Just sayin'. ]

[ that's actually hurtful? dokja is ok? no comment on abel

He keeps a tight hold on Eustace's wrists as Dokja meets that hard stare with a furious glare of his own. There's a lot to be upset at right now and he hates this. It's not like he gives two shits about the reason people are picking the sides they are, more preoccupied with his own set of issues he's trying to work out, but it still doesn't feel good when they'd all gone through something together only for this to be the result. ]

Who's going to lecture a stupid bastard like you? Acting like a tough guy when you were going to fold so easily in the end.

[ Laughable! But he's really not going to go into some shounen protagonist spiel about why this is Wrong because he's never been good with words and if Dokja isn't going to be swayed to the other side, it's not like he expects anyone else to do the same. Instead, the grip he has on the wrist connected to Eustace's dagger-holding hand squeezes with an inhuman strength, a threat that he can snap and crush bone. ]

Let go of that.

[ Abel's gentle grip on the shard in his hand tightens as Matt speaks; there is such sincerity in these words that it's a little hard not to be moved by the sentiments behind them for how genuine they feel. his world, too, was much like the one described-- filled with people being born, people living their lives, building families, trying to survive and make the world around them beautiful (even if not all of them fit into such categories, of course). the world-- just like life-- is beautiful. and the world, just like life... isn't all beautiful.

death is a part of that. part of a natural cycle. but what Matt is suggesting... that is anything but, isn't it? ]

...Do you believe it's gone, sir? Your world?

[ does he believe what had been conveyed to them in that surreal, too-real dream? Abel is among those who has refused to accept its validity, stubbornly clinging to the hope that there are homes, worlds left to return to. that all the faces of this loved ones, those he cares for, remain.

but he knows he is in the minority. and he also understands how so grievous a loss is more than sufficient motivator for a man to accept what Matt has accepted; knowing if that is the case... it would go far in helping them reach some kind of common ground, even if they might not see eye-to-eye, in the end. ]

[ Matt frowns, surprised at the question. ]

They all are.

[ There's a hint of a question in there. Everyone Matt's talked to about it has been just as sure as he is that their worlds are gone, extinguished. Hell, he and Amos thought they might be dead themselves, experiencing the final synapse fireworks that precede brain shutdown.

This guy sounds like he believes something different. More optimistic. And Matt can't blame him. If he could have identified any scrap of hope to cling to himself, if he'd had a glimmer of evidence that anything out there was left, he might've swung right into denial. The truth is so hard to bear.

One thing, at least, he feels he can address right now. ]

Um ... my name's Matt, by the way. You can call me Matt.

[ Sir is very nice, but it makes him feel like an impostor. ]

That explanation does help to make Howl understand better. He had no idea the shards could replace existing body parts, but that seems to be the only possibility, considering what he's just heard. He ponders the shard hovering in Emet-Selch's hand for a moment before looking back up to him with a slight nod.

"Forgive me," he says earnestly. "I did not know. I won't make light of it again."

Garlean. That must be what the old mage would call his kind, then. Howl tucks that particular topic away to ask about later — for now, he really does want to learn more about these Shards.

Smiling slightly again in an effort to lighten the mood once more, he raises his hand up beside Emet's, comparing their Shards next to each other. The slight differences in size, shape and color are fascinating. What could they mean, if anything? So curious.

"I'll give you mine, then, if you'll let me hold yours?" That would sufficiently reassure Howl as far as handing over his Shard to someone else goes.

[ He releases her, but she doesn't immediately bolt off, furiously scrubbing at her face as tears begin to fall in earnest. Why is she crying? She shouldn't cry. She barely knows this person! In a few days time, when she's with the Kenoma, she's sure she won't care at all what befalls him. Or, she should make a concerted effort not to care. Yes, that's what she should think about. There's only Light, and his goals. There's only Kira, and Kira's mission. Her own feelings don't factor into the equation. ]

Why would you say something so sad... [ Her idea had been to try to snap off this interaction with as little personal emotions involved as possible, because she truly has nothing encouraging or uplifting to say in return. From her perspective, she's quite certain everyone choosing to flee right now will die sooner or later. So what can she even say in return...? ] I don't think we'll see each other again.

[ Not alive, she thinks. Not in a situation that doesn't make them enemies. And there's a certainness that she has - she has a hunch she'll never leave the Regent's side. Already, she's taking steps back. ]

This is goodbye for real, Abel. I won't tell on you to the others or bring them here... but that's the last time I can help you.

[ In the end, she lets him go, immediately putting her hands on her hips as he steps away. Well, she gave it the old college try. She's (barely) smart enough to realize that there's no way in hell she can actually force anyone to stay, aside from weaponizing her annoying personality or manipulating them into staying. The latter method didn't seem like it would be affective on him, so she's stuck at a loss when stubbornly trying to keep him her doesn't work. ]

Hmph... fine! Go over there! See if I care...

[ She puts on a strong front, truly acting as if this is all paltry, like this won't make them "sworn enemies" like Xishen had said. Maybe that too is because she doesn't truly care that deeply about him - just enough to make a good attempt at getting him to stay. If they have to be enemies in the future, then, well, she should get a head start on stopping feeling anything for him. Despite her harsh words, they sound a little forced, a little acted. ]

Don't say I never tried to help you. You better not regret it!

[ and just like that, she makes a rude little shooing gesture at him. Go on, be free mr. doggy.... ]

If they were smart, they'd realize all they had to do was keep their head down on this side, even if they didn't agree with it. But oh, well....

[ She seems vaguely annoyed over this - mostly because she thinks a few of the people she actually genuinely liked that went to the Pleroma could avoid a horrible death if they stopped being huge babies and came to this side instead. Really, she doesn't care if not everyone wants to see the world remade. So long as they don't get in the way of it actually getting done.

Anyway, she shouldn't be in too sour of a mood, because she's finally spending time with someone that actually seems to get the situation like she does. Someone who's at ease despite all the chaos, because they understand what they want and understand that the Regent is their best way of getting that done. Geez! It's so tiring being around all these worry-warts, she's glad to be near his energy instead. ]

Anyways, the shards, right? Yeah, I guess it does kind of make me feel special. Like a magical girl. [ Living her best Sailor Moon fantasy, tbh. Misa leans on the railing more, staring out to the sea. ] I'm kind of hoping they'll explain it to us more. The more I look at it, the more it looks like it should hurt that it's in me, but... it doesn't, at all. It kinda feels like it's always been there?

[ :thinking:

Which is what Eustace is doing right about now, only he's thinking about the sheer amount force being applied to his wrist right now, enough to make him grimace in pain. It really was not what he expected from this stick of a dude, but everyone has been surprising him tonight it seems, for better or worse. (Usually worse.)

But, despite the iron grip around his hand, he doesn't let go of the dagger. His knuckles are white from trying to keep his fingers tight around the handle but in this he refuses to give in. They could snipe back and forth about this all day just like they had back when they were huddled together what feels like an eternity ago, but the atmosphere is different now. Giving in to the Kenoma was the practical choice, as far as he's concerned, but he doesn't expect a guy like Dokja to understand.

No point in wasting what little breath he has trying to convince a man that can't be won over. Instead, he changes the subject. ]

You should stop caring so much about people you can't save and focus on the ones you can.

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EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

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he doesn't know this fantasy bullshit okay he's not a lame otaku 😔

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shashay shard

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