aionlogs | EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

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EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

The Empty Throne

DESCENT

Nearly two weeks after being dragged from shrine caverns, you hear along the grapevine that the "the throne room is complete." It doesn't take long to figure out what that means; the ritual grounds that you have been hearing mention of are finally prepared, and it's only a short while before you are once again being gathered together for travel. As a small mercy, at least this time the journey is short.

Through a passage that has been blocked by a gathering of soldiers for the entire length of your stay, a stairway is revealed to you. It leads deep into the ruins, through unfamiliar structures and into the bowels of the earth. Though your feel your are mostly going downward, the walk is still long on account of how many stairs their are, and the soldiers escorting you are restless. They are now being led by the stray, mask wearing Achamites that have been accompanying the group till now, silently observing. Whatever place this is, it seems that they now hold court.

Funneled into the chambers below, you are greeted by a massive, domed enclosure of stone. Positioned around its circular radius are twelve thrones in various states of disrepair, sized as if meant to seat giants. The backs of these thrones all differ slightly in design, though most have great cleaves of stone broken loose from their architecture, as if subjected to some great cataclysm. Each is engraved with a sigil, though some have been obscured by the destruction wrought. The throne closest to the entrance has been almost entirely demolished, making it impossible to glean much about.

The dome's ceiling appears to be hundreds of feet tall at its apex, its smooth surface disrupted by stalactites that puncture through its form like teeth. As a result, many chunks of the original structure seem to have cracked and collapsed in to the floor below. When examined closely, these fragments of the domed ceiling seem to be made of a material strangely reflective in quality, though caked in many years of dirt and grime. If large enough sections are cleaned, patterns may emerge, revealing designs that look almost like star maps. The floor beneath your feet as a similar, but subtly different quality, covered in wreckage and ruin but can be cleaned to reveal complex patterns of intersecting lines.

A careful eye will indicate that these lines all lead towards the center of the room - the one space that has been cleared and scrubbed prior to your arrival. Here, the lines converge, with carefully preserved marking in the stone that bely increasing levels of runic complexity the closer you look. This is where the ritual will be held, you are told.

THE RITUAL

There is not much time to regain your bearings before you are being shuffled forth towards the ritual space; no, all the waiting has already been done. Under the command of the smaller group of Achamites, the Hylicians will make heavy use of the whips in leading everyone to their places along the rune-inscribed circle. Before that, however, small cuts will be made to each prisoner with an athame, either on their hand or arm. With a sharp, burning sensation in the afflicted skin, these cuts will spread into wounds reflecting the image of one of the eleven sigils displayed on the thrones encircling the group, and matching the shrine they were originally pulled from.

With this accomplished, they can finally be taken into the circle. With a design comprised of four triangles overlapping, the design of an open eye carved at its center, all prisoners will be led to separates points on its design where the lines cross. Seemingly arranged by their shrine sigil to be closest to whatever throne represents them, they will be brought to their designated positions one by one. Any attempts to flee or disrupt the process will be dealt with swiftly and harshly, exacerbated by the increasing levels of paranoia and fear in the soldiers themselves. Whatever is being done here, they don't seem happy to involved with it either.

When everyone is in place, the seeming master of ceremonies will finally emerge. A dark haired woman will appear from the shadows, motes of golden light fluttering about her otherwise darkness-clad visage. Moving towards the center of the circle, she will stand over the marking of the eye and begin working her magicks. As if on cue, the soldiers will withdraw any remaining whips and scurry to the outside of the circle, only for new bonds of ethereal energy to lash out of the ritual circle itself, binding each and every prisoner and dragging them down to their knees. Among the soldiers, you can hear mutterings identifying this woman as "the Aion."

"Come," she says to the coterie of robed Achamites, who will approach the circle with an assortment of vials collected into cases. There is enough for each prisoner to be given a drink, and so they will; a vial of abyssal liquid will be forced into each one of your throats, no matter how uncomfortably it must be done. While no less ruthless, the Achamites have a different way about them as they work, forcing themselves upon you with a strange familiarity that feels more akin to a mother forcing their child to take medicine than the suspicious hostility of the soldiers. As the foul liquid touches your tongue, it takes on a consistency almost like a living thing, crawling down your throat even if you refuse to swallow, all while the Achamites stroke your hair and make saccharine assurances.

Once all the prisoners have been fed their vial, the Achamamites too will retreat from the circle - all except for one. Joining 'the Aion' at the center, the two of them will begin enacting a planned ceremony of sorts, that culminates in the following scene:

The Achamite kneels before the Aion, lifting their masked face to meet their dark gaze. They speak, in practiced tones.

"To the Kenoma my body, to the Kenoma my soul."

In response, the Aion holds the Achamite's face between their hands in almost a loving gesture. She speaks softly:

"By the blood of the Martyr, I accept your sacrifice."

From the Aion's hands a darkness spreads across the Achamite's body, as if they are melting and dissolving on a cellular level. She kneels along with them, cradling them as their body breaks down, pooling in a void-black liquid around their knees. It drains into the lines of the ritual circle, surging out towards the prisoners.

Within moments, the ritual is complete.

KENOMA SICKNESS

As this dark power surges throughout the ritual circle, you will find yourself almost consumed by the tide. Whatever foul creation you were forced to swallow wakes within your chest, and you can feel it move within your veins, inside you lungs, behind your eyes. As quickly as it begins, the flood of darkness washes over you, but not without leaving you stained.

Something has changed in its wake. As you return to your senses, you will notice the magical bonds of the circle have fallen away, leaving you free to move; for once, the soldiers will not move to lead or restrain you. Instead, the Hylicians warily back away from the ritual space, retreating towards the only path upwards, where they form a defensive line. The Achamites that linger make a series of ritual gestures, praying in voices too soft to hear. The Aion woman stands in the center, her hands blackened with residue from the person you just watched fall to pieces in her arms.

"You will be given time to find your truth," she says. "Use it well."

As you recover from the experience enough to stand, she and her Achamite entourage are already retreating to join the Hylician guard. Gradually, your situation will become clear: they intend to keep your trapped down here. However, it will not be the same as when you waited before. Instead, the soldiers simply intend to block your only exit out, and otherwise leave you free to roam the full diameter of the throne room, seemingly free to do whatever you want as long as it isn't trying to break free of the cavern's confines. Each day, they will offer to their prisoners a limit supply of food, water, and firewood, but nothing more. Beyond that, you only have your increasingly dirty white robes and the same bedrolls as before.

❖ COMMUNION
The first change you will experience is an itching darkness in your mind, like a psychic wound that is becoming infected. The sort of thoughts you would normally try to force down become increasingly hard to resist; despair, hatred, and fear will plague you, and requiring great feats of will to silence even temporarily. Phantoms of the things you'd rather forget will become a constant companion, all while a presence seems to whisper: when you accept your fate, the pain will stop.

Worse than this, the darkness of your mind may not remain private. As if awakened by the ritual, your empathetic sense has become impossibly strong, to the point that you feel the broadcasted emotions and thoughts of others, and in turn, your darkest thoughts will be psychically projected to others with a volume proportional to the intensity with which you feel them. This effect is most potent between those sharing Legacy, with the capacity for their identities to become momentarily confused. In all cases, this connection may bleed into your dreams, or manifest as hallucinations.

❖ TRANSFORMATION
Yet, your mind is not the only thing that ails. In proportion to the strength of your emotions, your body may begin changing to match your state of mind. Physical transformations akin to those mentioned here will begin to manifest, themed to your inner suffering and the most negative aspects of your self conception. These alterations may shift from moment to moment, depending on the turbulence of your emotional state. They may or may not be painful.

❖ AFFLICTION
Along with the above effects, characters may also experience various more mundane ailments; essentially anything traditionally associated with illness could fit. Weakness, nausea, body aches, and chills are all common options. Along with this, void-black ooze may start to trickle from virtually any orifice. While it may stain clothing and skin, the material itself will dissipate after a few minutes in a manner reminiscent of ectoplasm. This effect may also appear around your Shard, as if the stone itself has begun to bleed.

RESISTANCE

Even as the Kenoma threatens to overwhelm you, you still have the power to fight. Though it may be a grueling war of attrition, you can force back its advances with sufficient will to survive and resist the darkness. Of course, your captors are not going to make this easy for you. Those that fight hard enough to expel the Kenoma from their bodies and spirits will take at least a week to do so, and for that duration they will be trapped within this chilly cavern, haunted by their worst thoughts and emotions.

The bedrolls barely strand up against the cold, your clothing doesn't at all, and to be comfortable you'll require fire. Yet, there is a limited amount provided to you, along with food and water, and the soldiers do not seem to be making any effort to distribute it evenly. Achieving basic warmth and sustenance may become a battle against your fellow inmates, all while you struggle against the enemy infecting your body. Cracks in the dome of the cavern lead into some smaller caverns and crevasses in the stone that can offer some privacy or protection, but the more splintered the group becomes the less the supplies will hold up. Fortunately for you, neither the cold nor starvation will kill you, but it will make you suffer.

Yet, you may still persevere. As you fight back the Kenoma, something else will be cultivated in its place. Bit by bit, a comforting and warm presence will grow within you, gradually disrupting the maladies afflicting your body and mind. Your faith and perseverance has been rewarded with an attunement to the Pleroma, the Kenoma's cosmological opposite; given enough time, the Kenoma will be forced from your being entirely, in the form of void-black sludge. Only then will your power begin to shine through, the abilities of your past life slowly returning.

You must keep your guard. With or without otherworldly power, escape will be a struggle.

ACCEPTANCE

Or, you may choose the easy option. Maybe the Kenoma resonates with your history and emotions in a way that makes it seem like it isn't the enemy. Maybe the depths of your despair are too deep to escape. Maybe your simply lack the strength to fight. Whatever the reason, sooner or later, the Kenoma claims you. The more you let it in, the less it feels like a poison and the more it feels like strength. The darkness settles comfortably into the cracks and holes of your spirit, and you awaken to its power. You feel the change viscerally.

This world is not good enough, a voice seems to speak through the Kenoma. This suffering you feel, the cruelty that has birthed this darkness in you... it is simply the rot that is consuming this existence. A better universe awaits, one forged by your own hand, and all you need do is first bring about this broken reality's end.

Whatever effects you were suffering from the Kenoma's presence will fade away, and in its place, you will feel your endurance bolstered. The clarity is stark in comparison to the mire you were trapped in before. As the other prisoners suffer around you, the Aion woman from before and an accompaniment of a couple Hylician soldiers will approach you among the ruins, as if summoned straight to your location. She looks you over, her dark eyes impassive, and then asks:

"Did you feel it?"

She doesn't actually wait for an answer, your expression alone enough to assure her. She'll tell the soldiers that you are free to go, and that you are to be given a share of their food and a change of clothes. She'll escort you out of cavern and towards the upper ruins, where the soldiers and Achamites have set up camp. This feels natural to you, somehow, like you and her are on the same wavelength in a way that is hard to comprehend. She is like you, you sense. That dark power is within her as well.

She doesn't linger with you for long, but she will see that you are on your way before heading back to the caverns. She'll say that the voice you heard, that promise, was the Regent, the ruler of this land. They spoke of a power that could birth a new, better universe, and they weren't misleading you. It's within their reach, closer than ever, and if you help them achieve it you will be rewarded lavishly. For now, you are free to regain your strength while the others make their choices. She only asks that you stay in the area and be ready to join the Regent in Achamoth when all is prepared.

If you're prone to boredom, though, she will mention that you'd really be doing the prisoners a favor by convincing them to accept the Kenoma like you did. You could convince them with words, or by making their situations so unbearable they won't have a choice but to break. However you'd like. It won't be worse than what's coming for them if they carry on this way.

When she parts ways with you, you are left to your own devices. Somehow, you feel inclined to cooperate. After all, the Regent did have a point.

QUESTIONS

Are the involuntary transformations during the Kenoma sickness period temporary afflictions or permanent ones?
By default they are temporary, but characters can also keep a couple keepsake changes if you'd like! An Aion's physical appearance is something that is generally in flux, and so even if you keep something from this event, you can always alter it later.

What kind of supplies are going to be distributed to those who accept Kenoma and leave the caverns?
They'll be given food, water, and clothing. They'll be given more/better rations than they were as prisoners, but it's still the sort of food that is limited by the fact that they are out here on a mission. The soldiers will have some fresh meat from prey they've been hunting in the forest, and will generally be having a lot of stew-based food going. There are actual spices in it, though, so that's cool. This is all set up where the Hylicians are camping.

As for clothes, they will get a fresh set (including boots or shoes) and some soap to clean themselves up in the nearby creeks and ponds. Hylici has an aesthetic that leans towards ancient Greek/Roman, so while they won't have anything fancy with them, you are free to assume they are able to acquire anything in that general ballpark. They do also have pants, though. While it is now spring and Horos has a generally temperate climate, it can be chilly at night.

Will Pleroma attuned be able to escape once they've regained their powers?
Yes, they will be allowed to escape at that point, and a second log will be going up to cover that part of the event. This log should generally cover up until shortly after Pleroma start ejecting the Kenoma's influence. Characters are permitted to escape by their own power if they somehow devise a plan to do so, but as we know the Pleromas are at a significant disadvantage in this situation, some characters who have fought against the Kenoma particularly valiantly will be given some magical assistance to help the survivors escape.

Will the Kenomas be able to try to stop them?
Yes! The second log will be set up to contain some PVP, though given the Pleromas do need to escape, we ask that you play nice. There will be a battle, but it will be structured in the context of the Pleromas having to hold off the Kenomas long enough to escape, so it will be relatively brief.

Can we speak to "the Aion"?
Yes, she will be around for the full length of the event. All characters will have the chance to find her watching over the group whether they are Kenomas or soon to be Pleromas. She will not be that talkative, though, so anyone tagging her will have to lead the conversation. She will not make small talk. Martyrs will recognize her as one of them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ah... I suppose you're right about that. Maybe that wasn't the sharpest way to word it, huh...?

[ there is a slightly sheepish start of a smile, though it doesn't get particularly far - doesn't do very much to kill the light of a low-burning, quiet concern that has been brewing in Abel's eyes since this whole nightmare began. Ernesto's smiles hold something behind them; they're sad, and they're heavy - however light and amiable his delivery. ]

You could be anyone you wanted to be, here.

[ his eyes slide from that inconsequential point at his robes he's been fidgeting with to his company, instead. ]

You could be someone whose past isn't difficult. You could tell me a thousand lies, and I might never know the difference, right? But... tempting though that thought might be, I don't think it's what you might really want. I just-- I get that feeling, somehow. Even if it's hard to talk about... whatever came before this, it made you who you are, right? I think I sort've like that person, so far.

[ The smile finally drops away completely, settling into something more neutral as he stares ahead of himself, gaze unfocused while he considers Abel's words. He has a lot of complicated feelings about it all that are hard to put into words.

It's true that what has happened in Ernesto's life have built him into the person he is today, and it's true that he's amicable and fun enough to be around that he's probably likable to most people. That part of his personality isn't fake either, but there's a lot of ugliness there too that he doesn't like to let show. ]

I think you're the one giving me too much credit now. I'm a pretty accomplished liar.

[ His head dips forward now, and a long sigh escapes him. ]

I'm just too tired to manage any decent ones right now.

...Ah, but isn't that a lie itself? 'Giving you too much credit,' hm. I suppose we simply don't see eye to eye, but that's alright.

[ Abel lets his head hang a bit lower with a soft chuckle, but... it is quiet and tired, even if it's earnest. ]

Then how about I make you an offer, Mr. Tequila? We can shake on it, if you find it amenable.

[ that may

be a dog joke, maybe, ]

[ They're both exhausted and under a great deal of stress, so he'll let that dog joke slide for now.... and probably let any future dog jokes slide as well. He's not a particularly fussy guy about things like this.

He looks back over at Abel now, a weak, lopsided smile on his face. ]

I'll need to hear the offer first.

[ No deals struck without clear terms first. Not even with a holy man. ]

[ what a good boy 😌

Abel can't say he wasn't expecting that sort of reply, so the little tug of amusement at his lips only manages to creep a bit deeper on his face. ]

I know that old habits die hard. And... you're not obligated to take this offer, of course. But--

[ there's a small pause - just long enough for him to decide precisely how he wants to say this. ]

It has to be exhausting, right? To smile convincingly... to pretend everything is alright even when it isn't... If you want to let it go for a while, I'll be here. No judgment, no expectations. While I understand your reasons for doing this are your own... I also understand that everyone should be able to lay that weight down from time to time if they need to. In a place like this, maybe... maybe that is more true than ever.

[ He's alright.

Well, he's alright in the "good vs bad" sense. Emotionally? Mentally? He might not be right now. No matter how much he tries to smile and laugh his way through this nightmare, it's obvious he isn't. No one is, and his tendency to fake things has to be painfully obvious right now.

He lets out a soft laugh as he considers what Abel is suggesting right now. A few seconds pass, before the smile finally slips off his face, and his expression becomes appropriately grave.

It's hard to say if the weight of it all feels heavier or lighter right now. Maybe in the end it doesn't make a difference, but it does feel... strange. Ernesto isn't used to ditching the smile when someone else is around to see it. ]

I guess it was pretty stupid to try and fake something like that in a situation like this, huh?

I don't think it's stupid at all, Mr. Tequila.

[ his eyes watch his friend from periphery for a beat, before he draws his knees a little more closely to his chest. being vulnerable is uncomfortable, sometimes. that's a very human feeling. ]

It isn't stupid, but... it is sad. It makes me wonder why it's become second nature to you, but-- I'm not here to pry.

[ Abel is more than happy to listen, of course-- hearing people speak on their fears, their weaknesses, their perceived sins without judgment is sort of in his job description. but... well, there's a time and a place for everything, and maybe Ernesto isn't in the mood for a good confessional.

or maybe it would do some good right now when those things are weighing on him the heaviest.

either way... Abel wants to help him, whatever that help ends up looking like. ]

[ It's a fair enough question, but...

Ernesto shakes his head slightly, though it's more rolling it back and forth across the wall that he's slumped up against. The effect is the same regardless of how tired and weak he might look while doing it.

At least his ears flop charmingly when he does things like this? ]

If you're asking if I have some sort of especially sad story, you don't have to worry about that. Mine is no worse than anyone else I knew.

[ Now that said, he grew up in a country in the middle of an ongoing civil war, in a world that is being destroyed by a mix of disease and massive scale natural disasters.

So... no one around him has a particularly happy story. ]

I hope you won't mind me saying so, and I don't mean to call you a liar, Mr. Tequila-- but I'm not so sure about that.

[ d-do not charm him with those puppy ears....... it's cheating!!! especially while Abel's brain is half cotton and he finds himself to very easily distracted-- don't mind if he catches himself staring, for a second--

--no. NO, no, get it together!! they're having a Talk, here. he clears his throat softly before re-centering himself, AHEM, ]

...Ah, I mean-- that the people I've come to know who find it easier to smile in the face of their pain... they have sometimes been hurt in very profound ways, and-- maybe, to some of them... that pain is normal. Or-- some even find it deserved.

[ a coping mechanism one has developed to make it easier to carry on, perhaps. ]

[ Hah...

He knows he was given permission not to smile, but one twitches back on his face at Abel politely calling him a liar. He's right for the most part to call Ernesto out that way, though Ernesto isn't entirely lying about this one. He really didn't have it worse than the other people around him.

Still doesn't mean his situation was good though. Comparing one pile of shit to another didn't change the fact that you were dealing with a pile of crap. ]

I'm not masochistic enough to feel that way.

[ He takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment, before releasing a much slower exhale.

His mistake for drawing attention to his discomfort for talking about himself, huh? ]

I'll be frank with you, Father. I've done some pretty terrible things before. I'm not a particularly good person...

[ He glances at Abel out of the corner of his eye. ]

But I'm probably not that bad either.

[ He maybe be one of the few people here who doesn't completely hate himself, honestly. Another sigh as he closes his eyes again. ]

Anything that I brought on myself was deserved, but circumstantial bad things to happen to me? Those I didn't, but then again... no one else around me who suffered the same things did either. I guess it's a little weird that I act that way, but I promise I'm not that broken.

[ Just a little broken still though. He wouldn't be struggling for this long if he wasn't. ]

Can I be completely frank with you?

[ after taking in Ernesto's explanation of his 'state of affairs,' so to speak, the priest sends a glance toward the domed, high ceiling of the cavern that has been their 'home' for a few short days - and yet far, far too long. ]

The fact that you can say as much to me without that smile on your face... is probably the most honest thing I've heard, and it reassures me a great deal.

[ there are broken men who walk around with wounds the size of a hole in their chest, never aware of how much they're bleeding. and then there are some who have simply grown so detached and apart from reality, from themselves, so utterly out of touch that they couldn't even see right from wrong. Ernesto isn't either of those. ]

You aren't so broken that you feel nothing but pain, right? And sometimes, a man who has done wrong in his life deserves to be a little broken. We learn some of life's most powerful lessons the hard way, you know? [ even if he hates to say it aloud - there is a very real part of Abel that wishes no one had to go through such a process at all, that 'enlightenment' and 'growth' could come a much lesser toll... well, it's good to look reality in the face, isn't it? ]

Broken things can heal. They can also be mended to be stronger than they were before they were broken, too. If you're just the right amount of broken, then... that's okay.

[ and then his eyes settle back on his dog-eared friend, the priest's smile a little bit more earnest than it had been a moment ago. ]

...And though sometimes that whole mending thing happens all by yourself. But, personally... I quite like the kind that comes when you trust others to help you along the way.

[ What a sad state of affairs this is that the most reassuring thing a person can say right now is that they don't hate themself enough to actively wish ill on themself. The bar is as low as it can possibly be, though Ernesto can kind of appreciate the sentiment still. Seeing the way that others have been suffering, it seems like most of the people here are carrying some pretty heavy weights on their shoulders.

What Abel is saying right now is fair too, though Ernesto winces even as a smile creeps back onto his face. The things that probably did the most damage to him as a person weren't really through any fault of his own. He wasn't lying about having it no worse than anyone else around him though, because so few people in Bolívar were able to remain unaffected by the war that raged on around them. That he was in the thick of it, through very little fault of his own, was just a particularly unfortunate circumstance.

It was after that breaking happened that he started deserving what misfortune came his way, and it's funny how so much of that misfortune had a quick turn around into something positive for him.

This is already a lot of talking about himself though, and he doesn't want to divulge the details of his life as a child soldier, and the way war had fundamentally changed him as a person.

That might be why as he turns his head to look back at Abel, the smile relaxes into something easy-going, one corner of his lips twitching up a bit more to give it a lopsided look. Despite being offered the chance at raw emotions, he feels the need to lighten the topic a little. His thoughts are heavy enough most of the time, and Ernesto isn't great at letting people share the burden of them. ]

Are you offering to heal me, Father?

[ There's just a slight hint of a teasing lilt, as he tilts his head a little to the side, away from the wall now.

Abel said so much to him right now, and he realizes he's intentionally not responding to most of it, but he is internalizing more of it than he might let on. ]

[ there is another shift and change, one that's observed in real-time as whatever is turning over in Ernesto's mind ends up manifesting in that easy-going expression on his face. Abel's heart sinks just a bit, but... suppose his smile remains relatively untouched despite it, too. Rome wasn't built in a day - and the priest will simply be happy if any of this plants seeds that he can water later on. if they're stuck in this mess together, then... looking out for one another only seems natural. ]

Ah, I'm afraid I'm no apothecary-- just a priest! Though I suppose I could offer some kind of spiritual healing if you find recitations of the Good Book moving or something of the like, but...

[ he trails off with a light chuckle. if Ernesto seeks a bit of levity, wishes to stray from more serious thoughts - that's alright by him. suppose they've lingered on more unpleasant subjects long enough. ]

Honestly, my favorite pick-me-up is a good cup of tea... Tea, tea... tea... Ahhhh, Mr. Tequilaaaa... [ with a most and decidedly melodramatic groan, he's flopping his head back against the firm, cold cavern wall with a dull thud. ] The things I would do for a warm cuppa right now... --Don't tell me! Are you a coffee person? Do you drink tea...?

[ Telling a holy man that you're not in any way religious seems a little harsh, doesn't it? Thankfully for him, Abel is letting him get away with not revealing the kind of heathen he is by placing a topic in his hands that happens to be right on his wheelhouse. Just look at the way those ears perk back up. ]

Will you like me less if I admit that I am a coffee person?

[ His shoulders shake slightly with a laugh so quiet it can barely be heard. ]

I lived for years in a city known for it's coffee, and considering I worked for the trade management department there, I'd be a pretty bad employee if I didn't familiarize myself well with our exports.

[ "Our"... like he still is allowed to claim that city as his own. There's a slight hesitation, but his expression stays the same. ]

I wouldn't mind a cup of tea right now either though.

--Coffee person, I knew it!! See, didn't I call it?! I did...!

[ he is far too enthusiastic about this, isn't he? maybe he's hamming it up a little for current company's benefit, a little pick-me-up (non-caffeinated) to try and chase off some of the more depressing atmosphere. ]

Ah-- do you mind if I ask what city you lived in...? It sort of has me wondering if our, um-- you know, worlds are anything alike, actually...!

[ Hamming it up is just fine. Considering the condition that Ernesto found Abel in at first, it's genuinely a relief to see the other man more animated and lively again.

The question about his city gets Ernesto's interest though. ]

The city was called Dossoles. I was born in the country of Bolívar, but I didn't move to the city itself until I was much older.

[ He pauses, before adding in a quick question of his own. ]

Are there people like me in your world, Father?

[ He kind of got the sense that most worlds out there didn't have Perroes, or any of the other races that were common on Terra. ]

[ 'Dossoles,' doesn't that mean two suns...? Bolivar? no, he's heard of neither as far as cities - and considering Abel is extremely well-traveled... he tilts his head a little more before giving it a shake. no, suppose this solidifies it; they are definitely from worlds far more different than the ears on Ernesto's head might suggest.

...

....

which is it seems Mr. Tequila is asking about! so, Abel puts on a thoughtful expression (as if it requires any kind of further Pondering). hm. hm, are there people like Ernesto where Abel's from? hm. hmmm, hm, ]

Do you mean coffee-drinkers...? Because, I must unfortunately say yes, yes, there are quite a large amount, actually~! Sadly.

[ Ah, he didn't think so... Abel is pretty clearly not a man from his world, and Dossoles is a pretty unique city in a lot of ways. He can't imagine it would be easy to replicate on another world, even if all of the countries were otherwise the same. There's no Dossoles without Ms. Candela, after all.

And then Abel has to go and do the Abel thing. Ernesto's expression tightens into his most forced smile yet as his brow furrows. ]

Somehow it's more jarring when you swap between insightful and foolish, than it is when you switch from morose to upbeat.

[ oh, poor Ernesto..... poor, poor Ernesto. just as Mr. Tequila has his masks, so does Abel-- and his have all chosen violence in the form of being obnoxious most of the time, ]

...Foolish?! D-did you really just say I'm foolish?! Th... that is quite rude, Mr. Tequila...

[ the gall!!!!! ]

Just what on earth possessed you to go and say a thing like that, hm?! Goodness, and here I was doing my best to cheer you up and everything... no good deed goes unpunished, is that it?!

[ Good luck to this unstoppable object that is about to crash into an unmovable wall. When it comes to tragic personality traits, Ernesto is nearly unflappable. Between his goal-obsessed father, his air-headed sister, and a former boss who literally introduced him to new people by calling him an annoying idiot? There's not much that can genuinely bother him.

Even the accusation of being rude just has the smile stretching wider across his face, as he refuses to let Abel get away with this one. ]

I'd apologize if I thought you were serious right now, Father.

[ The head tilt from earlier intensifies. ]

But from one pretend fool to another, it's a little too obvious. Especially after the conversation we just had.

[ He gives Abel a curious look for a second. ]

I don't know if you have reasons for not wanting to answer my question or not, but I won't ask it again if you don't want to answer it.

[ ...hah.

suppose turnabout is always fair play; Abel always plays his hand a little too enthusiastically to be particularly convincing in positions like this one. suppose there's a reason he's piss poor at poker. ]

Ha... well.

[ Abel's smile is both sheepish and vaguely amused as he drops some of the melodrama, chuckling softly to himself as he leans into his knees gathered against his chest. ]

...I can't help but feel I owe you a bit of play after going and getting into the philosophical with you, earlier. Please don't worry-- I wasn't dodging your question or anything like that! I just saw an opportunity for a very terrible joke, that's all. But... to answer you-- no, I don't think there's anyone quite like you, Mr. Tequila. You know-- with the, ah, charming ears and tail and all? [ here is Abel lifting his hands,

to mimic floppy dog ears,

...on either side of his own head, while watching Ernesto's expectantly...... w-wiggle them... he dares u, ]

[ Abel.....

You can't go tricking innocent dog-men into engaging in your kinks this way.

But fine, he's going to get this one freebie. One time!! Ernesto unconsciously twitches just one ear in response to the gestured mimic of them, laughing a little at the description.

Animal-like ears and tails are such a common feature in his world that it's easy to not think about them much. People have their preferences on types of ears and tails just like the have preferences on other aspects of physical appearance, but his aren't usually referred to as charming.

The finishes that laugh off with a sigh though. ]

I got the feeling I was an odd breed here.

[ A pause, and he'll allow Abel his joke too. ]

Hope that doesn't extend to coffee drinking though. No offense to tea, but I'd love to find a café or two in the near future.

[ He'll talk as if they're getting out of here, even though he doesn't think they will be at this point. They just lightened the mood though, so there's no need to bring it back down. ]

[ sTOP HE DOES NOT HAVE DOG KINKS HE JUST THINKS THE EARS ARE CUTE, do NOT........... okay but he bets they're soft......

o-oh, no, they wiggled!!! THEY WIGGLED. the dopamine rush that follows is pretty illegal considering their circumstances, and Abel has to make an excuse to look away, clearing his throat behind his hand. s-so... so cute... ]

D-different breed... because you're a--

[ ....look what you've started, Ernesto. ]

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