march mod plot log

Who: Everyone
When: March 3rd to March 31st
Where: Thisavrou + New Worlds
Warnings:

thisavrou monthly info ( the tmi )

⋆ All information is current as of day 62 ( there are 100 days in a cycle, which started on January 1st).

⋆ The storm around Thisavrou is rather quiet this month. Although there is still an upsurge in the number of Outpost techs called in, many of them have been put on standby until otherwise needed. Weather on Kauto is a moderate 70°F / 21°C during the day and 65°F / 18 °C at night, and Chioni’s has reached dangerous highs of 200°F / 93°C at peak hours.

⋆ Savrii Notices:

Region One grocery depots are offering sixty percent off of any item purchased between day 70 and 82.
Region Three’s residents are doing a pruning ( every sixty days or so ) and all excess is available to be taken; if you need it for mulch, lumber, etc. it’s free to anyone.

⋆ Mission notices have been posted to TABs for anyone interested in earning a little extra cash. Available missions are listed below:

Day 65 (March 6th) - The locals of Region One (R1) are looking for extra help with cleaning and are hiring pairs to run each machine. They’ll pay 50 sencs an hour or 300 sencs for a full day.
Day 68 ( March 10th) - A group of newcomers have taken shelter in Region Five as their home world is no longer habitable. All of their belongings have been brought through the Ingress and is stacked up outside the EN-Line in R1. Savrii are paying volunteers 70 sencs an hour to help transport everything to their new homes. This species returns kindness with kindness, and will offer any volunteer who goes the extra mile tips ranging from 100 to 200 sencs.
Day 75 (March 16th) - With temperatures on Chioni reaching record highs, some scientists and researchers have been stranded due to EN-Line shutdowns. Those in the Ingress Complex are offering 950 sencs to anyone who is willing to withstand the heat and rescue their fellow colleagues. Any equipment needed for the trip will be provided, but due to the greater increase of temperature, some suits may only cool a body inside for a total of four hours before needing replaced. Plan the trip wisely: most EN-Line access has been completely revoked and travel by foot (or vehicle) is necessary.
Day 87 (March 28th) - Scientific Study. Do you smoke? Are you addicted to any substance? A scientist researching methods to combat addictions, of all kinds, is looking for volunteers. He’ll ask a series of questions, take samples, record, study, analyze, and apply new procedures over the course of a day (nothing invasive without permission). Compensation is 800 sencs with complete cooperation.

ingress travel info

⋆ Signatures are the base reason for traveling through the Ingress (aside from general exploration and monetary gain) and are used to discover the correct world visitors on Thisavrou wish to return to. Every visit through a different Ingress brings the technicians a little closer to finding it. The two worlds open for access this month only have a slight impact on the signature of each person who travels.

⋆ Missions are jobs or specific tasks listed on the TAB once new worlds are open for exploration. Be sure to check if Clearance Levels are required to accept some of these missions.

⋆Clearance Levels are given to visitors for the length of time they have been on Thisavrou (or traveling on the Moira). Each CL offers access to certain things or incentives that others will not have.

deslora

⋆Upon entering the world of Deslora, everything seems to be connected by an intricate tunnel of tubes that lead to different and very explorable areas of this new place. Ingress travel will have been quick but somewhat nauseating for most, and returning to Thisavrou will result in the same feeling. However, it wears off quickly, and Deslora is opened as EC (exploration class). Aside from the bright colors of the “walls” and the excessive lights, there are also smells of familiarity—to some. Popcorn, pizza, cotton candy. They waft through the tunnels and get stronger the closer anyone comes to the first open area of Deslora, and depending on the route that is taken, some may have to crawl or walk right into it.

⋆Food, perhaps, might be one draw to Deslora, but it is not, so to speak, the main attraction. After piling through the tunnels, it’s like being inside a massive tent. There is no natural lighting, everything illuminated by bulbs or torches placed strategically across the path that leads to an equally smaller tent. Dangling above the doorway is a sign that reads Laugh Your Way to A Smile with reflectors and pieces of glass hanging from its bottom. Entering the tent will reveal a very small but intricately designed room full of twists and turns and mirrors. The strange thing about them comes with looking at your own reflection; passing by will do nothing. If you linger too long, you find your own physical body beginning to take the shape of what is reflected in the mirror. Sometimes, you are stretched thin and tall. Sometimes, you are short and round. And other times, you will find yourself suddenly wavy and curved from head to toe. These changes do not hurt the first few times they happen, but after the third look at your reflection, some alterations may cause pain in your limbs or torso. It increases each time you look at a mirror, and while the effects will fade after a few minutes, it’s best not to linger too long and find your way out through the otherside.

⋆Located several tunnels down - or up, depending on the direction you go - from the Deslora’s ever-popular funhouse is another equally famous attraction. At the top of the steps, a worker waits to pair up individuals into groups of two before ushering them inside the first set of doors. The foyer is quiet, and after the doors behind you have been shut, two single doors ahead of you and your partner begin to illuminate. There is a sign between the doors: Pick A Path . Once through the chosen door, it will lock and the door will slowly fade away. It will quickly become evident that what is in this room is specifically targeted at one out of the two people inside. A happy memory, a beloved hobby, the person you love most - the scenario is always different, but the overall feel is the same. Whatever the room has transformed into, it’s what makes that person the happiest. If it’s a person, they can be spoken to and touched, if it’s an object, it can be used. As the interactions between both characters and the room increase, subtle changes will begin to occur. Slowly, the contents of the room begin to morph into something new. The combination of what one person loves the most and what the other hates the most. The only resolution to be had is to confront the issues and find something in the room to help. For one past patron, the room transformed into thousands of paintings that morphed into painted memories of their partner’s most painful memories. The only way out was a can of varnish tucked back into the corner of the room. Be creative, be careful. Find the way out together.

thisavrou (R6)

Every so often, new Regions are built to accommodate visitors who are looking to make Thisavrou their homes, a place to work, and many other acceptable reasons. The Savrii pride themselves on being open to explorers and travelers, allowing Thisavrou to be a mecca of trade, exploration, and for some - a place to live. During many meetings with Savrii intermediates over the course of 600 days, an agreement was made with an entrepreneur looking to find a safe place to build their business. The funder, John Hammond, spent millions of sencs on the proper permits and is funding the building, transportation, expansion and overall creation of Region Six. Over the next 30 days, Mr. Hammond will be following very specific building schematics and with this, will be hiring temporary workers to fill the positions required to do so. Job postings will go up and those that do well, might be offered permanent employment when Region Six is up and running. Hammond, along with his temporary work posts via the TABs, will release a missive explaining the following: a few days before the Region is open he will be hiring a large number of permanent employees in (research, science, ingress, cleaning, security, transportation, customer service) fields. He’ll also thank all Savrii, and anyone living on Thisavrou, for allowing him to bring him and his to live here.

⋆ Construction (different pay depending on skill level required) —

Enclosures: Large, electric and nonelectric enclosures meant to be home to creatures that require the added safety measures. 1,000 sencs per week. Crew lives on site until job is completed.

Arena: Stone seating surrounding an underwater area. 200 sencs per day. Crew can commute to and from work.

Hotels: Temporary living accommodations for guests. Crew are paid 50 sencs per hour and have to commute to and from work.

Crew Homes: Residences for future permanent employees to live in. 50 sencs per hour and have to commute to and from work.

Food Courts: Small huts for the production and selling of food. 40 sencs per hour and have to commute to and from work.

Mini EN-LIne: John Hammond wants to build a smaller version of the EN-Line within Region Six. Technicians and general laborers needed. 60 sencs per hour and have to commute to and from work.

⋆ Cleaning: 100 sencs per day; standard cleaning.

⋆ Transportation: Crates of amber stone and creatures will be coming through the Ingress and need to be taken to Region Six. Extreme care and caution is required. 400 sencs per day. Safety clause is signed before work commences.

⋆ Security: Guards to help in the transport of aforementioned crates. 450 sencs per day. Safety and loyalty clause signed before work begins.

⋆ Creature Care: Two permanent employees. The care of creatures. Resumes need to be submitted here listing credentials. Pay is 4,000 sencs per month and workers must live in Region Six. Safety, loyalty, and privacy clauses will be signed.

⋆ Art Design: One person is to be commissioned to create a logo for Region Six. 2,000 sencs for the finished piece. Contact John Hammond. To Note: All management positions in the fields above are paid double the sencs, but they come with double the responsibility.

OOC: For questions please go here. Don’t forget to respond to the Activity Check.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It was a haunting image, Chara looking the way they did. The fear in Angel's stomach blossomed into her chest. A fist clenched at her side, nails digging into the tender flesh of her palms. It would be better, safer to run away from this monster, but...]

[But surely, despite everything, there was just a child in there.]

[Stepping forward, despite every fiber of her being screaming not to, Angel rested a hand on a distended arm. She took a step backward, attempting to pull the young child away from the mirror.]

Will you walk with me, my friend? I know we didn't have the best conversation before, but I would like to try again. Can we do that?

[A hand.

One of their crooked arms twitches beneath the touch, their shoulders arching, the muscles going rigid beneath it, waiting waiting waiting for the strike that follows the crack of flesh on flesh tight grip bruises on your forearm because you've been a disobedient child and this is your punishment and this is the violence you understand and

Their breath rasps.

The words creep out between a curved, too-fixed smile, as hard and glacial as hoarfrost.]

Do not touch me.

[Angel didn't need the command to jerk away. Everything about the child's posture, their body language, interpreted a poor reaction to Angel's touch. Just as the words were spat out, Angel had lifted her hand. Her feet remained firmly planted though, and her voice was steady when she spoke.]

You are hurting yourself. You need to step away from here.

[It was just like back in the core. She had been afraid to die, afraid of what waited beyond the nightmare of a life she had led. She knew, though, that the safety of the world rode on her shoulders. She had to be strong in the face of fear.]

[It was just like with C.T. and their own well being.]

[It's laughable, really. It's laughable, the note of concern, her apparent stalwart refusal to back down to the searing redness in their voice, the pieces of a scarlet sky spat out between gritted teeth.

People like her don't look at creatures like them and see things worth SAVING. What's this about, then? Her own sense of self-righteous duty? Being an insufferable do-gooder, the same way Frisk tries to help every person that crosses their path, whether it's even remotely in the realm of possibility or not?

A handful of words exchanged, and a name given. Does she really imagine she is so special? Everyone names the Fallen Child. That's what they are. That's what they're for.

And they couldn't stop laughing.]

It doesn't matter.

[The words emerge too high, and thin, the control fraying, their composure in pieces.

Does anyone ever wonder why they laugh so much? They're certain people assume it's simply what they are: a depraved, awful thing that finds pleasure in the pain of themself, and in that of others. It's so easy. It's so easy, and horrible, and inescapable. Beyond their control, the way so many things are. As twisted as they are. One of those many, many things that they cannot and never will wrest control over.

One of those things that's just

Beyond them.

Who would contest a claim like that?]

[Words, touch, resolve, none of it seemed to be working. C.T. was a frightening thing, but what was happening to them, what they were being made into, it was more awful than some of the most savage bandits that she'd met on Pandora deserved. In the face of Chara's resistance, she could feel the latter most part crumble away. She had been strong in the face of her own demise, but when the fight had lagged, she at least had known that progress was being made.]

[Not here. Not now. C.T. was just as defiant as they'd been in the beginning, if not more. Given the form they took, there was no way that Angel's own fragile frame could fight them, to drag them out of the way.]

[There was one other option, but it was a less than pleasant one. Since her arrival, Angel had struggled to keep her powers in check. Aside from when they spiked out of control, or when she played with them just enough to show how dangerous she thought of herself, she'd not once attempted to use them. Without the core to stabilize her she dreaded what might happen. And weak as she was, she didn't know how long she could sustain any of her abilities.]

[But she couldn't sit there and watch C.T. continue to stretch themselves into nothing. Nor could she walk away.]

I'm sorry, C.T.

[Her left arm lifted, tattoos glowing bright as Angel focused. Unlike when her powers had forcibly manifested, the image projected was not one of her former prison cell, but of snow and ice. Gone were the mirrors warping C.T., gone was the entire chamber. Angel could still feel it in the back of her mind, and reaching out revealed the cool walls of the chamber, but for now, neither of them could see what had been mercilessly warping them.]

[The world is more malleable than one would think. The world falls to the whims of the creature with the Determination to shape it, and to the victor go the spoils. A creature with a powerful enough SOUL, or a lack of one, can twist things to its precise desires, down to each flag and number.

Change the map values, and your location shifts. Or you do.

The world stutters.

Their contorted flesh corrects itself with a blazing snap of the world snapping into place, their vision slapped with the flurrying of ash-like snow, coating their lashes and tearing at their hair even if it lacks the sting and bite of ice.

Correlation and causation are not necessarily linked, but in this case - the blaze of the tattoos on her arm and her left side, the abrupt shift of the world and the seamless lateral slide of one backdrop to the next - there is no other explanation. The apology simply cements it.

With legs unbroken, with arms undamaged, they stand, rocketing to their feet, rigidly. Any trembling, any wavering of their balance must be nothing more than a perceptual error on her part; the child would never be this clumsy, never allow that frantic terror to slip through the cracks and wear at their composure.

For once, they are not smiling.

Their tone is sharp and cold, their shock - regrettably palpable.

What did she do.]

Put it back.

No.

[If the world could be shaped by determination, then surely it would shake beneath the sound of Angel's voice. It was relieving to see C.T.'s form back to a so-called normal, though how this child could ever truly be classified as such was beyond the siren. It did not change the fact that beyond her illusion, the mirrors remained, ready to warp them at a moment's notice. The immediate threat had been resolved, but they were not out of the metaphorical woods yet.]

C.T., I need you to come with me. It's not safe here. You can be as angry as you want outside, but until then, we need to work together to get out.

[Even as she spoke, she inched backward. Her right hand extended this time, though rather than altering their world once more, it was simply held aloft, hoping that the child might take hold. There was a tremble in it, though whether she was shaking from fear or from a quickly budding exhaustion, she couldn't say.]

[Determination could shape the world, but it would not be able to fight the weakness that had been installed into Angel's body. A month was barely enough to shake the withdrawals. To begin using her powers to an excess would be a hopeless endeavor. It meant that if Angel had any hope of getting C.T. out without causing anymore bizarre mutations, then she would need to begin that process now.]

Please, C.T. Come with me.

[No.

Their hands flex, pulling into fists and then out again. Their hand goes to the hilt of the Knife at their side, fingers wrapping about the delicately engraved handle. It could be easy, they could make it easy, they could strike again and again and again and again and it'd be just the way he went down like he was never really powerful at all -

It'd be easy.

It'd be so very, very easy.

Her hand trembles, and for all the nervous strength in her voice. Whatever she's done to them has put some sort of strain upon her. Exerting her influence over this world, torquing it beyond recognition.

Determination.

It's a hell of a drug.]

We don't need to work together. [The tension in their shoulders, their arms, their stance creeps into their tone, pitching it higher.] You need to put it back.

[It wasn't working.]

[Numerous swear words tumbled about in her head, enough to make her father turn over in his volcanic grave. The hand held out clenched into a fist, attempting to stave off the shakes. It dropped to her side, then lifted once more in order for her to wrap her thin limbs around herself. Her resolve was cracking, resulting in the occasional dimming of the world around them.]

[There was no time. And this crumbling, this failure was exactly what C.T. wanted. The world would be righted, they could stare at their reflection, and both of them would be right back at square one.]

[Angel had one last idea, one last hope. She lowered herself to the floor, arms still clutched around herself. Any energy that would have gone to standing was now going to keeping the illusion alive for just a little longer.]

This doesn't affect long distances. [Her voice was soft -- speaking loud was an unnecessary expenditure.] Walk a few feet, ten perhaps, and the world will be right again. If you want out, this will be your only chance.

[The odds of C.T. believing the lie were slim. It was already clear that she was weakened, a shadow of her once former glory. Back then, she could transform an entire chamber for hours at a time. She was lucky if she had another minute in her.]

[So it's a simple shift of their perception. How nice for her. How nice and kind of her to completely alter everything the world was comprised of, purely on a whim! Because it was best for everyone. Because they're a danger to themself and to others. Because she gets to play the hero and save the proverbial demon? Or because she gets her glorious advantage, and gets to walk away triumphant?

Does it matter?

And yet - she has given them no reason to believe her. The Knife slides from its sheath at their side; a crescent of red, the blade whorled with bright swirls of white, leaving a trailing afterimage of its silhouette with each twitch of movement.

They seem to be...twitching a lot. Don't they?

Shaking, one might say.

Perfect, deft control. Lift the Knife and level it at her, its point mere feet away from her center of mass.]

Is this your victory? Are you slaying the demon, Angel? Are you finally living up to your illustrious title?

[Their smile is locked, coldly. A furious shade of itself. A challenge, all but explicit.]

Put it back, or I will make you.

[Calm. That was how Maya had managed her powers. Maya, who could throw enemies with a thought and heal her friends with another. The stalwart, blue siren who Angel had admired for as long as she had the pleasure of knowing her.]

[But Maya had 27 years to manage her powers, had to learn to maintain control and focus in the face of gunfire and shouts and screams of pain. It was something that Angel simply couldn't pull off after only a month of being on her own, of having the option to use her powers.]

[The second the knife was pulled, the second C.T. spoke once more, Angel's focus broke. A wall appeared here, a mirror there, breaking apart the image bit by bit. She tried to put it back, her form of back, to keep them both from being warped once again, but it was becoming harder and harder by the second.]

I'm not trying to hurt you! [Her voice rose, cracking just as the image did around them. An entire wall burst through their surroundings, the mirror that she'd found C.T. in front manifesting before their eyes.]

I'm trying to help you.

[And just like on Pandora, her attempts to make things right collapsed around her. The remaining landscape crumbled around them, pixels falling away as if they were on a computer screen. Angel's vision darkened, as if she sat in a tunnel, rather than a hall of mirrors.]

[Jack had lived. The mirrors remained. There would be no living up to any sort of titles today.]

[A mirror image. A smokescreen, dispersing beneath the pressure of an explicit threat. With the ache in their limbs shattered, their eye contact with their own malformed flesh broken, at the very least they can stand ramrod straight once more. The pain is purely secondary, at this rate; pain always is.

They've always known how to batter through it with teeth gritted and shoulders set. They are resolute. They are Determination.]

Because you know best.

[Nothing more than an illusion. A means to warp their perspective. To wrest control away from them, once again, because we can't trust you to make your own decisions, Chara. We know best for you, Chara. Better for you than anyone else, even you.]

[Angel tried to recoil, but crippled as she was, it looked more like her leaning back slowly. She tried to focus on the child, to watch where that knife had gone. With the illusion shattered, C.T. should have had no reason to attack any longer, but --]

[Children shouldn't have been so manic, so vicious. There was something wrong here, something critically wrong. She'd thought as much before, but even that couldn't dissuade Angel from being the person she was.]

[Not that her efforts mattered.]

No one should be hurt in such a way. It isn't a matter of thinking that I know best.

[She pinched the bridge of her nose, to force herself to focus. This wasn't good, this situation wasn't good at all. Trapped in a place like this, with this child? She needed to get herself back on her feet, and get out of there. C.T. was out of the woods -- there was no point in lingering.]

Perhaps I deserve it.

[The answer whip-cracks out sharply, the proverbial blade to be lowered and slipped between ribs and then, at the pivotal moment, twisted. This is what you get, when you help creatures like them.

Kids like them.]

Perhaps violence is the only language I understand.

[Their shoulders are too stiff, their posture too taut, everything about them too - unrestrained. Uncontrolled. Be better than this. Be the implacable demon. Play the role.

Even worse -

Even worse, she looks like she's about to pass out on the spot: abnormally pale, swaying in place.

Did she risk herself just to see them suffer?]

If you expect me to say you deserved it, you'll have to keep waiting.

[Surely she had been sitting long enough. Her arms trembled as she placed her hands against the ground and pushed upward. Once, her arms crumbled, and she nearly found herself face first on the cold ground. With one last, deep breath, she managed to bring herself back to her full height, though her legs quaked and threatened to crumble once more.]

[She had risked herself, but it was certainly not for anyone's suffering. At least, not intentionally.]

I'm sorry, C.T., but you needed help. I could not simply ignore it.

[She would have every reason to lie now, would she not? Faced with a child with a Knife in hand, apparently rendered weak and trembling after the effort she went to in order to - what? Save them? Incapacitate them?

Is she really so naive.]

You could not?

[No. She chose not to. Simply because...

Why?

That's not how this works. That's never how this works.

They're not something that gets picked up off the ground. They're not something that's worth getting picked up off the ground.]

[A response pushed itself up from within her, but caught on her tongue. How could their situations be so different? If someone had stumbled onto Angel when she was stretched to her limits, beaten and broken, wouldn't she have wanted to have been saved. If nothing else had worked, then perhaps explaining her own background, her own sins might well do the trick. If Angel was arrogant enough to believe herself to be worthy of salvation, then she had to see it in others, no matter how badly they insisted otherwise.]

[But then would an appeal to the similarities of their situations even reach C.T.?]

[Everything else had failed, and since Angel wasn't quite ready to sprint in the other direction, nor was she convinced of the child's wellbeing, she had to keep trying. It was a losing battle that she was fighting, and on some level she knew it. That didn't mean she was about to give up.]

I've done bad things too. Thousands of people have died because of my influence, C.T. I don't believe I deserve a fate like this, and that means I have to believe that you don't deserve it either. I cannot preach for my own salvation and condemn others.

[So they're...

What? Her handy little tool? Her proof that she's not beyond redemption for whatever horrendous atrocities she's evidently committed?]

Then you're wrong.

[There's no convenient soundbyte of a tolling bell, a hallway lined in gold, in the illusion of sunlight spilling in through the floor-length windows so that everything else is cast into a stark shadow, crisply outlined and limned in the spectacular bronze cast of a dimming sun.

But it is Judgment, nonetheless. Cold, clean, bitter; a blade levered at their own heart, and hers.]

We all get what we deserve in the end. Why, kids like me? [Briefly, the point of the Knife flicks in Chara's direction, a loose gesticulation to indicate their own ugly, reprehensible self. On days like these, kids like them...have long since been sick of that joke.]

We are not above consequences.

I never said that.

[Angel had felt the cold embrace of death. She'd collapsed on the ground in a purple haze and felt every last organ in her body shut down in what felt like an agonizingly slow process. She'd watched her veins slowly turn purple over the years, noticed the same color in her eyes, in the thinnest patches of skin. It was painful until the very end, and yet nothing like the fire and gunfire that had destroyed countless lives.]

[Angel knew the consequences of her actions, and she would not deny having not deserved them. What led to it, perhaps, and even what had driven her to commit such atrocities, but never would she claim that she didn't deserve what she got.]

But at some point, we all have to have suffered enough for what we've done. And I do not believe that bending yourself into some sort of monster is a suitable consequence, no matter what you've done.

[And so she is the arbitrary decider of what constitutes enough suffering? How much must one die, to atone for the fracturing of an entire kingdom, the destruction of a happy family and an equally happy marriage, the deaths of everyone they once held dear at their own hands, the re-ignition of an ages-old war?

Is that enough?

No.

And it never will be.

She says the magic word. And they smile, because that is what they do. Because they're creepy, and unsettling, and people hate to look at them with their unnatural look and their strange eyes and their unblinking stare.]

On the contrary, [they say, quietly, cold and fixed,] I find that being a monster would be infinitely preferable.

[Ever the angel, she was. It was an unacceptable answer, in her self-serving eyes. It made her uncomfortable, to give in so willingly to the idea of being a monster by virtue of what they had apparently done before.]

[It wasn't like she was worried about C.T. themselves. Rather, it was like looking into another warped mirror, seeing a side of her that she so easily could have become. Almost instinctively, she looked down at her hands, as if expecting to find a knife there too, clutched between childlike fingers.]

[Once more, she found that hopeless feeling, that feeling of fear and the need to run needling at the back of her mind. It would be selfish to leave, just because she was afraid, but C.T. had made a point.]

[This whole thing was Angel being selfish.]

[Yet she had never been able to make her own decisions, couldn't bring a blade to her own heart, a noose to her own neck. She'd needed the help of six others to finally end her own life, to tear her away from the hell she lived in.]

[And now she would need the words of a child to tell her what to do.]

Tell me to leave then, and I will. I am your friend, and I will listen to whatever you decide.

[I am your friend.

So she fancies herself like Frisk, then. One conversation exchanged, a handful of words that were neutral at best, and antagonistic at worst, and they are - friends.

As if they would wish something so utterly destructive upon anyone, even someone so short-sighted as Angel apparently is. Does she not know, given their track record, what happens to those they claim to love? Does she have no idea what it means, to be friends with a creature like them?

Of course she doesn't. She would have no clue.]

How convenient for you.

[How convenient, that she has only decided to listen now that she is no longer the one in control.]

[Angel lifted her chin. She hadn't gotten many traits from her father, but like Determination, so too was defiance paternally linked to her character. C.T. hadn't given her an answer, and so she would stay put, eyes on the the child.]

I told you, it is your decision. Tell me what it is that you want me to do, and I shall do it.

[It was, perhaps, a gamble. She wouldn't put it past the child to demand that Angel run herself upon the blade multiple times. She'd sensed a malevolence in them once before, and she didn't think it had simply disappeared in the wind.]

[No, she was back to hoping she could break through to them.]

[Once, she had been asked to name the fallen child. Now it was their turn. Command the Fallen Angel.]

[Clever.

Very clever.

Turning their own blade upon themself. But she has no idea what she is asking of them. She is not demona or demonb or demonc, she does not filter in the quiet murmur of I, your humble servant, will follow you to the utmost...

She does not have everything she is scored away by willing fingers, like thumbs drawn through chalk dust, like thick red marker slashed over smiling faces. Her name is not easily inputted and then altered, because it's * Easy to change, isn't it? Her world shifts at her command; not the other way around.

To draw that parallel, to liken herself with the demon that comes when you call its name?]

[...

They grin. A savage flash of teeth, completely at odds with the glint in their scarlet gaze.]

Wrong.

thisavrou monthly info ( the tmi )

ingress travel info

deslora

thisavrou (R6)

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cw dissociation and allusions to abuse GOLLY IM SORRY

this is so good. like. awful, but. good, you know?

a good kind of hurt for everyone

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1/?? im so sorry

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