pluviosa | SO BELOW

Entry tags:

*event

SO BELOW - EVENT LOG

SO BELOW

With a slightly bump that can be felt throughout the ship, progress levels out. The skies above are threatening rain, but there aren't any drops falling from the sky... Yet.

Not that you'd know it, looking out the windows. A foreign ocean stands outside, on the other side of the glass - the ghost of an ocean, long gone from the truth of this world.

Just like so many other things, which have become visible to those who are willing to pay attention.

This is the event log for SO BELOW. Information for the first part of the Event (days 15 and 16) can be found here, along with sign-up options for the second part of the event.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

redpurplegreenagressionenemy

Aurelia's subconscious registers the shift from concern to frustration before her conscious mind can, and combined with his aggressive Shove... reclassifies him in a heartbeat. From fellow passenger to threat. Her body moves, hands coming up to grip the taller man's wrists. Her mind forms the necessary structure in a flash, a well practiced and memorized spell flourishing into being from the vaults of ice that is her memories.

All that's left is to power it and between one heartbeat -

Sunday can feel it, his halo buzzing with a connection. But not the connection of tuning. No, his thoughts are being invaded. A great beast, with damp and ragged fur and a maw of fangs slinks into his mind. Hungry red eyes cast across every thought and memory as it raises paws the size of his chest, smashing down on the ball of stressfearworryconcernguilt and breaking it into pieces. Leaning down and digging it's fangs into the meat of his emotions. Ripping a bloody mouthful out and savoring the sugary taste of his stress, the rich red wine of his worries and concerns. Swallowing and letting the aftertaste of chocolate guilt linger on it's gullet as it reaches down for another bite. A will reaches after it, another mind that both is and isn't the beast. Dragging it out of his thoughts by the scruff of the neck, leaving a trail of blood that freezes across his perspective.

- and the next, she reaches in and siphons away some of Sunday's emotions to power it. Paralysis, a simple freezing of the major muscle groups to keep him standing still and in place for a minute. She breathes in, smiles sadly at him. Her eyes now full of brightness and energy. "You... really gotta work on your issues friend. Someone is going to get hurt if you don't." She pats his cheek, once, twice, then steps around him to begin walking away.

Edited (Rephrasing just a little) 2024-07-16 21:56 (UTC)

Aurelia grips his wrists and he freezes, eyes widening, wings flaring. Who did she think she was? His halo buzzes, unfamiliar, strange.

"Unhand me at once--"

In that moment, something worms its way into him, sodden and furred, claws too sharp and teeth gnashing. It makes itself home, shattering something, before tucking in and beginning to feast. He's frozen, unable to withdraw, to escape. He is too far away to reach just as he is all too close to that great maw. Terror grips every part of him as he struggles beneath the weight of it, this beast within his mind. It shears away at his stress, his frazzled, frayed edges, only stopping when yanked away, blood seeping from its maw.

And when it fully withdraws, he finds he can't move. Something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong. The worst of his stress around the situation is gone, but what was he left with? What had she done? He can't think straight, exhaustion settling into him, even as he stood, frozen in place.

Aurelia leaves him, patting his cheek, with a warning, before walking away. He doesn't understand what happened, let alone how to rationalize it to anyone who just walked by. She'd just taken something from him. She'd eaten it. It was gone and he was alone and he couldn't move.

// note that he is only going to be frozen for a minute. but if you wanna hop in and say hi to him please do!!

Edited 2024-07-16 23:54 (UTC)

Federico had been tracking Sunday's resonance during most of this event, working with the drones to help secure any passengers in need of it. The countdown was not too close to its end, so...as long as he knew where his--friend?? Was, then the conditions were acceptable. The stress and fear pouring over their connection is...normal in a time of crisis such as this. It physically pains him, but...he understands that the man cannot help it. And it provided a strong signal if Federico needed to track him down.

But then the stress spikes into something like panic, crashing over his mind like a tidal wave. He grunts in pain, actually stumbling and leaning against the wall as it subsides. What...what was happening? Was Sunday hurt? Federico's halo aches, and his mind feels vaguely like it's under assault-

And then all of the sudden, it's over. He cannot feel...anything. His blood feels like it's gone cold. "No..."

Enough with the countdown, he needs to find Sunday now.

Or what's left of him. A thought he immediately squashes. It sounded like something Arturia would say. Federico starts running to where he'd last sensed Sunday's presence.

It is. Difficult to track, as the once loud signals have gone eerily quiet, a quiet lethargy nearly drowned out by their shared static and discordance. But he does find him, eventually and-

He's standing. "Sunday!" he shouts, rushing forward to inspect the Halovian. He's- standing, --not dead not dead-- but he's not moving either. What? He places his hands on the other's shoulders, looking him over. He's...breathing. He seems conscious. But he's not moving. "Sunday- are you alright? Did something happen?"

He's...cold. Federico's usual logic processing is being overrun by worry worry fear- it takes him a moment to realize it's not Sunday himself, but ice frosting his clothes. And yet...

He's not shivering.

"Frozen...?" Sunday does not exhibit other signs of hypothermia, but after having such a close encounter with it himself after his...conflict with Signore Wriothesley...he's not taking any chances. Federico unclasps his cloak and pulls it snugly around Sunday's shoulders instead. He still does not have his scarf, but this will suffice. "I do not know what caused this, but it should pass. Can you hear me, Sunday? I know it's not the most functional, but. You can...send something through our connection, yes?" He looks to Sunday's halo, and goes a little pale. That's...also frozen.

What happened????

Edited (added some frosty detailsssss) 2024-07-17 20:43 (UTC)

Sunday is cold, so cold that frost laps at his skin, settles in his hair. Paralyzed, entirely helpless. There is nothing he can do to stop this, nothing he can do to save himself. His head feels full of cotton, his limbs tied with string.

A cage within a cage within a cage--

Federico reaches for him. He can feel it, the discordant thrumming of the sankta's halo, lamplight through fog. Worry. Fear. Sunday tries to call out, his thoughts trudging through snowbanks. It's not long before the other reaches him, despite this.

A coat is clasped around his shoulders, a gesture of care he did not deserve. He has no choice but to accept, unable to shrug him away, unable to reject his kindness. Federico asks him if he can speak through their connection. He tries, his resonance weak and muffled. Fear. He doesn't understand why she did this.

The minute passes like hours, before Sunday is finally released, his body trembling, and his legs shaking, giving out under him. He reaches for Federico, looking to cling to him, cold and afraid and desperate to not be alone.

"Federico... I.."

The chill hits him, and he leans into the other, holding the cloak tight, his wings tightly pressed around him. He's never... been this cold, before. It bites and stings at his skin, chills him to the bone, like the fear had, like it was currently doing.

"I don't understand what happened... I don't know why." Sunday says, his voice small. His body aches. He just wants to rest. "Something... ate part of me."

The words didn't feel... right. But they were his cloudy mind's best approximation of what had just happened. They would have to do.

There is a faint answer, quiet, muffled, stifled. It's cold. His very thoughts feel chilled. Federico had...never felt this before; with Sunday or through the empathy link in Laterano. Not even Arturia could cause something like this. It's like a hand trying desperately to reach out from being buried in a snowdrift.

Fear. Trapped...? Confusion.

He does not know what has caused or is causing these emotions, but they're a message enough. They're are generally not pleasant. And if Sunday is conscious and cannot move...

"Understood. I hear you," he says firmly. He's working to brush the worst of the ice out of Sunday's hair, wondering about the best way to clear his halo as well when something shifts, and the halovian starts to fall forward. His legs have given out.

He hears his name, and Federico reacts immediately, taking his friend into his arms and leaning back so he can hold his weight up himself. It's...not difficult. Sunday is rather light.

Briefly he wonders if that was the right thing to do. He'd...hugged Sunday before but that was under specific circumstances-- the halovian leans into him, shivering. Right. This is right, then. He tightens one arm around Sunday's back, using the other to continue gently clearing the frost from his hair.

"You may have an early onset of hypothermia. Do not rub at your arms for warmth, as that could cause more harm to yourself at this time," he informs, instructions firm and steady with the surety of receiving the same guidance from a trusted source recently.

"As for what happened. Confusion is...normal in the wake of distressing incidents." So much fear, muted, stress missing, exhaustion, deep and all encompassing. This close he can feel its echoes. "You do not have to recall the details immediately, Sunday. I will ensure you are not harmed again, here." He should have been here before. An oversight on his part...

"...A part of you was eaten?" Alarm flares, his crystalline wings fanning out. Not letting go, he leans over to peer over Sunday's shoulder, searching for missing pieces, for blood or injuries. He did not see any before giving his cloak over, just...frost, and ice. "I can take you to the clinic. It is safe there. Is that acceptable?"

Federico understands him, catches him, holding him close. He seems to hesitate, unsure of himself and what to do, before settling on brushing the frost out of his hair. Sunday breathes deeply, slowly. Just trying to get warm, and come to grips with what had just happened.

Federico had been worried. Afraid. He'd felt it through their frequencies. The knowledge feels like a lead weight in Sunday's gut. The other man was always close, nearby, whenever Sunday ended up needing someone. A true friend, even if they were both unfamiliar with the word, out of their depth.

"I'm sorry. We... really have to stop meeting like this." The halovian says, just leaning into him. "I don't wish to make you feel like you can't leave my side without.... something happening."

He doesn't want the other to blame himself. Not for this. Not for anything that happened to him. Sunday listens to Federico's instructions, going so far as to let his arms fall limp so that he did not rub them, even subconsciously, and make this any worse.

"I... I won't. "

Federico reassures him. He was safe. He wasn't alone, not again. The other examines him, and Sunday can feel the alarm, worry, seeping through their connection. He shakes his head.

"No, it was. Inside me. I..." It was difficult to describe. Despite the warmth of the cloak, and the arms around him, he still feels a chill settling over his core. "My worries and stress are... gone. But I am still afraid, and she... She left me here. Frozen."

The clinic. Veritas... Someone. He thinks of needing to be strapped to a table, however, and feels more than a little ill about it. His face pales, ear wings folding into themselves. Sunday shakes his head.

"No, I... I am fine."

He was very much not fine.

Federico can feel Sunday huddling in for warmth, seeking it out. He pulls his friend in close, his movements still stiff with lack of practice, but earnest in their intent. He tucks Sunday’s head between his shoulder and neck, keeping a hand at the back of his neck. Places where much warmth is released, at least from the average humanoid body.

He’s…so cold. ~~Like the dead.~~

“I do not understand why you are apologizing. I had asked you to call upon me when facing danger, and…you did. And I am here. The agreement is upheld. It is alright,” he assures, for once…pretty confident he is fulfilling his role as friend correctly. Sunday is also a passenger, and he needs to protect the passengers…but the part about not leaving his side…Federico’s mouth presses into a thin line. He…had been thinking along those lines, hadn’t he.

“I am…sure you are capable of taking care of yourself, Sunday. However, this environment is full of unexpected hazards. It is…understandable you would run across things you were not prepared for.” Like being frozen in the middle of a hallway. Somehow. “I…do worry. I have been told that is normal with friends. It is new to me. But…allow me to care for you, for now.” Sunday’s shivering. He’s barely standing up.

And he’s insisting he’s alright when Federico can feel the distress and confusion coming over their connection in muted ripples. Sunday…has no reason to lie to him, right? But he always seems disturbed to have caused worry…

“There is still some time. If the clinic is unwanted, I would like to take you to the cafeteria instead. Something is missing from inside, and you were frozen. A warm drink should help you.” If Sunday doesn’t seem averse to the idea, Federico will pick him up and hold him close to keep generating warmth for the thawing halovian. “We can discuss safety measures for the jump along the way.”

He's pulled close, against Federico, a hand at the back of his neck. The chill is still set into his bones, but the warmth of the other is... It helps. Sunday relaxes, just letting Federico's warmth soothe him, even as he shivers. The halovian breathes deeply, slowly, closing his eyes, if only for a moment. His eyes sting, tears brimming.

If only he wasn't so weak.

"I suppose I... Feel guilty. That you always seem to have to chase after me and rescue me from myself in some way." Sunday says, his voice soft, quiet. "I don't want to be a burden to you."

Sunday leans into him, his legs struggling to keep their balance on their own. He clings to Federico, wings limp.

"Thank you, Federico."

The clinic... No, he. He's cold, and feels. Odd, strange. Something was missing. But... He didn't think he needed someone else to look over him. Whatever was wrong was.. Internal. Something someone else couldn't fix, he was sure.

"A warm drink..." His fear involving the jump had faded into a dull roar. He was still cold, still felt.. Strange, wrong, but. It sounded lovely, for now. "Please. If. If you don't mind."

Federico pulls the halovian up into his arms, safe and secure. Sunday leans his head on his shoulder, allowing it. Closing his eyes.

Safety measures... He's not even sure where he'd begin. His fears around the jump, others not being strapped in, it'd vanished like smoke. He still. There was concern. But the stress and anxiety were gone, and he felt so terribly empty. Federico's kindness... was difficult for him to accept without feeling bad, on some level. But Sunday was still deeply thankful for the other. For him being here. For his care.

Edited 2024-07-31 23:09 (UTC)

Fou-Lu has been skulking about - he doesn't mean to but he also doesn't want to deal with people. But when he turns a corner and sees Sunday unmoving he freezes himself. Something cold runs his heart through, and he rushes towards the young man and stands in front of him.

"Sunday? Sunday. What hat h happen to thee? What ails thee? ... Tell me. Tell me..." He puts his hands on the other's shoulders and shakes him in a slight panic. No. He can't have... he can't have died, he can still feel the warmth from the man. "Answer, I - I need thee to be all right."

He doesn't know what he'd do if he lost this mortal, too...

A voice calls to him and he cannot move-- Hands grip him, shaking him, pleading him to speak, a fear in a voice he had never thought would be reserved for him. That level of worry, of care. Fou-Lu rendered fearful, frightened. Pleading with him.

He thinks of that mortal woman, of Mami, who had been taken from the other, her life sacrificed in a bid to hurt him. How that experience had shaken the deity-- Harsh wounds within his heart, a guilt he could not let go of, bear alone.

He can hear the desperation in Fou-Lu's voice. Fearful of losing someone else. Another mortal who had dared showed him kindness. Sunday's heart aches for him, breaks, and through the piercing cold in his head, the drifts of snow his thoughts had to filter themselves through, he quietly mourns that he cannot comfort him now, in this state.

As quickly as it came, it fades, freeing him from an icy grip. Sunday stumbles, reaching for Fou-Lu's arm, the hand still on his shoulder. He grips it tight like a lifeline, trying desperately to steady himself. A quiet sob tears itself from his throat. Fou-Lu worried. Cared. Needed him to be okay.

Sunday needs the same, for him, too. Needs him to be well, to be okay, to not be standing here begging on his behalf-- His body is cold, but his tears are hot, burning. Something like guilt unfurls in his chest, and he feels leaden with the weight of it.

"I-I'm sorry." For making you relive that. For worrying you. For making you become attached to something like me. "Fou-Lu... I'm here."

He was alive. Okay. His stress, his worries having been torn from him, eaten away by that strange, magic woman. What was left? What could be left of him, now? She had taken something from him.

"I couldn't move.. Couldn't speak. She cast some sort of spell-- I don't understand."

Sunday stumbles and Fou-Lu wraps him in his arms. He can feel the other's heartbeat, hear his breath - it's calming and reassuring and he feels like he can finally breathe. Some kind of spell -

"I wilt discuss this with whomever 'she' doth be later. Right now -" He picks up the halovian and cradles him in his arms. He starts walking towards the residential decks, stops - no. They don't have time. "How long until... we art out of time?" Precise timekeeping has never been his strength.

"Do not be afraid." Energy wraps around him like a wild frozen wind and when he emerges, he looks different. He reaches out for a railing and grasps onto it with a clawed hand, holding on firmly. "I shalt protect thee." His voice is gruffer, his teeth suddenly sharper and harder to get words around - but he will do his best. He'll gouge claw marks into the deck if he has to in order to keep his person safe.

... When did this become 'his person'? A question to examine later.

"I... barely understand what happened myself. Let me gather my bearings before... Before anything."

The implication of the other's words do not reach him, here, like this. Something was missing... He couldn't explain what that something was, if he tried. Fou-Lu's arms around him are grounding, steady. It helps, as his stress had been carved out of him, left him empty and fearful and much too cold. The other's voice asks if they were out of time, and the clock keeping its score at the back of Sunday's mind whispers yes. He wipes away at his tears, swallowing back a sob.

"...We are."

Sunday's voice is quiet, hushed. His frost-tipped wings quake, they needed to brace themselves. He's not sure how well he could even try, if standing at all had become too much. He tries to point to the harnesses on the floor-- Even if it meant he himself were not strapped in, he could.... He could try to help Fou-Lu, surely. His hands had to be good for something.

The Endless seemed to have another idea, quite literally just scooping him up into his arms. Sunday simply allows it, relaxing, letting the other lead. Fou-Lu's voice reassured him, telling him not to fear. That he would protect him. Even as the other changes, appearance morphing into something not quite man and not quite beast(in between, incomplete, Sunday knows.), the halovian finds he has little energy for much. Though his brain still counted down the minutes, the seconds left before the jump, he felt ambivalent at best about it, his thoughts too filtered through fog to begin to worry about it all, about anyone else that could still dangle within that balance. His only concern was Fou-Lu, the one closest, nearest to him.

And yet, a quiet admittance, one he doesn't quite have the brainpower or the focus to unpack all that well currently, slips out in response.

"I'm not afraid. Not with you."

His fear was still present, but quiet, swirling around his uncertainty toward what exactly Aurelia had done. He was secure, in the grasp of someone he trusted-- A strange thought. When had his walls been broken down? Worries of whether or not he could trust Fou-Lu were tossed to the wind: He had come. He was here. He seemed to want him safe. This Endless, godlike, worshipped, not yet whole, had come to him, before any god or Aeon had. Sunday's prayers had not once ever been answered. And yet, Fou-Lu was here. Was that not enough?

Sunday closes his eyes, deciding that perhaps... Perhaps it was.

"I am... Sorry, if I am burdening you, like this."

When the Ship breaks into a run, when it jumps, Sunday buries his face into the other's chest. He trusts him. He knows they will be safe. If the other were to fall, if this became too much for him, Sunday doesn't know what he'd do. How to help. But he would still try. He had to. If only he could protect him, protect anyone he held dear.

When it ends, when it all settles, the storm above seems to finally break, raining heavily down upon them. The water, combined with the chill remnants of Aurelia's magic, settles into his bones. He shivers slightly, even in Fou-Lu's arms.

"I'm not afraid. Not with you."

The words echo in his mind and he keeps his grip tight, bracing himself and holding on with everything he has. They jolt a bit as the ship jumps, that strange gut feeling of wrongness of being flung into the air without being actually flung making his stomach faintly hurt, but he turns and adjusts so that Sunday presses into him rather than the railing when they land.

And then it stops. And the skies open up, and while the rain doesn't bother Fou-Lu he needs to get the other out of the cold. Feathers don't do well in it, so he holds Sunday close while he starts walking towards a more covered area of the ship.

As he walks he releases the form, continuing to hold Sunday with little difficulty. He lifts a hand and presses it against the back of the other's head, slowly working through his hair. He's... seen others do this. It's supposed to be comforting, but he doesn't know what it feels like. No one's ever comforted him - aside from her and this young man.

It's a feeling he doesn't know what to do with.

"... Thou art safe. I wilt stay with thee for a while, if that doth be your wish." He's just going to quietly take Sunday towards the lounge - it's a public area but hopefully people are busy unbuckling and calming down. "Otherwise I shall leave thee to thy business."

He doesn't want to leave Sunday alone like this, but he also wants to respect what the other's wishes. He's still angry over whatever caused this... affliction, but his anger is not going to be useful here.

Being carried... It's not a feeling Sunday can say he's used to. He finds it... comforting, in a sense. To know that his safety was ensured by another. That Fou-Lu wouldn't let harm come to him. As the other man shifts, making sure Sunday wouldn't hit the railing upon their landing, even as their stomachs lurch... The halovian feels warm. Fond. This gentleness, this care. It touches him in a way few ever had.

The rain is harsh on his cold skin, his feathers, but not for long as Fou-Lu heads towards somewhere more sheltered, away from the storm overhead. Fou-Lu's form shifts again as he walks, his hands returning to normal, no wings peeking out from behind him, the tear stain markings on his cheeks fading, his hair settling. Sunday watches, curious. Wanting to witness it this time, witness him, without being so horribly lost in his own thoughts.

A hand pets at his hair, gentle. He almost leans his head into it before freezing, thinking better of it, for a moment.

"Ah-- Mind the halo." Sunday manages, decidedly moving it out of the way, so it hovers just out of reach. He didn't wish to cause Fou-Lu any more undue duress--- He'd been trouble enough. "It... isn't pleasant to touch."

They begin to head... somewhere. Sunday's best guess is the lounge--- It should be relatively quiet, for now, with the jump out of the way, and everyone still gathering their bearings. It was... public enough that they weren't wholly alone, especially if anything happened due to the spell put on him earlier, but. Private enough, for now. Sunday isn't about to argue, leaning into his touch, closing his eyes.

"Please do. Stay, I mean." He's not sure what he'd do with himself if he were alone, now. If the other left. He needs... He's not sure what he needs. But the company was helpful. The kindness. Fou-Lu himself. It meant more than he could say, reasonably begin to understand, currently. "I don't wish to burden you further, but I would... much rather not be alone."

All of this to say that he desired his company.

He nods, careful to avoid the halo. He isn't eager to touch something that is... likely very sensitive. He doesn't want to cause either of them undue distress. It'll take a few minutes for them to reach the lounge.

"Then I shalt stay. Thou wilt be protected from any harm whilst I doth be here. I wilt make it so." There's a firmness to his voice. Sunday will be all right. Nothing will hurt him as long as he draws breath, and he's not going to let anything get in his way.

He'll freeze everything if he needs to, as long as this mortal is safe.

"Thy clothes art wet. Unfortunately heat doth be the domain of mine other half, I believe." He's never met him, but that seems right at least. "But I shalt keep thee as warm as I art able." It's... it's not like he wants to hold the halovian for some other reason. That'd be ridiculous.

"If thou doth need rest, I canst move us to a sleeping chamber. Thy request doth be what I shalt do." For the moment, at least. He's not bound to Sunday's command and that's... that's what's causing this strange feeling in his chest, isn't it? He's doing this because he wants to, not because he has to.

When was the last time - aside from with the farm girl - where that was the case?

Fou-Lu affirms to him that he would stay with Sunday, that he was protected, voice full of conviction. The halovian relaxes further into his arms, letting out a long sigh.

"I trust you." He means it. His voice is soft, as he looks up at him, smiling. "Thank you, Fou-Lu."

Sunday nuzzles into his chest. His own clothes were wet-- making the other man's clothes wet, as well. And... given that cold burst of energy earlier, Sunday understands. Fou-Lu was not a warm dragon at his core, and yet... He still tried, he still wanted to try to keep him warm. The gesture warms his heart, touches him, greatly. For the other man to still choose this kindness, after having been so burned before...

It leaves an ache in his chest, that Sunday can't quite name.

At the other's reassurance--- He would take him anywhere he requested, and remain with him even through it, the halovian considers to be taken to rest, as Fou-Lu had suggested. They had bathrobes within their rooms, which could suffice for dry and warm clothes, for now. They wouldn't be sitting in the lounge like that, about to catch a cold. Sunday thinks quietly for a moment, before speaking up.

"Before we get too far--" We. He was still being carried, and it made him feel... His heart seemed to beat strangely, the more he thought of it. In all truth, however, it was likely just... Easiest, rather than the Endless having to lead him around, when he could barely stand on his own. And he thinks... He would much rather be this vulnerable from the privacy of a room. "If it would be amenable. We could retire, for now. Wet clothes will leave us both with a chill. We have warm robes available to us. And... I fear running into her again, if I may be honest."

And honest he was, painfully. He knows the lengths Fou-Lu would go for someone he cared about. And while he personally doesn't... He doesn't think he deserves this care. He didn't wish for another situation to unfold, or for the other to feel unwell as a result of this, or...

She had eaten away his stress, and left him still fretting.

It would be easier for Fou-Lu to keep watch, as well, if they were. Together, in one room. That none could enter without a key. And Fou-Lu could rest if he needed to, all the same. There were two beds.

And yet, his face feels warm, asking this.

"None can enter without the proper key, as well. And we... wouldn't be far from the clinic. Please, accompany me. If. You would like."

He's rationalizing it to himself over and over, and trying desperately not to seem as though he felt like he wanted to command the Endless to do his bidding, like he could. His ear wings fold in on themselves, gently covering his cheeks, ready to shield his eyes, if he felt much too overwhelmed. Embarrassed, shy, even, at his request. Foolish.

He stops when Sunday starts talking again, looking down at the other. "Very well." He starts walking towards the fourth residential deck before pausing. "... Which deck doth thy room be on?" It's not like the rooms are labeled, and his own room only has a single bed. ... Which doesn't bother him, though now he wonders about whether he should seek to get another.

Once Sunday points him the right way he starts walking once more. He presses his forehead to the top of the other's head for a moment, a gesture of intimacy. He's not sure why he feels the need to do it, but he does.

... His chest feels strangely warm as he continues to carry Sunday. Something like seeing the smiles of his people, long ago... it's enough to make him try to turn over in his mind why he keeps feeling like this around Sunday. What is it that the younger man has done to cause him to feel like this? And over and over it's the same answer, the same one he got from Mami. Kindness, without regard for his status as a god or an emperor.

Just the simple kindness of someone who doesn't care about who he's been, but who he is. He can't help but wonder what would be the outcome if all were as kind as them? ... He wouldn't have his current plans if they were all like this, for certain.

"... Doth thou require the clinic? If thee art injured, I canst heal thee."

ENJOY

free for all! come say hi!

Sir my friend my buddy your signal cut out, u good??

freemzie pop

Time to defrost the chicken...

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The cold never bothered me anyway// shoves Kaeya in

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I feel like Im listening to a horror movie synopsis

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