capemods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
capemods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2014-01-07 04:57 pm
capemods) wrote in capeandcowllogs2014-01-07 04:57 pm
Entry tags:
- *open,
- alastair | hacker,
- danger | n/a,
- edward nygma | riddler,
- frank castle | the punisher,
- frederick chilton | chief of staff!!,
- gemma doyle | n/a,
- gilbert nightray | n/a,
- jenny quantum | eclipse,
- kanaya maryam | sylph of space,
- karen starr | power girl,
- karkat vantas | threshecutioner,
- kate kane | batwoman,
- kirei kotomine | the overseer,
- lillian crawley-jeffries | diamond lil,
- molly hooper | n/a,
- nill | n/a,
- peter parker | spider-man,
- renee montoya | n/a,
- rikku | machina maw,
- scathach | the shadow,
- steve | superhero steve,
- tony stark | iron man,
- valeria richards | n/a
of those blackholes & revelations
WHO: All imPorts.
WHERE: Atropos.
WHEN: January 7th to January 14th.
WARNINGS: Death and destruction.
SUMMARY: Atropos has risen in the night, and the inevitable has come: with her jaws she shears away the City from Earth and swallows it whole.
But the City is not yet dead.
FORMAT: Whatever you please.
The formless mass of metal haunting above, hovering like a lunar tombstone, begins to take shape. Asteroids plummet into the cheeks, the eyes, carving out bone structure. Her features howl with fury, with triumph, as she stares down below, savoring her conquest. A cavity opens. Metal swoops to form jagged, angry shears. Her teeth are born.
She waits as the world rotates, its spin more wobbly than it used to be.
And then she leans down to feast, her bite vampiric. She takes the City and then some, and all that it encompasses, so that every single imPort is captured. She takes the time to drink in any stragglers, any imPorts elusive to the City's thrall.
She holds the City on her tongue as she draws back her fist to punch the world.
And then teeth close to the shuddering, glass shattering vibration of a cosmic laugh. The jaws close, and there is no light for about an hour -- until Atropos begins to siphon solar energy from the sun into her veins. She is dissatisfied with its dying tint, or perhaps she cannot stand the redness of color, so once she injects this energy into her her body (her most intimate domain), she turns it bright yellow again. The universe within her is illuminated.
The City is a floating chunk of broken skyscrapers and puckered asphalt streets. The trauma of consumption has wrecked the usual infrastructure: buildings are half collapses, or skeletal, vehicles are flipped and strewn across the layout. Whatever vegetation that is still clinging onto life has rejoiced under the return of normal sunlight.
You can breathe. It isn't too hot, or too cold -- it's unusually pleasant, in fact. The sunshine veins that light your world are not overwhelming. There is no blue sky to complement the atmosphere, and whatever water still in the City will be constrained to the bottled kind found in shops.
But there are other floating pieces of worlds, and they might have water. Or food.
If you live in the City, your possessions should still be in the City. While about 76% of the natives have fled the City (which had gotten the brunt of focus over the past week), there are still some natives who were too sick, too sentimental or too stubborn to leave.
You'll find that your powers work normally, though you can't teleport within Atropos. You probably wouldn't want to teleport outside of her, anyway.
She swallows, and the City gentle glides down a slick throat. Dust and particles create stunning visuals, like the aurora borealis, except in warmer colors. Light reflects so easily from solar veins and starstrewn flesh.
While you can breathe easily, gravity is fickle. Physics is often defied. Atropos was never one to play by the rules.
WHERE: Atropos.
WHEN: January 7th to January 14th.
WARNINGS: Death and destruction.
SUMMARY: Atropos has risen in the night, and the inevitable has come: with her jaws she shears away the City from Earth and swallows it whole.
But the City is not yet dead.
FORMAT: Whatever you please.
The formless mass of metal haunting above, hovering like a lunar tombstone, begins to take shape. Asteroids plummet into the cheeks, the eyes, carving out bone structure. Her features howl with fury, with triumph, as she stares down below, savoring her conquest. A cavity opens. Metal swoops to form jagged, angry shears. Her teeth are born.
She waits as the world rotates, its spin more wobbly than it used to be.
And then she leans down to feast, her bite vampiric. She takes the City and then some, and all that it encompasses, so that every single imPort is captured. She takes the time to drink in any stragglers, any imPorts elusive to the City's thrall.
She holds the City on her tongue as she draws back her fist to punch the world.
And then teeth close to the shuddering, glass shattering vibration of a cosmic laugh. The jaws close, and there is no light for about an hour -- until Atropos begins to siphon solar energy from the sun into her veins. She is dissatisfied with its dying tint, or perhaps she cannot stand the redness of color, so once she injects this energy into her her body (her most intimate domain), she turns it bright yellow again. The universe within her is illuminated.
The City is a floating chunk of broken skyscrapers and puckered asphalt streets. The trauma of consumption has wrecked the usual infrastructure: buildings are half collapses, or skeletal, vehicles are flipped and strewn across the layout. Whatever vegetation that is still clinging onto life has rejoiced under the return of normal sunlight.
You can breathe. It isn't too hot, or too cold -- it's unusually pleasant, in fact. The sunshine veins that light your world are not overwhelming. There is no blue sky to complement the atmosphere, and whatever water still in the City will be constrained to the bottled kind found in shops.
But there are other floating pieces of worlds, and they might have water. Or food.
If you live in the City, your possessions should still be in the City. While about 76% of the natives have fled the City (which had gotten the brunt of focus over the past week), there are still some natives who were too sick, too sentimental or too stubborn to leave.
You'll find that your powers work normally, though you can't teleport within Atropos. You probably wouldn't want to teleport outside of her, anyway.
She swallows, and the City gentle glides down a slick throat. Dust and particles create stunning visuals, like the aurora borealis, except in warmer colors. Light reflects so easily from solar veins and starstrewn flesh.
While you can breathe easily, gravity is fickle. Physics is often defied. Atropos was never one to play by the rules.
open
Then darkness engulfs her.
When Peej awakens, it's dark and it's difficult to breathe with dirt and ash filling her airways. She feels crowded. Finally getting past drowsiness, she realizes she's caught between piles of cars and buildings.
However, she's not dead.
The sunlight that peers through cracks in the rubble is a small relief. She gets to her feet and shoots out from the rubble, pieces of rock, glass, and metal falling aside. She hovers in her spot and for a moment, she's both speechless and breathless. In silence can she only gape at what's left of the City. ]
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she brushes back the hair between her horns as she straightens herself back up. ]
Thank goodness. You can fly.
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#cat owner problems
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Only slightly startled, Lancer glances between his intended rescuee and the brick in his hand before tossing it over his shoulder with a dismissive shrug.]
Well... Good to have you back.
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( closed to felicia )
[ Momentarily distracted by Atropos' end of the world poetry jam is a ripe opportunity for Peej to be struck down by a large, mechanical cat with a bald man's head. She slams into upturned concrete, breaking through a few feet of it. The freakish man-robot-panther doesn't pause, pouncing after her form below.
She forces herself up by her arms, shaking her dizzying head. ]
... gimme me a break.
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Open!!
Not exactly good for a man who was often fighting to stay in control in every way.
Thankfully, he could fly which meant he had something pretty important, with the floating masses that seemed to surround the City. There were buildings and items that floated, occasionally dipping with the shifts and changes in gravity.
He even found trouble occasionally himself. He'd sink, or lose traction entirely. Gravity seemed to vanish, only to pick up moments later. Compensating for certain forces was an important part of being able to fly. Unpredictably it changed, at the drop of a hat.
He swore, when he started to sink again, close to the ground this time when tons of metal started to fall. ]
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In the near distance, light refracts off golden metal. Eyes still adjusting to the permanent lightshow, it takes a moment for Spidey to process what he's seeing. But when he does he flails, nearly careening into a floating Buick.]
Tony!
[A moment to reorient himself, then he grabs and locks onto the hood with his spider-cling, bracing on all fours before he leaps, the car tumbling away subjectively below him. He sweeps his arms and legs back to cut down on air resistance, letting inertia carry him forwards like an arrow.]
Don't get your iron underoos in a twist, I'm on my way!
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Hooold on–!!
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oh my god this might post like four times fuck airport wifi
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open:
Quiet. Warm. Lightless.
The primordial soup itself couldn't be as lonely.
The streets hushed with doom.
Moments, minutes trickled by. Edward Nygma adjusted to the cosmic blackness, fumbling, gasping, hoping to keep crawling.
And then, a surge of light flowed -- rushing through inhuman veins. He covered his eyes, yelling out, screaming for Felicia. For anyone.]
Anyone?!
[Until his eyes adjusted again, from darkness to bright illumination.]
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her clothes had seen better days -- ripped in places, and dirty -- but the woman herself was expectedly unmarked. ]
Hey, y'still in one piece?
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open
she takes a moment to catch her breath, reflexive tears collecting at the corners of her eyes.
this is bad. but she's survived bad before. she's diamond lil, after all -- she's annoyingly persistent, especially when it comes to making it against the odds. what matters now is finding something or someone familiar. she can handle the end of the world, but losing the people close to her is another matter entirely. still, knowing where to begin looking in this mess isn't easy.
she starts walking down the broken street. ]
Dammit.
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a thousand days late
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open!
it's the pain that ultimately convinces her that this isn't some kind of shitty afterlife. her head is throbbing and disoriented when she tries to read her surroundings, like space itself has come unraveled and the threads have all been cut. it's a sensory overload she hasn't felt since tiraforsae, a klaxon blaring in her head that this space is not hers.
she hears a whine not far from her, drawn to her light, and the approaching shape in the dark settles into her big white dog. she says the magic word and the charm she put around his neck shines its own light. she wonders if they won't be the only lights in the city, and that's enough to know she can't stay here. light isn't something to be hoarded.
it's a tricky walk all the same, and her steps are very careful, but it isn't long before the sky erupts in its own light, cracks forming through the darkness and illuminating it all. she might have been premature in thinking this isn't the afterlife, the endless expanse is nothing like any world she's known before. but maybe that's a point for it, as it couldn't come from her memories, either.
the light excites the dog, and he runs on ahead, but his footing suddenly loses the ground, leaving him to float in the air in distress. he whines and howls, fidgeting enough to put him into a spin, and she runs up to grab him, but he already risen out of her grasp. ]
Cake! Cake, get down from there this instant!
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she carries with her the distinct smell of cigarette smoke-- probably because she has one half-smoked and tucked behind her ear. despite a light layer of dirt and debris, that's enough of a giveaway, on top of the prison uniform and karkat's sweater. still, spirit of the century or not, the dog is a big one, and without the help of faulty gravity, jenny is forced to put him down.
glancing up at kanaya, she gives a nonchalant half-wave. ]
Hey.
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( open )
the first thing she does after escaping prison is finding some rubble to vomit in. it's a lot to take in at once, the rush of power returning to her after almost a year of feeling nothing, being nothing. it's like swallowing an entire cosmos of energy back into herself. it's also like becoming whole again.
she wipes a trace of bile from the corner of her mouth, bracing herself on what remains of a brick wall as she catches her breath before digging into the pocket of her prison uniform. it's all she has on her, besides karkat's sweater and a single cigarette. she pulls the little stick out, pressing it to her lips. a snap of her fingers brings a blue spark to life, lighting the tip in a warm orange glow.
inhale. exhale. curls of smoke. of course it takes the end of the world for her to be free. jenny dwells on that a long moment in silence before abruptly shoving her middle fingers up at the beautiful streak of colors in the sky. ]
Fuck you.
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She could not bear the responsibility of causing anyone's death, even if they were all to die anyway.
Her own cowardice had sickened her, but it had not stopped her from going into the streets to help where she could. She helped move rubble from roads to form pathways for those attempting to find shelter, helped repair locks on doors and windows for those who wanted to stay barred inside. Pippa is always at her side, the St. Bernard almost delicately picking her way around the debris littering the streets.
She almost does not recognize the jail when she approaches, instead focused on the girl smoking outside. She is young, and vaguely familiar, but otherwise, Gemma had been ready to pass her by until she hears her speak. A smile crosses her lips and she pauses, placing a hand on Pippa's head.]
I do not think anyone could have said it better.
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Self-preservation isn't an instinct that comes easily to Bradbury, at least for his own sake, but for other people? Yeah, that comes as natural as breathing. So he's out among the ruins of the City trying to see what he can dig up in the way of supplies. With the loss of the cold weather, he's elected to shed the ugly sweaters and his suit jacket in favor of loose denim and a fitted shirt, making him a little less easily identifiable as the Mayor's bodyguard -- though some would say the suit doesn't really do much for him anyway.
Water is his first priority, so he heads for where he think's its most likely to be found, the remnants of a sizable grocery store a few blocks away from where he ended up. It takes him longer than he'd like to find it, the City's landscape nearly unrecognizable as it is. ]
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[The house around her is empty. A luxurious place, now torn apart by the darkness and the dust of destruction that lies outside and pours in through the windows, the doors, the cracks on the walls. Christine stands alone with her arms wrapped around her shoulders, a hug that shells her from the cold and from the atmosphere. She ordered the original owner to leave without a moment of thought - not for his sake, but for hers. She wants solitude in this time. She doesn't want to be seen by anyone because she doesn't want this to be the end.
Christine brings a hand up to her face, without make up, hair disarranged, clothes thrown on to cover her. She knows she's crying before the first tear rolls down her cheek, lips pressed together in an effort to hold it back. She cries because she's only human - but the notion doesn't make her sad. It doesn't make her desperate. It makes her angry. Angry that this is how it ends, furious that she isn't supposed to survive after all. After everything that's happened to her - once dead, twice alive - she's just supposed to go like this, unnoticed, with the rest of the world? No. No. That's not how it's supposed to be.
Both hands are on her head, now, fingers clawing into her golden hair. First she grits her teeth, taking in a deep breath, then she screams and throws the table next to her away in a fit of rage. Not even the sound of wood clattering and glass breaking is enough to crunch the towers of ire in her chest.
She is destined for greatness. Always has been. She's known this since she can remember, since the first days when she was paired up with her twin sister and written off as a half of a whole. That was never who she was. She became her own person, away from her sister, away from her family and anyone who could ever hold her back. She almost reached the top, once, and she's been close to it in this City she now considers her own. Still she wants more, more, more. She wants power and wealth and immortality.
This can't be the fucking end.]
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open.
Sometimes things followed rules he expected her guessed at, like how jumping from one floating platform in the direction of another got him there...but not always. He swallowed down on the nauseating waves of panic his body offered up – very little help in analysis and problem-solving, if you asked him.
Those he found on his way he made point to stop and check on, even if briefly, and with little aid to offer but an encouraging word and maybe a scrap of fabric for bandages. Sometimes, he found, it was enough to just hold a hand, grasp a shoulder...those kinds of connections were the sort his android body would've never let him understand; he could at least be grateful for that.
Floating in from the next disengaged chunk of concrete, he'd extend his arms where need be to slow or catch his movements to the next, and settle down to greet the next.
"Hello, there."
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She glided to a halt, all three feet and change of her standing on nothing, and looked Steve up and down. "Hello yourself."
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1/2 ish and i are throwing you a tag party
2/2 crashing into you
this is what it feels like to win the lottery and i like it
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JANUARY 9TH, 11PM TO JANUARY 10TH, 10PM
open:
But he needed water. He needed food. He was, and would always be, only a human being.
He dared outside, thinking he could ransack a lonesome quick stop deli. He dared to step outside.
Three bottles of water (still, no sparkling left, tragically) and some questionably old croissants that came prepackaged. Whoever thought to raid this ownerless company before him had taken all the good things. Chilton slinked back onto the streets, thinking about huddling in a corner with his boon. He took a deep breath.
He hadn't noticed the violet mist until it was in his nose, his mouth, his lungs. The sharpness in his body. Trying to cough it out, he stumbles off course.]
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open;
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no wait different icon
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open
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open
[ Kirei walks as if in a trance.
There is blood on his face, and it's uncertain if it is his own. He walks steadily, stumbling on rubble every so often but he does not fall. He slips since his gaze is upward and forward, transfixed by the horror laid out in front of him. He moves like a man in a dream, taking in the destruction, his eyes wide and his lips moving with long practiced verse. ]
And the beast that I saw was like a leopard; its feet were like a bear's, and its mouth was like a lion's mouth--
[ A mouth. A mouth had swallowed them all whole. They were devoured. This was the end of all things.He smiles. Every so often, his words are broken up for him to steady his uneven breathing. He's laughing -- laughing in a way so unnatural his lungs are uncertain how it process it; it leaves him breathless.
It could be mistaken for shock, but it's very much the opposite. ]
--and they worshiped the dragon, for he had given his authority to the beast, and they worshiped the beast, saying:
[ Kirei chokes on his laughter and he doubles over, clutching at his chest -- his false heart -- and tears sting his eyes.
It's perfect. ]
“Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?”
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Kurt's more tired than he's been in years, if not his entire life. Teleportation is impossible here, so it's running... Tons of running and attempting movement here, where it's impossible and everything feels like a dead end. He hates to say that things are hopeless, hates to collapse in, but he's quite close to it. This is dire. That's a horrific understatement.
And, of course, a howling chorus of Revelations comes into earshot. He'd ignore it, but he recognizes the man. And the laughter... Ach. Mad enough, isn't it?
He calls out as he approaches, visibly stressed and having exhausted panic a little while ago. ]
Oh, come off of it!
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and now the actual intended tag
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OPEN
He was safe, or so he thought. He was away from it. But no, he had to come back, to salvage what was left. His apartment was a lost cause, Hell Towers had disappeared for good into the stratosphere. He still had a few personal items at Dancitron, though, and a deep decision to make: should he give up his motorcycle, or the jet?
Alastair was in the cockpit of the Blue Eyes White Dragon jet, a cat-carrier with two meowing occupants in the copilot's seat, when it happened. He hadn't even been able to leave the tarmac. That meant he had a front row seat to watch something bigger than any Leviathan swallow the City, catching what was the airport a little too near its cosmic teeth for his comfort. When he came to, the jet was resting on its side, and the cats had gotten out of their carrier. Aome was sitting on his hip, while Pelor was curled in a little ball against his chest, as if worried about him while he laid unconscious, still strapped into the safety harness. It took him what seemed like forever to even fumble to open the buckles, let alone check himself for injury, find the latch of the cockpit, and let himself tumble out onto the cracked and blistered tarmac.
Or not the tarmac. The jet was no longer awaiting departure at a barely-used hangar at LaGuardia. Alastair couldn't even recognize what part of the City he had been thrown to while strapped inside the jet, or what was left of any of it. He couldn't even find the strength to stand, so all he did was curl his long legs under him and sit, staring into the darkness as it slowly became light. The cats sniffed around and, clearly not liking what they found, came and sat on him again. It was then, as their little furry bodies cuddled up to him, that he realized tears were pouring down his face.
For a young man with a lot of wartime trauma and a deep fear of being absorbed by the Leviathan, suffering not pain or death but true annihilation, Alastair was not equipped to deal with this. He thought of Kyosuke, of Bakura, Kaiba, and Mokuba, of Saitou, of Hiruma, and simply sobbed for what seemed like hours. He had nothing left, and didn't know where to turn. Who was even alive to see him lose his mind?
open as hell!! (AND NOW IN THE RIGHT SPOT...)
b.
a.
When she had gone out to look, she hadn't expected to stare up into the jaws of a monster so vast that for the first time in so long, her legs start to shake.
They collapse.
It is dark for what seems like ages.
Brightness returns, and it is like opening her eyes for the first time. She is on the concrete, her jeans and shirt torn, boots and hair covered in dust. Some miracle of fate is all that kept her from getting crushed by the debris that lay all around her. She stands, still unsteady, and wipes dirt from her face, looks around. The streets (everything is crushed, all that's left of some buildings is rubble, she can't think about how familiar it all is) are empty, except for a shadowy figure or two in the distance.
The steps towards one of them feel so heavy, but she cannot stop moving.]
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b. hey remember how i said we should get cr a month ago /cough
yes i recall lets do this
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o p e n
Pale lips are angled downward as she watches the humans below her panicking, looting and cowering in equal parts. It is miserable. But not unexpected. They only know how to react to such rapid change in one way: with fear.
The King Maker cannot feel fear, and it is this which sets her apart.
The weapons that had adorned the walls of her dojo for so long lay beneath tons of stone and metal, entombed cold and alone, far from their wielder. But the Daemon Slayer does not keep regrets. That would lead to a weakness that she and the people she is due to protect can afford. It is the life she has chosen for herself, when she gave up her place among the ranks of Immortals too proud to admit that their time was over. Mankind was still to rise, and it would not fall like this.
The earth splinters where she lands, her leap from dizzying heights not leaving a single hair out of place. The Shadow moves, silent but watching, waiting to answer any call for help.]
open.
It did not, and Molly wasn't sure anything could save them.
But that didn't mean she could slack off. There were people funneling in at all hours of the day and night (she didn't know which was which, time was a funny thing right now), and she had to be there to treat them. They worked in shifts, slept in shifts, ate in shifts. Hours dragged, and her hands never ceased working. The only bright side she could consider as she put a splint on a young man with a sprained wrist, was that in such a state of emergency, there wasn't any paperwork to fill out. Rather, if there was, she wasn't the one doing it.
She sends the young man on his way and opens the door of her designated room, voice tired but somehow still managing to hold a note of pleasantness as she calls out:]
Next, please!
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Uh, hey. Dr. Hooper, isn't it? I think my arm's dislocated-- there was a truck-- well, anyway. I tried popping it back in myself, but that didn't work so well.
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open.
The missing half of the roof could say it for her.
Nill steps around the broken wooden doors, Schnitzel trotting alongside her. The dog's tail is between her legs and she whines, but she follows her master regardless. It looks empty, which is disappointing--she had hoped to find Kate here, and she isn't sure she can wait. She had seen people breaking windows and starting bonfires on her way here, and wasn't willing to get caught up in that even with Naoto's katana and Heine's gun. But there are supplies here, left over from when Davesprite had roosted during his fight with John, and it wouldn't be long before someone else discovered them.
A few cans of food and bottles of water are all she can carry inside the small canvas bag she'd left here months ago. It will have to do for now. She goes to the altar, feeling for the panel that Heine had hollowed out long ago. A safe place to keep spare ammo was always important, he'd told her. The clips are right where he'd left them, not necessarily for her, but there's nothing to be done about that now. She doesn't feel quite right with them, but there's really no telling what could or would come through that void. If there are monsters coming, she isn't going to let them tear her apart without a fight.]
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Her motorcycle has been wrecked underneath pillars of steel and cement, so she moves on foot. Most of the buildings appear to be unstable, therefore she avoids using her line.
She carves a path to the only place she knows Nill will be: the church. She follows her gut and pushes onward, only picking up the pace as she gets close to its steps. Seeing the roof half-gone, she holds her breath while tension mounts her shoulders and hurries inside.
It better not have caved in. Please not with her inside.
The kicks in the broken doors to allow more room for her to pass. ]
Nill!
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OPEN! (Perhaps a little too much so)
Buildings shuddered and toppled, choking the streets and air with rubble and dust. Fires burned universally across the broken mockery of civilization that threatened to raze what Atropos hadn't yet destroyed. And among it all the fear crazed citizens scream and swarm the streets, lost in their despair. Heedless of their own safety.
Even with the majority of the city evacuated that still left near two million people stranded on this death trap of a nation.
With cold, single-minded efficiency, Lancer made his way through town. Using his supernatural strength and resources he drifted to one crisis to the next: Lifting a collapsed beam off of a pinned boy here, ripping a car door off and pulling a woman from a fiery wreck.
An essay in futility is what it is. What was the point with the world literally falling apart around them?
Each time he would set them right and move on without so much as a word. There was no thanks, no praise. In fact, more often than not the people he saved recoiled in fear or just looked him over and gawked at him.
As the last drag of the cigarette pressed between his lips burns out, he slaps around his bare flesh looking for a replacement. With a growl he realizes that under the circumstances, there is no more to be had. So he sets his face in a profound scowl and continues stalking along his automotous path, grumbling obscenities.
And so he continued on his endless quest, stalking through the city and finding people to save.
--Completely naked. ]
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[ It's a voice just off from Lancer's side. A bit down the ways, covered in shadow. Actually, if it weren't for the briefest flashes of pale skin that occasionally seemed to repel light like it was a pure bane to everything the paleness stood for, it might have even looked like it came from the shadows.
It was close enough, at least, to the truth. Shadows never looked so elegant, however, somehow not even phased by the chaos everywhere else, except for a slight stiffness in movement. As if the motions were being restrained by something -- and they were. Shade hadn't done so much walking since he'd learned he could step into shadows. He disliked the concept of having to physically move everywhere, and if that made him lazy, well then.
He was very lazy. ]
Just because all society is crumbling around us doesn't mean we need to lose all of our sensibilities.
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SNAUSAGES
it would be a dangerous risk not worth taking
Omg I never got a notification for this! I'M SORRY
that's okay! it got here eventually
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open
The City is still in chaos, of course - what's left of it, anyway. It's been in chaos for days upon days, and Minako has stayed and done her best to help people in whatever ways she could, whether that meant search and rescue, scrounging for water and supplies, or healing injuries with Messiah's power.
In the fractured remains of the City within Atropos, there are still people who need help. But Minako is exhausted.
In one of the places where gravity has gone haywire, in the midst of the great fragments of shattered city that float in the air, Messiah hovers, glowing with a soft, steady white light. The Persona's wings and arms form a protective circle, like a cracked-open eggshell, and from within this shelter Minako looks out over the wrecked cityscape with a distant, weary gaze.
"...Atropos... huh...?"
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Ultimately, she has to take the big dog in her arms and leap between the bigger fragments floating around, but not fully out of sight. Partly she's banking on the angelic being just not caring about some alien girl floating past while holding a Samoyed. It isn't like she's not doomed either way, just a matter of when.
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Re: open
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JANUARY 13th
Atropos's bluegreen lungs have specks of red and orange dotting them, and they are the remains of gaseous planets burning together; they are two gigantic clouds of methane, hydrogen, and oxygen and nitrogen glowing and swarming in ways that defy known chemistry. These clouds, when you enter them, provide an almost liquid feel -- as if the respective gases are poised to a degree just before liquidation, degrees that are unique to them.
Mermaid-like fish people swim within the gaseous masses, tridents and bone carved forks in hand. They're guarding something -- the entrance to Atropos's heart, which is located just behind the left lung. They sneer and shriek like intimidating guards might, but they don't seem to suffer any ill effects from the substance they swim within. If you want to enter that door, you'll have to sneak past these fishy Metamen.
The door to the heart itself is a literal door, encased in gold. The heart chamber is an exact replica of Lachesis's station that she had always lived within.]
so long, farewell
He has nothing with which to fight, but he has every last Seal of Oricalchos card in his left hand just in case. Nothing is going to stop him from racing up those stairs and getting to the Porter, getting out...and he's taking the cats with him.
Nobody else matters to him. If anything attacks him, he may die on these stairs. But right now, there isn't anything to live for. It's all the same to Alastair. If he can gain that door and throw himself on the mercy of the machine to please, for the love of god send him home, wonderful. If anything gets in his way, the Seal will eliminate that obstacle. It glows on his forehead for the last time as he runs until his chest burns and lungs ache, and then keeps running.]
and goodbye
open
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open! (and also cw I guess since she's dying)
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january 11th; closed to rua.
His disdain for the lack of a day/night cycle is of little importance when stacked up against the ongoing problem of water, however. He'd managed to scavenge some, on his first foray, but not nearly enough to carry them for much longer than another twenty four hours, and this time, he brings Rua in hopes that two sets of eyes (one actually made to see during the day) may work better.
He's unaware of the fact that they are being followed, instead kicking a chunk of concrete off the edge of the main body of the remains of the City, watching it float away for about twenty meters, before dropping sharply out of sight. ]
This shithole is completely wrung dry. [ He remarks, bitterly. ] I bet there's water out there, but fucked if I know how we're going to get to it, let alone get back.
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[Rua sighs and goes back to looking at his communicator.]
No, that's retarded. [He's been fiddling with his communicator and various other machines in the house near constantly, trying to make something that could be useful to them. Right now he's trying to get a motion detector working. Useful to make sure they don't get the drop on them, but he has no idea how well it's working, frankly. He decides to try and affect a more positive outlook.]
Hey - I'm sure it's not completely dried out! I mean, there's gotta be like - an office building somewhere with a bunch of jugs in the basement that somebody forgot about, we just gotta find it.
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