#Monkhiin the Vigilant

[ladyarjuna]

△ - Can we get a quick recap of that whole Galactica plotline?

3, but only because it’s a long ass fuckin’ story. 

Oh, man. Okay, so. Less than a month after we put Nehelenia back in the ground where she belongs, Mamoru went to America and promptly vanished from the face of the earth. 

We were understandably concerned, but let’s be real for a minute: Chiba’s a hard man to find if he doesn’t want to be found. 

We also started running into Phages, which as usual, is what happens when you remove a soul from a human being. Our team was unusual in that we could reverse phages.

It was at this point that our house in Saitama was attacked at the same time as the Workshop was struck from hyperspace. A lot of us died in that moment. In impossible nuclear fire, as the degenerate matter generator lost cohesion, leading to a neutron explosion. 

With Mado by our side, we destroyed the animating intelligence of the ship that struck us, Sailor Horologia, and took control of the kilometer-long battleship, which we re-dubbed the Broken Horologia, as a deliberate mockery of Shadow Galactica and Galacia herself. We sought to break the constellations themselves. 

It was hubris. 

Not long after this happened, we-- that is to say, Trunk-- decided to follow her sympathy to Mamoru to find him and see what’s going on. 

She ended up in Galaxia’s throne room, and... Well, the results were predictable. She died. 

But before she did, she did two very important things: She stole back Mamoru’s soul from Galaxia’s throne room, and she sent unto us a warning, with the final ability of her Stand-- using its control of electromagnetism to inscribe her personality and Will into ceramic orbs, which could use her Stand’s ability. She called it Dearly Beloved. 

Gathering the remains of Dearly Beloved, she warned us all of the coming of Shadow Galactica, and we took action, destroying Iron Mouse and putting a stop to the Phages. 

As a result, Tokyo burned in a climactic battle between the Senshi, Beacon, Jack, Naru, and the remaining Animamates. 

Ami Mizuno lost her life in that fight, not just to the flames which threatened to ignite the atmosphere, but also to trying to restore Tokyo. 

She was not fully successful. 

Repairs to the Horologia took longer than expected, and we ran into a problem. We would need either many, many more technicians than we had... Or we needed to make someone the new animating intelligence of the Horologia. 

Beacon volunteered. I remember the pain each time she hooked into the massive ship, the strain it was putting on her. How exhausted she was. But she did it. Because she wanted to be there. She wanted what we all--

I’m digressing. 

They went to Pluto, to discover a trap already in progress, which became a massive clusterfuck. Jupiter lost her life in eliminating Sailor Aluminum Siren, as Siren became a sympathetic beacon to draw Galaxia’s incredible destructive power. 

From there we proceeded through the Tannhauser metastable point to a nearby interstellar nebula, and stopped because we discovered something no one expected: an artifact of capricious and random power. 

And what we got... Was an adviser. Not all was well in Galaxia’s camp. One of her greatest generals instead defected, for she had read the skein of history, and could predict where Galaxia’s plans would put her future. 

Beacon asked the greatest vizier in the galaxy the way to the golden ending, and the historian of the galaxy, the galaxy’s memory and archivist, Sailor Mnemosyne, provided. 

Now armed with a powerful channel for the three goddesses beyond dimensional conception and knowledge, they set out to do something Galaxia did not expect: a billions-to-one opening of three hyperspatial jumps which cut across the length of the galaxy and then doubled back. 

Just as word reached Galaxia of this blunder and error, Beacon and the others arrived, crashing the Horologia into Galaxia’s Bastion, that oversaw the seal upon the Galaxy Cauldron. 

In those final moments leading to its unsealing, the supermassive black hole, Sagittarius A*, the remainder of the Inner Senshi died, slain by the attendants, Psi and Chi. 

Everyone was gathered unto the border. 

And Galaxia broke the seal. Before us was a naked singularity, a font of magic and danger. For sealed inside was the demon god, Chaos, and lo, these many centuries, Galaxia had finally made good on her bargain. However long. However briefly. Chaos was, at last, free. Free to wreak the havoc that it had desired. Free to consume the life that had escaped the Cauldron. Sailor Moon made ready to seal it-- 

And then, Beacon stepped forward, let the gravity take her, and dragged Galaxia in with her. 

All became chaos. And in the end, all Chaos was scattered across space and time. 

And so, too, were we. 

I am the last. The others remember, but of all of the world, I am the only survivor. 

It hurts. 

It hurts so much. 

I didn’t know being separate from them-- I didn’t know it would leave such a yawning void in my heart. 

Almost everyone came back. 

Except them. They’re gone. Gone. 

I don’t know what happened after they fell into the singularity. The event horizon covers all. But I do know this: They succeeded. Or else we would surely all be dead. 

So I wait. 

And watch. 

My vigil continues.

[ladyarjuna]

likeclearwater‌:

ladyarjuna‌:

likeclearwater‌:

– You know where she is. 

You could have known this whole time! You could have told us! 

That’s where you’re wrong!

I know that her remains are not to be found or recovered. I know that her soul is still active, as my nascent soul has grown, slowly, to cover my breath and my loss. 

Where is she? Outside the range of powers this universe can command! 

And if that’s all you came here for– If– if that’s all I matter to you people– 

get out.

!!! 

– Harken– … 

I thought you were hiding her from us. I… It doesn’t matter what I thought. 

If you’re trying to establish your own life, that’s. I understand that. 

But that’s not the whole story, is it? For either of us.

-- wow you really don’t get it. 

How many days has it been since the first time she died? 

How many days has it been since you got back? 

What have you not done.

[ladyarjuna]

hey so we were gonna sit down and have a proper christmas dinner. you want i should save you a seat?

... I’d like that? 

[ladyarjuna]

Lore Dump: “The Tower”

tl;dr This is what happens when Freakazoid isn't a kindly computer nerd, but instead a virulent misogynist who absorbs shitty internet forums and argues about who is better between asuka and rei

The proper name of The Tower, to anyone who’s never fucking been there, is “The Osaka Hikkikomori Genius Locus”, named for its (now unknown) creator. It is, in fact, named for the only two facts we know about him. 

We also know that the place was established in 1988, in the middle of the Japan tech boom, and that the hikkikomori survived. She is currently the yamato nadeshiko type, Owari Nara, and was transformed at some point in the genius locus's history, though no one interviewed is sure just when it happened. 

What little else is known is this: the person who would become Owari Nara was utterly obsessed with idols and the ideal of the perfect wife. He spent hours upon hours on the fledgeling Internet and Compuserve debating the various merits of idols, body types, discussing the current idols of the day, and hurling spite upon spite on those that had fallen from the ideal. One day, the obsession, will, and the new power of the computer combined to create a true prodigy. The house was reported as sinking into the ground as the computer glowed and overheated.

What truly happened was the creation of a genius locus, a new font of magic. Immediately detecting the curse, the Mage Association sealed the locus until it could be exploited. Initial forays determined that the curse had been growing exponentially, so instead it was simply determined to be a lost cause and sealed. 

The Cunning One (Nostus Harken) opened the seal and felt its restrictions upon her, and immediately fled; for the more powerful you were, the more powerfully you would be sealed, until little remained but your wits and a knife. Having run into these sorts of dungeons before, she scribed a warning outside the building, left, and promptly forgot about it for 30 years. In the intervening time, mages, head priests, warriors... All of them headed into what, unbeknownst to the hikkikomori, was a growing, deepening dungeon under the streets of Osaka. The curse, without direction and becoming nearly a mere grudge, enacted its lust and murderous will on the intruders. Those that survived even this had a further trap waiting for them-- for in the intervening years, the hikkikomori had written books. 

Carefully bound by the power of the locus and burning with subtle, directed, transformative magic, those who read the tomes on the things a perfect example of whichever beloved 'type' the hikkikomori had waxed poetic on for a year or more, transformed as they continued to read. Should they desire any of the useful or powerful information within, the mental compulsion to continue reading and absorbing the information, letting the magic transform you further, took hold.

In this way, no fewer than 36 people, including the hikkikomori himself, were lost to the curse of the locus. With no one left to sink the vast magics that were building in the locus, the rudimentary, instinctual intelligence within was forced to come up with other ways. The fierce protections became fiercer, which in turn gave off more magic. Deepening the dungeon alleviated some of the pressure, but caused more throughput. And the terrifying magics of the people within only fed this growing engine. 

One of the ways in which this sink was accomplished was the equipping of monsters. For the locus feared the Cunning One, though she had shown herself only briefly, and equipped its constructs to be worthy threats to her. The other was the creation of noble metals from base ones; a process which took months to years, but which nevertheless constantly drew down a stable amount of magic.

In this manner, in the deepest pits of the dungeon, well-lit and living an idyllic life while waiting for their hero, the heroines of the dungeon talked some about their past lives. As beings cursed and controlled by the locus, they could no longer leave. And so commanded to protect the place, they waited. And learned. And loved, until little of their past selves remained. This, too, was as the locus preferred. And it all worked, until the day two weeks after Beacon died and Trunk was ejected from the universe. For the Cunning One had, indeed, returned, but instead, she had brought a soul-shard of her grand-daughter. The Vigilant, then known as Metier, was the last surviving soul-shard, and Nostus felt it best to care for her-- or, at least, take her mind off her loss for a little while.

The systematic destruction of the defenses took four days. 

In the end, in its absolute panic, it attempted to brute force the godly power within the Vigilant, now named Monkhiin and adopted by Nostus Harken. 

The contest of wills failed, and Monkhiin simply took the knowledge it offered and gave only one bare inch of her bustline to the curse. Defeated and awakened, and now under Monkhiin’s control, the dungeon began to rise once more... 

This is the form of the tower now; part demiplane, part physical place, part giant mansion, part deparment store. Magic flows still through every pore, and in every brick. 

Taking inventory alone took three weeks of dedicated work; Monkhiin had taken a fortune in magic, precious metals, and gems. 

More than that, however, were the women. Monkhiin, wise, charming, but not, perhaps, intelligent, figured that the best way to get the women to go away was to give them what she figured they wanted-- their freedom. They were free to leave. She would even help them establish new identities and find new interests and occupations. 

She had underestimated gratitude and genuine words. And so, now she has a lot of women who want to love Monkhiin without understanding her reasons or her methods. 

It promises to be quite interesting... 

[ladyarjuna]

[Six months since Trunk died.] 

[Nearly two months since the Hall of Whispers went silent.] 

[The sky overhead is cloudy. It’s 52 degrees. Colder, actually, since you’re not at sea level.] 

[The sea breeze blows dramatically through your bedclothes.] 

[It’s not getting any easier. Trying to raise Jones in this madhouse. Trying to live with the silence. Sure, you’re richer in money, magic items, and the attentions of hollow, rootless women...] 

[But if money meant anything to any of you, it was as means to an end, not an end in itself.] 

[You look down from the balcony at the streets below.] 

[... You keep looking.]

[ladyarjuna]

How many Pochacos tall are you?

One. 

About .8, but that was a year ago. I’m probably taller now. 

About 1.5. 

[ladyarjuna]

Monkhiin looked at the sweater dress, now gathered in. It made her look even bigger. Her memories were full of vague recollections that most of the others had looked at this and decided to discard sweaters forever from their wardrobes.

Thus, to perhaps no-one’s surprise, her response was, “I think the usual expression is ‘I want thirty’.”

Art credit to @mlsws.

[ladyarjuna]

So it's SUPER round and, for lack of a better word, obtrusive, but your thighs look natural, connecting to them?

I mean you tell me. 

[ladyarjuna]

*stuffs a tiny lil Josuke plush between the boobs*

You could have just put it in my room, Tower.

[ladyarjuna]

Bluntly i’m not getting any of them a Christmas present. 

[ladyarjuna]

I'll try. I haven't expected any others, since Things Happened.

... i mean. it’s okay. you can say... uh. 

You can mention it. 

[ladyarjuna]

Hard to tell, from the front, but it looks like a yes.

I see you’ve forgotten all about the others, huh?

[ladyarjuna]

I want in too

... Who are you again? 

[ladyarjuna]

If given the chance, how many plushies do you think you could fit between them?

How big are the plushies? 

[ladyarjuna]

*plushie anon voice* Can I join too?

.... You made it a talking construct. 

.... Clearly I need to find more ways to sink daily magic inflow.

[ladyarjuna]

!! tower, is this what I think it is. 

“Yes, mistress. That is a Cauldron of Resurrection.” 

[... ... I mean. Of all the things that would come up in flotsam and jetsam, you suppose that this one is inevitable given the local cosmology.]