#cloudpools

[dcviated]

Nara's choice to run was a smart one. Any forward assault would have put her into the wave of rats that erupted from the manholes below. To say nothing of the swarm that clambered from the rooftops, a space for maneuvering was needed. The damp environment of the swamp-town put the small creatures at an advantage in far too many places.

"Oi. Where the hell did that come from?!" Wylan balks, the eye of the pommel twitching with embarrassment and anger at Nara's remark. "Pft, like you'd have picked me for a weapon if I'd been something small like that." He clicks his tone. Let alone that she hadn't really had a choice to begin with. "Besides, gotta keep you propped up somehow, right? C'mon." His wavelength could only do so much in the face of her destructive capability.

The repositioning saves them from the threat of being surrounded. Ichor waves of conjured rodents swirling about in the streets as the piper dances between the rooftops. Seeing him joined at that level by the meister and their weapon earns Nara a displeased stare. They're agile, and cocky, but far from helpless. A devilish sneer.

"Oh I see~. Planning something are you, meister? Well well! We need a fitting march for this parade. Come come along, me with all my friends." The flute rises to his lips, and the sound that leaves the instrument blasts into an echoing around and bringing the minions to bear.

The rats surge and undulate like an angry tide in the streets. It wasn't long before their teeth and claws were soon visible, streaks of white and red among the void. They were dispersed easily, but the issue wasn't strength but the numbers. They kept coming and coming. And being slowed down would be enough to allow the kishin soul to reach them.

Wylan focuses, or tries to.

It was only when she let him in that he could keep her in top shape after all. Still, this did feel different. He wants to be optimistic. There was still a distance between their amplitudes, yet the weapon could see something now in the fog when he reached out between his grip and her hand. They can work with that.

We'll... work with it...

Ugh. But alongside the frequency of energy between himself and Nara, Wylan feels something unsettling build as well with the new song that was being played. The resonance and noise from the rats and flute together bounces off his gut- or whatever accounts for it when he's a blade- and his mind stutters as the echo of a chitter wrenches him.

"Wait... Nara something's still wrong... with me... I'll try to handle it... you focus on the fight. I'm here with ya."

There wasn’t time for hesitation. Yet there she was. Staring at the undulating mass of black. The rats. Their voices ringing in her head.

“Failure.” “Weak.” “Killer.” “Murderer.”

Nara’s blood ran cold. She thought she’d had more resolve than this. She’d thought that the brief reprieve and the new bond between both her and her partner would give her the strength to finish this mission once and for all. Instinct alone had her reaching out for Wylan’s hand… His weight fluctuated in her grasp, matching the pounding of her heart, the wavering of her wavelength.

“We’re not making the same mistake twice.”

Wylan was right. Nothing would change if they tackled this fight the same as before. Jumping straight into battle, assuming their raw strength would get the job done. The narrow alley had been an issue. They were fighting on the enemy’s turf. Nara inhaled a sharp breath, steadying herself, her soul. Light as a feather now, the young meister took Wylan’s hilt in both hands, rearing back the blade, only to come full circle and take out the few rats that had snuck up from behind.

And then, she was running. Nara Branth was running AWAY from the fight.

“We need to get to the main square. It’ll be a more even playing field.” And the fact that everyone had disappeared made her feel it was safe to have their battle in the space. The fact that she had communicated her plan to him was a good sign. Normally, she’d make these decisions on her own. Execute them on her own. Now? She just had to make it.

Pools of black cropped up in their path, but Nara was laser focused, hurtling over some, kicking off the sideh of buildings to avoid others. Every so often she had to slash a hole through a wave of rats, Wylan cleaving through the sheet like butter, giving her just enough room to jump through. It felt good. Felt good to have him as her weapon. To have him in her hands.

Nara would never let go again.

Rounding the last corner of the alley, the pair emerged into the open square, sky still dark. Nara panted, taking a fraction of a second to scan the area, plan their next move. “There! We have to go up!” A ladder of thick vines lay draped along the side of the town hall. It was only a quick sprint away and she was standing in front of it, trying to figure out how to balance Wylan and climb at the same time.

“You couldn’t have been something smaller? Like a dagger?” Nara groaned, letting a bit of her usual self shine through. That was a good sign in its own way. She dared a glance back, only to find the dark skies encroaching slowly. Soul wavering for only a moment, she commits to the plan. “Looks like the piper is underestimating us. Let’s show him what we’re capable of.”

[lostusagis]

@cloudpools ask continued x

There was the internal conflict of believing dying in battle was the best way for a Yato's life to end given their love for battle, along with the self loathing he already had, then the thoughts of how his death would hurt someone extremely important to him too. As the blood would continue to fall from his wounds, so many things swarmed through his mind.

Of all people to find him though, it had to be her. That annoying samurai. He'd threaten her, but it was empty words since he was pretty sure a punch from him in this state would give the same amount of damage as a toddler. He'll bluff and play it off though. Kamui despised weakness, he hated the memories of being that weak child unable to do anything, the one who failed to kill his father when he needed to the most. Being vulnerable in front of someone he fights with is out the question.

He couldn't. He just couldn't.

What if she'll look down on him? It'll make him want to kill her even more.

He'd grit his teeth, still feeling the pain throughout his body. Hell, he was in so much pain he couldn't think straight. ''I'd rather bleed out than accept help from you get away from me. Worthless human.'' Words were hissed out, despite his current state.

[dcviated]

a comprehensive list of scenarios :: open

send a prompt for an encounter

@cloudpools sent: 60.  RESTRICTED :  for both muses to sneak into someplace they’re not supposed to be (For any muse to any other muse! Live your best life! SURPRISE ME)

Look, it's not like he's had a bad day but one or two things definitely could've gone better. Just enough frustration that when little things happened inconveniently it shot the bullcrap reaction up to 11. Like when the radio started playing a bad song he didn't wanna hear, so he picked it up and yelled at it before cranking a knob. Or a bucket of soap spills over and he falls prone, just because.

Harima isn't a fan of this job. It's rough. But the owners ain't bad folks. They'd understand if he slipped in after hours because he left his bag, right? He'd been in a hurry to leave! Get home and watch his samurai soaps! Ugh, well. Served him right for rushing home instead of making each step, didn't it.

Ah well. At least, for now, that simmering bad mood had fizzled out thanks to a satisfying end to the plot arc. Bad guys get their dues. Mangoku drops a hell of a one liner. That's enough to turn anyone's mood for the better like a sunny side up (that was most of his dinner, by the way) (the rest was rice).

"Alright, we'll move nice and quick before anyone sees me, and gets a hell of a wrong idea, and... uh. Hopefully doesn't call the cops. I get my bag and go. Now... where'd you go, little bag... should be around here somewheeere." The young lad calls out under his breath, using a small light on the ground to slip around towards the back room when--

"Wait. Who's there?! Uh! I'm not breaking in or stealing I swear, okay, I work here it's just... ....

...

........what the heck? A cosplayer?!" Just what was some dance-y idol looking person doing in here? "Some kinda pervert?! Hey!"

[cirocchio]

*SCREAMS*

CHIRPS IN SURPRISE

why can't people approach her in a normal way?

@cloudpools

[dracomultiverse]

Bad Ship - Zaire and Holly 😂 Holly is SO MEAN!

Suggest BAD ships for my muses!

I mean, she may be an asshole, but from what we've done so far...things could lead that way, really depends on how the story goes really.

Not the worst ship ever.

[the-haunted-office]

(A starter for @cloudpools ! Good luck, Blythe!)

Doomsday is bored. That's not a new thing. In fact, nothing is really new around the Office anymore - not the carpet, not the walls, not the visitors, not the cars that periodically run through it, not the other ghosts, not even the monuments that have been stolen and set up outside of it.

Certainly not her boredom.

The ghost doesn't even feel like destroying anything today, because that's not a new thing either. She's put plenty of holes in the vibrantly painted walls around here. Set fire to the 90s arcade carpet plenty of times. Defenestrated the couches more times than she can count. What's the point.

It's to the point where she doesn't even feel like scaring the shit out of anybody anymore. Not really. That's lost its fun, too. Most people don't react in a way that's funny these days. They either just stand there or try to come onto her. Nobody runs away screaming or begs for their life anymore. What kind of crap is that? Boring.

Except. Oho, wait, maybe she does feel like scaring the shit out of somebody after all, because here's a new potential customer now. This one looks promising. A younger folk - they're generally more likely to scare, like little Timmy who still flinches at the sight of her at her sharp-toothed grin and glowing yellow eye sockets.

With a small snicker, Doom goes up into the ceiling, passing straight through the tiles, and begins following the visitor overhead, watching her through the barrier. She can see through walls and other solid objects. She can even see her soul, if she has one.

She follows her around quietly for a minute or two, observing her, before deciding to making her presence known. All she does is giggle. A sound that's not inherently bad... if you know where it's coming from.

She follows up this giggle by making the lights flicker and softly saying, "Who's this little soul wandering my hallways? Ehehehehehe."

[mythicalminded]

@cloudpools - for nara & seven

"... You seem to misunderstand your position." the words are delivered blankly, with little intonation between each breath taken. the tall redhead tilts his head underneath the shade of the hood he has adorned, and he steps back, twirling the knife once pressed against her throat and sheathing it at his side. "And you don't seem the sort to do what I've been led to believe you would do. Apologies."

[emystic-old]

@cloudpools

"Hiiiii, Carter! Sittin' by yourself again?" She sought out the punk-looking schoolmate so much, that it was almost as if she could track him during lunch. Not waiting for a beat to sit next to him with her own lunch and with a bubbly expression on her face.

Opening her lunchbox to show the lunch she made, taking a sweet, but spicy meatball and blowing it for a moment before offering it to Carter. Her smile curled into almost a catlike curve on her lips. Lucy knew her cheery and talkative nature was probably annoying and pushed her bottoms. Nonetheless, a part of her enjoyed seeking him out and putting him under her radar.

"Try it! I made it myself, mi abuela's secret recipe."

[madderot]

Can you tell me more about your adventures? ((From Darla

𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺. Accepting.

"I don't see why not. They probably ain't all that interesting." He wasn't sure how much he'd done that was noteworthy- That wasn't illegal or at least concerning.

"I don't do it often, but sometimes I find myself crossin' the border for work. Only been that far up north once or twice. Too fuckin' cold for me. But I been t' Mexico plenty. S' nice enough down there- I don't usually got the time t' check it out though." He shrugged softly. "I do wish I could spend a little more time enjoyin' it." While it wasn't the safest place to be running drugs, he sometimes didn't feel like he had much of a choice.

"Even goin up north is different. I'd rather stay down south, but s' cool t' check out every now n' then."

[dcviated]

Zeyrfial regards Blythe curiously. His countenance doesn't betray any surprise, but there's something about the innocent curiosity that does instill that feeling. She's asking if she will share their fate, and her tone carried no sense of anxiety towards this revelation. That if it were so, she'd accept it readily.

"No. And yes." The archdemon responds, his words flat in tone akin to that of a teacher answering a question for a lecture. "They were all human at some point. But their fates were determined and decided upon by ...different contracts. Our contract, the one which you signed- did not surrender your soul but your life to me in service."

This payment which had been made in return for binding the darkness of her past. Intentionally vague as all contracts tended to be. This way the favor almost always played out for the demon or group that made it. With how fleeting normal mortal lives could be, this was simple done.

So long as that dark soul, Blane, was imprisoned or bound, his end of the deal was being fulfilled. It was part of another soul, so he could feed from it without causing death after all. A tumor. A blight. One that was filled with so much passion and fervent memory it was turning into a delicacy feeding from those pages. Not that he often did. All good things in moderation, after all.

"Make quick and destroy it, would you, my dear? Before it makes a larger mess to be cleaned up. As much as it made for an interesting experiment, it is not one I have any need to further humor."

Zeyrfial looks to Blythe expectantly. Then. Speaks again. To make things more clear for the girl.

"Finish the task I assigned you."

The small mercy if you could call it that, was that the manifesting humanoid continued to be pinned down by some unseen force. Though it thrived and thrashed against its bindings, it was only able to move a few feet at a time. An effort too pathetic to be called a chase.

DONT DO IT. LET ME GO. I DONT WANT THIS. ITS A CHEAT. HE LIED.

Pleading rings through Blythe's head while under the patient scrutiny of her master.

It wasn’t the being’s splitting form that frightened Blythe, but the echoing screams rattling in her ears and mind. She was empathetic by nature, and it hurt her to see them be so scared. What was there to be afraid of? Zeyrfial was kind. Zeyrfial would provide them a home. All in exchange for working under him.

Perhaps she was projecting… Perhaps she really wasn’t that far off.

Blythe listened quietly as the lord spoke, shaking her head when asked if she knew about the creature. How could she know? The world of magic and monsters had been relatively new to her. She winced as the voices in her head turned to pleading. Helpless.

Round, emerald eyes widen as Zeyrfial explains, his gaze on her, her thoughts whirling.

A human. Blythe was human. Was this to be her fate too? Maybe so. But she would accept it gladly for the months of solace she had already lived in the manor. As the sprites gathered around her, she bent down, scooping one into her hand. They had been her first friends in this strange place, and she had grown very fond of them and their presence. Never would she have realized that they had been like her once. Making a deal. Signing away their soul (souls in her case). Zeyrfial had ripped the books from her chest then, but left them tethered to her. Would he one day sever them?

The whimpering in her mind pulled her from those thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Blythe returned the husk to the group, shuffling feet making their way carefully through the tiny horde toward the suffering creature. It was in times like these that she found herself most brave. If nothing more than from her naivety at exactly what Zeyrfial’s nature truly was, though she had witnessed it firsthand. Blythe knelt beside them, gently petting what she perceived to be their head in an attempt to calm them. “I- I di- didn’t lie…” It’s a quiet whisper, meant only for them.

“M- master…” she starts, a little louder, emerald eyes darting from the cowering form to Zeyrfial and then off into nothing, trying to choose her words carefully. This situation invoked the same feeling as when Gurin had been speared to the wall with a javelin of ice, and the only thing she feared was him looking at her with the anger he had then. Yelling at her. Disappointing him. “Do th- they all s- start o- out l- like m- me?“ Maybe turning them into little water sprites made this easier for them? Maybe not everyone was as accepting of the world she now resided as she was… The poor thing she was trying to comfort was clearly in distress. Maybe this was a mercy.

[lostusagis]

@cloudpools asked: [ wounded ] sender patches up receiver's wounds (Nara to Kamui 👀)

𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺

''. . . . . .''

He wasn't happy about this.

He was irritated the entire time she patched him up. Mainly because Kamui believed it was unnecessary, and he felt like he was being looked down upon. He had a tendency of hiding when he was wounded, for the sole fact that people could take advantage of his injured state. Kamui was strong, but he was vulnerable to excessive blood loss like everyone else.

Why did it have to be NARA of all people to figure out he was injured?

''Why the hell are you doing this anyway, when I beat you half to death during our first meeting? Are you trying to get on my good side?'' Kamui was immediately skeptical, assuming there was an ulterior motive. Unfortunately for her, he kept his circle of people he cared about very, very small. He rarely let anyone new step into it.

She was likely going to always be on his bad side, even if she was sort of interesting. Kamui didn't find her interesting enough to actively befriend though.

No. He didn't like her. She was annoying. He'll be sure to stay away from her next time he ever got an injury.

''Hope you know, I don't consider you a friend. At all. Never will. Don't try being overly nice to me all of a sudden, because it won't work.'' Kamui will still kill her even if she did tend to his injuries.

[dcviated]

@cloudpools || learning some new ropes

Sure sure, you could hope and dream that the victory would create a nice wide window of vacation and down time. Hardly the fucking case when the invasion and threat continued to loom. Without one of their BFBs in action, the counter-attack was left to more conventional forces. And they didn't have as dandy a time of it. There would be casualties. And collateral damage.

BFB-002 had already been under design and construction, though most had been relegated to daydreams and chicken scratches left by the mechanic in her office. The organization had confidence that the pilot model, 001, would suffice for their needs. But Amber was a little more pessimistic. Or realistic, as the case went. The enemy were tough and also slippery.

Amber looks up from the numerous laptops hooked up to the prototype, boots clanging on the metal catwalks. Sparks shot all around, adding further brightness to the already well lit hanger where the new bot was being constructed. A more agile frame, better joints, and... well. Something else was being tested too.

And it didn't seem orthodox.

Amber comes to a stop before the cockpit, lingering her gaze on the numerous cables and tubes that connected it to the core that was retrieved from BFB-001, before the unamused gaze falls back onto... the pilot.

"Darla, what the absolute fuck are you doing in there? Is that yoga or some shit??" The instinct to slap has been restrained, at least. Whether it was a slap to her forehead or her best friend's cheek. No, she'd seen enough. Only a few days had passed since their ... draw... girl was still recovering. Some might say too fast. But Amber had never seen her friend as normal to begin with. Figures she got selected for the program.

"We're debugging the new grips, remember? Not... whatever the witchcraft fuck it is you're trying."

[dracomultiverse]

🥖 offer food for my muse ((Holly offering food to Zaire~ A peace offering??? Poison??? LOL

Nonverbal meme

Zaire stares down at the backed lunchbox Holly was offering him and he lowered his daggers somewhat. This just caused him great confusion more then anything. The young man was a bit suspicious, this girl was not in any way a traditional magical girl, so poison was indeed on the table.

"Thank you." He would take the food but not take a bite of it, instead he looked inside the lunchbox to see what was inside, it did look nice and his stomach was rumbling.

"Let's eat this together." He offered, mostly to make sure it wasn't poison.

[dracomultiverse]

"I-I'm not sure why-?" Zaire could only stammer out an answer to the question. In truth, this was all overwhelming and confusing for the young lad. Before it had been clear cut, black and white, but here there were different things going on and different feeling tugging him in different directions. However, now was not the time to think...for the first time in a long time, he was going to trust his gut.

While the son was going through an internal moral dilemma, the father was not. His mind was clear. Anton flicked he sword a little and some of Holly's blood dropped on the floor. He pointed the blade at the Magical Girl to strike her again...then he noticed the magic swirling in her scepter and changed tactics.

He pointed his blade down and held the hilt in a reverse grip, the jewel on top of the hilt began to glow as he chanted under his breath "Hoc me muniat obice Starmaker.." ...but he was a bit too late. The vines shot out towards him, while the barrier he erected blocked most of the damage, she still managed to hit him with part of the vine that shot through before his spell went off. "HM!" He grunted in pain, the flash of light would also blind him for a second.

During the lightshow, Zaire took his chance. He knew his father was going to be pissed about this later, but he had made up his mind this time.

He scooped up Holly and darted towards the entrance, slipping out as the light died down. Anton only saw his shadow leaving the Sanctuary and heading into the sewers. The older man sheaved his blade and shook his head.

---

Holly would wake up in a nearby hospital, bandaged but safe. Zaire was nowhere to be seen, but there was a note left by her bedside.

"I'm sorry. Be careful, we have moved location. - Z"

Her hubris had gotten the better of her. She'd skipped right past the mini-boss and minor squabbles with his mob right to the main villain. And despite feeling absolutely ready to take this on, Holly was in for a rude awakening as the proverbial and literal sword came down on her. Zaire had been fast, but Anton faster. She didn’t have time to block the blade, and before she can even let out a gasp, she’s sent flying.

Holly’s frame collided with the wall, stone cracking from the force of the hit. Crumpling, she hit the floor, dazed and confused. Vision blurry, lavender eyes squinted hard, trying to focus on the enemy ahead. It had been a while since someone had beaten her up this badly, but it wasn’t the first time...

And wouldn’t be the last.

Zaire’s assistance confused her though. "Why.... why are you helping me?" she groaned. If this was his father, weren’t they working together? Now would be the perfect time to finish her once and for all. But she took the small grace, allowing him to pull her up.

Holly's free hand went to her stomach, and in a sobering moment, her vision cleared, revealing her blood-soaked hand. Her magic wavered. She had a choice: use her final attack and finish this, or heal herself. She didn't have enough power to do both...

Raising her scepter, an incredible amount of power swirled around her, budding into a giant flower overhead. Holly staggered, but pushed on. "PETALLLLLL..." The magic surged, rippling as more flowers bloomed, vines curling around her and Zaire protectively. Deadly. Once she felt the magic at its peak, Holly threw her scepter forward, screaming. "PRISM!!!!"

Slumping in Zaire's arms, the giant flower bloomed, vines shooting forward surrounded in blinding sparkling light. If she was going out, she was taking this bastard Anton with her. Breath shallow, she tried to right herself, power draining rapidly. Fading lavender eyes looked to Zaire. "You... you better do the right thing..." What did that even mean? She didn't know. A call back to their encounter earlier that evening?

Her head was pounding, and she was slipping into unconsciousness. Soon, her magical powers would wear off and she'd transform back into human girl Holly, and that wouldn't be great if the enemy found out her secret identity...

[the-haunted-office]

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value? && 🎤 MICROPHONE - are they good at singing? what is their go-to karaoke song? ((For Trent!!! :D

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

Trent's most prized possession is a friendship bracelet he wears on his right wrist. It doesn't look much like what you might imagine a friendship bracelet to be. It's just a couple of twisted cords of an extremely tough type of plant from his world, pretty dull and ordinary to look at. But it's precious to him and if anything happened to it, he'd be heartbroken.

🎤 MICROPHONE - are they good at singing? what is their go-to karaoke song?

I'd say Trent is average at singing. He hasn't tried to do much of it and doesn't know a whole lot of songs. I think if he learned some, he'd be decent.

[see-2isms]

@cloudpools | CONTINUATION

⠀

“Pretty sure people trying to talk wouldn’t look as pissed as those do,” he told her, watching as the robbers ran at them. There was an option to simply escape, buuut those guys were being real jerks to the poor girl earlier, so maybe he should teach them a lesson or two. It’s been a while since he’s been in a real fight, either way, so might as well have some fun.

Easily dodging the attacks, the martial artist jumped up a nearby stack of cargo boxes, before carefully lowering the girl down to sit on the top. “Wait here,” he instructed, with an easygoing grin that contradicted the gravity of the situation, then hopped off the stack.

It wasn’t long before he hopped right back up, dusting off his hands. The guys had quickly scrambled away after he was done with them, carrying their now-unconscious third member away. “You twisted your ankle, huh?” he mused, crouching beside her to look at the injury. “Well, I guess I could just carry you home for now, but that really needs to be looked at. It’s looking nasty.”

⠀