#cloudpools

[dcviated]

The manifestation was adding just as much burden as it was benefit. No longer able to simply slide along the floor the body now had to try and walk. Though it was more a stumble. Fettered further by the way it couldn't remember its balance. Shelves are grasped, and limbs are thrust ahead in attempts to make pace. Sadly, there was no way it was going to beat Blythe when she was flying.

Yes, it was haphazard, no it wouldn't receive many compliments. But nobody would deny that at least the girl's magic was... well. It was magic! And after making her topsy turvy flight to the door, she finds herself face to inverted face with...

A face.

Yes, still murky and still shadowed behind mutable form, but it was a face. It was undeniably that. Nose. Eyes. A mouth- edges of which were wrested in a fervent scowl as the form stares with panicked purpose. All wrapped up in the vague shape of some bipedal humanoid. No taller than Blythe.

The mouth opens. An attempt is made at moving 'lips' even. Yet only spattered garbles and chokes escape. The ink within splattering out and onto the ground, where it would slowly congeal and attempt to slip back to the host form.

I ... want to go... home!! I don't want... any of this... anymore!!

The limbs fold back to the main body, pressing against the head as if wracking under terrible pressure.

Why can't I.. just wake up?! Who are you?! You're not... you're not HIM.

Outstretched hands curl in to shield herself from the flinging books. They bounce off her frail form, each book causing her to squeak. More bruises marred her flesh. Blythe being Blythe, it bothered her more that the books were being thrown than the fact that she was being attacked, and as the onslaught continued, she awkwardly tried to catch as many books as she could, stacking them into a neat pile. Blythe being Blythe, most of the books hit the ground… She had terrible hand-eye coordination…

It definitely was enough to distract her, emerald eyes locking onto the grotesque shifting and changing blob as it made for the door once again. Full panic sets in. If she didn’t stop it, it would cause more havoc in the manor… and if that happened, Zeyrfial would surely never trust her with another task like this again. Maybe he’d even end her “employment”… The thought of that alone causes her to quiver. She just needed to get to the door first… But she wasn’t fast… How could she…

The earring glows, Blythe putting all of her concentration into this spell. She’d never been able to do it successfully before, and even this time, it wasn’t quite right. Wings sprout from her boots, having meant for them to be attached to her back and she takes off in a light jog. It’s slow at first, but soon, each stride takes her farther, faster, until she’s about lifted off the ground. Uh oh… Now she IS off the ground?! And upside down?!?!

Blythe screams (though she isn’t particularly loud), and It isn’t long before she’s passed the inky intruder, slamming into the only exit to the wing. Groaning, she hangs in the air, using the door handles as leverage to turn herself around. She’s holding the door shut with her body, while her arms are holding her skirts up to at least keep her modest… But her feet are slowly slipping from her shoes… “I- I can’t let you leave! Unless you promise to calm down and n- not cause trouble!!” The wings on her shoes are still flapping away.

[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]

@cloudpools replied to your post “"Hm. Need to work on my golf swing."”:

Nara VC: "I could teach you." ((Me: *salivating at the thought of Nara in one of those cute little golf girl outfits* You know she's golfed a ton on business trips lololol

"Oh~?" The club is rested over Wylan's shoulder mid-turn, far from a professional stance (when is he professional?) (..oh right) looking more like a thug you'd find in a back alley than an upstanding sportsman.

"Actually, that sounds fun. You do this sorta thing all the time after all." And yet there's a devious knowing glint in his eye. As if he's suddenly got different ideas in mind. "I'm a king at putt putt, and can knock balls into windows just fine- but... hm. How honest do I even wanna be here...."

[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."

[astarab1aze]

@cloudpools

People watching was something Hydre had learned to get used to, over the many thousands of years of his miserably over-purposed life. In order to pass all that time without utterly leveling the whole of the mortal world, he had to...adapt, learn to live with being idle, unmoving, a statuesque addition to the scenery - imagine his surprise that such should become his preferred way of being. So, he sat on a filigreed bench, legs spread wide, head thrown backward over the steel back rest, hands lazily clasped in his lap, black cloth hiding the frigid shallows of his gaze--

Watching, eyes flitting about the form of a seemingly rambunctious (at least, by his standards) girl, flailing her arms about as some hideous fishmonger barked at her, the both of them disgruntled and moody. He didn't care why or how the altercation began, lips pursing, brow lofting - they seemed so small, their problems smaller, but there was a faint urge to lumber nearer, sniff out the troublemakers in this situation, and eat them. His stomach gurgled with a low, rolling growl - he was hungry anyway. Funny that, it was simultaneously real and false, a metaphor made tangible, a dream made flesh. It wasn't supposed to be legitimate, a certain truth niggling at the back of his mind, one he wouldn't always be able to ignore.

He stood slowly, and the evening moonlight sent his shadow long down the blackstone steet, condensation and evaporation taking place within the murk - and he lumbered over, a hand reaching past the girl's head, fingers spread over the man's face. Just as quickly, did he retract, all the surprise, confusion, angry words turned to stutters, cast aside in favor of a simple, easy calming spell. Threads of magic jolting through the fishmonger's face and skull, deep into his brain, through touch alone. He ushered the girl aside with his free hand, wordlessly bade her run lest he swallow her whole next, snake-like in the twists and turns of his body, grin toothy, fangs on clear display- Unmitigated terror in the eyes of a man drenched in fish-stink and sea water, jaws slowly opening wider and wider and wider and wider, near to unhinging--

A tap on his shoulder interrupted him, however, as did the girl's voice, and before he could take the fishmonger's head into his mouth, flesh and bone snapped into a particularly human place. Evidence of a glacial hydric truth erased as quickly as they'd come about. He touched the man again, ice spidering forth from his fingers, frost and chill freezing him to the spot - silent, unmoving, in stasis. A perfectly good meal, frozen, gods above, this couldn't fly.

"Are you going to let me eat him, or do you like getting reamed?"

[chaoscrawls]

@cloudpools- liked for a stater with nyarlathotep

The sensation had likely been at the back of their mind all day. The prickling of static, the sensation of eyes on them, the feeling they were being followed. And they were, but the creature had chosen to keep a safe distance between them.

Each time their prey turned to find the source, they would only capture fleeting glimpses of the strange creature sinking back into the darkness or shifting from shadow to shadow. Seemingly biding their time till the sun went down.

Now, as the sun dips beyond the horizon and the streets become darker, they too grow bolder. Gnarled fingers curl around buildings, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Burning mauve eyes blaze from their hiding spot before snuffing out and appearing closer than before. Each gesture is a threat and warning that they are coming.

“Now now, you can’t just keep ignoring. Hoping I go away.” The god calls to their victim, words echoing unnaturally. “I think you’ll find I can be quite persistent.”

[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."

[lostusagis]

Kamui was pretty used to lying and keeping things from people, only people he actually cared for ended up earning his honesty. Nara was definitely no such person, even if he did find her entertaining.

''Haha, well, it's all true. I usually travel all the time after all.'' He was kind of surprised she's never seen sightings of ships and whatnot, maybe she just wasn't around where people would normally see them? That's lame.

''My family huh? Funny you'd mention that since I would love to kill my father. ♡ I have no problem killing him at all.'' Kamui hated that guy so much after all, but he'd still continue smiling when expressing that.

When she mentioned him going to the hot springs, he'd blink at her a few times before he show slight annoyance.

''You're really annoying. Obviously I clean myself up afterwards, I don't just keep the blood on me all the time.'' It felt like she kept trying to bring a reaction out of him, and unfortunately he kept falling for it. Annoying human.

''You're right though, I don't really care. The only thing I care for is how are you in a fight. I was nice enough to answer your questions honestly at least, so be grateful for that.''

"I have heard legends of ships that can sail across the stars. I had always assumed them to be fairytales told to children." Nara continued her task, listening carefully as he seemed to pause answering her next question. Again, she felt he withheld the truth, but she did not pry.

"If people where you are from are as strong as you, I find it odd that you would come all this way for a good fight. I would also wonder why not fight your own family, but it seems you fight to kill and it may be that even you have reservations about killing your own."

At the mention of bathing in blood, Nara wrinkles her nose exaggeratedly, throwing a glance over her shoulder at him. "You should try the hot springs. There are many natural pools in this area. While not the same consistency of blood, it would certainly be more hygienic." She smiles to herself, wondering if this would get under his skin too. "Now it is only fair that you get to ask things of me as well. Though I assume you do not care to know."

[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]

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!"

[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.

[dcviated]

Had he upset her? Certain sensitivities to magic, particularly Rune, alert him to something wafting off the freed spirit. A chill runs up his spine, a little more than could be attributed to an errant cold breeze. Particularly on a warm day such as this. Raguna tentatively offers a reassuring smile before his mind returns to the matter at hand.

Just what do you do with a spirit after freeing them from their binds. By logic, he carries a certain responsibility after granting this freedom. That doesn’t mean Raguna isn’t at a loss given how much mystery surrounded her.

“Blythe. Okay, got it. I’m glad you’re starting to get your bearings at least a little bit. I had total amnesia before I started… this… my life?” Hard to phrase that. But it was the truth. “I guess it’ll be hard to ask if you recognize landmarks, even if you had your memories so much probably looks unfamiliar. Trampoli, the town where I live, is nowhere near as old as that… even the ruins nearby aren’t more than a few decades older I’m pretty sure.”

Where to begin helping her, then? Raguna is in the midst of wondering this when she posits another option.

“Huh? Help me? No no I can’t ask for something like that! It’s not as though I’m going through ruins or breaking seals just to get paid or rewarded. It’s… not like you’re indebted to me, right? There wasn’t some kind of spell I activated hopefully. But. If you really want to, what could you do to help with farming? Is that related to what your life was before you were locked away?”

That would be a pleasant coincidence, wouldn’t it? Raguna begins the trip back from the highlands.

Relaxed, her feet find the ground again. There’s something haunting in her gaze as he questions her. Memories flash quickly. Not all fully there yet, but they come in waves like they had in the chamber prior. Things that were not fully formed, but things that had been locked away, like her, for a reason.

“H- hundreds of years?” Gods. A voice in the back of her mind thrums. REVENGE. HOLD THEM ACCOUNTABLE. A dark aura pulses for the briefest of moments as the voice fills her mind, but Blythe pushes it away. Puts it back to sleep. Raguna was nice. We don’t hurt things that are nice.

“Y- yes. For some reason… I- I can’t seem to remember… the Earthmates felt it would b- be… better if I was here. But this is not my home. Everything the sky touches is my home.” Blythe takes a few steps toward him, and where she had been standing, the grass was dead. None of the steps that followed yielded the same result.

“M- my name? I- I was once called Blythe.” Her head pounds again. Another memory. People calling her Blight. She didn’t like that name very much. But there had been someone much kinder that had named her Blythe. Who was that again?

“A-a farmer?” The word conjured imagery of the earth being tamed. Not exactly pleasant, but not all bad either. Another flash. Blythe had been to a farm before. She’d used her manipulation of the weather to water the fields. Maybe that was her purpose years long past? “M- maybe I can help you?”

[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.”

⠀

[lilyminer]

I’ve been drawing a lot of my warrior cats ocs recently. Here’s a big ol dump!

Two of my older more beloved characters named Spottedwhisker and Lakeflower

Flameheart and her son Shinekit

Cloudpool and her mate Oaklight

The found family Rippleshine, Oceanpaw, and Lakeflower (again)