#cyor 2024

[deathreversed]

It had all started with a new flower appearing in Nier's garden. They didn't quite match the aesthetic she was aiming for, and so she removed them and thought nothing of it. But it hadn't taken long for her body to start itching and for roots and stems and petals to start sprouting from on her limbs. It had all happened so suddenly, Nier's only thought was The Island Stars, again...

And now it hurt. It was like something was clawing at her insides, something that wanted out. And if Nier opened her mouth too wide it felt like it might slip out and ruin everything for her. So she huddles in an alleyway, far too far from the safety of her home, tearing at the flowers that cover her in the hopes that it will provide any relief at all. Ripping them off doesn't hurt that much- she's felt far worse before.

The sound of footsteps behind her makes her head whirl around, revealing her wide, bloodshot eyes. "S-stay away..." she mumbles, looking away from the new arrival. "Get away, I don't... You need to leave before something bad happens..."

@hanabisays

[bitemedotmp3]

This feels right. Powers, wings, regeneration; even though the [NULL] command still isn't totally restored, it's nice for Uzi to be able to sort through her own code without seeing the BLOCKED BY USER: [UNKNOWN] popping up when she tries to do cool stuff. That's really all it takes for her to side with NULL (didn't even think about the names matching!), a couple of cool gifts and a middle finger raised towards the Island Stars. Call her shallow, but eh. She's in high school, what do you expect?

All she's gotta do is keep the cables intact. No one told her if it had to be all of them or not, but she's taken up post inside one of the underground parts of the city, where a thick length of rubber and wiring snakes its way through the dirt. And the best part about being a drone is that she can do this all day, literally.

Perched upon a rocky outcropping, Uzi watches the only way in or out of her chosen station. It's only a matter of time before something happens, right? In the meantime she's playing Bubble Bobble.

Wait, there's footsteps. Time to get to work.

With a wave of her hand, a chunk of rebar dislodges itself from the wall and sails through the air, embedding itself in the floor right in front of the new arrival. "You're good there!" calls Uzi, not descending. "Right where I can see you, yeah? Don't want you getting any ideas!"

Hold on, she recognizes this one. "Oh, hey Jersey! Sorry about almost turning you into a kebab. Just kinda a hectic time. Can't be sure who you can trust, right?"

@indomitableblackdragon

[deathreversed]

Worker drones were made to obey humans. Of course, this particular command line had long been excised, rendered useless by the sudden lack of humans on Copper 9, but somewhere deep in Nier's programming, there is a desire to be wanted. To be needed, to be necessary. To do well and be kept around, maybe even rewarded if she performs exceptionally. It was a process she was gently and not-so-gently reminded of repeatedly by her parents until their untimely demise. If Nier were a little more introspective, she might think that this severe-looking woman reminded her of her mother.

"Oh, um I-I should be okay for a few more hours with that, so long as everything stays normal..." She doesn't expand on what 'normal' means, as she's been told that oversharing is just as bad as undersharing. "It's just... Something happened, and it affected my consumption rate. That, um... Happens, sometimes."

The lack of dust doesn't help with that; when she can't afford oil, Nier can usually scavenge some from a dumpster or scrapyard, but she's been having difficulty finding any lately. Things like that simply happen sometimes, the city is always shifting in ways she can't predict, just like her own self. She looks up at the woman with wide eyes, because while a bottle of oil is already a dear kindness, offering even more makes Nier's core thrum in her chest. It's something she's still not totally used to, how kind the people of this city are compared to the inhabitants of Outpost 13.

"I-I'm Nier!" she says, more loudly than she intended. Her cheeks color as she holds a hand to her mouth, and then bows her head again. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to shout... But you'd really do that for me? You really don't need to, but... thank you."

And now she smiles, a soft little thing on her lips as her body finally relaxes. Whatever happens, she's being taken care of now, even if it means traveling into the intimidating upper levels of Fibonacci. Some part of her thinks it's not appropriate for her to be there, but in the company of this woman, surely it would be fine.

She steps a little closer, wringing her hands before her chest. "I'll just follow you, then... Don't worry, I'm faster than I look..."

Amidst the whirring of a system that is seconds away from shutting down, it was hard to tell what that robot had replied with, but she could make out just about enough to tell that it wasn't an ambush, thankfully. At the very least, she doesn't need to be too concerned of bad company showing up while she is distracted with this… upon closer inspection, rather human-like robot, especially as it plead for her not to leave. Huh. The wonders of radial island.

While she wasn't surprised to see the flip in demeanour over the offered oil, it did surprise her a tad to see just how swiftly the bottle vanished from her hands, as the stranger consumed it — with the packaging. "Ah." That's certainly one method to prevent public littering.

Interesting, was it, to observe not just the warnings fading out, but the parts she previously found strange for their non-metallic attributes, now retracting, too. She was staring attentively, and — was that eye-contact she'd make with the tail? Strange. "Seems like you've run out of oil, but I lack any further details."

Jay stood up when she did, dusting off her shoulders in an unperturbed manner while waiting for the poor drone to regain her balance. "You have not," she'd confirm. "No need to thank me."

What an apologetic little girl. Jay may not have an issue with it, but surely enough, no one starts off this anxious; it raises the question of what caused it in the first place. Not that such kind of information is any of her business, let alone of importance— but even a woman like herself cannot help but be curious about the little things, sometimes. "Not so fast. First things first; how much time did the bottle supply you with? I'd be surprised if one alone somehow matches your usual, expected quota."

If she intends on finding out anything from this girl, she'd better first guarantee there'll be no encore; her briefcase only carried one bottle. "What is your name? Let's get you out of here. We'll get you more oil at a business on a floor higher up."

It'll be a quick find. Jay had long familiarized herself with the businesses in level 1, in the interest of her… side-hustle in trade. Where you can find weapons and machinery, oil couldn't be much further. "Don't worry about dust; it's on me."

[corvisque]

@viladlind

the outer limits of spirale always seem to be shrouded in a gossamer veil of light mist, so it is rather easy to overlook the fog that begins creeping its way into the city proper. zevran certainly doesn't notice it, at first. not until it becomes difficult to deny the prickling on the back of his neck that tells him something is very wrong. until he notices, with some alarm, that he cannot tell where the city ends and the mistwoods begin.

he curses. really, he does not understand why this island insists on pulling little tricks like these so often -- and just when he was on his way back home, too. his narrowed gaze scans the blank greyness surrounding him, as if he might actually be able to see something in the damp. either he is paranoid, which very well could be true, or there are eyes on him. he can feel them.

"zevran..."

the voice is quiet, melodic, and familiar. the voice of a woman. he does not answer; although, internally, his cursing has grown much more colorful. would it be foolish to draw a blade against a threat he cannot see?

but then she steps into his path, as if born from the very air around him. a short, elven woman, a face he knows far too well, for it is the same face that has been indelibly etched into his mind's eye for as long as he may live.

she was... a marvel. tough, smooth, wicked. eyes that gleamed like justice. everything i thought i desired.

"rinna." his voice nearly breaks. he nearly chokes on her name. rinna. rinnala. eyes still bright, still as beautiful as she once was, no longer a pale body devoid of life and spattered in blood. he thinks that if he were to touch her, she would be warm. but he doesn't move. he can't.

"you remember me?" she smiles, but it is not the kind smile he remembers from their days as children. it would be an ugly thing, were she not the one wearing it. empty, resentful, cruel.

of course he remembers her. how could he possibly forget? he wants to say something, anything, but when he opens his mouth to speak no words come out. she draws closer to him, and closer still, until she is close enough to reach out, the tips of her fingers tracing the tattoo on his cheek.

"you remember what taliesen did to me," her voice now so low that it is nearly a whisper. "how he pulled my head back so he could slit my throat. you didn't do anything to help me. why?"

zevran closes his eyes. what can he say? that he thought she was a traitor? that being a crow had meant more to him than the woman he loved? that he had been afraid? all excuses, words that do not matter. words that cannot change anything.

"we were wrong," he croaks, finally. "i was wrong. i am so sorry, rinna."

when he opens his eyes, he is staring straight into hers. he had always found the sharpness of her gaze alluring. difficult to read, sometimes, but all the more captivating for its mystery. now she is all steel. hard. unyielding.

"you were. i tried to tell you. what did you say to me? that it did not matter? that you didn't care? i loved you. that was no lie."

the sharp edge of a knife pressed against his throat. so quick was she that he had not even noticed her movement until it was too late.

"but look at what the truth earned me. give me one good reason why i should not repay the favor."

he can't.

[punisheye]

It's cold. It's really cold.

His thin black shirt and shorts do little to protect him from it. The chill seeps through the tight fabric and into his skin, right down to his bones. The fog is dense. He's never seen anything like it before. Just read about it in books. Their planet didn't have water to evaporate and then bring back as rainfall, or to cover the sands in a haze.

It makes him feel damp. He wishes he was at home, away from this. Maybe it's just another test from Chapel. Maybe that old man is watching him, somewhere out of sight. If he could figure out what the test is meant to be then he won't be as likely to walk out of here with bruises on his ribs or a bullet in his gut.

His hands grip the gun too big for his body tight. He's shivering.

And then he hears footsteps. The boy jerks his head up, eyes wide and alert and—

Oh, it's just... some guy. He doesn't recognize him. Well, he kinda looks like him, but maybe he's just got one of those faces. Maybe he's part of the Eye, too, and they just never crossed paths. Nico had learned to keep his eyes down in the presence of the adults there, so that's what he does.

Looks down, looks away. His hands hold the gun tighter. He waits for the man to leave.

@punishercross

[blankticket]

@punisheye

The door was open.

Or, more accurately: the door had ceased to exist. Strange, delicate mists had crawled in from the side of it, eating away at what was physical a moment before. Where an unimpressed guard had sneered down at Vash, now there was the swirling unknown.

Without hesitation, he pressed on past where he was confined. His body had moved before he can think to note how scary this all is, before he could have the good sense to fear how the mist could be endless, his world eroded. Vash hasn't quite come to accept this complete upending of the laws of reality—it's just that he can still hear the Plant screaming for help, somewhere out there.

Turning his head this way and that to find her, Vash nearly bumps his face right into a wall of black. Instinctively, his hands come up to prevent the collision, although they're awkwardly successful by the restraints around his wrists.

The little boy winces, totters back a step, looks up at Wolfwood. His cuffed hands pull defensively toward his chest.

"Ah…" Now he's getting scared.

Wolfwood doesn't look familiar in any helpful way—he's clearly not a part of SEEDS, or a face he recognizes from Ship Five's cold-sleep registry. But he's also the only adult around… The only being around, besides his Plant brethren.

The assumption he'd be brought back into confinement by this man makes tears bead up in the corners of his eyes. He's got to be brave for her sake.

Vash's face wrinkles with effort, tiny lungs gathering air for his demand: "Let me meet the Plant!"

[sunliteve]

Sunlight poured into Café December, casting a healthy glow on vibrant plants, books, and patrons alike. At one of the tables near the wall, Hiyori held a soothing cup of chamomile tea to his lips. Beside him was a cup currently ignored, the one who had ordered it browsing away amongst the books.

When the door pushed open, Hiyori's eyes snapped over to examine the new arrival. His already racing heart picked up speed, and he eagerly waved Constantine over to their table.

"He's here," he said to Nagisa over his shoulder, bringing the other's attention back from the worlds bound between the covers. Nagisa shelved the book he held at the moment, red eyes joining Hiyori's on the newcomer. He smiled softly.

That expression eased Hiyori's nerves. As much as he'd wanted this meeting to happen eventually — and he had called Constantine about this almost immediately — he hadn't been prepared for it now.

"Good morning~ Thank you for coming to join us so quickly!" his cheery greeting hid it better than his tightly-crossed legs. With a gesture to his companion with his free hand, he continued: "This is my dearest friend and family, Nagisa! I may have mentioned many things about him, but it doesn't measure up to the real thing, does it? ♪"

Nagisa bowed his head. "...Yes. My name is Nagisa Ran. You are Hiyori's partner, I've been told."

Hiyori's face reddened a bit, but he held his tongue.

Still wearing that warm smile, Nagisa took his seat at Hiyori's side. A distinctly ethereal feeling emanated from him, like an angel playing at being one with humanity.

@uwps001

[punisheye]

"Vash," Wolfwood cuts in, voice sharp, eyes hard and jaw tense. "Yer really gonna let a ghost tell ya it's yer fault? You didn't make me go n'do what I did."

The ghost of Chapel lets out another rattling cackle. He's moving again, and it's with surprising coordination for a dead man. Like he's not dead at all. Like he could just stand up right now.

"Stronger than me? He couldn't even land a killing blow on the phantom that killed his friends—tried to kill you."

And he is standing then, tears and lacerations sealing themselves, broken and shattered bones settling back into place, skin reforming. The blood remains, as does the smell. The smell of death always followed Chapel, anyway. He's an imposing, dark figure there, like Wolfwood always saw him in his memories. In his nightmares.

"He won't even pull the trigger now!"

The movement is fast, so fast that Wolfwood has no time to react. That black cloak whips around with it. The ghoul twists the gun out of his hand and kicks it out of arm's reach, yanks Wolfwood's arm behind his back and knocks him to his knees.

Wolfwood, winded, can only let out a breathless yelp as he goes down.

And it's like Chapel's forgotten that Vash is even there now. Wolfwood thrashes and it only makes Chapel drive into his back harder, effectively pinning him down on the ground. "You... worthless child! You failure! You took everything we gave you and spat on it! All I did for you, for nothing! All you ever did was embarrass me!"

Wolfwood's squirming, still. Cold mud ruins his clothes and sticks to one side of his face, cakes into his hair. He's not injured here, he should be able to get up, but something about this Mist...

Chapel, old as he is, is still a formidable opponent. He's his teacher. He survived death countless times, and now he's here as some sort of horrible phantom to mock Wolfwood one last time. Wolfwood can hazily see the form of Chapel's Punisher materializing in the mist, and he does not want that biting into him at all.

Wolfwood doesn't say anything, he just stares at Vash like he's saying, What are you waitin' for? He's distracted! Help me out here!

★ -- ;; I didn't want to be worshiped, bites at the back of Vash's throat, sharp and harsh. Wouldn't even have deserved it. Neither of them had, false angels as they were, blips in time that Vash had so often believed had no place on that planet.

But the words cant find traction when the air gets squeezed from his lungs, when claws dig themselves so deeply into a wound poorly patched over, like so many before it. He may have claimed as much, all those months ago, that there had bee no change; that Nicholas D. Wolfwood had always been full of love, no matter how hard this man had tried to bury it.

The truth is, though, really, that it had been his fault all the way down, hadn't it? For so long, the thought has plagued the back of his mind, a familiar friend at the bottom of a bottle or hovering over his head on sleepless nights. That maybe if he hadn't dug tup that heart, then maybe he wouldn't have had to dig up a grave. And even further than that, that maybe if he hadn't been born in the first place, then the Eye never would have existed. Maybe some day in the distant future, Wolfwood could have had anormal life, like so many others that had been affected by Vash and Knives' existence.

Even as the mangled mass of bone and muscle jerks and shifts, Vash stays in place, doesn't reach for his Colt or move from where he's found himself rooted in place. What could he do? Any strength, any of what was barely holding this corpse together at the seams, could only have been a fraction of what Chapel had had in life, even confined as he had been, crippled by his own pupil. And even if he could, Vash would have taken it unflinchingly, willingly.

As much as Vash had blamed himself for the end, though, it doesn't replace the hurt that had been etched there before him, beaten into a boy far too young to have seen the horrors he had. It hadn't so much been taught to him as engraved in his skin, chisel and all. That hate for himself might run deeper, but anger burns brighter, and there's still plenty of it left over to cauterize the punctures this old man clearly wanted to put into him so badly.

Even when they don't get caught in Vash's chest, the words don't have time to take shape, Wolfwood's frame looming out of the swirling mist with all the rigidity and swiftness that such fury carries. By the time the muzzle of the gun is jammed against Chapel's skull, Vash still hasn't moved an inch.

Bright blue meets clouded brown, and the hard line of Vash's shoulders droops.

"You're right," he says, far more quietly than before. The same stiffness has sagged away from his tone as well; any of that cold evenness from before now simply sounds almost-- almost tired. "I've known that for a long time."

As he speaks, Vash's eyes steadily slide back down. Despite the exhaustion, his gaze is firm. "But being soft doesn't make you weak. He's stronger than you ever would have been."

[witchoftrinity]

CYOR 2024

Throwing Mika into Shore Event! Because BA won't get her a summer episode. She's going to have a terribly wonderful time on Foss Isle trying to enjoy herself while trying to avoid getting Jurassic Park's by the natural wildlife! All while still handling her issues every normal high schooler has.

Since its getting closer to the end of the year I'm gonna cap it at 2! I'll also probably send a DM your way if we haven't interacted before to get an idea of how your muse is handling it.

[revivalbeast]

Her breath comes in deep heaves as she sprints through the mist, her new clothes and shoes muddied and and torn as she keeps saying "No, no, nonononono-" This place was supposed to be safe and they shouldn't be coming for her but they seem to be coming for her as though she's him but she's not him and that's somehow worse than fighting them.

They're glitchy and they scare her because it's wrong and she's not supposed to be under attack and they shouldn't be working with the people who want to shoot her but they are and the mist hurts and she feels the bullet rip through her one after the other and she falls over in front of the nice fox she met.

She gets up, blood coming from her mouth as her head reforms.

"...I don't like that." She mutters, shaking her head. His name...

She can't remember, but she spits out a tooth as it grows back.

"That's embarrassing. They shot me in front of you. That's really embarrassing." Her hair grows back and her forehead reforms and the bullets are pushed out of her chest as the giant bugs and men with guns surround them.

@soulsbelow -> CYOR 2024 -> Mistified

[deathreversed]

CYOR 2024

Nier is having a very bad time in amogus A Crocus Among Us. She's got a lot of secrets to keep, things she doesn't want anyone knowing about. Although she has a very dedicated will, she'll reach her breaking point before long, and the truth of her past will come out. But she'll do whatever it takes to make sure it stays a secret.

So if you want to trade secrets and maybe get chased by Death, like this post! Cap of two!

[bitemedotmp3]

CYOR 2024 Info

For Choose-Your-Own-Rerun 2024, Uzi will be headed to Security Breach Pt 1! She thinks both sides are lying, but she's not so much pro-GPU and NULL as she is anti-Island Stars. She's fine with risking erasure, and is mostly looking to just inconvenience the Stars as much as she can while she can. In other words, she's trying to prevent people from cutting the tubes!

So it could either be a fight scene if your character is allied with the Stars, or they can have a philosophical discussion if your character is also with GPU. Either way, like this post for a starter! Cap of two!

[sunliteve]

"...Oh. Hiyori, I see stones in the window there."

"Do you? I've never looked in that store." Directed by Nagisa's focused stare, Hiyori drew closer to the display window of one of the shops along Fibonacci's surface. This one seemed to sell gemstones and accessories that prominently featured them. Led along by a green leash, Bloody Mary pranced up beside the two.

As he stood by the glass himself, Nagisa held a hand up to his chin thoughtfully. "...I would like to step inside, but I don't know if Bloody Mary will be allowed in."

"We can always come back♪" Hiyori noted cheerfully, and then his eyes caught on a low movement along the same path they'd been following. A golden retriever was approaching! And a well-dressed man, too, but the dog was what initially had his eyes going wide in appreciation.

"Wow~ You have a beautiful dog," he addressed the man with the golden retriever. Nodding confidently, he stated, "Well-groomed, certainly!"

Mindful of both his dog and the other's, he didn't move from where he stood. The little yorkshire terrier moved further behind him rather than any closer to the strangers.

@atroposqine

[deathreversed]

It's progressing so suddenly. Nier's usually good at managing her body's mounting needs, that craving for oil that ebbs and flows with her emotions, but so much has happened over the past few days that she hasn't had a chance to sate her thirst. And that's putting aside all the times she's needed to utilize her Solver abilities, so her only thought before conscious threads become background processes and hunting subroutines take over is I thought I had more time.

But even the single-minded instincts of a predatory drone are only when there's something to actually hunt, and it's only a matter of time before Nier is reduced to a shambling mess, with high temperature and low oil warnings hounding her HUD. Again? murmurs some unheard voice buried deep inside her programming. You really are bad at this.

"S-s-sorryyyyy..." she mumbles, voice laced with static. "I p-promise I'll do bet-tter..." Her body falls against a wall, leaving crimson streaks as she settles into a crumpled heap.

>[TEMPERATURE CRITICAL, SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT. NO OIL, MORON]

She can barely register the sound of someone's voice at her side, someone blessedly worried about her. Nier's looks up, her visor shifting between a multitude of warning symbols, her eyes, and a red, triangular glyph. "M-my fault-t-t..." she manages, her gaze drifting down to her shaking hands. "Messed u-up aga-ain... Pl-lease don't leav-ve me..."

Is she dying? Is this what it feels like? Should she be scared? She isn't scared, she feels... empty. Why is that?

But in an instant, her chemo sensors explode with notifications, and her entire body tenses as her head snaps up and her mouth opens in a wide, fanged grin. "Oil..." she echoes, tongue lolling. With a surge of energy, her body lurches forward, and she snaps the bottle out of the kindly stranger's hand with her mouth. No time to waste on maintaining her public image, she simply swallows the whole thing at once, her teeth cleaving the bottle into pieces as the precious liquid pours into her gullet. Once it hits her core, the organ begins to pump again, and in less than a minute the warnings vanish. A few wordless groans come from Nier's vocal synthesizer, and her wings retract back into her body with a lurch. Her tail does the same, but not before fixing the good Samaritan with a curious stare.

"What... What happened...?" she mumbles, pressing a hand to her head. "I thought... I should've been okay for a bit longer..."

Her body still trembles as she rises to her feet, bracing against the wall as she attempts to stay upright. Finally, she looks up into the face of her savior with vision unclouded by warnings or static, and her eyes hollow out. "A-ah, you... I didn't hurt you, did I? N-no, you... You saved me? Thank you..."

The memories come back to her piecemeal as her mind tries to put the distorted images together into something usable. "I-I'm sorry, I was just low on oil, so my body... It's not important, I guess..."

Nier gives her fingers an experimental wiggle, feeling full function come back to her body. A single bottle of oil isn't enough to put her totally out of danger, but at least she's back to normal operating levels now. So she turns to the human woman and bows her head, hands folded in a submissive gesture that's been browbeaten into her over and over. "I hope I didn't inconvenience you, but thank you for your help... Is there anything I can do to repay you? I don't really have much dust, but... I-If you need any help with anything, I'll try my best..."

When you think of the word charitable, surely enough, Jay - someone who speaks constantly about maximizing profit - will be the last one that'll come to mind. Those in partner- and enemy organizations alike know her to be ruthless and disciplined, just like a true member of the Port Mafia should be. While that perspective of her is accurate, it's not the full story.

That story is reserved for those within the Mafia. A ruthless lady who has zero tolerance for disobedience, yes, but one that is exceptionally loyal to anyone who finds themselves on the same side as her. While she'll never explicitly say as much, the organization - in particular her unit she's gone through thick and thin with - is family to her. She may fail in helping with concerns regarding emotional needs, and doesn't open up much about her own, but — she's sure to express her appreciation through actions of aid, even when the risks involved are high.

Now living in Spirale, she's still there for her subordinates if they need her, and counts on them for the same vice-versa, yes, but ultimately she now mostly just lives for herself as she waits, as there's no trace of the organization she's been loyal to within Spirale. That could change over night if she should return back home or if the executives founded the Port Mafia in this world, too, sure, but for now— she gets by as a finance manager.

…

That isn't to say she's now entirely uninvolved with the trade of sketchier products, though. In fact, it's why she's been traversing within the ground level of Fibonacci; a meet-up involving a deal that has already proven successful, and all that was now left for the day was for her to return home. At the very least, that was the intent.

As she turned a corner, the following sight— it was difficult for her to discern what exactly she is witnessing. It seemed to be a robot of some kind, writhing on the ground as all kinds of… error messages lit up in neon red, but that didn't match up with its batlike wings, that very much weren't metallic like the rest of its body. Was it in pain? In danger? Its surroundings were damaged; was it ambushed, or was it the robot's doing? With the only light source being the red LED, she couldn't tell whether it was some substance like oil that ornamented its surroundings, or plain blood.

Street smarts dictate to get out immediately, and if not, to at least pull out a weapon in preparation. Jay didn't do either. The robot wasn't someone she knows, let alone someone she'd care to help, and yet, she felt something tugging at her. There's no way in hell that thing has anything to do with her homeworld or the Port Mafia, and yet. and yet. Call it intuition, call it a hunch. Whatever the case, Jay couldn't brush off the feeling that it's related to that strange memory that has been plaguing her; the memory with all the wires and skyscrapers just like this sight.

It's not like her to ignore a possible lead.

"Are you okay? Have you been ambushed?" she'd attempt to communicate, checking whether it is responsive, as she hurries to the robot to kneel down next to it. Squinting, she could pick up at least one of the alerts warning about high temperature, and so she'd open her briefcase in a hurry to find something that may help to combat that issue. All she found was a bottle, which, perhaps - by dampening cloth - could help to cool down its metallic surface, but when she opened the bottle, all she received was the stench of disappointment. It was Oil. Why - pray tell - did she carry a bottle of MOTOR OIL with her??

Wait, no. That might be good. It's a robot, after all.

"Here-" she'd hold out the bottle to the robot while a drop of sweat would run down her neck. "It's Oil."

@deathreversed

[corvisque]

"enough!" zevran snaps -- a command meant for fiyero and taliesen both. of all the times for the tiefling to keep talking. was he competing against himself for how stupid one man can be in a single afternoon?

it's a hypocritical thought, considering just how often zevran courts danger and ire with his own poorly timed comments. this very thing had gotten him killed only a month before. but he doesn't think of that. he can't, when all he can think of is how to get fiyero away from taliesen. of how his blood boils when he thinks of this thing, this ghost, wearing taliesen's face, touching fiyero in that particular way. his heart may be blinded by the faces of his dead lovers, but his mind knows very well that their bodies have both been cold for years.

he's up on his feet when taliesen first lets fiyero go. time seems to move so slowly. it cannot be more than a few seconds, and yet it feels like hours. still, he is not fast enough to stop the blade his fellow assassin wields.

it pierces the bard's neck. zevran practically growls.

taliesen is grinning madly, all bloodlust and bravado. but the fire fiyero spits causes him to curse and step back as his face is singed. it gives zevran the opportunity he needs. he still has the dagger he managed to wrestle away from rinna, and he uses it, stepping swiftly up behind taliesen to slip it into a spot between the larger man's ribs. it is not quite a killing blow, he does not have the accuracy for such a thing now, but it is enough to take taliesen's attention away from the tiefling for good. the other assassin turns, possibly to throw his weight against zevran in lieu of a weapon, but zevran lands another strike before he can manage, dancing away from grasping hands by mere centimeters.

the clearing smells faintly metallic now, as blood soaks the dirt beneath their feet.

"fiyero, amor? do not move." his eyes flit from the wounded form of taliesen to rinna, who has kept her distance by andraste's grace, to fiyero in rapid succession. he cannot bring himself to look at how bad the wound in the tiefling's neck is. the dagger is still in him. "and don't speak, for heaven's sake, unless you wish to choke on the words."

taliesen chuckles, weakly. zevran's eyes narrow.

"i cannot take back what i have done. but i will not let it happen again."

the rushing in fiyero's ears slowly fades, leaving only his thrumming heartbeat and hot anger pressing up against his ribcage. he's struggling against the man on top of him, keenly aware of the hand around his horn and the knee pressing into his back. not much room to move, is there? as his hand searches for the hilt of the dagger strapped to his thigh, fiyero opens his mouth to speak instead.

' why not? ' he'd be smiling if he wasn't eating dirt still, wedges his head from the earth to make himself heard. ' seems like you'd enjoy it. i don't think any of my holes would be enough for you. i know your type, mabla— '

taliesen shoves him back down and fiyero bites his lip. the taste of iron on his tongue only serves to annoy him further. he cackles, half muffled, and tries to kick out. it doesn't do anything, the man wrestling him back down without much effort, but he doesn't need it to. for now, he only needs attention right where he wants it.

" mouthy, this one. must be yours, huh, zevran? " don't look at zevran. look at me. ' i could show you just how mouthy, if you'd get your filthy fucking hands off me. why don't you two kill each other and leave us alone? i hear you're good at that— '

he's pulled the opposite direction, taliesen trying to drag him up and managing fairly well with just one hand around fiyero's horns. he's spitting something at him, but fiyero isn't listening. this is the space he needed, pulling his dagger from underneath the lapels of his armour and digging it into the skin of taliesen's calf. there's not as much of a reaction as fiyero had hoped for, barely a sound, but the grip of his hand and the press of his boot loosens with the brief pain, and that's enough for him to scramble away, to his feet.

taliesen is on him again almost immediately. his rapier is still on the floor. fiyero doesn't need it. he swipes his claws across taliesen's face, who grabs his wrist in turn and presses out a heated " shut your mouth, demon, " before he stabs fiyero with the same knife that was just embedded into his shoulder. there's a brief flicker of panic across his expression, his whole form freezing, when he hears the clinking of metal against his golden band. it sinks straight down, into his neck.

and that hurts. it's the same arm as before and the pain is ugly, forces his mouth open in a choking gasp. the muscles contract around the knife— he can't pull it out. if he pulls it out, i'll bleed out.

fiyero yanks taliesen closer with his other hand, his jaw ripping open to show rows of fangs, and spits fire into his face.

[punisheye]

"Nico..." He repeats, trailing off. Well, he looks a little like him and they kind of have the same name, which is weird. Could just be a coincidence, though, but he's a little too anxious to really think about it. It's probably nothing.

Nicholas pulls the jacket on. It stinks of cigarette smoke and— something else right underneath it. Warm. Like another person lingering.

"Miss Melanie's still there. I never heard of you n' I was there for a long time 'til..." This. Dropped into the hands of... something he doesn't understand at all.

The boy swallows.

Did she know? Does she worry about him? He hopes she's okay. Her and his little siblings. Nico sniffles, but does his best to put on a brave face.

"They said we'd be fixin' up churches," he says quietly.

"Come on, I didn't toss ya that 'cause I thought you'd make a fashionable coathanger." The kid still retained that politeness he knew was drilled into them, so he'd need permission to be able to feel like he could actually wear it.

"Come on, this way. Desserts out here - not warm this time'uh day, but better'n this shitshow." He didn't know the mist would follow them, but he started to walk in the direction he'd hope would lead them out of there, listening carefully for anyone following them.

"My name's..." Complicated, to say the very least. "Nico, Nico Watanabe. I'm a bit ahead of ya, so I expect ya don't remember me at all, but," a pause.

"Got recruited from the same place you did. Miss Melanie hangin' in there last ya saw her?" Better to connect them with an adult the kid trusts, he thinks.

And he hopes Hanabi wouldn't mind him borrowing her name.