#jxrmngxndr

[5point1]

✦ fata organa: a flash of real emotion glimpsed in someone sitting across the room, as if you could see backstage through a gap in the curtains.

cw: addiction, gambling

There is something inherently beautiful about gaming.

Hear her out - she doesn't mean video games, but just… games. Sharing joy and laughter with others, old and young, bridging gaps between languages or distances through a brief escape from reality. This is what Silver Wolfs loves about games, and sharing games with others: there are challenges to be overcome, but fun to be had, and friends to be made.

As with every escape from reality, sometimes the fictional world becomes all too alluring, blurring the lines between what is real and what is not.

She saw it in her own reflection in the screen of that basement arcade game; the darkness of the stuffy room almost suffocating, the power having gone out for just a moment, but long enough so that her game reset, and she could see into her own eyes. It was like looking into the face of a nameless stranger, those sunken in eyes, one who had simultaneously lost everything and had nothing else left to lose. Just one more level, one more win - one brief glimpse of hope.

It gave her pause. Only for a second. Once the engine whirred back to life, that nameless young loner's fingers resumed moving with practiced muscle memory: left, right, left, left, hold down, right, up, left. Her only friend, the joystick.

Silver Wolf sees this empty stare in the eyes of others at times, in gaming halls when the stakes are higher. If anyone were to point out that stranger that just lost their life savings on picking the wrong card, she might scoff or quip about not putting all of your eggs into one basket.

She knows well she still has a piece of that stranger living within her, deep down. Would she still be stuck in front of that same basement screen had she not been found by that man, woman, metal humanoid and ∎∎∎∎ that day? She does not like to linger on the answer to this question, knowing the answer would likely be "yes."

[voidrifter]

@jxrmngxndr asked:

[ZIP-WIRE] - The newest advancement in outdoors-y tech, someone’s rigged up the very first two-seater harness. Ever wanted to go careening over the forest with nothing but a line of rope and a stranger to hold? There’s never a better time than now.

"You should be sure of yourself, before you step onto this platform. Any doubts that you have...will be shattered upon the ground, far beneath your feet, long beyond the event horizon." His eyes raised to hers, fixed bright and intense on that mirrored blue whose flames rage in defiance of his cold, sought out the slightest points of weakness in her, just as he had done all that time ago when her Finality had torn Deliverance from his throne. "If you would turn back now," he continued, his steps taking him to the precipice with a gust of warm air fluctuating in spikes with the chill of his breath, his fingers coming to grip the handle of the line, "then I will continue on, alone." The trees stretched out in an ocean before them, miles of them until the coastal beaches to one end, stony cliff-faces to the other, and his grip tightened, he took another step off of the platform. "Come, if you are coming."

If, like she had a choice in that matter. 

Though Kiana supposes she does, or at the very least could make one. The whole time manipulation thing would really come in handy here, and be kind of funny even. She's entertaining the thought now, of exercising Finality's will just to step out at the last second and watch Kevin Kaslana of all men go careening down a zip line all by his lonesome. 

It's almost enough to make her snicker. 

Almost, because she never quite runs out of things to prove to him. Even though she's proven all she needs to, if anyone's really keeping score. That's the curse of being her, or maybe that's the curse of being human. The constant need to prove. She cants her head one way and follows suit behind him. Step for step, motion for motion. There is a resemblance to them greater than even genetic, a nature impossible to learn or teach. 

Her fingers curl to tighten on her own hold and she meets eternal frost with a lopsided smile. 

"You sure do love your monologues, huh?" 

Heels on the edge of a worn wooden platform, she tests her weight against the endless expanse before them and the single wire above them. Kiana's nose turns to the sky, she shuts her eyes. It's chilly beside him, but it's warm somewhere else. She cracks one eye open to her company, worries the soles of her shoes on the ledge once more.

"Just don't look down!" 

[creationkissed]

[SPARKLING WATER] - Only the best of the best for our most esteemed guests! Imported all the way from who-knows-where and rumored to taste better than heaven itself. If you don’t mind the carbonation, anyway. 

It was as though the bubbles themselves had frozen in time in his hand, taking glass to palm and making his way across the ballroom floor, these pockets of space trapped in amber as everything else moved forward around them. The beverages themselves would melt, of course, if given enough time away from him, and that was something that he found he was growing used to more and more as he attempted to integrate himself into this new world that had emerged after Finality. 

He didn't mask his steps, but neither did he necessarily announce himself to her, except to trust that she would know it was him. 

She had known before, and there was no reason to expect that this would be any different. 

After a beat, "Durandal." 

Extending the glass to her was not enough for what she had given him, and would not ever be – Kevin knew that, but there was nothing else of himself that he had to give to her, except for the grace of his attention, the precious quiet moment that she had allowed him to indulge in once before, a respite from the immense weight of millennia on his shoulders, the relief of something so simple as a laugh that he had not done before in this life, nor since. 

"...I hope you are enjoying the resort." 

❪ ⋅ ⋆ — REVELATION 2025 ❫

Though she had long noticed his presence, Durandal’s eyes remained fixed on the ballroom’s center, watching as the guests danced in easy harmony, laughter and conversations mixing into the music, making the room all the more lively. She had wondered, briefly, if Kevin would be content at the thought of just standing there, letting the quiet settle between them, watching and waiting, as they once had before.

But then there was the glass, his voice accompanying it.

“Kevin.”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she noted the frozen liquid inside; the chill of the frozen bubbles biting gently into her palm, as soon as she had gratefully accepted the offered drink. She would have to wait until there was more water than frost before she could take a sip from it, but she held it up in a quiet toast anyway, shifting just a little bit to her left, offering him a place at her side in exchange.

And for a moment, she let the rest of his greeting hang unanswered, leaving him to join her in watching instead—at the couple spinning recklessly across the floor. At how a woman’s champagne flute nearly topples over from her grip as she laughed and laughed, wholly oblivious at the pained look her friend makes when her hand comes to smack his shoulder, though it would seem he was already used to it… At the dessert table, two women leaned close, their shoulders shaking with shared laughter, frostings on each other’s nose.

“What are your thoughts about it?” She asked at last, a small, contented smile on her lips as she turned to look at him. “Would you say it was all worthwhile, Kevin?”

[wind-blumes]

[AROUND THE CLOCK] - What better way to pass the time in the Heights’ best known bar, Bird’s Eye, than with a good ol' game of darts? Grab a partner and put your aim to the test, just try not to miss the board. There’s a fee for every hole left in the wall, after all.

Thuck-!

His face didn't change much when the dart landed on the board – not in celebration, not in despair, just a quiet, infinitesimal tilt of his head to note the sector of the board it had landed on before his hand reached to the table for another dart.

His finer skills had once been something to write home about, if he remembered correctly, but as time had worn on it had been less and less necessary for him to need to thread the needle, so to speak, and while Kevin could not say he missed it, per se, it was a regrettable consequence.

"...Ah..." He hadn't known that someone had joined him, or when, and that was odd enough in itself - why would he not have noticed the approach of someone like that? - but the unabashed quality of the boy struck him also. Kevin's eyes narrowed, faintly, but rather than send him away he nudged the basket of darts forward with a finger.

"...Perhaps the competition is what I need. Take your shot."

This guy was cold. Maybe figuratively, but definitely literally. Venti could feel it all the way across the room. It wasn’t Cryo, either, as far as he could tell - the feeling was just cold.

He watched as the guy played darts, slowly and methodically. In a way, it almost reminded him of Morax. Hm. He hopped off of his bar stool and made his way over to the dartboards. 

What he would say to the other when he got there, Venti didn’t know, but he was standing there now and the cold guy was staring at him expectantly with the basket of darts.

He shrugged and made a show of stretching. “Sure,” he said, picking up a dart. “But, ah…”

He stepped back and sized up the board, then took aim. Oops, a little bit too far to the side - with a small nudge, the dart corrected its trajectory in midair, landing in the bullseye.

“You’ll have to try a little harder than that!” Venti turned back to the man, smiling innocently. “Ehe.”

[purerationality]

[FERRIS WHEEL] - There’s no better view of sunset on the sea than one from up above, and this bad boy’s got two seats and the perfect carnival music ambiance to really sell the romance! We hope you’re not afraid of heights~

It was almost...natural, or might have been if they were any other man, any other woman. The view from up here was filtered through a haze of surf and sun, the colors filtering through the windows of the compartment in dull golds and fond pinks, and if Kevin just allowed himself to be for that moment, it might have passed for nostalgic.

Romantic.

How many times had they been in one of these, back home, a lifetime and a half ago - not even merely one life, but thousands, millions, each second a new life that had passed without her as painfully as he could endure until they had buried him in the passing grains of sand in the neverending hourglass of eternity - and how many times had they taken advantage of those quiet moments where they could be themselves, without need for pretense.

When he breathed in, those moments almost felt like they belonged to him again, and he sighed out gently, turned to look at her and allowed himself to smile.

"It's good that we have the time for this now. It's seemed like...there hasn't been the opportunity for a while."

revelation 2025, chora beach.

She stares out into the horizon, her face softened by the pink hues of sunlight that have entered through the window. The view is breathtaking, as the simplicity of nature always is, and for once, she allows herself to enjoy it —without the accompaniments of cold calculus and risk assessments. Perfect clouds drift aimlessly across the sky. Picturesque waves roll towards the pristine beach below them. The golden sun shines mercifully, gilding the world with warm light.

How strange it feels, now, to stand beside him, without the world needing him. Without needing to let the world take him. Like the selfishness she never allowed herself to feel, or perhaps—never needed to feel, it does not belong to her. It does not belong to either of them, this leisure, this moment of respite, this simulacrum of those halcyon days—so far away, now, as to be nothing more than a dream’s dream…

Doesn’t it?

When he speaks, she doesn’t turn to face him right away. She doesn’t feel the need to, hearing the smile in his voice, the tenderness that she knows he will always feel for her. That he knows she could not, could never reciprocate, not fully, not to the extent he is owed—

It’s difficult to remember that it wasn’t always this way. That, in the beginning, instead of inconsolable ache and inescapable separation, there was—for the briefest of times—just the two of them. Just his promise to follow her wherever she went, like a reliable shadow, a constant.

Now, the shadow is the same, but perhaps, its caster has changed.

Silently, she admires the sparkling ocean below for just a little longer, the clouds’ reflections somehow more perfect than the real ones. Then, glancing toward him, she supposes she can smile, too.

“I missed this, too,” she says. The opportunity to be alone with you, to simply enjoy the present with you. The sight of a world, still alive, still teeming with life, still full of mystery and beauty. “Isn’t it beautiful, Kevin? Let’s come back here, tonight—the stars will be different, and I want to find out what they look like. Don’t you?”

[transientbloom]

[WATERFALL] - It takes the bravest of hearts to jump from so high, but all hazards have been carefully removed to make for only the safest leap of faith down the rapids. Take the plunge, or shove someone else into taking it!

When he stood at the top, the mist turning to frost around him and dusting the air in the tangible evidence of the changes made to him, he thought for a moment that under most circumstances a view like this would get lonely. It was difficult not to compare, to all of the other views that he had seen during his long life, all of the other distances, the other places on high that others could not reach.

Did not try.

"Sakura."

She was always quieter than the others, more reticent, footsteps softer and more deliberate – but he would always know Setsuna, when she allowed herself to be known.

He turned, a coating of hoarfrost spiraling outward with the motion of his coat, flaking into the rushing of water on the stones beneath their feet, and beheld her with eyes alive and grateful, before his lids fluttered shut, just a moment, of quiet respect for the moment in time when he had needed to use her likeness, of thanks, of contrition, before he raised his gaze – first to hers, then outward, to the waiting blue below.

"The jump would not be so far, for those like us," he said, and it was the closest thing that she would receive to an invitation.

⁎ .｡❀ THIS SIDE OF PARADISE.

Frost danced around her. Light, slow, delicate. Watching it reminded her of the cherry blossoms she and Rin would watch together during spring. How gentle they feel as they brush against her cheek. The way they lingered in the fold of her sleeves, how they would gather at the top of her head and shoulders. Familiar. Comforting, almost.

The jump would not be so far, no. Especially not for those like them.

Kevin’s frost had always been different from hers.

It carried his presence in every crystalline fragment, sharp and unyielding, a winter that would never thaw. Her own chill was softer, quieter—the hush of snowfall rather than the bite of glacial wind. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what it would be like to match that unforgiving cold, to stand untouched by it rather than merely enduring. If she could mirror his winter, would the distance between them feel less vast?

“You’ve stood at edges like this before.” Sakura held his gaze for as long as he had allowed her to, sharing a small nod in response to his own sign of respect. “Higher ones. Emptier ones.”

A step forward, then another. And a few more next until one foot planted firmly at the very brink, the tip of her footwear suspended over the abyss. As expected, it felt much colder here, beside him.

What a boon it was, that the cold had never truly bothered her.

“I will meet you below, Kevin.”

Her fingers brushed against his sleeve—not quite holding on, not quite letting go—just enough to ensure he felt it when she leaned forward, gravity taking her first.

An answer to his unspoken invitation. A companion to his solitude.

This time, they need not be so alone in their fall.

[trailblczed]

✧ tichloch: the anxiety of never knowing how much time you have left.

@garmgeyr also asked: obscure sorrows drabble prompts ( 1 + 2 ) | Not Currently Accepting.

You ever just sit in your favorite computer chair, or lay down in your comfy bed and think about your existence? You ever wonder why you cannot recall who you are, who you once were, who you are supposed to be? Caelus does. He does it a lot.

But can you blame the boy? His first memory is being woken up by two strangers, and after being probed about who he was or what he was doing, the silver had no idea what the answer to any of those questions were. Sure he gave them a name, but he always wonders if he's lying to himself, that his name is actually something else. Maybe another version of himself.

Ever since the discovery of a Stellaron inside him, Caelus always worries he might randomly go "BOOM!" and take out everyone and everything around him. He is a constant danger to everyone, why do they just let him hang around like nothing is wrong, like he isn't a threat to their lives simply by existing- sure, Welt may have been able to knock him out, or keep the Stellaron in check or whatever magical whimsy the man is capable of doing to prevent the thing from exploding, but that doesn't mean that it was a permanent fix. Even worse, Caelus doesn't want to have to rely on the man- or should a situation arise where they are separated and Caelus isn't in the elder's protective bubble, then there is no way of knowing when or what will make him tiktikboom.

Not that it entirely matters, because it isn't as if Caelus would survive afterwards anyway. He's sure he's only "alive" because it's inside him. So regardless the how, or when, he won't be around..

Who's to say it won't be tomorrow? Maybe the Script says he will live for another 20 years, maybe a few Amber Eras- living well passed the other Express' member's deaths and being on his own to pop in isolation.. maybe that wouldn't be so bad to explode at that point. Would it even be better to go before them? No.. they would likely mourn him.. and Caelus doesn't want to put any of them through that. He'd rather take the burden by himself.. Or, maybe he'd be able to stick with Pom-Pom.. being their companion for as long as the Express is operational. Maybe someday he too will be bound to the train created by Akivili and restored by Himeko.

The only thing that is for certain, is that it is uncertain.

[aevitium]

✧ ˖  @jxrmngxndr asked:

[FIREWORK SHOW]  + [JADE HEARTS] He did not even have to search to find her, it was simply the gravity of them that drew them within each other's proximity, time and again. Kevin had not intentionally saved her for last, had not avoided her anymore than one could avoid the beating of one's heart, no matter how subdued under it all. "Elysia." There was no preamble, no need for any prolonged greeting or explanation, merely fitting himself at her side, tilting his face up to see the shattering of red, of golds and greens and pinks and whites against the night sky already basking in the ambient glow of the lantern light. If he had been a younger man, the naïve boy he had once been, the display might have stirred something profound within him, but after so many years he merely felt... Calm. A furrow formed in his brow, and he angled his head down to look at her for a moment before his hand dug around in his coat pocket, prompting the telltale clatter of so many pieces of stone. He extracted one, one particular one, a smooth, flawless white piece of jade, and proffered it in his upturned palm. "I...picked one for each of us." Who us was, he did not feel the need to elaborate. After a beat, he added, "This one is yours."

"Hi~♪"

As she always has, Ego peers up at Deliverance. Fireworks dapple the pale canvas of his hair, the line of his profile, in myriad colors. He looks serene, as serene as she thinks she has seen him in some thousands of years. As serene as she thinks he can look, what with the permanent frown etched into his features, the hollow way his gaze always seems to look for something that is not there.

She is used to it, when he looks at her and that fact does not change.

Curious, attention flits to follow his hand. Pink brows arch, there's an amusement on her face as though she might be watching a fawn find its legs. A fond, sweet sort of feeling, one such that she always finds herself experiencing at an effort of affection from the coldest man she has ever known.

"Oh?" Elysia looks then to his palm, hovers over it as would a curious bird, with hands clasped behind her back and neck inclined. The surface of the stone is inspected thoroughly, considered from every angle, until finally she reaches to take it.

"The prettiest one, I hope."

Delicately, between her thumb and index fingers, the jade is held to the sky. Light bursts and shimmers behind it, framing pale ivory in brilliant gold and crimson. Elysia smiles, how familiar.

"Hm, on second thought, it certainly is."

[frostgnawd]

✧ énouement: the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, finally learning the answers to how things turned out but being unable to tell your past self.

Obscure Sorrows

There's a child that lingers in the reflection of the ice, too small and too weak and too insignificant to be anything but a shadow. Perhaps that is how he should've stayed, all wide eyes and trembling hands and fear that the world around him would swallow him whole. Sunlight is an indulgence he's rarely partaken in, and now, he cannot escape it. Now, he is center-stage, as if everything in the world depends on his very being.

He decides to try.

Every tentative step he takes is a daring venture. Every sickness he overcomes is in spite of fate reminding him where he should not be, and every challenge he takes on upon a healthier constitution he does so with an earnestness and dedication that hardly suits his sickly disposition.

He still tries. He dedicates himself to trying, guided by the hand of a man that will never be as bitter as his father was, and the smile of a woman who will never be as weary as his mother was, and the cheerful tone of a boy who will never truly understand him.

( The former are perspectives whittled away by death and time, and the latter has always been his fault entirely. )

He keeps trying. His past begins to fade, and the future opens up before him, and he's so close to bridging the difference that it leaves behind. He's so close to grasping the light -- he's so close to becoming something more than shadow.

But the boy raised in shadow does not understand how intense light can be. He's clumsy, and he's careless, a gaze suited for darkness unable to comprehend the dangers hidden in plain sight. He doesn't realize that this light he's trying to grasp has a heart of its own.

The boy in the shadows, the boy that is a shadow, has known fire within caverns, the torches that burn and illuminate the walls; he is familiar with that comfort instead, of places that are hidden but not dark, and he has mistaken that for the light that he glimpsed at the end of the tunnel, at the escape he might've found if only he'd been more conscientious of the manner in which he tread.

There's a boy in the ice, and Kaeya does not see him so often anymore -- but he does see him tonight. An illusion of the sight, of the mind, and yet somehow he hears that hesitant voice call out anyway.

"It works, doesn't it?" He asks, and Kaeya only smiles. He is taller and wiser and far more confident, and yet, he is still a shadow.

He will always be a shadow. If only he'd realized sooner.

"You try." He says, and the ice cracks, shattering into the same nothing it has been from the start. "But it's not enough."

[renascinem]

[VINGT-ET-UN]- Let’s go gambling! The best bar in Fleuve Cendre is holding a Black Jack tournament. It’s time to test your luck and see if you can make it big, or lose it all.

The easiest way to get the cut of a man was to put him in a situation where he could lose everything. Kevin had lost everything, and had pressed forward, had pushed those with him forward, the better that they too and all those around them did not lose everything.

It was not this which had made him suited for this game, but it didn't hurt.

What had made him best suited for this game was patience. And reticence.

He cocked his head, just a fraction, and watched the movements of the man across from him, equal and opposite in all measures as the game had progressed and more players had fallen, to their excitement, to their hubris.

He made no sudden movements, glancing at the cards the single time they were dealt, and keeping them facedown, hand over top of them as though to say that it was finished.

Regardless of what hand either was dealt, it would be the end.

"...Good game," was all he said, in spite of the chill.

Dan Heng's exploration of Fontaine eventually took him into the city's lower section, where a whole new world awaited. It's almost impossible not to draw the parallel between this and Belobog - the living conditions, the ways of life, the norms and traditions. It's a little unusual, though in the end, he pays it little mind.

Just as he didn't fear the Underworld back there, so too does he have no fear of this place, strolling around freely. Fleuve Cendre - that's what he heard it being called in passing - appears to be celebrating in their own ways; a lot more modest, but that doesn't make them uninteresting, and if anything, in some ways, they're much more his style than the glam and pomp on the surface.

In the end, he gets pulled into a card game tournament, and while some others appear to be in on it for the big game (at least, going by some of the cheers and wails nearby), all he wants is a moment to chill out. His opponent appears to be a somewhat enigmatic man; if Dan Heng were to guess by his clothes and general appearance, he did not seem like a local, either. But it is not as though that would ever bother a wanderer who spent years trying to just get away from home, as far as he could.

He looks at his cards one more time, and plays his hand, ending the game to the applause and joy of the onlookers.

"Good game to you, as well," he says with a respectful nod. His opponent was indeed skilled.

[avcnturine]

[MIC CHECK] - It's hard work to make sure all the equipment is good working order! Help the sound team out by singing in a few notes with a partner.

SQKREEEEEEE - !!!

The microphone would not stop screaming at him - no matter the distance of his fingers to its base, it protested shrilly to his presence in a way that had begun to appear most distressing to not merely the sound team, but passers-by.

Kevin grimaced - or rather, his lips ticked slightly downward in contemplation of the predicament. He was not the sort of man to leave a task unfinished, once he had pledged himself to it, but if this was the way that it kept behaving...

Eyes slid to the side, seeking out someone - anyone, in truth, who might have taken to the stage better than he - and finding his mark in a man whose smile seemed to wear him, rather than the other way around.

"...Perhaps you might be better suited to help with this. Would you come, lend your talents?"

Static buzzing, crackling with feedback, Kevin handed the microphone off to the young man, gaze simultaneously curious and pleading.

THE TINNY SCREECH OF MISBEHAVING TECH, the din of a hosted event venue in its preparation stages——sometime in the years since shedding rags and the ubiquitous roughness of sand for his newly-minted image, he'd gotten used to things like this.

aventurine is just passing by when the notes of shrill whining reaches its peak, every head in the room turning to glare at the unfortunate perpetrator. the young man standing on the stage looks no better off for it, nervously cognizant of the unwanted attention yet seemingly at a loss to fix it. where were the sound technicians? he can't imagine they'd left someone who had no idea what he was doing to set up the equipment.

as luck would have it, those nervous eyes scanning the room land on his, and decide to stick there. he sighs ; the meaning's clear enough. who'd he be to let this man stand up there and continue to flounder?

"i'm here today to meet with the producer about details regarding expenditures, not as an extra hand for the sound crew." measured steps bring him up abreast of the other on the stage, dimming the microphone's grating screech with a sharp tip of the instrument down toward the floor. though his words alone seem couched in admonishment——even threat——his tone is gentle and pleasant, lulling between the hypnotic serenade of honeyed tongue and auroral eyes. "i'm just letting you know: the company may end up owing for this."

he's no expert, but enough times on a variety of stage, set, radio, and otherwise, and anyone might pick up a trick or two from watching. the problem has to be with the speaker towers set up not a far distance away. but just as he positions to lift the microphone stand with both hands and move it, the instrument's shrieking suddenly stops completely. caught by surprise, he gingerly releases it. still nothing, even though it hadn't shifted an inch.

"hm. . . " he tilts the microphone back up. "testing, testing." the avgin's velvet caresses the air of the auditorium just fine, so he steps back and gestures for the other to try his luck again——but almost immediately, the stand begins to whine again as though sentient.

mm, i see how this is.

with a chuckle, he returns to his previous place ; the impending screech quiets once more to obedience as he looks to the other with something part apology, part admittance. "looks like something's gotten into this one. i'd be careful about sourcing anything from penacony if you're not accustomed to handling it. best to just find a new mic for now."

[cisoriaseams]

🎲 what's the worst that could happen-

A bloody kiss

I don't think it's that bad but in case anyone gets unsettled or discomforted by mentions of violence, gore, and/or torture. 👍

A new phenomenon, to feel so little in the presence of another. Blades of wind and daggers of ice, static that seeped through veins like the roots of a tree. Such torture bred animalistic urges, thrashing and growling, screeching out each time a blow or stab was delivered.

Hair messily framed ruined features, one eye swollen to the point of not being able to properly close. Busted lips and cuts on her forehead were cauterized in the heat of electrocution, only to be reopened with simple flicks. Each pause would leave the seamstress twitching, gasping and slobbering without control. Breathing made her chest sore. Tears had all but dried up, a sign that despite growing resistance, her body could not stand to her mental fortitude. She was still human.

Such favors seem to have caught up, dragged to some outpost far off in the countryside by some rogues, dawning the Fatui's fits. Any empty threat about what their superiors may do were ignored. Consequences would only find them if Chiori were to escape. Things may not have been so bad if she had not attempted such flight already, now sitting with two blades twisted into each thigh.

Bruises and blows only grew, each member taking their turn in roughing her up. Breaths only grew quicker, drawing as much from the air as her lungs may allow one the prospect of a broken nose presents itself. They realize she can still breathe. Stomach and chest then barraged with heels and fists, her jaw receives so many right hooks one may mistake her for the catch of the day. Blood is spat upon the ground; gasps grow shorter, quicker, trying stay conscious. Eyes begin slipping.

Slipping.

Slipping...

A sudden crash, mere seconds as Deliverance rips through the stone tower. His expression is as cold to gaze upon as he is to touch. Forced awake by the sounds and lack of pain leave her to watch as each member is dispatched with ease. Jerking, arms and legs can't seem to work with each other, wanting to help despite it not being needed. No, she did not want to help. She wanted to break even.

His justice is too quick, too painless.

When he finally comes to her aid, she immediately tries to move forward, rising on her own, only to collapse on the floor. An arm comes forward, so tense that it feels as if the sinews keeping it joined to her are being ripped apart. Even going forward an inch is too much. He makes her feel without weight, hoisting her and carrying her so easily. Her neck craning to keep it upright, eyes cannot focus.

"Kevin. Look at me..." Just shy of hyperventilating, she asks, "Kevin... please..." she asks, reaching up to take haphazardly grab at his collar. "Kevin..." she repeats, until he finally looks down. Lips find his without warning, eyes too swollen to even close. "Thank you," is what she offers when she finally releases him.

[desireigns]

[JACKPOT!] - Win big or lose it all! The hotel’s got a real nice casino, black-tie only and 100% Definitely Not Rigged machines to waste hours of your life at. Just don’t forget your wallet~

Of all the sorts of people that one might find in a place like this, they seemed somehow the most and least likely to be there. Where others were frazzled, distressed, impatient, clearly at the end of their rope and willing to bargain for more - more time, more money, more chances, more of everything they didn't have - they two were clean, quiet, calm.

They had been at this table for a while now.

Kevin wasn't much of a gambler. He had never needed to be, when everything else in his life came with such certainty - even before MOTH, before the surgery, there was little that he had ever needed to attribute to luck when it could have come with skill. This was somehow different, and the same.

She was watching. She had been watching the entire time, even when she had called or raised her bets, or folded, her eyes had never left his face, and it was the familiar sensation of seeking weakness that Deliverance could never abide.

His was not a facade that faltered.

If it were any other situation, he might have apologized.

With two gentle fingers he took the additional card slid his way by the dealer, and only barely flicked his eyes to acknowledge what resided on its face.

"And so? How much longer until you've had your fill?"

Gambling itself was never one of Jade’s pastimes- especially playing her hand at the blaring slot machines or the roll of a dice. All of this was better suited to a different glittering green; Jade did not take kindly to a lack of control. But the den itself, filled with the desperate (the needy, reaching for the hems of her skirts as she took a seat at a dealer’s table), was tempting.

Be careful not to gorge yourself.

There was never only one target- but there was the most difficult one- the most interesting. Others had folded from a sweet smile and an offered hand, a card slid into their palm as she walked away. From one too many losses, begging for another chance at wealth, at happiness.

He had met her eyes, unblinking. If he breaks contact, it is not for long, an acknowledgement of the facade of a game they played. It was hardly the correct expression for poker; every other player’s face would shift with each hand- but not his. Not hers.

The silence is broken, or rather, the impression of it, for both of them had made their calls even within this standoff. 

“Can’t I admire another’s handiwork?” She knocks her hand against the table, once- check. She knows better than to push her luck. “It’s a shame I didn’t find you first.”

[huntersoath]

[FIGHT SCENE] - Fighting can be tough, but faking a fight and making it look real is even more difficult. How about a demonstration for these blossoming actors?

[EXT. - WOODLANDS - DAWN]

[Our duelists find themselves pacing apart in the swirling mist just before sunrise, counting the steps as though counting their heartbeats. They cannot remember what brought them here, but it is their honor at stake - and neither will let the other leave this field alive.]

ANTONY (At the tenth pace, he turns, lifts his sword in a salute) I detest that it has come to this. But needs must.

Kevin takes the final step and turns, as his script bids him, but instead of those final words, he glances across the way and assesses his opponent coolly - just, it seems, as she does he. If this were a real battle, he could not have been less interested in giving a speech, merely driving forward to test the mettle and iron of the person before him.

He nods, once, the flick of the sword light in his hand in salute.

"Come."

For being expected to act out a scene... It seems like they both share the similarity in which they'd rather let their actions do the talking. Clorinde doesn't feel the need to arrive to a battle with flowery words in tow, or any at all; her rapier will express everything necessary within the confines of the Dueling Ring. In this case, it very well may be the best way to get to know the man standing across from her. Tucking one arm behind her in the typical pose she assumes when preparing for a bout, her back remains straight and rigid as she raises her own rapier in a sword salute as means of extending courtesy. From what Clorinde remembered, their characters were meant to be bitter rivals that were once friends before drifting apart-- and part of it strikes a chord in her that she wished it wouldn't. "How polite of you. Very well," She responds in an even tone before her foot shifts ever so slightly, the only indicator of her movement before she dashes forward with lightning speed; the crackle of thunder in her wake is merely an aftereffect of her vision, the purple sparks dancing across the length of her prop sword. She doesn't have the intention of actually using it, of course. As she swings, the sparks quickly die out into nothing as she follows through with her strike-- in the last millisecond before it would connect, she halts completely to avoid making an actual hit. It's close enough to where it could easily seem that she did land the swing, but it also gives him the option to feign an injury or respond in kind with his own onslaught. "Your move, then." The ghost of a smile on her face betrays the amusement with which she treats this situation, barely a hint of enjoyment flashing in her eyes.

@jxrmngxndr

[musounohitotachi]

When asked to perform this task, she almost laughed. Almost. It seemed those outside of Inazuma either did not know or had no care of who she was. But even still, this pushed the edge of her belief. Asking the God of Thunder to watch for a storm? It was a laughable prospect.

Still, she watched the horizon, the calm of the cliff she cleared overtaking her. She enjoyed the quiet, savoring it while it lasted. For she knew it wasn't going to.

She had been told that there would be another to keep watch with her, but she hadn't been told much of her companion on lookout. Just that there would be one.

Hearing footsteps on the tower, she pulled her polearm, not the Musou Isshin, not yet anyways, prepared for hilichurls. Whirling around, she finds herself face-to-face with a person, not a hilichurl. Lowering her polearm from her fighting stance, she relaxed.

"You must be the help I was told they would send. I already took the liberty of clearing the area." Her words are cool, and there is no apology. The Shogun rarely apologizes, even less so to strangers. But should this man turn out to be a bandit, he would rue the day he crossed the thunder.

@jxrmngxndr

Putting the "Storm" in "Stormwatchers"

Commission Board +1 Kevin Kaslana + Raiden Shogun

[trailblczed]

[XINYUE KIOSK] - Back again, Xinyue Kiosk’s keeping up the competition, offering sweet treats, savory dishes, and even refreshing veggies for all those looking to share a snack.

If he was to see the boy again, he could be relieved that it was under kinder circumstances. There were so few kindnesses in the world, and especially in that world where they had found themselves trapped not too terribly long ago, and although Kevin knew that the unkindnesses would continue, at least for the moment they found themselves shielded within the bubble that Liyue had to offer.

Though he had ordered two orders of the soup dumplings, when he handed off one to Caelus he did not immediately lift the chopsticks and spoon to partake, crossing his legs and waiting patiently for the boy to eat.

"...If you would like something else, I can order that instead," he said, after a moment. It didn't matter terribly to him, all rather the same to him for one reason or another, but his eyes searched for cues on Caelus' face.

Lantern Rite Gifts | 4(9)/5 [ CURRENTLY NOT ACCEPTING ANY MORE GIFT PROMPTS. ]

Here he was, back at the place that tried to kick him out not even a few days ago. Caelus is just glad the same worker isn't there to yell at him again ( cae would likely have a hard time not punching the person to be perfectly honest- ). But! He is sat down, his heart full and his stomach empty ( when is it not ) as he spends more time with the Shadow he barely got to know.

It really is nice being able to like... be normal and just have a typical outing that doesn't involve life or death and crazy groups who crave violence and injustice or some other nonsense story-line that Caelus just doesn't understand the appeal of ( not entirely true, Caelus loves a good super hero story- he just doesn't want to be in the story ). So being here with his new brother bud to simply enjoy a meal is a nice breath of fresh air.

Caelus didn't really care what they ordered, as Caelus isn't picky with what he eats ( something he has been lovingly scolded for [definitely not eaten trash before nope nuh-uh no sir-e not him] ) so he ends up just getting the same thing as his companion ( he really should learn this guy's name--) . Though it is rather odd the way the other hands Caelus his portion.. then simply watches him, as if waiting on Caelus for something- at least, that's the impression the boy gets.

Something about how gentle the statement is, how thoughtful the gesture is of the Shadow offering to get him something different, makes him laugh- a quiet huff tinted with amusement and a hint of affection.

❛ You could sit just about anything in front of me and I would eat it- I'm not picky. Though if they have some sort of cold treat, I'd love to try that afterwards. ❜

He gives a slight shake of his head before taking a spoonful of the soup and scarfing it down ( Caelus! Where are your table manners?! ). It is delicious, unsurprisingly so- they are at one of the most popular and well rated food establishments around. He emits a pleased hum, letting the flavor settle in before going for another spoonful.

As he's enjoying his second bite, Caelus notices that there was a side of veggies that was on a small plate to the side- and they each had one. Yet, for some reason, the plate Caelus received ( given by the waitress or from his companion, he isn't sure- he doesn't pay attention a lot ) had a larger variety than what was on the other man's plate. Maybe it was his general soft-hearted nature, or the random reminder that the one sitting near him had some sort of connection to one of his family members ( his father Welt, of course ) causing him to have some sort of.. familial instinct, that makes Caelus take a few of the larger tofu pieces ( as well as a few radish slices ) off his own dish and transfer them over to his companion's plate instead.

The lad thinks nothing else of the gesture, easily returning back to his own meal to chew and hum a made up tune as he soaks in the tender atmosphere and yummy food.