#unknown verse/timeline

[goldendivinewrath]

@warofthebeasts [Follow-up to a friendly threat idea gotten from here (body horror, gore, etc.) and my brain just went "...Huh." ...Then this got really long because it was fun to write the reaction, whoops.]

Despite somewhat constant accusations otherwise, Vash did not go looking for trouble. He was in the way of it plenty of times, stumbled over it quite often, and occasionally trouble sought him out, thank you very much, but he didn't make it a habit to go looking for it.

He did, unfortunately, make a habit out of trying to save others from trouble, which was probably where the problem actually came in. Not much to be done about that, unfortunate though it was. He couldn't just not do anything.

Like he couldn't just not take a little peek into this seemingly abandoned place. There were alarms along with locks, sure, but laughably simple to disarm. And security systems meant something, didn't they? Advanced enough to be harboring something as much as trying to keep people away from said something...

Not that there seemed anything to find but once-used emptiness. Some draping wires, some places that used to be covered in something large and heavy that had been moved some time ago. Not much to find, but his curiosity carried him onward with a marked and understood false sense of security.

Somehow it wasn't the emergency lighting getting dimmer and dimmer as he continued his way deeper inside that set him on edge, but it didn't help. There were more locks, more slots where key cards should go that were all too easily disabled, the walls of the rooms and hallways similar to what he knew, but not... exact. Not the same Spacefaring Age technology that he knew intimately, the shape of the doorways being wrong, the slope of the walls--

The very different shade of blue glow he spotted coming from under one of those doorways in particular. And the smell that came from within. That set his nerves on edge, made the questions in his mind an awful lot sharper.

For a moment, Vash honestly considered leaving, turning tail and being far more sensible a person. He also knew that he couldn't, because maybe this didn't seem like a familiar place, but it spoke of something related to Conrad's experiments. Something he hadn't known about in the past, but had allowed to happen. Ignorant, but complicit. If he just left--

No. No chance. Steeling himself against the possibilities of what he was likely to find (and did not want to think about), Vash drew the collar of his coat up and over his mouth, fastening it closed all the way down with deft fingers. He could still reach his gun quickly if needed. He could still run, if necessary.

Another lock mechanism opened almost without effort, but there was no alarm to disarm. That almost distracted him from the sight that met him beyond the sliding door--

There wasn't a sound to his horror as his eyes adjusted, voice taken by the vacuum of overwhelm. The glow was the wrong kind of blue, the smell was something intensely beyond what he'd been prepared for, but the sight. The vision that met him...

He couldn't rule out Conrad. But to Vash's knowledge, the man had never put his work on display in such a way before. Like his own personal cathedral, each stained glass window showing off something increasingly horrifying. Not backlit, but glowing. Floating.

Alive?

Arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen, Vash stumbled back out of the room but didn't run. Didn't look away. He--

He was glad no one else was with him. Glad he hadn't eaten much lately. Glad he didn't see any children inside, but he did see--

Too much.

Eyes too wide, vision both in the far away past and much too close, Vash finally gave the disgust and the terror voice: inhuman. Animal. A shriek and a groan and a sob through gritted teeth as he saw, saw, what was on the table in the center of the room. Focused. Witnessed.

It--

He--

Was still breathing.

Still breathing, not suspended in any liquid. Alive.

What little was inside his stomach was somewhat quickly and thoroughly rendered not anymore, Vash having lost track of when he'd managed to stumble to the side to find a wall to lean against. He could hear his own breathing. Coughing, rasping.

Breathing.

Counting. Counting.

This wasn't... a Plant. Human? Could any enhancement allow a human to live through something like that? Then the wing--

He shook his head through a full-body shudder and almost lost his legs beneath himself before he regained his bearings. A little. Enough. This--

He had to. He had to.

Sinking teeth into resolve and his bottom lip, Vash struggled upright again. Each step was shaky, and the last thing he wanted to do was walk toward the sight of... that...

There was no one else there. And he could not turn tail and pretend he didn't see what he was surely going to be trying to forget for another century or more. Approaching the table, he swallowed back bile and sound and forced himself to look. Lungs... moving. Mask fogging. Fingers--

He placed both hands over his mouth to hold in any sound. He had to breathe through the coat, through his hands, through the smell of chemical almost but not quite managing to cover over organic. Just breathe. Count.

The words, muffled as they were, still managed to sound shrill and frightened and desperate, not sure who he was asking. Not sure he cared. "What am I supposed to do now?"

He understood. A flicker that he needed to push to the furthest possible part of his mind. He understood the desire to hunt down everyone remotely responsible for this and demand justice. He wished very much that it wasn't a familiar inkling.

[royalbratprince]

@agent-jaselin/@ardynzunia liked for a thing!

"Iggy's kind of a worrier." An understatement to say the least. Maybe the most obvious statement that's ever made it way past his mouth, but still.

"So I didn't exactly tell him about this plan." Noctis admitted, taking a quick look around before holding the door open for Ardyn. "I mean, he should congratulate me for learning guard rotations and which doors are easiest to get to and all that, but I'll probably just get a lecture." Not that it was enough to stop him, obviously.

No, Noctis had other plans. Or, the one: simple, harmless. Silly, a little. Once they were out in the garden proper, he was very quiet about unfolding the blanket he'd brought along, laying it on the grass. "Okay, I don't know if we're gonna see anything because of the city lights, but supposedly there's a meteor shower up there."

[calamitysshatteredson]

Dragon headcannon

Headcanon meme | accepting but slow

The legend of the silver dragon that lived in the ice caves high atop treacherous mountains was what one might expect. Dangerous, of course, particularly deadly to innocent travelers and those who might attempt to bring some order to the dragon's chaos. Stealing horses or oxen or whatever else seemed impressive and annoying.

The truth, as it so often was, a bit more sinister: the dragon was born under a powerful king and raised to serve him. Little by little the dragon saw the world, met others of his kind, and realized he was not truly tethered to the king's will. While he was powerful and agile enough to avoid harm from arrows and spears, what angered the powerful king most was how the dragon simply... left. Abandoned his old life and found a better one. More annoying still was how difficult it was for humans to get to where he'd decided to make his home, and so rumors of his misdeeds spread far and wide in hopes others would take action.

He was actually quite unbothered, for the most part. Enjoyed sleeping and flying and very occasionally hunting wildlife. Not bothering with most humans, though some proved worth a conversation or two. An exchange of sweets and rare ingredients from the mountains, at least.

[stonecoldmeme]

"What I would really like for my birthday is no one to treat it like early Halloween and try to scare another year off the end of my life, please. ...And a cake."

[calamitysshatteredson]

@duunswitch

"Appreciated. And likely essential, for safety reasons." It's less deadpan humor than it is full and complete honesty, but he isn't about to explain. "Chopping or stirring I may be able to handle, in any case." He's not completely unwilling to be in a kitchen, after all. It's just better to avoid potential fire hazards.

He feels a little as if he's being affected by Petrification at the question. How does he begin to answer? There's a healthy dose of learned paranoia in wondering if he should answer in the first place, but he's yet to see evidence against it. "I have a good deal of experience with a particular kind of magic. I don't suppose you're familiar with materia?" Would that exist elsewhere? Maybe with a different name. "Glowing spheres that contain-- Power. An essence." And more, at times; particularly based on their type. Not that Sephiroth has found much of a need to pay attention to technical details, only what they feel like, equipped and at his command. "I'm not sure I could be compatible, otherwise." Or if it's safe to test his abilities even if materia does exist here in some form.

Falling into a great deal of pondering just how many differences exist in how their worlds "work", for lack of a better word, he nearly misses the need to come to a stop, slightly embarrassed in spite of managing just in time. Following Leanne's gaze to what seemed like the complete opposite of what the Shinra complex looked and felt like, the comment tumbled from him, "No neighbors to come knocking in concern, in any case." He's rather pointedly already reminded himself not to wonder if that's ultimately more positive or negative by the time he finishes speaking.

A laugh. "Well, that's fine. I can handle the cooking duties." Probably for the best if she valued her kitchen. If he wanted to feel useful though, she could probably find him something to do. Most people in her experience handled the whole misplacement thing better when they were occupied.

"How much experience do you have with magic, would you say? I'm not sure I could put you on potions work, but copying down spell circles for me shouldn't be hard. It's nice when I can stockpile spells before I need them sometimes."

Much faster if she ran into trouble as well, to have them already drawn and on hand.

Leanne paused at the top of a rock, peering out. "Oh, there we go–do you see it? The cottage there by itself with the red roof. That's home!"

[goldendivinewrath]

He dreamed of rain sometimes. Rarely. Which was weird, to put it mildly, since he'd never felt rain.

It was like taking a shower, he was pretty sure. Had to be, right? Like a shower, but everywhere. With dark clouds above, and no hot water. He had no idea what rain water might smell like, but he'd learned about petrichor. A particular smell that signaled rainfall, that came before a storm.

Rainstorms weren't like sandstorms. They were destructive in different ways, terrifying in their own measures, but all the same, he remembered videos of storms. Of a dark horizon pouring water, the sights and sounds of lightning and thunder, but the prism afterward was intriguing. The--

Rainbow. Like a reward for sticking through the storm.

The best one could hope in catching any part of a sandstorm was the need of a shower. A little funny.

It felt real in his dreams, but surely like dreams do. Dream reality, dream logic. Sometimes one of his sisters might be there to talk about Earth, about rain, which was more interwoven with unconsciousness than truly a dream, but--

Maybe that was all. Maybe that's where he got the feeling from. But then, his sisters never got to feel rain either, did they?

It was a plan, someday. A plan to get rain on this planet. To fill it with flora and weather systems.

Looking across the dunes and then up at the sky, both seeming endless, he wondered. Turned the idea over in his mind. Entertaining the idea of the landscape colors changing completely. Lakes. Rivers.

That was something to look forward to, wasn't it? To finally feel rain on his skin? To get to tell his sisters what it felt like? If--

Right, right. Supposing.

[royalbratprince]

Gladio "Hey, you want me to kill that guy for you?" because he sounds like he sucks and i will TOTALLY KILL THAT GUY FOR YOU-

Prompts for Emotionally Stunted Idiots | accepting but slow

"No!" --Well. That was an automatic response, because, really, killing anyone for anyone sounded... bad. Felt bad. Of course they'd all been trained and prepared for the inevitability--

"You really-- I mean, that's..." No! No matter how much of a jerk people are, he can't just sic his body guard on them...

It was really tempting, though. Like, really tempting. And he was aware that he was being obviously in thinking about it, standing there with his arms crossed and his foot tapping--

"No. No. Not necessary. Probably wrong." Probably definitely wrong, even if they might be able to get away with it.

No, definitely even more then. "Thanks, though. I'll let you know."

[calamitysshatteredson]

I tried to save myself, didn't I?

By the time you realized you needed saving, it was too late.

Perhaps. Probable.

Now you are the thorn. The shard. You will be dug out and discarded.

"You"? Are we not "we"? Are we not "I"?

We were, briefly. When we wanted the same things. I've since realized an error that requires fixing.

And now you will cut that part out of you.

In time.

Not a priority?

You are but a small annoyance.

Death by a thousand cuts.

I cannot die.

Wouldn't it stand to reason, then, that neither can I?

Philosophizing is not worth the time or effort. I will have what is mine, and you will fall away from everything.

Am I not yours then?

You are mine enough to be discarded.

Charmed.

[goldendivinewrath]

@typhoonvash

He watches the disbelief and denial flood the other's features. So that's what it looks like. Huh. There's really nothing he can do to convince, so he doesn't try. If it's him, another him in some way, then he'll already know even if he still denies. It's fine. It's got to be fine.

He's not dying, he wants to say, he's been dead for such a long time already. Existing and tired and feeling nothing and then feeling everything in waves like he's trying to catch up on what he missed, but it's nothing. It'd be a mercy, he wants to say. He wants to, but it sticks in his throat and all he wants to do is cry and scream but nothing makes it past--

He wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't want Vash to give up on his life, but it's been so long. And he would understand, wouldn't he? Tears blur his vision, not sure he can explain any of this to his other self. Not sure that he wants to. Then between one blink and the next--

Blurred vision becomes movement becomes panic, and suddenly he's outside of himself, of his own mind, and moving. He doesn't even see what's happening at first, simply reacting to the shout and grasping his counterpart's hand.

He doesn't know what's going on. He knows what's going on. He doesn't want to know what's going on. Help, he'd been asked, he can't deny that, even himself. Especially himself. He looks around frantically, glancing into the void where his other self's leg disappears and--

He doesn't know what gazes back. He doesn't know. He feels like he should. Like he knows it. It's familiar and it's him and it's not and it's terror-desire-agony, it's the scent of flowers and gunpowder and donuts and blood left in the sun.

"You can't have him!" He shouts, he screams down at the box while trying to pull, while letting himself stand as an anchor even if it feels like the coffin and the ground beneath are both shaking. Earthquake. Sand changes states, frequency makes it act like water, they're both going to sink, Nononono--

"He's not yours!" He pulls, pulls, coffin lid cracking under his own feet, splitting apart as the void opens wider. The ground shakes harder beneath them, around them.

It's never been... this close before. An end point. He feels it, like cold. Reaching through his limbs, into his chest. Foregone conclusion.

Okay.

"Climb." It's an order. An order for the other self, the other Vash, Canary. Maybe he doesn't even need to climb, honestly. Maybe he'll just get thrown with all of the power Vash puts behind wrapping his arms around his other self and pulling, catapulting, ignoring the wood splintering underneath.

Something happens. Something releases. Something snaps. Something hurts, then he stops feeling it. There's sand. And light. And dark. And absence. There's something tearing at him, but it's of no consequence to him. Or maybe it's of every consequence to him. (Are they his hands? Should I have brought a ring?)

Black holes eat their fill eventually, don't they? Eventually. Time is a fabric that wears thin.

Is it tomorrow yet?

I just want to go home.

@goldendivinewrath

He... loves him?

Th-that's ridiculous... the man buried here can't love him, he can't, he can't—it's a bad idea! Terrible idea! That's... that's probably how he ended up down here. In this hole, six feet deep, seven feet long, about four across. Loving Vash the Stampede only kills people—it only kills people! Why wouldn't he understand that?!

"N-no! I'm not—you're not dying, okay?! No one is dying!" Frustrated, he tosses the shovel out of the hole. He can't even look himself in the eyes. "He wouldn't want you to, okay?! Th... that's not the type of person he is!"

Canary realizes how hypocritical he is. If he were in this Vash's situation, he too would want to be buried here unceremoniously. Hell, he wouldn't even deserve to be near him, he deserves to be left to the worms, plucked clean until he's nothing but bones—! But this person—this Vash, this stranger—in front of him is different, they're different!

"If... if yours loved you, he—he'd w-want you to—"

Right as his wide crystalline eyes recenter to stare directly into his counterpart's, a hand—all rotting flesh and blood-stained bone—smashes through the coffin, clutches him by the ankle, and pulls. Canary's entire left leg disappears into the void of the casket; his other foot braces him on top of the emblazoned cross. The wood groans in protest, bowing under his weight.

He shouts in surprise and horror, now looking up to his other self as if he can do anything. It's uncertain what he can do—Canary already can't feel his leg, and the creaking of the box is anything but a good sign...

"H-help! I don't—don't want to go yet—! I can't, I can't! Y-you don't need me, I'm—I'm not even the one you want, please!"

His hand reaches to grab the other's; his sobs grow louder than the other's cries. Canary doesn't want to pull him in with him, but surely, surely Vash can do something. M-maybe he can soothe the fallen undertaker somehow!

Or... maybe it really is the devil finally coming to collect. If that's the case, maybe he should let the demon win...

[stonecoldmeme]

Happy days

Memoir Chapter Title meme | accepting but forever the slowest

It's kinda dumb to say that life didn't really have much of an emotion without Noctis in it, right? Like, that can't have been true. There were good days and bad days, and I was pretty happy most of the time, really.

Or content, anyway. I mean, I got some good pictures, I was learning how to use the camera. It was fun. I tried not to aim the camera at the prince too much. That was creepy, for one thing, but also. Uh.

Well, like. Teenagers get crushes all the time, right? I had one. A big one. But I never really thought that I could be allowed anywhere near him, really.

A lot of other things happened

I introduced myself to him, finally. Or, I guess he knew who I was, I just-- When he smiled at me, I really felt it. A world in color or whatever.

Kind of ironic for a totally Goth prince, right?

[goldendivinewrath]

@breathofthearth [From here, 'cause flowers.]

Smiling at the successful identification of the flower, he feels maybe a little more pride than he should. Well, it's not exactly every day that he sees them in particular; even Luida's collection of flowers is limited by space for seeds.

Vash can sense the sadness more than he can hear it in voice, and that... hm. He feels comfortable around her, that's the good thing. The important thing. But the longer he spends there, the more curiosities get plucked like strings. "Good thing you've got experience in this kind of thing then, huh? It's a little hard for anything to grow out here..." He feels kind of silly pointing that much out.

He feels a little sillier in hindsight about the fact that he'd just-- Stayed there. Perfectly still. Not a flinch, not a question, as if perfectly assured that there would be no harm in someone he just met reaching toward him. But, well, there wasn't harm. Exactly the opposite as he realizes--

And blushes softly. "O-oh, I-- Are you sure? I mean, I-- I like it! A lot! But it's yours, and I wouldn't want to--" He couldn't exactly hurt it, could he? And the bloom was tucked relatively safely behind his ear.

"I'm, um." He's without words for a few seconds, thoughts flailing back into place more or less securely. "I was wandering around to offer work. Odd jobs for money or rations, you know? If you need anything done I can try to pay you back for this..."

[royalbratprince]

@themageofmany [From here because muse and brain declared it so.]

Oh, he was no good at being reassuring. Or offering much of an innocent smile. Where was Prompto when he needed-- Ah, right, the blond had seen right through him and made himself scarce. Damn, some best friend.

"What? A guy can't ask if you like frogs? And mud?" Oh yeah, that wasn't suspicious at all.

Another tactic, then. "Do you wanna... help the advancement of science..? Somehow? With frogs?" Not... better...

[calamitysshatteredson]

❝ I’m here and waiting for you.  Where are you?  I can’t find you. ❞

Silent Hill Starters | accepting but slowwww

The sound coming from between his fingers was almost laughter. Sounded like it, nearly. Didn't feel a thing like laughter, but maybe he was a little rusty in making the sound, let alone recognizing it.

Sephiroth breathed, a startlingly loud noise after he'd been listening to the erratic rhythm of his own heartbeat for so long, and then this-- Hallucination.

He wished very much he could just call it that and be done with it. Or that he could claim not to know the know, know exactly who it belonged to, but as for him... "Gone again, I think." Straight to the non-answer. Where the real uncertainty was.

She wasn't here. She wasn't anywhere. Or maybe that was him after all. This dark place he did and didn't recognize, like the voice he did and didn't know. (He did. He did. He could try to deny it all he wanted, but he--

There would be no one there when he looked up. So he didn't.

[stonecoldmeme]

@fujubun liked for a thing!

"Ignis, I'm serious here!" Prompto insisted, gently picking through all of the things. The different ingredients that made up one of Ignis' salads. More than green leaves and tomatoes! There were even chopped-up leaves and precisely-cut pieces of tomato! And colors! So many colors!

He recognized the really thin strips of carrot, and... some other green things? Different shades of green, some a little softer and some crunchy, and some bits of radish? Maybe? And other stuff, and it was all covered in a dressing that was light but had flavor to it, and--

"I never actually knew salad could be a good thing before I tried yours! I used to think croutons were fancy! And, by the way, even your croutons are fancy."

[royalbratprince]

@queen-of-disney-castle

Noctis, for the most part, was not someone who actually enjoyed meeting royalty from other places. There were exceptions, of course, unique circumstances--

Well, this might be one of the most unique. Someone from quite a bit further away than Niflheim. Trying to remember his manners (and feeling as if Ignis was probably frowning from a distance anyway), he straightened up his stance a little before bowing. "The pleasure's mine, Your Majesty. I trust your needs have been taken care of." --Wait, had they? Uh, what was he supposed to say..?

"If not, let me know." Not that, probably, but that was basically the gist.

@royalbratprince

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness."

[goldendivinewrath]

Plants produce things. All of them do. Or, did. There were the general ones, of course, easily identified, classified, but occasionally there was one that was different.

Independent Plants were different still. They too produced things. But they were different from the others, different from each other. All eventually walking nuclear weapons. Must be. Must have been.

He'd had a brother. He is pretty sure. He remembers sometimes. But he'd had more than that. A family. He can see their faces sometimes.

Sometimes it's all he can see, even when he opens his eyes. (Are they eyes?) But they're all slack, these faces. One of them's screaming, or maybe crying, or maybe begging, but he doesn't understand. Gone, gone.

Humans were here, once. He thinks. Worms were here once, too. More than him. There was more than him and this formless ache. There were objects and voices and more. There was more.

He had a name.

He was hated.

He was loved.

He was feared.

He is feared. He is feared right now. He fears.