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⬣//A Mirage, Exposed - 11/12
Who: █████████
What: Deception, revelation.
When: 11/12
Where: Root Town Of Unknown Origin
Warnings: Death, violence, others to be added as needed.
Overnight, the Root Town without a name explodes into a cacophony of noise. There’s a rhythmic one-two-three of hammers, but looking for the source proves to be fruitless, as if something - someone? - is hiding the construction site from view. The noise lasts for hours, and so the sense of foreboding only seems to grow stronger and stronger. It’s the third week, so by now it might be natural to wonder.
Is this going to be where we meet yet another advancement of the Wave?
Eventually, the noise stops. The islands go quiet beyond the whistling wind that never stops. Minutes pass, hours pass, and then there’s a scream.
Finding the source of the scream isn’t all that difficult - at the end of a rickety bridge there’s a pale, crumpled shape on the ground. Gray hair, ivory robes, ghostly skin that’s even paler than usual - the only color is the bright red blood that covers his face and stains his robes.
Owen is dead.
A bloody trail can be followed across the bridge, to a large amphitheater that wasn’t there the day before. Rows of seating lead down to a raised stage covered by curved arches holding up a roof large enough to keep the stage dry and hide lights and the mechanisms for the curtain. A deep blue curtain hangs, closed and hiding the stage from view. An orchestra pit sits in front of the stage, seats empty.
Someone stands in front of the curtains, a scythe in hand. Their blue cloak and hair almost blend into the curtain, but the dull, yellow eyes are unmistakable.
It’s strange, isn’t it? How long has it been since you’ve seen Anaido…?
What: Deception, revelation.
When: 11/12
Where: Root Town Of Unknown Origin
Warnings: Death, violence, others to be added as needed.
Overnight, the Root Town without a name explodes into a cacophony of noise. There’s a rhythmic one-two-three of hammers, but looking for the source proves to be fruitless, as if something - someone? - is hiding the construction site from view. The noise lasts for hours, and so the sense of foreboding only seems to grow stronger and stronger. It’s the third week, so by now it might be natural to wonder.
Is this going to be where we meet yet another advancement of the Wave?
Eventually, the noise stops. The islands go quiet beyond the whistling wind that never stops. Minutes pass, hours pass, and then there’s a scream.
Finding the source of the scream isn’t all that difficult - at the end of a rickety bridge there’s a pale, crumpled shape on the ground. Gray hair, ivory robes, ghostly skin that’s even paler than usual - the only color is the bright red blood that covers his face and stains his robes.
Owen is dead.
A bloody trail can be followed across the bridge, to a large amphitheater that wasn’t there the day before. Rows of seating lead down to a raised stage covered by curved arches holding up a roof large enough to keep the stage dry and hide lights and the mechanisms for the curtain. A deep blue curtain hangs, closed and hiding the stage from view. An orchestra pit sits in front of the stage, seats empty.
Someone stands in front of the curtains, a scythe in hand. Their blue cloak and hair almost blend into the curtain, but the dull, yellow eyes are unmistakable.
It’s strange, isn’t it? How long has it been since you’ve seen Anaido…?
no subject
First things first. ]
...You aren't hurt?
no subject
At the question, Ganymede blinks and then touches his face, then his arms, almost as if he can't believe it himself, but in this battle... ]
No...surprisingly, not really. I didn't get hit all that hard too often, fortunately. I think?
[ The healers were so fast when he did he barely perceived having injuries when he was slapped around a little, haha. He does kneel down near the body, though. ]
What about you?
no subject
[ Noe... This is likely to be Michel's last battlefield as a result, but he's not thinking of that now either. ]
I don't... think Innis particularly wanted to fight. Or a direct confrontation like this.
[ What had happened with Anaido? Michel kneels on the other side to look him over with a frown. How close had he come to something like this, as Gorre? ]
no subject
Ganymede has one more battle he might see to. But otherwise... ]
Support classes don't benefit from direct confrontation.
[ ... ]
Anaido said he was a detective, and he always seemed really preoccupied with finding the truth. To something like Innis, maybe it's not a confrontation it could accept. I wouldn't know. But, I doubt Owen wanted this either.
...Still, what's done is done. He'll have to live with this. Also, I'm really not sure where to bury him, but I think maybe this place will do. Right next to Uta.
[ It seems fitting somehow. ]
no subject
...I don't know, either. And I don't know Owen so well that I think he would care to confess to me.
[ But if that's not a thing Michel can do, he'll make himself useful here. He turns his hand in Ganymede's to squeeze it quietly before he straightens. ]
I hardly knew him. But I don't think anyone could object to resting near her. I can make the grave.
[ Crafting is one of the things he'd spent substantial time on, although he hadn't envisioned this for it. But use is still use. ]
no subject
...He hasn't forgotten that not too long of a time ago that Michel had been 'Gorre'. As someone who cares deeply, like Michel, he is nursing his own regrets, isn't he? As he considers this, he is quiet for a moment, and then feels the squeeze, casting the other man beside him a thoughtful look.
He returns the gentle squeeze himself too. ]
...I'd appreciate your help if you could.
I guess it's not impossible for me to do the same, but I'm not sure if I'll be that good at it.
[ That might be a little excuse, though. He is MAX level. It's going to be tough shoveling the body too, but it also is what it is... ]
no subject
...Aesthetics are yours. Let me do the functional part. You could make the marker.
[ Shoveling, coffin. Michel can keep himself busy with things like that. ]
a wrap!
But a way nonetheless! ]
Okay. I can do that...so, let's get to it.
[ ...And then they bonded lovingly over performing the grim deed of burying a body.
That said, if Ganymede had a nickel for how many bodies he buried he would have two. ]