Ic - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
if you're wondering where to find chongyun, they are half submerged in a body of water, face down, and completely wet. there's also several small pieces of a bright red mineral scattered about the exorcist.
chongyun is also not moving, though at least they're breathing.
when the floor gives way, kami is horrified. he remains rooted in place, not sure at all what to do now. somehow, this is all going to come back on him, people are going to blame him for upsetting cyno, people are going to blame him for throwing out wind attacks. he needs to run, he needs to go hide, people are going to chase him out of sumeru, call for his head. there are so many ways that kami could end up, and none of them are GOOD―
"kaminari."
it's nahida's voice. her voice is just barely enough to snap him out of his spiraling thoughts, reminding him of where he still is. kami doesn't make any sort of movement, because now entrance to the library is opening, and people are poking their heads in. kami can hear the whispers and already-forming rumors, and even rising voices. all of which are wanting to know what happened. at the very least, kami is slowly lowering himself back to the floor, feeling ashamed, embarrassed, and terrified. his thoughts keep spiralling and imagining the worst of the scholars and students, and it's only lord kusanali that keeps him still. it helps to keep his gaze focused entirely on her.
she's walking forward, dendro already bursting from her like a gentle aura. it's not FIXING the broken rubble that swallowed cyno, but it's keeping people at bay. part of kaminari wonders if nahida is using her powers to keep people calm. part of that thought comes from the fact that the voices are quieting down; no one looks all that angry anymore, just curious. she's giving him a sympathetic expression (he loathes her for this), before turning to glance down at cyno.
"kaminari, if you please. can you pick him up and carry him to my sanctuary? we need to have a conversation." while nahida's voice is gentle, kami REALLY doesn't like the implications of that. the thought of getting close to cyno as well doesn't sit well with him either, making him feel physically nauseated and clammy. it's the same tension pooling in his gut that he'd felt so many times before.
if not for the dendro powers sweeping down to encompass cyno, kaminari would have disobeyed her for once, turning to flee sumeru instead and never return. instead, he's tentatively hopping down to the floor below, watching cyno carefully.
"are you alright?" kami's voice comes out a little more broken than he'd like. hoarse, wheezing almost, but he's reaching down to grab at cyno. "i'm―"
he can't say it. HE CAN'T BRING HIMSELF TO. but he probably needs no words right now. even with all the curious onlookers, he's still carefully trying to lift cyno, testing to see if he can walk. kami isn't entirely sure what nahida's dendro is doing with cyno right now, but he hopes it's calming the spirit inside.
The first gust of anemo energy is deflected, slapped away like an annoying insect before the Pathclearer's face. It shoots away like a bullet, crashing into a bookshelf and generating a spray of leather and scattered paper sheets.
The purple mask glares up with glowing eyes at the Wanderer; the spirit who has awakened is even older than Kaminari, and took offense to the strike. It will take much more than that to face the Priest's Judgment.
"Al-Ahmar has spoken, and His decree is absolute." Rumbles a thousand old echo that only vaguely seems to originate from where Cyno stands; a voice like the rolling of thunder at the center of a storm. "The arrogance of fools who play as Gods will meet punishment. Its product is bathed with sin, and will be cleansed."
There comes the second strike, stronger and direct from above. Clawed arms cross together to receive it, and elemental energy of opposing forces surges between both. The purple bindings that wrap around Cyno's hands glow, growing longer, tying even further around his body, all the way up to the shoulders. The spirit's form seems to threaten to swallow its host whole.
"Surrender to your fate!"
With a warcry, Hermanubis repels this strike too, but there comes the actual burst of energy Kaminari had prepared. It hits its target straight and squarely, crushing him and the ground on which he stands. Marble and stone crack and crumble, and the floor gives in beneath Cyno.
The floor underneath the House of Daena is part of the network of rooms and corridors assigned to the use of students living 'on campus'. It's a quiet and peaceful place, usually, but many of the late-night students had come out of their rooms to look up concern when the ceiling of the main intersection between dormitories started to shake and creak ominously.
There's an eruption of screams and shouting when that very ceiling finally shatters open like a gaping wound, and something violet and bright comes through and into the floor. Dust and debris block the view for a minute, until it finally settles in, to a tense and eerie silence filled with dread amongst all witnesses.
There, coated in marble dust and bloody bruises, lays the General Mahamatra. Immobile at first, but then Cyno flinches. His lungs spasm as the electro energy wipes off of his body and his Vision returns to its dull inactive state. He coughs at the pain coming from his ribs and back, and his eyes weakly open to blink slowly.
What had just happened...?
"What was it that caused you to turn your back? To become a traitor, knowing all the weight that carried? What did you see? Or perhaps, it was something you learned?" - Captaino / Kami
he still isn't sure how he feels about the captain. even during his time among the harbingers, kami had heard nary a bad thought spoken about the man. too much praise heaped on someone's shoulders tends to shape their outlook on life, and kami still can't help but feel as though capitano exudes self righteous energy.
it almost makes him ill.
still, the former sixth is aware enough to know that regardless of capitano's stance on everything, he still has to answer for his crimes. no doubt the other harbingers would want answers, this is just kami's fault that he strayed too close to natlan.
turning his head away, kami takes small comfort in the noises his clothing makes. from the clinking of his earrings, to the ribbons on his hat. those soft noises help calm his growing nervousness over this confrontation. he relies on outside stimuli too much, but is that even a bad thing? kami's even reaching up to fiddle with one earring. a DISTRACTION, to keep the captain's aura from overwhelming him.
"i have no actual answers for you," kami replies. part of him wants to fall back on his default response: i did what i needed to do. that's not entirely the truth anymore. he'd been so consumed by malice and rage, throwing aside reason in favor of keeping the gnosis for himself.
it could have all been avoided had he trusted anyone but dottore.
"i thought i was choosing the right path for myself. i should have known that everything i planned would crash and burn in a cloud of smoke and debris." kami lowers his hands then, forcing himself to look back at capitano. he's always seemed far bigger, and FAR more intimidating than he looks now. while kaminari doesn't know all about his history, he's aware enough to know the captain had been around for as long as kami, if not a bit longer.
maybe trauma is something they both share.
"if not for the grace of the dendro archon, i would not be standing where i stand now. though, i'm still not sure what i've learned from all of this." there's a heavy sigh, followed by a shrug. "all i know now is that trust is even more fickle and fragile than it ever has been in the first place. if someone isn't careful, they're going to lose everything they ever had in one fell swoop."
kaminari chuckles at that. "as someone who experienced that personally, i would only wish that upon my worst enemy." kaminari won't say it outright, but he hopes the captain recognizes the thinly veiled threat. not aimed at capitano, but he's certain the captain will understand anyway.
there's a dormant part of the puppet that is practically SCREAMING not to trust this stranger. that part is ignored and shoved down into some mental abyss, along with the rest of those pesky thoughts that make no sense. this stranger is the first person he'd even seen in what feels like forever. why SHOULDN'T he extend some level of trust? the stranger's voice is gentle and soothing, and it leads to the puppet wanting nothing more than to stay with this stranger forever, just to keep a tight hold of this new feeling of safety.
"dreaming?" his voice echoes. he doesn't remember sleeping, though maybe he has been. the darkness had stretched on and on, leaving him with all these dark thoughts that had only spiraled, leaving him feeling empty and too alone. the puppet wonders if that's what those strange thoughts are; remnants of dreams and nightmares. in the pitch black, it's hard to differentiate between awake and asleep; thoughts can become dreams can become nightmares. "maybe i was dreaming."
when the hand is outstretched, the puppet takes it slowly. not even his own creator had made him feel this at ease before. it's a poignant moment he wants to savor, and it doesn't matter where he's going to be taken to. no doubt it's going to be out of here, but the puppet can't help but wonder if they're going to see more of the world beyond. the small fraction of light he'd seen so far is almost majestic, but SURELY there's more to see and admire.
"you'll help me?" even with many, many questions at the tip of his tongue, this is the only question he allows to leave his lips. the puppet knows he'll have more to ask, and the questions will inadvertantly slip out without his thinking. for now, he wants to focus on the promise of help. he uses that hand to lift himself to his feet, not letting go even when he finds stability. he does remember walking, but the disuse has him feeling unsteady. strangely more sturdy than he would have anticipated. "how?"
the puppet refuses to let go of his doppleganger's hand. it's some sort of comfort, a tangible feeling he's been deprived of for way too long. the hand is warm, and even if this stranger. his savior ― looks displeased in general, he's still providing the puppet with something positive.
"by the way, thank you," he says. he's GRATEFUL. why shouldn't he be? he may not know anything about himself, or why he's adorned the way he is. or even why he was in the darkness in the first place. but he's free now. there's no reason to hold any fear or doubt anymore, not with people around. the puppet squeezes the hand a little tighter, trying to express with more than just words how glad he is.
"what do i call you?" he asks. "do you have a name?" he doesn't have a name. all he remembers is that he'd been created, then discarded before any such name could be given. perhaps names aren't even important in the first place, but to the puppet, it'd be nice to have a little piece of identity he could latch onto. "i don't have one either, i think. my creator never gave me one." only now, does he finally let go of the hand, feeling like he'd said everything with that gesture he could say.
he looks at him with such INNOCENCE — those eyes wide and pure and enamored with the mere act of existence in the way only a complete BLANK SLATE could ever hope to be. it feels as if he's staring into a mirror. not the uninspired insult that kaminari once served to be — but an echo of the past. a puppet, mind clear of all comprehension. utterly ignorant to the world beyond his beatific prison — abandoned by a god masking her carelessness beneath decrees of mercy. kunikuzushi knows he was like this once. revulsion clogs his throat like glue at the mere thought. yet it is one thing to recall that innocent echo through something as insubstantial as memory — it's another matter entirely to stare at him directly in the eerily similar face.
EVERYTHING FEELS WRONG. it does, it does. he wasn't sure what results his little so-called experiment would produce — truly, the balladeer's only goal had been to cause suffering. like a dog gnawing a bone, a cat batting some helpless rodent between its paws. it was a source of simple amusement. a way to banish the ennui all too often produced as a natural counterpart of eternity. he couldn't simply kill the wanderer, and handing him over to the doctor wasn't to his benefit — not when he needed to ensure that man continued working ceaselessly on his end of their BARGAIN. ( not to mention having another puppet around decreased his own value. ) letting him go hadn't seemed like a viable option, either. he was practically helpless without his vision, too prideful to weaponize that divinely granted well of power that was their BIRTHRIGHT — so why shouldn't kunikuzushi assert himself as the arbiter of such a worthless creature's fate? now that he's been reduced to a blank slate, the thing that once called himself kaminari looks upon him as if he's every bit the god he claimed to be.
... and the balladeer hates it. why does he hate it? this should be a moment of triumph, yet the only thing that comes to mind is a SUFFOCATING sense of self-disgust. towards which of them, he can't possibly discern.
he swallows back those worthless ( flawed ) feelings. no matter; ruminating on something so POINTLESS is a waste of his time — he's always known emotions aren't bound to rationality and common sense. it's why embracing them leaves him weak. ❝ i found you and brought you here. ❞ kunikuzushi tells him — which technically isn't a lie. ( he certainly did, for better and for worse. ) ❝ it seems like you've been DREAMING for a very long time, but ... you don't really get out much, do you? ❞ head cants; the harbinger looks him up and down. he may not be useful in a fight like this, but there's a chance he can still find some PURPOSE for him. he'll have to conceal his face, of course — their resemblance will have the chattering insects asking far too many questions. perhaps a secretarial role; something quiet and unassuming and relatively out of the way. although ... does he still remember how to read and write? if he truly has been reduced to their most basic form, kunikuzushi can only assume he'll need to teach him. that's troublesome. this is all ... so troublesome.
the balladeer stands. regardless, there's not much sense in loitering around this boring room; it's already served its purpose. ❝ come with me. ❞ he says, offering his doppelganger a hand. ❝ i'm going to help you. ❞ he will. in a sense.
the words from cyno have kami blushing an even darker shade of red. he can FEEL the heat building up in his ears. it's not an unpleasant feeling that's settling over his stomach. it's still embarrassing to be caught sleeping in the first place, though. cyno doesn't seem like the type of person to dole out soft compliments like this, so even kami will take them as they're given.
"you..." kami puts a hand over his mouth, trying to will his voice to come out steady, not broken with embarrassment. there's WAY too much to consider here. for one, he's still tired, and could definitely use more rest. probably not on cyno's desk though. two. he DID make a mess of cyno's office. it hadn't been done on purpose ― his anemo vision still takes a lot of getting used to.
"i suppose i could still use a little more sleep," kami finally amends, carefully hopping back down to steady flooring. "but you don't get to sit and stare at me the whole time. i will not be sleeping on your desk, but i'll stay in the office."
with those words, he bends down and starts picking up some of the scattered paperwork. "...and i was lying about the research. i just like it in here." as if cyno didn't already know this and call him out on it.
"I wish you'd stayed asleep. The sight was a much more pleasant 'welcome back' present than being insulted with such a bad lie." Cyno sighed softly, too tired, too busy and maybe, deep inside, too glad to be in Kaminari's company again to be as irritated as that treatment normally warranted.
Nonetheless, the Wanderer deserved the most deadpan stare from the General Mahamatra when he turned to bring the collected documents to his desk - tap-tap - and rest them neatly by the corner.
"Unless you've also come up with a good story about why the office of a matra would keep records useful to research about the Far East."
The implicit question was rhetorical, and he did not wait for an answer before his next words came out, like the gruff half-hearted bark of a dog too old to fuss about the rambunctious kitten.
"Get off my furniture and help me clean up while you think about that."
cyno has a sofa in his office? why had kami never known about this before? there's now even MORE of a reason for him to sneak into the office whenever he can (though cyno's desk is still his favorite perch), and even more reason to stay while cyno's working.
he stares at cyno for a minute, torn between continuing to help clean up the mess or diving right for the offered key. he COULD leave it all to cyno to grant cyno the rare offer of watching kami sleep, or at the very least, keeping an eye on him, or he could continue to be polite, and clean up the rest of the mess he'd made.
"you are insufferable." there is no insult meant behind those words, as he gathers up what's left of the mess and plops it down before the general. "absolutely insufferable, you tempter of naps." even with the faintest smirk on his face, kami casually turns to grab the key from the wicker basket.
"i'll even breathe for you this time," he says. there's a certain playfulness to his tone that hadn't been there before. a lightheartedness that could ONLY mean he's growing to trust the general far more than he had previously.
kami uses the key to pull out the sofa, and stares at it for a moment, running his hands along the length. it's soft, definitely better than the hard surfaces he's grown far too accustomed too.
"menace," kami whispers, before flopping down, face down, on it. his hat, of course, is carefully set next to him.
That was much better. A recalcitrant Kaminari was almost always entertaining. A compliant one was oddly satisfying, in a way that Cyno intimately would describe as a guilty pleasure.
Nothing like seeing criminals grovel and obey after he'd apprehended them, no. Surely control had something to do with it, but rather than seeing it as a manifestation of his own authority, Cyno regarded those little moments with the same fulfillment of seeing something naturally fitting where it belonged, like the slow opening of petals in a late-blooming flower after it was tended to with careful nurture.
"I guess the quiet makes it ideal for a nap. People don't come by often." He said, unable to fully contain the small smile on his face as he continued to work. Be it because of fear, or out of respect, even his own subordinates showed up only if summoned or when an emergency was on the rise. Cyno wasn't one to mind the quiet... and on occasion, he'd enjoyed a little shuteye too, after particularly long trips.
Should he share his secret?
Half-turning to look at Kaminari, he contemplated that thought for a moment, and then spoke. "There is a foldable majlis floor sofa inside that coffer by the window. The key is under the small wicker basket on the cabinet."
“ is that my blood? that’s my blood… ” - kennedy shepard
injury prompts // @lcngdays
"That's your blood," TK confirms as he throws away the bloody gauze and grabs a new one to press to the other's temple. After his team set up the triage center on the field, far away enough from the building that's still blazing with fire, TK stayed behind to identify and assess the patients, and then either send them to a hospital or colleague, or treat them himself. He just saw off the third ambulance when TK turned his attention to the newest patient.
Small cut on right temple that kept sluggishly bleeding. Possible head injury. Airway is clear. Breathing is adequate. Subtle signs of shock, maybe.
TK's previous questions went unanswered – which isn't an uncommon thing when dealing with patients – so he tries again now that the other finally spoke up.
"Can you tell me your name?"
{Starter for @talon-mccree}
Angela looked at her watch quickly. A frown on her face. She wasn’t sure as to why she was chosen for this mission. Surely Genji would have been a more appropriate choice. Though she was told she had been specifically asked for by their client which she found odd. Oh well. A mission is a mission.
“Miss Ziegler? Here’s your coffee.”
Looking up a slight pink tint appeared on her cheeks. Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear the blonde took it. Thanking the waitress as she retreated back behind the counter of the small café. She was hoping to get a look at the suspicious man her client had described. That’s if they showed up.