Figured I owed you a fight after last time. [you know, when she'd messed up her hand to the point that she hadn't really been able to make a fist out of it for a few days afterward. fun stuff.
after a beat:] I've got a space for it, if you're in Highstorm.
[ cassian spends a lot of time in springstar lately.
he's here when he isn't in kowloon; and he hasn't been in highstorm for a days. not since he left jyn and everything they'd built together behind. not since he'd murdered dokja and dropped off the shard for — who knows what, on hopes of information. for answers he has yet to be given, ones he can only hope will be worth it.
does he sleep? sometimes, maybe. he only rarely seeks out old acquaintences, people he could probably wheedle or flirt into allowing him a spare room, a spare corner, for a night. he doesn't want to answer questions. he doesn't feel the softer touch, though he's not incapable when it's necessary. he only wants to be left alone to do his work, to not pretend, any longer, to be better than he is. he isn't; he isn't; he isn't. that's what makes the relative anonymity of springstar easier, and that's what makes kowloon, surrounded by creatures of the undercity not so unlike himself, easier.
but kowloon is dangerous, and his temper is vicious, and his self-control is held together by frayed threads. this isn't the first time he's gotten into a fight down there, but it is the first time he walks away with a nasty slash to the bicep, blood soaking into his sleeve and peeking through the gash in his coat, dripping down his arm. he'll deal with it; it's not the first or last scratch he's bound up for himself. and he walks through springstar with enough brisk purpose that he expects not to be stopped. walk like you belong, and people are often willing to overlook strangeness.
Not that things have ever really felt normal around here; even setting aside the narrowly avoided disaster of the Blight, throwing a bunch of people from disparate worlds into one place and telling them there’s a ticket home (or to a better place) on the line, and well. Things are bound to get messy. And the frequent buzzing in her thoughts thanks to the Shard-bearers’ shared Communion space is certainly a testament to that.
She expected that after her extended nap, after her field trip to the Isles, that things might mellow out for a while. But Highstorm celebrates the recent Zenith victory in its own low-key way, while Springstar feels oddly subdued in the wake of defeat. And that means tensions are high, which Gavial frankly finds all too annoying. Particularly when she just wants to spend some time in Springstar, in the sunshine and away from the gloom, amongst bustling streets filled with people who (usually) are filled with a pep that aligns with her own temperament more often than not. But rising Discord and side-long glances be damned, she is going to do what she wants.
Bumping into a familiar face isn’t that uncommon around the city—naturally it tends to be those who’ve thrown their lot in with Meridian, but every so often she finds herself faced with a curve ball. This one she nearly misses, caught up in the bustle of the foot traffic during what passes for Springstar’s bright and sunny evening. Seems like just another busy soul hurrying on home after a long day.
But if there’s one thing Gavial’s learned after spending years patching up stubborn idiots who think they can ignore the fact that they’re in need of help, it’s how to spot someone trying to pass off an injury as no big deal. So first, there’s the notice of something that seems just slightly off in her periphery. When her focus shifts, there’s recognition that follows. Melshi—or Cassian, or whatever the hell nickname the guy wanted to use now—storming ahead with a purpose that is distinctly at odds with the faintly exhausted cast of his expression. And then, of course, there’s the blood soaking through his sleeve.
So she halts, pivoting smoothly on her feet just as they’re about to pass each other by.]
Woah, wait up.
[A hand catches him by the edge of his coat and tugs. Insistently.]
[ his immediate, reflexive, burst of annoyance — narrowed eyes and tight jaw — loses teeth when he recognizes gavial. loses some of its teeth anyway. he pauses, looks from her face to the hand at his coat and back, and asks, ]
What do you want?
[ there are less inflammatory ways of asking what she's doing, but he fails to find any of them. his tone is even, at least, if edged; he isn't best pleased at being stopped like this. he isn't best pleased at being recognized by someone he knows, either, even if he generally likes gavial. strange to run into her here, but this isn't the first time he's ever noticed the woman in springstar, nor are they the only zenites to sometimes visit this city. it doesn't matter, really. ]
[ Very suddenly, there’s a sense of Communion touching your character’s mind. However, it’s as if they connect with the mind of a shared Aspect, as they’re not able to block out the brief, but sharp memory that comes to them. ]
A Shard-Bearer runs a hand over her belly with a warm, content smile. Who would have guessed that she’d find a family here in a new world?
[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]
[ It's been a while since their battle against the shadows in the Oracle's last challenge. Rumors are flitting here and there and far too many of them have had difficult recoveries, but Yuri's business today pertains to none of that.
Another matter entirely leads him to reach out to Gavial via Communion. ]
[With the combination of wry tone and the feelings traversing easily across the mental connection, Yuri could likely picture the grin on her face as she answers. Gavial has filled the weeks since the last Oracle appearance mostly relaxing (with some well-meaning hassling of folks in need of cheering up) and thinking. And the latter has been a little more in focus after a recent chat with another Meridian.
Which leads her to believe she might have an idea of where this conversation might be going, but still—]
[ It's good to hear Gavial in high spirits, where so many around him have been justifiably discouraged. The reasons vary, but the palpable weight on them all feels much the same. As a result, Gavial's good cheer prompts a measure of relief that carries through their Communion.
Maybe she's been looking after others the way he has been. ]
A little bird told me you may be joining us on a date in the near future.
[ For which he's grateful, and that too easily passes between them. He's had his concerns, but the venture is worth it if they turn up something. ]
Thought I'd confirm if you're still game for that.
[ Thing is, he's liked Gavial from the moment he met her. That probably isn't too surprising — Amos really enjoys the company of Advocates, what they stand for and all of that jazz, and Gavial fits the bill so fucking well. (She's also a lot of fun, which definitely helps her case, not that she needs it.)
He trusts her. Both in general, and to do the right thing.
And he has a mission coming up. People he trusts are crucial — especially when he might need some help with that last point, considering its nature.
Amos is already at Yima's manor, already in the middle of doing some preliminary organization, when the thought strikes him — he probably needs Gavial for something like this. And so, he wastes no time in pinging her. ]
Hey, Doc. I'm at Yima's. You around? Got something I could use your help with.
[ He is satisfied with that message.
... A second later, he is not. ]
Something above ground. Sorry. Maybe should have led with that.
[He catches her at the tail-end of a workout. Not that she needs an excuse for keeping fit, but it tends to be a good way to pass the time when she isn’t busy, particularly in the winter months in Highstorm. She might be the outdoorsy type, but like hell she’s gonna linger out in the cold when she doesn’t have to.
Amos had done her a solid by helping out with that job in the catacombs (even if it hadn’t exactly gone as planned…), so of course there’s no question that she’d return the favor. Well, she’d be willing to help him out regardless of all of that because he’s a pretty swell guy, as far as she’s concerned. So that mental ping gets her attention immediately; she slows just slightly in her weight-lifting reps, and can’t help but laugh at that quick addendum of his because, yeah, that might’ve immediately sprung to mind.]
Ha, well that already sounds more promising than the mess I dragged us into, then.
[She’s at least more willing to joke about it now, but all of that is pushed off to the side by her very evident curiosity at whatever it is Amos needs a hand with.]
I’m just finishing up some training over in my room here. You can swing on over or I can come down and meet you in a few.
[Up to him. If he opts to come to her, she’ll give him some quick mental directions to which room is hers over in the Shard-bearers’ quarters.]
Nah, I'll be right over. Hopefully catch you when you're done.
[ His answer comes jovially, Amos completely at ease — more so, now that he knows he's caught her at a good time; that she's interested, at least to start. He gives the equivalent of a thumbs up react to her directions, then cuts their connection. No need to keep it open when she knows he's right on his way, and this way she can finish up in peace.
He does take his time in heading over, both to ensure he isn't rushing Gavial, and to give him a chance to look around the manor a bit en route. He moved out, what, shit, a little over a year ago? Time flies.
But he can only amble for so long, and within a handful of minutes Amos is outside Gavial's door and knocking. That pleasant tone he carried in communion remains present in his actual voice — this really is two friends meeting up, one to help the other. ]
[ Link's Communion explodes into the mind of every Zenite, like the opening of a window during a hurricane. It rushes in with an intense and primal sense of panic, a mixture of both fight and flight, and the horror of knowing that neither has worked. A certain death is imposing down on him. If you've died before, you'll likely recognize this potent cocktail of desperation that's suddenly flooding your mind. But unlike the flashing of one's life in the moment before the end, this moment is filled with purpose — unfocused and clumsy, but desperately bold and determined. The message is not conveyed in words, but in feelings and impressions, unbound by the limitations of language and becoming that much more distinct and impossible to misinterpret. ]
Get away from the Manor.
Get out of Highstorm if you can.
The Meridian —
[ ...and then, it's gone. Both the message and the roaring sensations that carry it halt abruptly, like the slamming of a door — but, even a slammed door makes a sharp noise as it shuts, sends a gust of wind as it moves on its hinges. This sudden stop doesn't come with anything, no friction, no echo, not even the intentionality of closing a Communion once a person has said what they meant to say. Just stillness. ]
[There’s few things that get Gavial put on high alert at the drop of a hat, but the abruptness and feeling of urgency that accompanies this intrusion into her mental space manages to get her sitting bolt-upright in an instant. The feelings come across in that strange way only Communion can accomplish, and yet even so she finds herself juggling confusion in the wake of it. That and worry, when all feeling of his mental trace is snuffed out like an extinguished candle.]
Link? Link! Hey, c’mon, answer me!
[A foolish attempt at calling into the void when she already knows, definitively, that he couldn’t possibly answer. Not after that explosive feeling of desperation and the abrupt—and familiar—quiet that follows.
There’s nothing to find when she tries to seek him out—and little time to spare in further searching when she has an impending mission to make sure she’s fully prepared for. But she’s now left feeling a little uneasy to leave the city behind when it comes time to march on Springstar, afraid of what might be awaiting the absence of Zenites.]
after matt moves into demon b&b, possibly next morning
[ Matt can't tell if open war is already here, irrevocably set into motion, or if its horrible momentum can still be redirected. He hopes it can be; between Liem and Set, he's coming to the conclusion that the real enemy here is darkness. Not the night, or death, but the vantablack kind: the dark that swallows and subsumes, and leaves no trace of the energy it's taken in.
He's trying to stay optimistic. And there are good things happening right now too, even if they're only small ones. Little cracks that let the light in. So when his mind comes a-knockin' at Gavial's mental door, it's with a generally (and genuinely) sunny demeanor. ]
[Gavial’s always been something of a morning person—up early for workouts, for weapon maintenance, for studies. It’s a routine she’s kept up partially out of habit even here in Kenos, but in this past week it’s proven to be a bit of a refuge. A little routine does wonders for keeping her anchored when everything is starting to go to hell around them, and prevents her mood from souring too much at the start of the day.
So when Matt gives her that little mental poke, she’s still in the room she’s commandeered here in Sebastian’s house, working on tending to her scuffed up healing staff that she’d fished out of the rubble of the manor. A necessary bit of work to unwind with before tacking things that still need helping with around the city. He might notice the subdued and dark swirl of her mental space as she opens up to him, like the quiet tenseness of a humid jungle at night. It’s a sensation that brightens considerably when she recognizes him, however.]
Housemates? [A beat in which she sits back, brows furrowed, before it hits her.] Oh, shit! So that pushover took you in too, huh? Tell me you’re here now.
[Is she hurriedly getting up and barreling toward the door? Yes. She might be a little Excited.]
[ A sparkle of mental laughter. Matt's getting better at making those sound like actual laughs, rather than pop-rock bursts of endorphins, but some of the chemical architecture remains. ]
Pushover isn't the word I'd use, but if you mean Sebastian, then yes. [ Who else would it be, Matt, Sveinn? ] I think I was pretty pathetic, though. I rolled up looking like a bedraggled orphan.
But yeah, I'm in the parlor.
[ He's journaling over coffee. Now that he has his powers back and his somewhat lackluster survey results tabulated, his notebooks are being used for spell diagrams and magical notes. Though a not-insignificant number of pages are dedicated to trying to keep track of what he's heard about past wars, and Oracles, and the things this Aetós person has said.
[The feelings from Gavial as she opens up to this unexpected mental poke are relaxed and at ease; she's lounging at home, ignoring the bustle downstairs of whatever the hell her rowdier housemates are getting up to in favor of comfortably dozing.
At least until she clocks a few key things—the late hour, that tentative feeling accompanying his reaching out, and of course that key word he drops. She sits up and shoves aside any encroaching remnants of sleepiness.]
Go ahead, shoot.
[There's a beat in which it almost feels like she's trying to scrutinize him through this Communion, see what kind of shape he's in.]
[ Matt's not particularly adept at concealing things over Communion, to put it mildly. (Gavial has unfortunately experienced this before.) There's a squirming sense of discomfort with being perceived, but just underneath it, Matt's cold, dizzy. The kind of tired that verges on exhaustion. And he's worried--sharply, for Tezcatlipoca, and dully, dreadfully, for all of them. ]
Um. Tezcatlipoca and I were out hunting those shadow things. [ Matt will gloss over the part where he initially went out alone and ran into Tezca mid-evening. ] We caught one. Tez got a good look at it, but it came at the cost of ...
Basically, I patched him up the best I could, but he's missing a kidney.
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Are you still offering what you were before? About [how had she phrased it] blowing off steam?
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Sure. You need a buddy, I can be there.
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Figured I owed you a fight after last time. [you know, when she'd messed up her hand to the point that she hadn't really been able to make a fist out of it for a few days afterward. fun stuff.
after a beat:] I've got a space for it, if you're in Highstorm.
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Yeah, I'm in town. Can head over whenever.
[Not like she was doing anything important anyway. (Not like there is much more important to her than the chance to throw down.)]
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action, springstar
he's here when he isn't in kowloon; and he hasn't been in highstorm for a days. not since he left jyn and everything they'd built together behind. not since he'd murdered dokja and dropped off the shard for — who knows what, on hopes of information. for answers he has yet to be given, ones he can only hope will be worth it.
does he sleep? sometimes, maybe. he only rarely seeks out old acquaintences, people he could probably wheedle or flirt into allowing him a spare room, a spare corner, for a night. he doesn't want to answer questions. he doesn't feel the softer touch, though he's not incapable when it's necessary. he only wants to be left alone to do his work, to not pretend, any longer, to be better than he is. he isn't; he isn't; he isn't. that's what makes the relative anonymity of springstar easier, and that's what makes kowloon, surrounded by creatures of the undercity not so unlike himself, easier.
but kowloon is dangerous, and his temper is vicious, and his self-control is held together by frayed threads. this isn't the first time he's gotten into a fight down there, but it is the first time he walks away with a nasty slash to the bicep, blood soaking into his sleeve and peeking through the gash in his coat, dripping down his arm. he'll deal with it; it's not the first or last scratch he's bound up for himself. and he walks through springstar with enough brisk purpose that he expects not to be stopped. walk like you belong, and people are often willing to overlook strangeness.
he is not expecting to see a familiar face. ]
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Not that things have ever really felt normal around here; even setting aside the narrowly avoided disaster of the Blight, throwing a bunch of people from disparate worlds into one place and telling them there’s a ticket home (or to a better place) on the line, and well. Things are bound to get messy. And the frequent buzzing in her thoughts thanks to the Shard-bearers’ shared Communion space is certainly a testament to that.
She expected that after her extended nap, after her field trip to the Isles, that things might mellow out for a while. But Highstorm celebrates the recent Zenith victory in its own low-key way, while Springstar feels oddly subdued in the wake of defeat. And that means tensions are high, which Gavial frankly finds all too annoying. Particularly when she just wants to spend some time in Springstar, in the sunshine and away from the gloom, amongst bustling streets filled with people who (usually) are filled with a pep that aligns with her own temperament more often than not. But rising Discord and side-long glances be damned, she is going to do what she wants.
Bumping into a familiar face isn’t that uncommon around the city—naturally it tends to be those who’ve thrown their lot in with Meridian, but every so often she finds herself faced with a curve ball. This one she nearly misses, caught up in the bustle of the foot traffic during what passes for Springstar’s bright and sunny evening. Seems like just another busy soul hurrying on home after a long day.
But if there’s one thing Gavial’s learned after spending years patching up stubborn idiots who think they can ignore the fact that they’re in need of help, it’s how to spot someone trying to pass off an injury as no big deal. So first, there’s the notice of something that seems just slightly off in her periphery. When her focus shifts, there’s recognition that follows. Melshi—or Cassian, or whatever the hell nickname the guy wanted to use now—storming ahead with a purpose that is distinctly at odds with the faintly exhausted cast of his expression. And then, of course, there’s the blood soaking through his sleeve.
So she halts, pivoting smoothly on her feet just as they’re about to pass each other by.]
Woah, wait up.
[A hand catches him by the edge of his coat and tugs. Insistently.]
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What do you want?
[ there are less inflammatory ways of asking what she's doing, but he fails to find any of them. his tone is even, at least, if edged; he isn't best pleased at being stopped like this. he isn't best pleased at being recognized by someone he knows, either, even if he generally likes gavial. strange to run into her here, but this isn't the first time he's ever noticed the woman in springstar, nor are they the only zenites to sometimes visit this city. it doesn't matter, really. ]
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a memory—
A Shard-Bearer runs a hand over her belly with a warm, content smile. Who would have guessed that she’d find a family here in a new world?
[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]
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Another matter entirely leads him to reach out to Gavial via Communion. ]
You happen to have a minute or two this fine day?
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[With the combination of wry tone and the feelings traversing easily across the mental connection, Yuri could likely picture the grin on her face as she answers. Gavial has filled the weeks since the last Oracle appearance mostly relaxing (with some well-meaning hassling of folks in need of cheering up) and thinking. And the latter has been a little more in focus after a recent chat with another Meridian.
Which leads her to believe she might have an idea of where this conversation might be going, but still—]
Whatcha got on your mind?
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Maybe she's been looking after others the way he has been. ]
A little bird told me you may be joining us on a date in the near future.
[ For which he's grateful, and that too easily passes between them. He's had his concerns, but the venture is worth it if they turn up something. ]
Thought I'd confirm if you're still game for that.
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communion (soon to be action), early Emru.
He trusts her. Both in general, and to do the right thing.
And he has a mission coming up. People he trusts are crucial — especially when he might need some help with that last point, considering its nature.
Amos is already at Yima's manor, already in the middle of doing some preliminary organization, when the thought strikes him — he probably needs Gavial for something like this. And so, he wastes no time in pinging her. ]
Hey, Doc. I'm at Yima's. You around? Got something I could use your help with.
[ He is satisfied with that message.
... A second later, he is not. ]
Something above ground. Sorry. Maybe should have led with that.
[ Nobody is risking dissipation today. ]
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Amos had done her a solid by helping out with that job in the catacombs (even if it hadn’t exactly gone as planned…), so of course there’s no question that she’d return the favor. Well, she’d be willing to help him out regardless of all of that because he’s a pretty swell guy, as far as she’s concerned. So that mental ping gets her attention immediately; she slows just slightly in her weight-lifting reps, and can’t help but laugh at that quick addendum of his because, yeah, that might’ve immediately sprung to mind.]
Ha, well that already sounds more promising than the mess I dragged us into, then.
[She’s at least more willing to joke about it now, but all of that is pushed off to the side by her very evident curiosity at whatever it is Amos needs a hand with.]
I’m just finishing up some training over in my room here. You can swing on over or I can come down and meet you in a few.
[Up to him. If he opts to come to her, she’ll give him some quick mental directions to which room is hers over in the Shard-bearers’ quarters.]
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[ His answer comes jovially, Amos completely at ease — more so, now that he knows he's caught her at a good time; that she's interested, at least to start. He gives the equivalent of a thumbs up react to her directions, then cuts their connection. No need to keep it open when she knows he's right on his way, and this way she can finish up in peace.
He does take his time in heading over, both to ensure he isn't rushing Gavial, and to give him a chance to look around the manor a bit en route. He moved out, what, shit, a little over a year ago? Time flies.
But he can only amble for so long, and within a handful of minutes Amos is outside Gavial's door and knocking. That pleasant tone he carried in communion remains present in his actual voice — this really is two friends meeting up, one to help the other. ]
All good to come in?
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special kenotebook delivery
uve been spotted by.........the $ MONEY GOO$E $
send the $ MONEY GOO$E $ to 3 people or u get scorched!!
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[In response comes... this. Along with a messily scrawled:]
BRING IT ON GOOSE
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hey now! you're not supposed to fight the money goose! you just have to make it someone else's problem!!
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1/2
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two days before Cyrus' assassination
Get away from the Manor.
Get out of Highstorm if you can.
The Meridian —
[ ...and then, it's gone. Both the message and the roaring sensations that carry it halt abruptly, like the slamming of a door — but, even a slammed door makes a sharp noise as it shuts, sends a gust of wind as it moves on its hinges. This sudden stop doesn't come with anything, no friction, no echo, not even the intentionality of closing a Communion once a person has said what they meant to say. Just stillness. ]
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Link? Link! Hey, c’mon, answer me!
[A foolish attempt at calling into the void when she already knows, definitively, that he couldn’t possibly answer. Not after that explosive feeling of desperation and the abrupt—and familiar—quiet that follows.
There’s nothing to find when she tries to seek him out—and little time to spare in further searching when she has an impending mission to make sure she’s fully prepared for. But she’s now left feeling a little uneasy to leave the city behind when it comes time to march on Springstar, afraid of what might be awaiting the absence of Zenites.]
after matt moves into demon b&b, possibly next morning
He's trying to stay optimistic. And there are good things happening right now too, even if they're only small ones. Little cracks that let the light in. So when his mind comes a-knockin' at Gavial's mental door, it's with a generally (and genuinely) sunny demeanor. ]
A little bird told me we're housemates now.
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So when Matt gives her that little mental poke, she’s still in the room she’s commandeered here in Sebastian’s house, working on tending to her scuffed up healing staff that she’d fished out of the rubble of the manor. A necessary bit of work to unwind with before tacking things that still need helping with around the city. He might notice the subdued and dark swirl of her mental space as she opens up to him, like the quiet tenseness of a humid jungle at night. It’s a sensation that brightens considerably when she recognizes him, however.]
Housemates? [A beat in which she sits back, brows furrowed, before it hits her.] Oh, shit! So that pushover took you in too, huh? Tell me you’re here now.
[Is she hurriedly getting up and barreling toward the door? Yes. She might be a little Excited.]
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Pushover isn't the word I'd use, but if you mean Sebastian, then yes. [ Who else would it be, Matt, Sveinn? ] I think I was pretty pathetic, though. I rolled up looking like a bedraggled orphan.
But yeah, I'm in the parlor.
[ He's journaling over coffee. Now that he has his powers back and his somewhat lackluster survey results tabulated, his notebooks are being used for spell diagrams and magical notes. Though a not-insignificant number of pages are dedicated to trying to keep track of what he's heard about past wars, and Oracles, and the things this Aetós person has said.
Are those footsteps ...? ]
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communion | late night, sometime post-repose
A tentative Communion arrives: ]
Hey Gavial, are you up?
I have a medical question.
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At least until she clocks a few key things—the late hour, that tentative feeling accompanying his reaching out, and of course that key word he drops. She sits up and shoves aside any encroaching remnants of sleepiness.]
Go ahead, shoot.
[There's a beat in which it almost feels like she's trying to scrutinize him through this Communion, see what kind of shape he's in.]
Everything alright?
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We're okay now, [ he assures her. ] Home, resting up.
Um. Tezcatlipoca and I were out hunting those shadow things. [ Matt will gloss over the part where he initially went out alone and ran into Tezca mid-evening. ] We caught one. Tez got a good look at it, but it came at the cost of ...
Basically, I patched him up the best I could, but he's missing a kidney.
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