Who: Walter and anyone
When: 5th, morning
[The change is gradual and starts with faint discomfort when it actually affects him. The onset of something more severe begins much later.
Walter glimpses the network between then: I believe this week some of you might begin feeling a little chilly if you don't have physical contact with someone. He throws the communicator aside after that, and ignores the clatter of the thing against a table as he folds his arms.
He endures through Thursday, but by Friday, his senses have dulled and he doesn't quite see it or his paling complexion.
Something compels him to visit the island that morning. His gait on the way is more languid than that of his usual march, and he moves with a deaf ear to his surroundings, his inattentiveness being cause for the rare bump (or close call) into another denizen of Vatheon. But he cares little for the error and moves on without so much as a glance when it happens. He's strong yet – there's nary a stumble throughout the whole ordeal.
When he reaches shore, Walter sits where the tides reach. Perhaps it is against his better judgment, but his mind is a haze and why should he not sit there in the seawater? It belongs to the sea. He belongs to the sea.
His head rolls to the side in a fit of exhaustion, his ear brushing against the fabric of his attire. He's tired. Odd, considering he has neither fought nor trained recently, and he should be accustomed to a few hours of sleep; but he's tired nonetheless, the feeling reminding him of another time . . . a time he can't recall . . .]
Who: Lloyd Irving and anyone
Where: All over!
[Lloyd's on a mission. He has no doubt it'll probably be awkward at some points, but it's an important one nonetheless. The nurse told him that people need hugs to keep warm, but not everyone would know that. Who knew who might be freezing to death because they didn't know what they needed to cure it?
Not that hugs fix the problem completely. The effect of the last hug Lloyd had gotten is already starting to wear off. Still, once people know, it'll be easier for them to make sure they get enough physical contact to keep them warm.
So here he is, searching for anyone who looks like they need a hug.]
Tiir and vatheon
Backdated to during the curse.Where:
The park.Style: [please!]Status:
Open![It's strange, how someone who appreciates honesty wouldn't appreciate a curse that made one honest—but even Tiir has his white lies, his claims of being okay even when he isn't really. And so, the recent curse doesn't sit too well with him, as he's not too thrilled at being unable to filter his words.
... Especially with what's happened in his world. Although it's been well over a month since his return to Vatheon, the reminder that he'll go back to the same time in his world means that the events that occurred always remain recent to him. It's a lot to think about, though Tiir isn't sure how much of it he wants to reflect over, as it might result in certain sentiments he doesn't want.
Normally, in a pensive mood like this where he just wants to shut his mind down—and, to an extent, does so—he'd go to the forest, but today... Today, for a moment, the memory of Minato goes through his mind, and so for whatever reason, he feels compelled to go to the park instead.
Thus, there he is, sitting by the pond—and throwing bread crumbs in the direction of the ducks, as he watches them feed.
Serph and YOU!Where:
Near the Forest Quadrant (or on the island, by the beach)When:
The entire curse weekStyle:
[Serph had been put to sleep for nearly a month.
In that time, Sera and Gale had left Vatheon, the coral had been broken and fixed, and the resultant water damage had wrecked the garden that he and many friends had cultivated together. Most of the flowers died from being submerged in salt water for so long, and even the saplings and rose bushes are looking worse for wear. And many of the gifts from his friends have either been washed away or heavily damaged by the water.
Serph's first instinct had been to tear a local apart (he had been hungry
), but he'd held himself back, remembering what he'd told Ky. But the killing of locals stops now
. He doesn't need to eat people. Not any more.
All week, Serph will either near the Forest Quadrant, picking through the garden surrounding his Tribe's base to see what can be salvaged, or up on the island in his demon form
as he returns to the shore after hunting in the sea. He's always happy to talk with people, new and old, though people who know him may find him slightly more forthcoming than usual. But only slightly.]
- Tags:!curse: 43 - unable to lie, angelo, argilla, cielo, heat, ilyasviel von einzbern, johnny rayflo, saber/arturia pendragon, serph, tiir rumibul, walter delques, yukari takeba
Cielo and the residents of the bubbleWhere:
The plaza, by the coralWhen:
I shall match youStatus:
Those who choose to return to the city may see Cielo in either his human or demon
form in just about every location in the bubble. From the street to the top of Vatheon's tallest (still standing) buildings, he's there surveying the landscape.
The first thing he did once the bubble was declared safe to return to was, naturally, to head straight for the Embryon Base and check to see if it was still habitable. Satisfied in its safety, he looked to the city itself. Even though it was the same Vatheon he had been living in for over a year, it seemed like a different place with all the damage.
It reminded him a little bit of the Junkyard. And thinking about the Junkyard brings up certain memories for him. Eventually, he finds himself flying by the Lamufao in demon form, and remembering that he hasn't touched it recently, gracefully descends down to the ground and leans forward, touching his head to the coral while letting out a low growl of frustration and discontent.
Who: Shinjiro, and perhaps you?
When: Afternoon of the 24th.
Where: Somewhere on the island, near the water.
Format: Either's fine.
[Chances are you don't find too many people relaxing on the beach in a hot and heavy coat and skull cap. Chances are they aren't sprawled out awkwardly in the sand either, or lack proper vacationing accessories like a beach towel and bag.
But you've found one, and he's just started to return to consciousness thanks to a healthy film of sand building in his eyes, picked up by the wind.
Shinjiro groans, sitting up and gazing out at the sea with watery eyes.]
Where the hell am I?
[So many possibilities. He could have died, and this was the afterlife. He could have fallen comatose again. Briefly he wondered if Akihiko had knocked him out cold to drag him on a trip.
And if that was the case, he would be in for a hurting. He just wanted to see her again.
But he's here now.]
Tiir and vatheon
Open![It comes as a somewhat unpleasant shock to suddenly awaken, drenched. The water mixes with the not-quite-dry blood in Tiir's clothes, with tears in them indicating that at least some of the blood is likely his own, creating a bit of a watery bloody mess. His eyes are red—and not in his usual manner, that is—like he's been crying recently. While disoriented for a bit as he gets up, his memories of Vatheon return to him soon enough, fortunately, and combined with everything that's happened back home, there's so much he needs to sort out—]
Ah—?[—Not that he gets the time to, as there's suddenly there's a local up in his personal bubble with a towel, wiping at his hair, face, and anywhere there's blood, really. Tiir's gut instinct is 'kill her', before quickly reminding himself that that would be a Bad Thing, and likewise deciding that even knocking her unconscious would probably be excessive force (and he never expected to think that about a human, but, well, things have changed).
And so, as he tries to decide just how much force he can use to stop her while still not being rude, exactly, he protests, though his voice is hoarse, as if his throat's been torn to shreds.]
I'm not some child
, so don't touch me, hu—[Wait, no. Using "human" as an insult is also a Bad Thing. Trying to overcome his hatred, right. Reminding himself of that, Tiir settles for more... normal protests that ultimately seem to have no effect as he attempts to back away.]
Honestly, I'm fine
.[... Ryner told him to trust humans, but he didn't tell him how to deal with fussy humans who apparently have no concept of personal space, damn it.
Help him out? (Or ignore him and his awkward misery—)]
Walter and anyoneWhere:
[He'd woken up and promptly left, leaving the tunic behind in exchange for his shirt.
Walter doesn't quite make it as far in the forest quadrant as usual before he finds a fairly unused clearing (so the undisturbed patches of grass tell him). His march coming to a gradual close, he gives the area a quick once-over. Then he exhales, and pivots on his heel to kick out with his dominant leg in a wide arc.
He's been asleep too long; he can feel it in how his movement is clumsier without his eres than it should be. At the very least, there's little in the way of muscle soreness despite the prolonged period of rest, but he won't consider that an excuse to let his performance deteriorate. A curse must have taken place when he was dormant, and he's not interested in the details: Working out the laziness (among other things) is a priority.
A series of kicks, then a deep right hook, then another kick—then his fingernails flash a dark blue, and the next punch comes even harder than the first. Just as quickly, the light dissipates and his strength falls considerably to a more ordinary level. Soon enough, he's worked up to the familiar sting of climbing exhaustion and takes that moment to stop abruptly.
Assuming a noncombat stance, Walter extends an upturned hand. His nails flash again, and this time a black light gathers together to form a small creature (with a more bat-like appearance) of the same color. It flutters about, shedding dark purple flecks of light. And so everything seems to be in order . . .
Still as the ground beneath him, Walter appraises it in silence, his expression impassive.