Personification Life - IC Part VIII [open]

[Swith Witherward]

"If I die . . ." Rachelle squeaked once more, following along, wondering if mice moved in pairs. She certainly was scared, the clown that could be hiding security cameras, the shadows where bad guys would pop out of like a horror movie, and simply being spotted added up to be one of the more dangerous events of her life, right up there with the Drones. "If I die, blame this adventure on me, if I don't make it, it was my idea to go to Paris and Japan, not yours."

She spoke once more. "You'll do that for me, right?"

Chrys and Hans (and Siduer)
(OOC note: Japan is several times zones ahead of Bielefeld. It is still early evening in the city.)
The peculiar sensation of Chrys' delicate fingers clasping Hans' calloused hand caused him to pause. He focused on her and noted the paradoxical turn his life had taken. The old cultist stood under a Japanese harvest moon in physical contact with a female. He had a small child on his hip.

It wasn’t romantic intentions that sprang to mind; he was thrust into that wonderful realm of being simply human again. It hadn’t been the cardigan earlier. It was Chrys herself. She wove a healing spell that shook his very foundations. Cool night air filled his lungs as he inhaled deeply. His Aryan features hardened. A steely glint seemed to radiate from his blue eyes. Her passion for battle kindled a kindred fire in his heart. He felt alive.

“We could take on the world, you and me,” he growled appreciatively. A fit of mischievous determination struck him. He gripped her hand more tightly and leaned towards her until their foreheads were touching. “I believe we could push back the hosts of Hell if we worked as a team. I like you, Conservator Chrys. I like your style.”

His eyes cast about for a good departure point and settled on a stone lantern tucked amd leafy ferns. It would do. He began to lead her towards it.

---

Rachelle and Sydney
The arcade already felt sinister; to two small mice, it was positively malevolent. Dark shadows loomed across the floor. The clown bobbed forwards and back, its sculpted resin face mocking Sydney and Rachelle as it leered down at them.

One dollar. A dollar wins a prize. The audio, which had been turned down on the device lest it annoy Toshi, was now detectable to mouse ears. The recorded voice was warped from years of use. It warbled low and then high and ended each sentence with haunting, hollow laughter. One dollar. Step right up!

Hardened chewing gum stained the floor in front of the dormant video games. The linoleum reeked of piss and grass clippings; it was somewhat sticking under their bare paws. There was a path between the ball crawl and the door that was clear of shadows but getting to it meant scurrying into the clown’s shadow as it swung forward.

One dollar wins a prize. Step right up!

Siduer’s tiny hands clutched at Hans’ uniform jacket as the cultist strode towards the lantern. He pressed his face against it and inhaled the moldy, icky smells permeating the old wool. It was a comforting scent that he associated with Klaus, but he couldn’t recall the exact memory that it was tied to.

The night air was uncomfortably nippy and Siduer wished for his warm bed and blanket. He wanted to shut his eyes and pretend Sydney wasn’t abducted. He wanted to blot out Toshi’s jeering smile and ignore his harsh voice. He wanted to kill him, too, like a bug squashed under a shoe. Most of all, he wanted Hans to be the one who did it.

Hans will punish Toshi ten bazillion times more better than I could, and then Klaus will come along and do worse, and then Mama will stretch the Asian bastard’s entrails across the universe and hang stars on them so they’d burn. Then Daddy will come home from war, and he’ll be in his mech suit, and nothing anyone’s done to Toshi up until that point will be anywhere close to the levels of pain Daddy’ll inflict on him. Daddy’s strongest. Siduer believed that with all his heart. He just hoped nobody would blame Hans… it wasn’t the cultist’s fault, and Siduer had dragged him into the whole mess against his will.

A shiver ran through him that had nothing to do with the chilly air. Remorse resonated through him again. He’d hit Hans. He’d caused him pain.

He propped his hands on the cultist’s chest and pushed away a bit to observe his face. Theoretically, Hans was only doing this out of obligation, but Siduer mistook it for compassion.

“I love you, Hans,” he said and laid his head against him again.

--

“What?” Sydney paused and turned around to look at Rachelle.

“You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you, I promise.” She sat up on her hind legs and made an X on her chest with a tiny toe. “Cross my heart, I won’t let you die. You’re my friend.”

She settled back down on all four legs and pressed her pinkish nose against Rachelle’s whiskery cheek to soothe her. Just having Rachelle there with her made the horrible moment more bearable, and her soft fur blocked out the gross smells on the ground. She’d never, ever forgive herself if Rachelle died. Never. Rachelle was her niece, and she didn’t want to imagine having to explain any of this to her older brother. Bran would be heartbroken, and he’d never forget that it was she who caused him to lose his baby girl.

“I promise,” she reiterated.

She turned around again and jumped back a little as a shadow grew larger on the floor. Sydney’s head snapped upwards, her eyes wide in terror. But it was only the clown bowing towards them. Just the clown. Stupid clown.

It was speaking! She hadn’t noticed it before, but now she could hear it quite clearly. The sound paralyzed her. She backed into Rachelle and felt a protective surge. Won’t! I won’t let it harm my friend!

What would Mama do? Mama wouldn’t be afraid of some stupid clown. Mama laughed at clowns. The Emperor’s daughter drew her whiskers back, opened her tiny mouth and spoke with her mother’s conviction:

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you stupid fuckwhistle clown! I’m Sydney Pranatimati Thriller and I approved this message.”

Satisfied with her own bravado (and with a tiny middle toe raised in defiance of the resin monstrosity) the small brown mouse snorted and watched the shadow move.

“We’ll run when it sticks its ugly head backward again. There’s no shadow when it does. But we gotta run quick or he’ll bow down again. Okay?”

[Tiltjuice]

Chrys and Hans (and Siduer)
(OOC note: Japan is several times zones ahead of Bielefeld. It is still early evening in the city.)
The peculiar sensation of Chrys' delicate fingers clasping Hans' calloused hand caused him to pause. He focused on her and noted the paradoxical turn his life had taken. The old cultist stood under a Japanese harvest moon in physical contact with a female. He had a small child on his hip.

It wasn’t romantic intentions that sprang to mind; he was thrust into that wonderful realm of being simply human again. It hadn’t been the cardigan earlier. It was Chrys herself. She wove a healing spell that shook his very foundations. Cool night air filled his lungs as he inhaled deeply. His Aryan features hardened. A steely glint seemed to radiate from his blue eyes. Her passion for battle kindled a kindred fire in his heart. He felt alive.

“We could take on the world, you and me,” he growled appreciatively. A fit of mischievous determination struck him. He gripped her hand more tightly and leaned towards her until their foreheads were touching. “I believe we could push back the hosts of Hell if we worked as a team. I like you, Conservator Chrys. I like your style.”

His eyes cast about for a good departure point and settled on a stone lantern tucked amd leafy ferns. It would do. He began to lead her towards it.

---

Rachelle and Sydney
The arcade already felt sinister; to two small mice, it was positively malevolent. Dark shadows loomed across the floor. The clown bobbed forwards and back, its sculpted resin face mocking Sydney and Rachelle as it leered down at them.

One dollar. A dollar wins a prize. The audio, which had been turned down on the device lest it annoy Toshi, was now detectable to mouse ears. The recorded voice was warped from years of use. It warbled low and then high and ended each sentence with haunting, hollow laughter. One dollar. Step right up!

Hardened chewing gum stained the floor in front of the dormant video games. The linoleum reeked of piss and grass clippings; it was somewhat sticking under their bare paws. There was a path between the ball crawl and the door that was clear of shadows but getting to it meant scurrying into the clown’s shadow as it swung forward.

One dollar wins a prize. Step right up!

Siduer’s tiny hands clutched at Hans’ uniform jacket as the cultist strode towards the lantern. He pressed his face against it and inhaled the moldy, icky smells permeating the old wool. It was a comforting scent that he associated with Klaus, but he couldn’t recall the exact memory that it was tied to.

The night air was uncomfortably nippy and Siduer wished for his warm bed and blanket. He wanted to shut his eyes and pretend Sydney wasn’t abducted. He wanted to blot out Toshi’s jeering smile and ignore his harsh voice. He wanted to kill him, too, like a bug squashed under a shoe. Most of all, he wanted Hans to be the one who did it.

Hans will punish Toshi ten bazillion times more better than I could, and then Klaus will come along and do worse, and then Mama will stretch the Asian bastard’s entrails across the universe and hang stars on them so they’d burn. Then Daddy will come home from war, and he’ll be in his mech suit, and nothing anyone’s done to Toshi up until that point will be anywhere close to the levels of pain Daddy’ll inflict on him. Daddy’s strongest. Siduer believed that with all his heart. He just hoped nobody would blame Hans… it wasn’t the cultist’s fault, and Siduer had dragged him into the whole mess against his will.

A shiver ran through him that had nothing to do with the chilly air. Remorse resonated through him again. He’d hit Hans. He’d caused him pain.

He propped his hands on the cultist’s chest and pushed away a bit to observe his face. Theoretically, Hans was only doing this out of obligation, but Siduer mistook it for compassion.

“I love you, Hans,” he said and laid his head against him again.

--

“What?” Sydney paused and turned around to look at Rachelle.

“You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you, I promise.” She sat up on her hind legs and made an X on her chest with a tiny toe. “Cross my heart, I won’t let you die. You’re my friend.”

She settled back down on all four legs and pressed her pinkish nose against Rachelle’s whiskery cheek to soothe her. Just having Rachelle there with her made the horrible moment more bearable, and her soft fur blocked out the gross smells on the ground. She’d never, ever forgive herself if Rachelle died. Never. Rachelle was her niece, and she didn’t want to imagine having to explain any of this to her older brother. Bran would be heartbroken, and he’d never forget that it was she who caused him to lose his baby girl.

“I promise,” she reiterated.

She turned around again and jumped back a little as a shadow grew larger on the floor. Sydney’s head snapped upwards, her eyes wide in terror. But it was only the clown bowing towards them. Just the clown. Stupid clown.

It was speaking! She hadn’t noticed it before, but now she could hear it quite clearly. The sound paralyzed her. She backed into Rachelle and felt a protective surge. Won’t! I won’t let it harm my friend!

What would Mama do? Mama wouldn’t be afraid of some stupid clown. Mama laughed at clowns. The Emperor’s daughter drew her whiskers back, opened her tiny mouth and spoke with her mother’s conviction:

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you stupid fuckwhistle clown! I’m Sydney Pranatimati Thriller and I approved this message.”

Satisfied with her own bravado (and with a tiny middle toe raised in defiance of the resin monstrosity) the small brown mouse snorted and watched the shadow move.

“We’ll run when it sticks its ugly head backward again. There’s no shadow when it does. But we gotta run quick or he’ll bow down again. Okay?”

There was a jarring note in the sonata playing in her head and singing in her blood. Its discordance jangled and reverberated, tying up her nerves and sending shrill tones through her. For the first time, a Conservator would be going into battle alongside an outsider.

She was no Luce, she knew, and Hans was no Dia. Yet for all that, did it truly matter who and what they were? Diplomacy and talking be damned; fighting a common enemy set the truest seal on alliances of all kinds. The old German was right. She stared into his eyes that were just as blue as hers and let his words fill her as they moved toward the fern and lantern.

That the little one and his sister mattered not at all. They could die, and there was a real chance she and Bran's daughter would. And for that alone, whoever was out there would pay. Messily.

She licked her lips at the thought as she stood under the cool air and moonlight, anxious to dance in a far more deadly series of steps than popular imagination usually entertained.

[Swith Witherward]

The muscle twitched slightly, both from the stimulus of Tipper's biting and likely from remaining signals from the previous performance, still trickling throughout his system. It was also likely amplified by the nip's close location to the large metal valve embedded in the muscle, a good inch or two from the spot of Tipper's nibbling. The bolt, from his augmentation during ascension to an astartes, connected to a small web of wires and tubes that connected to his organs and veins- allowing for combat 'stimulants' to be fed directly into his body, along with nutrients, and was thoroughly abused from its original purpose. Ages ago he might have found it painful for any contact to be made- horrendous even considering how it was firmly connected to his body. However, with time, his body had fully fused with it and all the other augmentations- his mechanical augments were treated like any other organic tissue by his body, and his tissues had fully bonded with them.

The tissue around them twitched further with Tipper's continued nibbling until Volturius was finally dragged out of his sleep. Normally, his waking would be an enjoyed event, were it not from the giant ball of light-pink hair that was stuck in his mouth. The Raptor gagged at the unpleasant surprise, coughing until an arm reached up from under Tipper and forcibly pulled her hair out of his mouth. Volturius smacked his jaw, rife with the unpleasant taste of keratin from Tipper's long locks that had somehow wiggled their way into his mouth during his sleep. Worse still, his hand was now busy exacting shed strands of pink hair from his black tongue, wiping his digits off on her bare shoulder and returning the hair to its owner.

"Bleh. From now o- PFT..., on, tie your hair in a bun when sleeping. Keratin is a terrible taste to awake to." Volturius commented to Tipper, not exactly annoyed at her, but more specifically what grew from her scalp and he found currently in his mouth. Blessed by Slaanesh be damned, yes, her mutations were 'holy' gifts indeed, but blessed hair or not, it still tasted terrible.

Tipper had undoubtedly enjoyed her nipping game, working her teeth close to the valve just to see Volturius’ skin dance. She nibbled slowly at first and then worked her way towards it, passing over it to continue nipping on the opposite side. She wasn’t expecting him to wake up so disgruntled, however.

She pulled a lose strand of pink hair from the corner of his mouth and offered him a seductive pout. “Hey, Mr. Raptor, I don’t complain about tiny feathers on my tongue.” She moved her knee and playfully stroked his inner thigh with a toe to indicate just where those particular loose feathers usually came from.

Nipping him one final time (he had an extremely faint collection of Slaanesh-gifted hickies by now, but his body would purge the reddish marks from his skin in moments), she sat up to squint at him. Her long hair cascaded down to tickle his chest.

“I like the contrast in color,” she pointed to where the strands brushed against him. “I find it arousing. I can see clearly when we’re entwined, and the only thing I find more pleasurable than the contrast is the expression on your face and the rise and fall of your chest. And your hands. I love your hands.”

She sought one of them out and hugged it to her chest. She marveled at the feel of his pulse coursing through the venous network. Her fingers traced a large vein from wrist to knuckle… his hearts were strong, and the blood streamed along in a forceful surge. Nothing in the universe compared to an Asartes hand. It was capable of brutality yet Astartes possessed finite muscular precision that allowed them to give the most gentle of caresses. Tipper was often awed by Volturius’ ability to stroke her cheek in such a fashion. His hands had wielded many weapons over his long life, and were weapons themselves, but he used them to slay her heart and enthrall her in a wash of unparalleled ecstasy. Those same hands were possessive at times, drawing her close as if daring foolish people to try to take his possession from him.

He’d kill them if they tried, naturally. Tipper purred in delight.

She communed these thoughts and passions to him through their bond, savoring her assessment of their relationship and encouraging him to never cease his tender administrations. He was her Astartes. She’d have no other, even during worship of their god. Only he had earned the right to claim her.

The tiny cultist snorted and quickly slid out of bed. Pain was pleasure, and stirring him and moving away only increased the longing until it became somewhat unbearable.

“Roo de doo,” she presented him with her bare backside and performed a wiggly little dance. Once she was certain she had his full attention, she peered over her left shoulder and whispered a promise through their bond: Later, my love. We should hunt a deer tonight and feast on it. The moon feels good, and although it won’t be much of a challenge for you, it would still give you some exercise.

[Urran]

Luce blinked in surprise. "Ah, you haven't seen Denise. She's - well, she's sort of our unofficial mascot, Dropped in to visit one day, and then she seemed to fall asleep and not wake up, so we took the liberty of preserving her. Chrys and I, I mean." He beckoned them to look around the corner.

"As for the tea - you two seem to be in two minds about that. I'll just leave a pot for you then, shall I? Feel free to help yourselves."

He smiled benignly and zoomed into the kitchen in a blur, then back out with a freshly made, steaming pot and two cups, which he left on the table closest to Katya and Yoshi. Katya and Yoshi seemed to be having differing opinions both on the tea (a relatively minor matter) and about wanting his company (somewhat less minor). So, erring on the side of caution in not intruding, he smiled again. "Maybe another time. Thank you for the offer, however."

He disappeared silently into the master bedroom to allow them privacy, switched on the TV, and began watching Animal Planet.

Yoshi stretched, his back popping a few times, he wiggled out from under Katya and got up to grab the tea off of the table. The warm cups felt good in his hands as he grabbed hold of them. He sat back down just behind Katya and handed her one of the cups. He leaned his head back against the wall, creating a small thud as it made contact. He stared into the liquid at his reflection and gently blew at the steam that was rising from the pool. He then took a small sip and sighed. It was surprisingly good for western tea. Then again, Yoshi was a bit of a tea snob. He blushed softly and idly stroked Katya's hair with his free hand, feeling the silky strands run through his soft, delicate fingers. He took a moment to look about the room, yes, a little large, but lovely all the same.



Tieria chuckled at Kei's antics. He wondered what he had gotten himself into. He ordered three more mugs of the sweet liquid and slammed them down without problem. He was enjoying the site of Kei getting buzzed while he didn't feel any different. Ordinarely, he would have sipped daintily on the liquid in order to maintain a prim and proper appearance, but it was just him and Kei, and he didn't care anymore. He drummed on the counter a bit with his fingers and smiled down at the bar, this was fun. He was finally beginning to understand.

[The BranRiech]

"I-I'm not going to die then, right." Rachelle calmed down, mostly by the comforting feel of her friend's fuzzy coat of fur. It was calming in the midst of an uncalming situation, and she was grateful for it. "Hate clowns . . ."

The smell wasn't helping either, smelling of decay and death. It wasn't pleasant, especially with a mouse's sense of smell.

"Yeah . . . F-fuck clowns." She whispered, feeling terrible yet empowered for saying it. It was a slap in the face dor the scarring childhood symbols, and she loved it.

[Swith Witherward]

"I-I'm not going to die then, right." Rachelle calmed down, mostly by the comforting feel of her friend's fuzzy coat of fur. It was calming in the midst of an uncalming situation, and she was grateful for it. "Hate clowns . . ."

The smell wasn't helping either, smelling of decay and death. It wasn't pleasant, especially with a mouse's sense of smell.

"Yeah . . . F-fuck clowns." She whispered, feeling terrible yet empowered for saying it. It was a slap in the face dor the scarring childhood symbols, and she loved it.

Sydney giggled. She'd never heard Rachelle use a swear before. Swears were fun although she knew better to say them in front of the grown ups.

"Zactly! Clowns are nothing. If my uncle Levi was here, he'd tell that clown what he thought of him, and he'd take its head off too."

Triply pleased by the way things were going, Sydney eyed the clown as it moved back beyond the top of the machine. She drew in a disgusting breath of air and waited. He'd disappear for a few seconds... in five... four... three... two... "RUN!"

Sydney butted Rachelle's flank with her head just to drive the point home and then she darted across the floor with the poor mouse-girl's haunches practically on top of her own head. It was like wearing a mouse sombrero, but Sydney didn't mind. It was also only a few steps for a child, but Sydney's tiny mouse legs pumped along at an incredibly fast pace. She had to get to the other side before the ugly clown bowed. Had to. No other options. Plus, the door was even closer now, and that meant they had a very good chance of escaping.

The sticky floor provided some traction, and her tiny nails dug into it. She used it to propel herself and Rachelle forward rapidly, not looking left or right or even thinking about stopping. The looming threat made her feel giddy. It was a rush, a total rush, and it seized her heart. She was invincible. She laughed at danger. Maybe, just maybe, she'd stop being so afraid of the whooshing sound the toilet made when she flushed it. And maybe she'd stop being afraid of other things, too. Maybe.

[Primordial Luxa]

She perks up "We do indeed, by the standard time in this universe over 68% of our library hasn't been written, while another 12% will never be written." She turns her skin turning a deep pink in color with sets of curling smoke falling off her shoulders in strange tattooed patterns. "This way" she says walking down the rows of shelf's, as they walked it was obvious space was bending around them to allow them to walk the vast length of the room as though it were small and the shelf's wizzed by as blurs of color. "Anything you had in mind specifically?" He tone betrayed little beyond the normal hyper sensitization she embodied, while her form was lithe and liquid moving like smoke through the spacial anomaly. She was difficult to judge but if she did have some sort of hidden trauma it must be horrific beyond measure to warrant this much reactive joy as a cover.

"Encyclopedia Galactica volume "APE" would be a start, then work our way out from there. Doing some research on a company my latest case study works for."Arthur explained as he remembered the stranger. He was taking things slow, trying not to look desperate. With as friendly a face he could muster he forgot to breath. Letting out a smokey cough he followed as he lit another cigarette, which was probably not a good idea to do around books.

She stops at one of the megameter long book shelves carved with a single undefinable symbol that looked like the floating valves of a human heart. A small screen on the side of it pulse an unnatural blue light and Insidious’s quickly flashed across it typing out the request. With a mechanical operation sound a book far down the aisle extends slightly from the neat and even wall of other books. As they stroll down the aisle a pair of the large shelf keeping insects float overhead pulling tomes form the shelves for reorganization and brightening the path in front of them. Eventually however after a peaceful silent walk broken only by the creatures hum Insidious pulls the book jutting only an inch out of the perfectly smooth wall of books out and hands it to him. It’s a very large tome with metallic dusk jacket, on the inside cover is tablet computer with the digital version of the text. While at the back is a large stack of various disorganized papers bond together containing the authors annotations, biography and other information about the book itself.

[The BranRiech]

Wait, what!?

Rachelle was prepared to run herself, but apparently she was now on top of Sydney's head, bouncing around as she was pushed along the carpet. Her words rang true, once clowns stopped being freaky and scary, they were nothing but funny little caricatures of cartoons, or just not scary. She quickly bounced off of Rachelle, and started running across the floor herself, keeping well clear of shadows and making sure the clown wasn't looking to them. Well, Sydney seemed to have that covered, but she'd be a secondary, maybe.

"Well, yeah! If I were human, in any other situation, I would just avoid the clown! I'd like to come back here and blow it up though, eh?" She grinned a little Mouse-grin, as she scampered around, nothing more than a little rodent with the mind of a 7-year old. It was quite an experience, adrenaline pumping through her, feeling the same rush as Sydney was. It was exhilarating, to have to escape from such a situation, but she knew it wasn't to be taken lightly, as she knew full well the circumstances of failure in these sorts of things.

"Where do we go once we're out, huh? You know this place?!"

--

"Yeah, 's good isn't it?" Kei drawled, rapping her knuckles on the countertop as well, keeping herself occupied as she continued drinking more and more. It was about as drunk as she wanted to be, still sane enough, but not simply a buzz. It was perfect, for her at least. It never took too much EB for her to get like this, but she was there, and her wallet a bit lighter now too, as she stumbled up, and prepared to walk out . . . Without a word to Tieria.

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

Scarlet had a cheerful smile upon her face seeing her little sister,she could tell what she wanted and gave tsu a muffin and walked over towards torii."would you like one,miss torii?" She asked holding the try."but be careful their still a little hot."

"Wh-what? Oh! Um...."

Torii didn't expect to be asked anything so quickly. "Um, yes, please. I'd love one, Scarlet."

Edge. Katya's friend? Yep. And Scarlet seemed very nice. Torii thought that she liked Scarlet the best out of Tsu's sisters.

She also really wanted a muffin, but she was too humble to say anything else.

"here'!. Scarlet said as a wing emerged from her and gave a muffin to torii,before disappearing into a puff of ash."I hope you dont mind stuff like that,begin related to tsu means i'll share some of her traits and in this case it's the wings." Scarlet went with the try over to edge and tekikoku who both took some muffins.

[Urran]

Tieria watched the goddess get up in a wobbly fashion. Why did he find that amusing? Something that large tottering around like a baby learning to walk was something that one did not see often. Tieria smiled and lift a substantial tip for the bartender before walking over by Kei's side and taking her by the arm. "Okay, that's enough for you." he said neutrally, but with a smile.

[Erucia]

"I would rather only hug you as well, Ray. You're very fun to hug, anyway. So fluffy and warm!" Albert said with a slight chuckle, bordering on a giggle. But he let Ray rest his furry head against his own. After all, there wasn't too much of a reason to not let his boyfriend do that, was there? He smiled happily, and continued to hug his boyfriend tightly.

"Well, whenever you are allowed to go after it, good luck capturing that thing." He encouraged, leaning his head up to kiss Ray's snout. "But I think heading back to the apartment might be a bad idea. I have no idea if Jacob wants to see me, and I'm honestly not sure if I might be able to keep myself from punching him for the beating he gave me earlier.... couldn't we just hang around your old room for a while? Or something?" He gave his boyfriend another kiss, showing he would rather just stay in here for a while.

"...Jacob's going to have to see you some day. And I don't know how much it would be appreciated if we just ended up hanging around my old place. I don't know the requirements for sitting around this place," Ray sighed, although he was glad to see that Albert was enjoying himself so. He did want to repair the relations between Jacob and Albert, and they would have to be back together at the apartment someday. But whether to do that immediately or not was the question of the evening.

If they went back, Ray had no clue how either would handle it. Albert had just made an assurance that he had no idea if he'd keep himself from assaulting Jacob, and he certainly didn't want to see them fighting again (although he did reminisce on the fight, since he felt it was rather cute in context that the two were naked at the time). But how bad could they really get? Albert wasn't overtly crazy, and Jacob wasn't going to attack him on sight. If anything, Jacob was going to try and hide himself away.

"You two do need to make up, and there's not a whole lot to do here. Most of what I remember here has changed. My stuff has been moved out and replaced with this default furniture, and I don't really know what we could do here. If we go back, we can get you two recovered and then we can get back to our lives. Maybe you could even get a tour of a few guns, and vice versa?"

[Torsiedelle]

"No, I don't mind it at all.", Torii told Scarlet. "Actually, I think it's really cool."

She wasn't just being nice. She really did like the wings. They seemed really cool, just moving around their owner, like some weird beast, always on the prowl. Tsu's wings were like that.

Tora looked down at the muffin in her hand. The warmth was enjoyable, and it smelled really good. She took a bite, and thought that the taste was good too.

"These are awesome, Scarlet. I wish I could bake like this.", She said, wondering if she could learn how to bake.

......

Katya swatted a tuft of hair away, and leaned back. Her dark blue eyes rested on Yoshi for a minute.

"You know what I was always afraid of? Becoming like my mother."

[Urran]

"Trust me my lotus, you are nothing like your mother." Yoshi said softly. He continued to stroke her hair thoughtfully and his emerald and aqua eyes met her dark blue ones, there was a certain spark there that wasn't there before. Less nervousness but the same gentleness, tenderness, love, and generosity that had always been there. Yoshi was a pure heart that desired the happiness of others and very few things for himself. He only wanted a family, which he had, a job that he loved, he also had that, and Katya, also check. He was a bit concerned that she was scared of becoming her mother. He didn't think it was likely, as long as she consciously tried not to.

[Torsiedelle]

"Trust me my lotus, you are nothing like your mother." Yoshi said softly. He continued to stroke her hair thoughtfully and his emerald and aqua eyes met her dark blue ones, there was a certain spark there that wasn't there before. Less nervousness but the same gentleness, tenderness, love, and generosity that had always been there. Yoshi was a pure heart that desired the happiness of others and very few things for himself. He only wanted a family, which he had, a job that he loved, he also had that, and Katya, also check. He was a bit concerned that she was scared of becoming her mother. He didn't think it was likely, as long as she consciously tried not to.

"I-I'm a little bit liKei her!", Katya protested. "I mean, Blonde, blue eyes, she's half-German, I'm....a quarter German...well, I guess that's it. I really am not like her!"

She breathed a little better. Knowing that she wasn't like her overbearing mother was a relief to the woman. Hopefully, she could keep from turningto the "dark side".

[Urran]

"See, character wise you are nothing like her, you are much better. I-I really don't like her. She scares me." he admitted softly, setting his empty teacup on the floor beside him and drummed his fingers nervously on the floor. He looked over at the walls, noting any decorations that adorned them. He listened to the program that Luce was watching. He had always been a fan of nature shows and his cat-like hearing allowed him to listen in perfectly.

[Torsiedelle]

"I guess you're right.", was all that Katya said. To her, it was rather quiet, though Luce's show was still audible. She was interested, but decided against possibly intruding at the moment. She did, however, make note of the time.

"It's been a while, no? Didn't you mention that you needed to get a gift for Bran earlier? I have your money in the apartment. Feel free to go get it, we keep the door unlocked."

[Urran]

"I guess you're right.", was all that Katya said. To her, it was rather quiet, though Luce's show was still audible. She was interested, but decided against possibly intruding at the moment. She did, however, make note of the time.

"It's been a while, no? Didn't you mention that you needed to get a gift for Bran earlier? I have your money in the apartment. Feel free to go get it, we keep the door unlocked."

"Thanks Dear. T-t-to be honest I'm a little bit sleepy." He said, rubbing his eyes with a groan. He had had a long day after all. He just wanted to get back into HIS bed. But for now, he leaned back against the wall with another thud. He wondered if laying in what was practically a hallway was such a good idea.

[Torsiedelle]

"I guess you're right.", was all that Katya said. To her, it was rather quiet, though Luce's show was still audible. She was interested, but decided against possibly intruding at the moment. She did, however, make note of the time.

"It's been a while, no? Didn't you mention that you needed to get a gift for Bran earlier? I have your money in the apartment. Feel free to go get it, we keep the door unlocked."

"Thanks Dear. T-t-to be honest I'm a little bit sleepy." He said, rubbing his eyes with a groan. He had had a long day after all. He just wanted to get back into HIS bed. But for now, he leaned back against the wall with another thud. He wondered if laying in what was practically a hallway was such a good idea.

"Oh...okay then. If You want, you can go back to your place, then. I can take care of myself, now.", She replied. She found the hallway rather cozy, especially with Yoshi.

[Urran]

Yoshi shrugged. "I-i-it would be rude to leave before Dora got back." he said softly. He kept tapping his fingers on the floor. He really wanted to sleep but he didn't want to be rude. To keep himself awake he looked around at the walls and listened to Luce's show. He yawned again and hoped that Dora came back soon. The feeling of Katya's warm body next to him made him more comfortable and thus more sleepy.

[Cerillium]

Chrys, Rachelle, Sydney

Hans chased his thoughts down dark tunnels as he guided Chrys towards the lantern. It was visiting day at the insane asylum, oh yes indeed. The inmates were coming out to play. He lined them up in a row like little children and embraced each one: Hate, Anger, Rage, War, Killing. He would take skulls for his god. Oh yes indeed. He would and it would be grand. His humanity slipped away.

Chrys’ emotional surge was pure oxygen fueling the licentious fires in his mind; he fed on brutality the same way in which Minerva’s lads feasted on opiates and carnal pleasure. He briefly wondered what it would be like to warp her into service to the Blood God. Females were rare. He decided to approach her about it if she survived.

“I love you, Hans.”

The words echoed from some faraway place but they brought him to a jarring stop. His upper lip curled. He stared down at the little shit – future Emperor of Mankind – in his arms. His inner daemon rocked in revulsion but a small crack still remained in Hans’ veneer. The tiny psyker was capable of much damage when riled but his death would seriously crimp Hans’ future existence. This was the reasoning for protecting him, Hans told himself; he didn’t want to admit his actual fondness for the child.

He lifted Siduer from his hip and stuffed him into a pocket. “Don’t screw around in there. Stay away from my guns and knives. Don’t touch the bombs. Keep inside.”

Now satisfied that Siduer was reasonably safe, Hans’ grip on Chrys’ hand tightened. He imagined himself stepping into the lantern and so they did, one boot at a time. They ascended to the Between and rocketed through a spiraling vortex that was rife with insanity and battle lust. The tunnel’s surface flapped with countless black wings and raven’s beady eyes materialized between the darkest spots to stare them down before fading away again. The winds roared their eternal worship of the God of War and mingled with it were the screams of tortured souls whose bones fashioned the god’s wretched throne.

Hans inhaled the coppery air to rejuvenate his greater daemon and then they plunged downward through a bald patch on the tunnel wall. Hans slowed their movement and scouted for openings. He said nothing but was obviously familiar enough with the process to spot just the right place to disembark. Chrys was whipped outwards as he spun back and circled around a tiny dot nestled in the wings; he didn't let go of her.

Cool, early evening air greeted their faces as they stepped out of a green glass beer bottle. Hans immediately slammed into Chrys with his back. He pushed her towards a corrugated tin wall which was cloaked in shadow.

The deserted carnival held little attraction. It seemed to have been abandoned for countless years; this was its true face. The lights and sounds and brilliant colors were all just an illusion. It was a boneyard of rusting machinery and rotting wood without any magic to spruce it.

This moment was shared with the two brown mice as they stood at the arcade door. Their nostrils would detect decades of decay and mold; their trivial height according them a better view of the amusement park rides’ undersides: the support struts were fashioned from human bones.

CRACK TAT TAT

The winds stirred a rotting board which hung from a rusting chain near the front gate. It beat it against a metal pole. The words “Carnal Carnival” fluttered in the moonlight and winked out.

[New Aksarben]

"I would rather only hug you as well, Ray. You're very fun to hug, anyway. So fluffy and warm!" Albert said with a slight chuckle, bordering on a giggle. But he let Ray rest his furry head against his own. After all, there wasn't too much of a reason to not let his boyfriend do that, was there? He smiled happily, and continued to hug his boyfriend tightly.

"Well, whenever you are allowed to go after it, good luck capturing that thing." He encouraged, leaning his head up to kiss Ray's snout. "But I think heading back to the apartment might be a bad idea. I have no idea if Jacob wants to see me, and I'm honestly not sure if I might be able to keep myself from punching him for the beating he gave me earlier.... couldn't we just hang around your old room for a while? Or something?" He gave his boyfriend another kiss, showing he would rather just stay in here for a while.

"...Jacob's going to have to see you some day. And I don't know how much it would be appreciated if we just ended up hanging around my old place. I don't know the requirements for sitting around this place," Ray sighed, although he was glad to see that Albert was enjoying himself so. He did want to repair the relations between Jacob and Albert, and they would have to be back together at the apartment someday. But whether to do that immediately or not was the question of the evening.

If they went back, Ray had no clue how either would handle it. Albert had just made an assurance that he had no idea if he'd keep himself from assaulting Jacob, and he certainly didn't want to see them fighting again (although he did reminisce on the fight, since he felt it was rather cute in context that the two were naked at the time). But how bad could they really get? Albert wasn't overtly crazy, and Jacob wasn't going to attack him on sight. If anything, Jacob was going to try and hide himself away.

"You two do need to make up, and there's not a whole lot to do here. Most of what I remember here has changed. My stuff has been moved out and replaced with this default furniture, and I don't really know what we could do here. If we go back, we can get you two recovered and then we can get back to our lives. Maybe you could even get a tour of a few guns, and vice versa?"

Albert listened to what Ray said quietly, his face becoming impassive. He wasn't sure about talking to Jacob quite yet, still. He knew he would have to eventually, but he would prefer doing it when he wasn't as annoyed and pissed. Because for all his apparent calm and happiness, He was still seething inside over being beaten so easily by his brother. Albert was not used to being beaten so easily. Internally, he wanted revenge. He wanted to get even with Jacob by beating up his twin and inflicting the same amount of damage that Jacob had done to him.

At the same time, Albert realized that it would be stupid to do so. He, like Jacob, had felt the tidings of a civil war as they had fought. He more than Jacob knew how horrible a civil war could be. Unfortunately, one of the things that he and Jacob had also gotten from Rome was the proclivity for civil war as the generals' ambitions sometimes outweighed their loyalty to the state.

His nation had been through many civil wars over its time as a nation, with the last and most deadly being the Republican Revolution that had led to Jacob being the dominant aspect of his nation for a while. There had yet to be a Civil War ever since he and Jacob had agreed to work together for the greater good of their people however. Albert was glad for that. Civil Wars had ripped apart his nation too much in the past. This Era of stability had lead to him and Jacob being strong as a duo. And Albert was glad that his people didn't rely solely on him anymore. It let him relax and enjoy life more, and pursue his own interests for once.

Through all of that thinking, Albert was doing his best to keep what he would have called a 'civilized' demeanor, though. To stay passive and calm, while keeping your important thoughts internal to hide what you truly want. Basically he was putting on a poker face to hide what he was truly feeling. Which was a conflicted amalgamation of both the desire to get revenge and to keep his people safe from harm. Both were vitally important to him as a descendant of Rome, and he was conflicted on what to do.

"...... Talking with Jacob will be a good idea to do later. We can drop by the apartment to get me some new clothes. I just do not feel like talking with him right now on the worry I will prompt a civil war between us..... I could get to work on that VR machine we discussed earlier, actually. That might calm me down and get me focused on something else..... What do you think, mei Vulpes?"

Albert looked up slightly into Ray's eyes, dropping his poker face for a moment by accident. The brief moment showed the uncertainty and concern, so unlike Albert's normal personality that it was obvious that this was important to him and how worried he was about this. He honestly wanted to prevent any further argument with his brother, but his honor had been hurt at the same time. He could not decide which side of himself, the Roman side that demanded retribution and revenge or the more rational side that advised caution and civility, to listen to.

Albert was thinking that the VR room would be a good compromise for the two competing lines of thought as it would allow him to rectify the problems that created this situation in the first place with training. It would also have allowed him to distract himself for a few days time while working on this, giving him time to calm down and think about everything. Albert thought that would be the best course of action, but wanted to hear his boyfriend's opinion first.

IT was then that Albert realized the hallway outside of Ray's former apartment was not a good place to be discussing this. Especially considering he was wearing what basically consisted of pajama clothes. His face turned sightly red at this realization which was honestly a bit overdue. He stepped inside and gestured towards a couch for them to possibly sit on while talking. "Ray, could we actually continue this conversation inside your old apartment? It might be best to figure some of these things out inside and away from possible prying eyes...."

[Erucia]

Albert listened to what Ray said quietly, his face becoming impassive. He wasn't sure about talking to Jacob quite yet, still. He knew he would have to eventually, but he would prefer doing it when he wasn't as annoyed and pissed. Because for all his apparent calm and happiness, He was still seething inside over being beaten so easily by his brother. Albert was not used to being beaten so easily. Internally, he wanted revenge. He wanted to get even with Jacob by beating up his twin and inflicting the same amount of damage that Jacob had done to him.

At the same time, Albert realized that it would be stupid to do so. He, like Jacob, had felt the tidings of a civil war as they had fought. He more than Jacob knew how horrible a civil war could be. Unfortunately, one of the things that he and Jacob had also gotten from Rome was the proclivity for civil war as the generals' ambitions sometimes outweighed their loyalty to the state.

His nation had been through many civil wars over its time as a nation, with the last and most deadly being the Republican Revolution that had led to Jacob being the dominant aspect of his nation for a while. There had yet to be a Civil War ever since he and Jacob had agreed to work together for the greater good of their people however. Albert was glad for that. Civil Wars had ripped apart his nation too much in the past. This Era of stability had lead to him and Jacob being strong as a duo. And Albert was glad that his people didn't rely solely on him anymore. It let him relax and enjoy life more, and pursue his own interests for once.

Through all of that thinking, Albert was doing his best to keep what he would have called a 'civilized' demeanor, though. To stay passive and calm, while keeping your important thoughts internal to hide what you truly want. Basically he was putting on a poker face to hide what he was truly feeling. Which was a conflicted amalgamation of both the desire to get revenge and to keep his people safe from harm. Both were vitally important to him as a descendant of Rome, and he was conflicted on what to do.

"...... Talking with Jacob will be a good idea to do later. We can drop by the apartment to get me some new clothes. I just do not feel like talking with him right now on the worry I will prompt a civil war between us..... I could get to work on that VR machine we discussed earlier, actually. That might calm me down and get me focused on something else..... What do you think, mei Vulpes?"

Albert looked up slightly into Ray's eyes, dropping his poker face for a moment by accident. The brief moment showed the uncertainty and concern, so unlike Albert's normal personality that it was obvious that this was important to him and how worried he was about this. He honestly wanted to prevent any further argument with his brother, but his honor had been hurt at the same time. He could not decide which side of himself, the Roman side that demanded retribution and revenge or the more rational side that advised caution and civility, to listen to.

Albert was thinking that the VR room would be a good compromise for the two competing lines of thought as it would allow him to rectify the problems that created this situation in the first place with training. It would also have allowed him to distract himself for a few days time while working on this, giving him time to calm down and think about everything. Albert thought that would be the best course of action, but wanted to hear his boyfriend's opinion first.

IT was then that Albert realized the hallway outside of Ray's former apartment was not a good place to be discussing this. Especially considering he was wearing what basically consisted of pajama clothes. His face turned sightly red at this realization which was honestly a bit overdue. He stepped inside and gestured towards a couch for them to possibly sit on while talking. "Ray, could we actually continue this conversation inside your old apartment? It might be best to figure some of these things out inside and away from possible prying eyes...."

Ray stood and listened to Albert's final concept on their actions for the moment, and so he felt himself drawn towards Albert. He realized that the mention of civil war was a real possibility, and quite a frightening one: anything that could cause harm to his boyfriend or friend was something to worry of, especially if they could both be injured. Perhaps Albert keeping away from Jacob for the current was a good idea? The calmness presented by Albert was welcome, but somehow showed just how angry he was.

But what surprised him the most was that Albert's expression suddenly changed from the blank or otherwise withheld expression from normal conversation and instead presented a concerned look. Ray appeared to be somewhat taken aback by this, as he clearly did not expect such a look to come from Albert. But it engrained how serious Albert was being into Ray's mind, and so he decided that he would have to help steer his love down the right path. Or at least, what Ray hoped would be the path that would end in the least fire and blood.

He waited a few moments, settling the thoughts in his mind as the thought. To keep Albert occupied, Ray leaned back onto a straightened stance and gave a firm kiss onto Albert's forehead. The unique feature of a furry's mouth was that it still retained a semblance of human lips, although the lips were certainly puckered in more towards the mouth. Ray could push them to face outwards like a normal human could with puffing out his or her lips, although it was still a rather odd feeling for him.

"...Well, going inside seems like a good start. I pointed out earlier that briefs aren't necessarily appropriate for wandering around in public, but now that you've come to your senses...", Ray chuckled weakly and entered inside, shutting the door behind him. He approached the couch inside of the living room, and took a glance at the wooden kitchen island. He did feel himself missing the apartment somewhat, as he hadn't honestly used it in huge amounts. It wasn't necessarily as cultured looking as his current home, but it certainly was a cut above in terms of style. At least, in his opinion.

"Alright: VR machine sounds fine. We'll head back to the apartment and get you changed, so that you're not walking around in your briefs," Ray suggested as he leaned against the couch. He stuck out his right leg and ran his furred foot across Albert's bare leg as an example of the lack of decency that they provided, and then continued. The fur may have left a ticklish sensation against Albert's skin if he was sensitive, but Ray didn't seem to mind. "You can get to work on that VR machine, and...Well, I need to check around the apartment. See if anyone is free, anything to do is open, etc. Maybe I'll even change into a different t-shirt. This one feels a bit worn right now.

"But I'll check up on Jacob and make sure he's doing alright. Keep him occupied while you do your thing, tell him that you would rather stay away to calm your nerves. Does that sound like a plan?"

Finishing up his sentence, Ray pushed himself off the couch and leaned down, towards Albert. He decided that it would be a good idea to try something: he trickled Albert off of his feet and picked him up, suddenly holding the Neko in his arms and leaning back up to a proper stance. Ray hoped that Albert wouldn't try and squirm out of his arms, and that the weight wouldn't be so incredibly much: Albert did feel rather heavy in his full weight, and Ray seemed to have to attempt to work his muscles to successfully keep himself from dropping his boyfriend.

"...And isn't this a better way of covering yourself? My arms serve as great pant-legs, if you need to have some. Of course, that doesn't mean you can shave my skin off and take my arms," Ray attempted to crack a joke during his attempt to ease the tension that Albert held. He hoped that sweeping the personification off his feet might work in some way.

[Urran]

Yoshi couldn't stay awake any longer. He turned to Katya. "Um, K-katya? I-I" he yawned again and talked while doing so. "I-I can't stay awake." he shifted to where his head was in her lap and closed his eyes. "I-I hope you don't mind, i-if you do I can move but...." his words got softer and softer until he was asleep.

[Torsiedelle]

Katya looked down at the now-sleeping Yoshi, who's warmth was very comforting to her. Now it was just her awake, and possibly Luce in the other room. She could still hear the TV faintly, and the glow from the lights seeping in put her at peace. Really, the entire setting was nice.

She wouldn't mind falling asleep right here, either.

.....

"Mhmm...mhmm..."

Dimitrus had finally come back out of her room, and was enjoying the building's comforts. The communal sitting room was always a cozy spot, with its usually small, or nonexistent, number of people. The television's humming and light provided comfort, as did the bright walls and comfortable seating. It had a certain vibe to it that put the woman at peace. Even while engaged in conversation on her phone, she was as relaxed as could be.

"Da, Da, goodbye now.", She said, before the conversation ended. She slipped the phone into her pocket, and grabbed the slim bag she now carried, which protected a black I-pad. She hadn't seen her Persian "friend" since she showed him the piano. She wondered what had happened...perhaps she should asked around.

[The BranRiech]

Rachelle, who was still huffing along, right next to Sydney, was amazed by the entire area they were dashing around. First of all, there was the huge perspective change that they had as mice, that took too long to get used to, as well as the stench of decay and death (Or what the girl thought death would smell like). It was, to her, the description of hell. A perversion of childhood youth and excitement. It was simply a carnival, but one left to rot, and made of bones. "Hell" she thought once more, trotting along at a reasonable pace, keeping up with her partner in crime, as well as her escape-buddy.

If it had been any other adventure, Rachelle might have even thought this to be fun, but the idea that anything in a shadow could prove lethal, and that the ride supports were held together by bones, made the experience a lot less wholesome.

She refrained from speaking, as she was still waiting for a reply from Sydney as to where exactly the two children were going. Rachelle might have been older, but Sydney definitely knew more about where they were.

--

"N-No!"

Kei grinned and stumbled out of his grasp, and out onto the streets of Bielefeld.