september catch-all

[robussy]

Who: falco grice, shoyo hinata & 2B with friends!
What: a log with closed prompts and open prompts soon to come for the duration of september! feel free to reach out on my plotting comments, liberos or owlie#3609 if you'd like to plot something specific! i will definitely do personalized tls!
When: september!
Where: corners of trench!

Content Warnings: will add as they come.

Comments

@offinventory (cw: violence, machine gore??, android suicide)

[robussy]

“Die already!” the android cried, fierce and exhausted but . . .

[ flipping the pages of this book may attract skimming eyes to the end of one chapter filled with danger and combat, of a goliath class machine that needs to be destroyed. it's huge, almost too big for a single unit to slow it down, but— this is what yoRHa number 2 unit B was made for. the battle is long, sluggish and brings her anguish, but she is given the will to continue.

once the machine's systems are hacked, the tables turn. 2B uses the flight unit authorized to her from 9S and destroys the thing, launches from air travel to sink her sword into the exposed core. just die already! you might read— and soon, you hear it, too.

you are there, in the grand explosion as the machine gives way into the sea. 2B, thrown onto the metal, creaking boardwalk lands after a skidding roll into impact. she's beat— but satisfied. she raises herself once she seems to realize someone is there with her, pulling his torso upright and nearly falling forward. she uses the secunit's shoulder for support as her breaths rattle violently. ]

Contact Command. Request assistance.

[ the ocean ripples— and from the waves emerge a heavy cascade of one, two, three more goliaths, with their creaking cranes and groaning metal frames. 2B hisses, exasperatedly: ]

Oh— Great.

[offinventory]

Oh sure, Murderbot thinks, Command will be sooooooooo helpful. It doesn't know command, but the scene has been rife with Command being full of shit. If it's anything like the company, Command will be too late. It's unsure whether the androids are worth the investment to maintain the investment. The message gets sent, and Murderbot sighs at the strange makeup of the construct it inhabits. More bot, less human. Somehow, however, it has a gender, same as 2B. Yes yes giant rogue CombatBots advance on them, but that still seems odd. Some human idea forced into the programming.

Guess it's he/him today.

This situation isn't what SecUnits are meant for. These CombatBots aren't even on the same size scale. It still calls the flight unit back to itself, hacking enough to regain the controls. That is familiar enough.

"I'll offer support," Murderbot says without great enthusiasm. There isn't anything else to it, and 2B clearly survives the encounter. These are memory books after all.

"Go on. Fight backwards, in heels."

Its eyes drop to 2B's impractical feet (shoe) design. Worse balance and control and so much the fuck else. Heck, this SupportUnit Murderbot occupies hardly has body mass at all.

@fogsong (cw: war, child soldiers, child endangerment, violence, gore, death)

[grice]

“The enemies are coming!” they shouted . . .

[ reading through the contents of this book will warp its reader into the middle of a battlefield. as the words written describe the pops of rifles, battering machine guns and the clatter of high caliber shells ringing upon hard dirt floors, they come to life with bursts of fire, a night sky and a city in shambles, under attack, all too loud for the ears, chaotic and abhorrent. bodies lay sprawled across floors and through windows. The scent of blood and gunpowder is hot and nauseating.

giants attack each other, while one with an entire panzer unit on its back inclines to groups of flying, whirring things at high speeds between buildings. they’re humans, with weaponry made for this kind of combat. they shoot both guns and something explosive, something that shoots from their hands like rockets.

they destroy everything. ]

[fogsong]

[ War was a unique horror to Sharon Da Silva. For all of the terror she's witnessed over the course of her life, war was one that's never touched it. In comparison to everything else in her life, war felt like a dark fantasy than a possible reality, even here in Trench.

It's no surprise that when she's drawn into the memory of the book to the awful, ear-puncturing rattle of gunfire Sharon winds up frozen in place on the cobbled streets, watching with wide-terror-filled eyes as battle wages. It's only when a wave of explosions rattle the ground beneath her and light up the sky above that she finally shakes free of the initial shock.

She's on a cobbled street with massive buildings on either side and a trio of injured strangers linger some ways away. She tries to will the fear and uncertainty out of her as she makes her way forward when something massive hurls over a building and crashes into the street before her sending her toppling backward. As the dust clears, she gets a good look at the mass. To her horror, it was vaguely humanoid. Massive and muscular and wounded.

She's ready to dart away, to find cover, to get away from whatever it was when she sees him; recognizes him. She can hear someone shouting, sees one of the black-clad soldiers taking aim, and she finds herself scrambling forward towards him and the mass on the ground, thoughtless to her own safety. ]

Falco! [ His name tears out her throat, mindless in her terror for him, her only thoughts an amalgamation of save him protect him and no. ]

@threelayers

[robussy]

[ all 2B had done was take a step back to allow a carriage pulled by a draft horse to fall. she was falling back— her senses told her of gravity's shift and yet she had no way to balance herself. by the time she hits the floor, she can't feel it. today on the first of september, her sense of touch had been dulled. her pain receptors were unresponsive and did not even care to flicker across her eyes when taking impact.

she tries not to consider what that actually entails, and instead rights herself as soon as there was a surface for such. she can't feel the friction between the fuzzy carpets around her nor her leather gloves, but she can smell and see around what seemed like an enclosed office structure. the crisp scent of mold burns the back of her throat and the receptors that settled there. she didn't like it. she could only tell it was wet because of how humid the air was to inhale, or how it stained the matted fabric on the floor and the walls peeling away. the lights are too bright, they hurt her eyes as she stood. the buzzing is annoying, reminds her of machines.

has she been here before? she searches her memory banks. she attempts to place the buried remembrance, only to come up with nothing. an error. she has no memory of this place.

2B quickly turns her head to a hallway just steps behind her; she thought she heard breathing, and a moan. immediately, she turns heel to go in the direction of the second misplaced being within this unknown structure. ]

[threelayers]

[Well, she'd heard the landing and the breathing, but no actual moan. When 2B turned down the hallway, she would come face to face with someone else who'd had a rude landing almost immediately afterwards. Pink and brown mixed in the coloration of the girl's clothes as the half-pint of a huntress got to her feet, settling her umbrella in place on her shoulder and dusting herself off.

For a moment, she had her own struggle. Some memories were fuzzy. Faded. Things were like looking through a fog as she looked back. She shook her head and looked over at the woman approaching her. And then she blinked. Wow... uh... they really did not look like they belonged in this place. The smell made her nose wrinkle and she reached for her omni, holding it up and typing on it very quickly.]

Any idea where we are?

@icanhearscreams (cw: war, violence, self harm)

[grice]

Pieck objected to the idea, but Falco still thought out loud with grim realization: "If only Galliard were here instead of me."

[ falco jumps off pieck and breaks for it— the others yell for him to come back, especially gabi, but the cart titan couldn't afford to go after him and endanger the others. in no time flat, from his self-harm to his charge, the light from his shift cracks upon the open, desolated port with sparks and the ugly cry of a bird from hell as it formed from bone to mass.

the jaw titan without its wings was much smaller, compact— but it thrashes wildly at the zipping soldiers without regard for them. it splits them apart like butter, they're captured and swatted to the ground in its talons like flies. ]

[icanhearscreams]

[Everything is chaos around him, and Jun hides as best he can to avoid the fighting. He really should have learned his lesson by now, but apparently not.]

[He watches as Falco transforms, careful not to get seen - and his eyes widen. That's how he turns into that giant bird thing? Shit.]

[He keeps himself hidden so he doesn't see all of what happens - but he does look out when Falco seems to have turned back. Though 'turned back' isn't really the way to put it, is it? He thinks on that as he returns to himself in the Archives.]

[He picks up his Omni and texts Falco.]

I saw one of your memories

Sorry

I didn't mean to

@martyrofduty

[grice]

[ the message comes through to duty's omni just a few days after falco's first show of uncanny obsession over the network. it comes to an end, and while organizing the belongings that must be returned, he sets out on personal apologies. ]

Mr. Duty?
I'm sorry for being difficult a few days ago.

[martyrofduty]

Good morning, Falco. Thank you for the apology.

How has your perspective shifted?

@the_obedient_servant (cw: cults, maybe violence)

[grice]

Did Trench change? Is this— Is this all real?

[ no and yes, my boy. remember the word "dimension"? we are in one of those, i think, a little alternate pocket next to the trench we know, explains perle, his pygmy falcon omen, close to his ear and tucked swiftly under his chin as she perches on his shoulder. he'd just fallen through the pitch black mist moments ago, sooty and damp after landing in mud, but pulling the hood of his cloak up to not raise suspicion. it looks . . . bad here, to say the least. there're people gathered at the mouth of one building, one out of all the crumbling leftovers of brick and splintered wood. falco observes for a moment from a corner, hushing his words to his omen: ]

Is there a way back? [ there should be. there're more sleepers here. you know what to do. ] Well, almost . . .

[ that way, she instructs, and instead of going in the direction of the crowded building, he crosses the street in search of the aforementioned closest sleeper. ]

sorry this is late!

[the_obedient_servant]

[The other side of the street is about as unremarkable as a street in this nightmare can be. It's quiet. Oddly quiet, considering the concentration of beasts in the area and the safe haven not far away.

One of the doors hangs open. Who knows what it used to be? A bar, back before it got this bad? Maybe. It doesn't matter. The smell of blood wafts through the open door, and as Falco approaches, he'll see a faint flash of green as Chara looms over a series of corpses, ranging from big to small. A little over half a dozen of them.

All beasts, thankfully. But one seems alive and struggling to get back on it's haunches, so Chara drives their dagger into it's skull without a word.]

You can come in, if you'd like. It's safer here.

@fogsong (cw: cultists and stuff)

[grice]

[ it took a lot of risk selection to learn about the ritual— and one trenchie who has escaped the extremist group found their way to the pair to share what they know. they couldn't go back, they didn't have sleeper blood. but both of them still could.

what if the ritual was done repeatedly, falco wondered— would the others trapped here be able to go home? he keeps the thought in mind, and considers multiple plucks of the same necessary items. falco keeps close to sharon as they walked to the designated location, and pulls at her sleeve when he happens to see the guarded garden at the corner of his eye. he keeps his head low beneath his hood, and pretends not to look. they're just walking. ]

There aren't roses anywhere else.

[ his fingers at tight against fabric, having yet to let go. he's tense, and already trying to think of a way to get what they need without being suspected. maybe it's best they stay behind a corner, before being spotted. ]

[fogsong]

Just our fucking luck. [ It only took a few cursory glances to see the rose bushes lining the garden in carefully tended rows, a real sight to see even through the thick fog, but more obvious than the splashes of red and white and yellow were the figures roaming close by. Some of them appeared to be carrying makeshift weapons.

She keeps them both moving until they're out of sight, worrying her lip as she considers their limited options here. Her first instinct is to just brute force their way through but there were too many. Even with her powers, Sharon knew they'd get overpowered quickly. ]

You think they're guards or gardeners? [ She asks him in a hushed tone, not daring to peek back around the corner to get a better look. ]

@entreats (cw: cult stuff)

[grice]

[ it wasn't about getting what he needed the first time to leave as quickly as possible; it was about collecting more and making sure the others did, too. teamwork. going about this all alone was ill-fated, and returning alone was a thought he didn't want to have to worry him like an ugly plague. after finding ange there, too— they could get to work to prepare her things. he makes sure to lead her to a single church's courtyard. there, cultists a riled and discussing amongst themselves the sudden disappearance of roses after the sleepers had arrived from the damned version of trench.

they were more assertive in their desire to change these thieves for the better or worse, now. the worse, meaning, they were prepared to kill on sight. only peeking a glance from a corner they've hidden behind, he pulls back to give her room to see for herself: ]

There, Miss Ange. [ a garden with blood red roses and hooded figures keeping guard. he'd picked some with sharon— he knows it's here, and that's it's the only place. ] They've really tightened their security . . .

[entreats]

[ Ange lets out a breath that's like a sigh - though a quiet one. It's not like she's about to give away their location here. But on the other hand.. it's hard to do anything else but sigh in the face of what they're looking at here. Maybe the thought of what they have to do to get out of here is relatively easy, but then when you think about how they have to gather these things in practice..

.. well, it's always harder than you imagine.

Case in point. It's not like they can just walk in and grab some of those roses when the weird cultists that seem to have taken over this version of Trench are specifically trying to stop people from doing that. ]

You can say that again. [ She softly tells Falco after pulling her head back around the corner, looking at him. The young woman frowns. ] There's too many of them.

[ To sneak around? To convince? ]

I can't take out all of them in time. [ Ah, so that's the one. At least 'take out' could just mean 'knock out' rather than 'kill', right.. Maybe that's why she can say it in front of poor young Falco in the first place. ] There's just no way.

@miyagimagic

[robussy]

[ it starts with energy that deserves a good run to blow off. it reminds her of when she had been infected with the blood disease. pod finds nothing physically wrong with her. her firewalls are up, her system clean. nothing is "wrong", aside from the skip of her heart when she hears the whispers among trenchies.

bloodsport.

a time to revel, a time to show what sleepers were blessed with. bloodsport. the word is like a chant, one that flicks on and off in her head. she wants to fight. she wants to dissipate beasts, she wants to battle sleepers— that last one is the tip of the iceberg, for her. the desire burns in her chest like a hungry fire and when a violent ghost match with herself and herself along only snips the need away for moments, she screams in wild frustration in the sand when it returns twice as strong. ]

Stop it!!

[ her eyes begin to sting. she squeezes them shut, she cradles her head and sinks into the sand with her legs folded beneath her. this is against her hardwiring. this is a massive error. a contradiction. it's putting her into anxiety that makes her fingers tremble violently, denying herself the drug her system seems to beg for. blood. bloodsport.

she's supposed to be protecting them, not ending them, she can't— ]

[miyagimagic]

[ Daniel heard the same whispers. Though he wasn't interested in the slightest. Fighting for fun is one thing, but bloodsports is just a slight step too far. It makes him think of all of his worst battles.

It makes him think of standing there in the middle of an arena, all the way over on Okinawa, his heart racing with the consequences of failure in that place.

But he still can't help but come watch all the same. Maybe out of worry, more than anything else. Maybe out of a desire to not see anyone hurt.

A desire that only grows stronger when he sees who's in that arena - and what she's doing.

The moment 2B falls to her knees, Daniel is already moving forward as fast as he can, all the way up to the arena's edge. His hands falling on the railing, desperately staring forward at the figure crouching in the sand, the way she's shaking. Daniel has no idea what's wrong with her. He can't see anything physical, so it's got to be a mental thing, especially with the way 2B was shouting, but that means there's no indication of what exactly is bothering her. And something is bothering her - far too much, to a point where the man can't help but worry.

Sure, it's not like 2B is his student. She's not even quite as young as his students back home, the kids he's trying so hard to protect. But she's still younger than him, and Daniel has never been able to witness someone younger than him struggle and not feel like it's his sole responsibility to do something about it.

So he calls out, or rather just outright yells: ]

2B!

[ A moment later Daniel is already hopping the fence. Maybe this isn't the most riskfree decision he's ever made in his life, somewhere between the jump at his age and the fact that 2B was fighting very violently only a moment ago, but Daniel has never bothered to do something as silly as stopping to think of the risks when he has to help someone.

He's already running up to her through the sand, kneeling down in front of her. ]

2B. Come on. Look at me.

@onekindsoul

[robussy]

[ the bugge must be hunted, and 2B needs something put into her vacant time. at last, her sight is returned to her during the late tidings of september, and she's relieved, at least relieved enough, that no other impairment seems to be plaguing her systems.

she has worries, but they seem irrational. she's reminded of what the witch by her bedside once said about rationality— she doesn't want to revisit, doesn't want to ponder and contemplate it. she should be doing her job, and her duty is what needs her.

it was easier when that duty seemed so clear in the past. who knew that the existence of humans would complicate so many things for her. combat beckons her back and she responds with her mind shifting toward a mission objective. the air is chilled and crisp. her blade shines like a light under the eerie red blood moon. the trenchwood flora shivers from above, and with it the android sets her sights high. ]

It's in the trees.

[ this was not the first time she's been accompanied on a hunt. they usually enjoy sending them out in pairs, even if 2B preferred to do her work alone.

no matter. she wasn't exactly reluctant about ruby rose. ]

[onekindsoul]

[2B wasn't the only one who felt a little more at ease when there was a simple mission objective. Ruby Rose certainly preferred the days when the jobs were simple and easy. Stop a monster from causing problems, sure. Protect the people who might not be able to protect themselves. Perfect. Unlike 2B she was used to working and coordinating with a team, which is why she felt more at ease when the other fighter had agreed to come along with her. Their chances of getting through this would go up if they could work well enough together.

She'll take out weapon and unfold it into it's rifle form.]

I'll try force it out. Then you can lead the attack?

[Ruby will take a moment to survey the area for any signs of movement in the streets. When she catches a rustle of branches she'll be quick to aim her rifle in that direction. Firing a shot to try and force the creature out of it's hiding spot assuming she found the right one.]

@floatsaway

[asas]

[ corvids always catch shoyo's attention. picanha udes to be a crow, and his love for volleyball fell into full bloom when he was finally able to play in high school, carrying the crow as their mascot and making a new name for the underdog team at japan's high school nationals. it was an important part of his life, and three years that made a huge difference for him. his reality shifts— from standing at the market to sitting inside a buoyant boat ride shared suddenly with ochako, shoyo tenses and seeks balance immediately, as one would when you are not where you should be, or used to be.

tentatively, he asks, half expecting the "memory" to continue on without him: ]

—This isn't another book, is it?

[ please answer him with something coherent—! ]

[floatsaway]

[Normally, crows and their larger cousins never bothered Ochako much, she'd even toss them crumbs from her food sometimes, or leave shiny objects for them to collect when she was little, getting little presents back in return. Also, when speaking with Koda, who could understand them with his quirk, a few of them even recognized her and hopped after her during walks in the park, or would sit next to her when on breaks during her Work Studies. She actually came to like and even name a couple back in Musutafu.

In Trench? Well, she normally tried to be nice to any animal she came across on principle, but a swarming flock of them coming at her definitely causes her some alarm. Yelling, Ochako guards her face and eyes, ducking down slightly and guarding the back of her head as best she could. It was a cacophony of caws and flapping wings, black surrounding her like a shroud until it was silent altogether. ...Then a voice. A voice she recognizes. Peeking her eyes open, Ochako nearly lurches forward when she moves and the small boat they're in rocks slightly.]

Sh-Shoyo-kun? What--...book? What do you mean book? Where are we? [Other than on a boat.] Do you know what this all is?

@justoscar

[grice]

[ it's been a hot minute, and ange was quite busy. falco had thought it a better idea to check on oscar himself and ask about any help he needed (maybe "hang out", as jun had already said). he sends his omen to him with a message, and sooner rather than later does perle know where to pinpoint the elder boy. the small bird of prey stretches her little feet to a ledge, a windowsill— wherever it was that oscar was, at the time, clears her throat, and speaks: ]

Hi, Oscar. How are you? And your house, your animals?

dkfghdk

[justoscar]

[That-- was startling. Doubly so since Oscar was at Xerxes Break's house with Ruby and the rest of the Clock House refugees, enjoying the benefits of having a weird uncle that dressed fancy and made them treats along with the dubious fortune of living in a haunted house. While Oscar didn't understand it completely, he had seen the results of the house developing its own ghost after having its negativity purged and existing as a refuge for multiple Darkbloods. The floorplan shifted to accommodate the needs of its inhabitants at any point in time, whether it be a cup of cocoa at the perfect temperature manifesting where it was needed or customized bedrooms for frequent visitors.

Somehow, the house had learned of Oscar's own adventures outside in the shape of a very different yet equally small bird of prey, and had made changes in kind. That being a small, bird sized doorway at his window.... which this Omen had popped her way into.

Oscar recovered himself, putting a card to mark the place he was at in the book he was reading while his own Omen, Diggs, looked up from the place where they were seemingly napping, and moved closer to the new little bird and let them further inside if it was wanted.]

Oh! Um. Hi!

[He chuckled, feeling awkward.]

I'm still at a family friend's place while our place gets rebuilt. All the chickens, horses, and cows managed to get out safely and they're all fine, too.

We got lucky.

...What's up with you? I heard you had a hard time, too.

@justoscar

[robussy]

[ during the last week of the month, finding herself distraught to have been sent back from trench's alternate reality, things grow a touch more difficult to maneuver: her visuals were compromised. no matter how many times she and pod would run a diagnostic, reboot, or try to fix things— they would always return to an unknown anomaly, most likely caused by those with paleblood.

it doesn't deter 2B from locomotion. certainly, she needs guidance here and there from pod as she's uncharacteristically tripping over cobblestones she can't notice. they get the hang of it, at some point. she sharpens the rest of her senses to lead her into the right direction while pod warns her of dangers, curves, stops and turns. at pod's own advice, she's tied a dark cloth over her eyes to signal others of her lack of sight. at least, she didn't mind the viel. she was accustomed to having the military-issued ones over her eyes, something she had washed up on tranch without.

she walks methodically in her heels, but cautiously. slowly. she hears talk from Never Mind, his ravens fluttering and beckoning her with crows.

she decides to follow, even though she possibly has no real use for a prize. ]

[justoscar]

[Oscar did have use for the prize.

It wasn't much, but the rumors he had heard about the bracelet that cleared a small patch of land of blood pollution was enough to pique his interest. His own meager gardens had taken months of old fashioned hard work to establish over the hard winter and spring in Trench, and he had been just reaching a point where he could start harvesting the bulk of it when Chara and their friends struck. His home was destroyed in the blaze, and his garden had been crushed under some of the falling debris from the stately mansion that used to sit in Gaze.

However, Oscar would have ventured towards the archives even if the prize hadn't been offered. Recent affairs had taught him that he needed to buckle down on his studies; there was no way he could be of any help to the people he cared about as he was.

He was more than the mere farmlad role that he was clinging to. Now, he had to act like it.

--Unfortunately, he didn't expect his lack of hearing, a result of the paleblood sensory roulette that was going on that moon cycle, would be as challenging as it was. While he was used to paying attention to environmental cues, hearing wasn't one he had thought to train yet. One of the people he had trained with had been blind, and he didn't hear the stranger nearby...

@possessum

[asas]

[ first big women that could squeeze him like a tangerine, then being transported to the river of forced therapy, and now— shoyo thought he'd be able to catch some sort of break this month without being transferred elsewhere. his hopes were fantasies. people start disappearing more and more often. he looks for them, particularly frequent fliers at koz orphanage. children, and volunteers. he finds the child— he doesn't speak. an adult he always sees delivering food to the orphanage, including handmade snacks doesn't return (they'll only be back by the end of the month, but will keep their lips sealed). they'll never even mention a book.

during a fateful trip to the bathroom, shoyo wonders with picanha trotting at his heels: where's everyone going—?

of course, it's the toilet that is the blackhole into the mystery dimension. of course, it happens the second he pulls his pants down mid whistling the bathroom tune. of course, it was the bathroom that would swallow him up. it was always the bathroom.

he lands into a broken trench in possibly the worst position possible. he doesn't have to go to the bathroom anymore, but he is scrambling to get his pants back on oh my god— ]

Thanks! [ frustrated. mildly panicked. trying to calm his breathing down, he hisses through his teeth with overwhelming irony. ] God damn toilets—

[ WHERE DID THE TOILET TAKE HIM ]

[possessum]

( This is Hell.

Not... Peter's personal one. That was the initial thought, admittedly — that he's finally Really Died This Time, and he's finally in Hell or whatever adjacent there is, where his soul belongs. With each crack of lightning and rising wail of beasts crying out, he was more and more convinced.

But it was in the midst of trying not to throw up in an alleyway that he heard some people talking about The Old Ones and The Nightmare and then..... Sodder.

This isn't his own Hell. This is... something still connected to Trench? Which means there's got to be a way back. There always is. And he's roaming the dilapidated remains of a city that looks like some grotesque mirror-version of Normal Trench, clothing already filthy from black fog and grime, when someone suddenly appears nearby.

Peter screams, because of course he does, and tries to turn around and run, but clips the side of a nearby crumbling house before he can get anywhere. Stunned, he's shaking as he takes a step backwards, one hand touching his brow, hearing a voice behind him that sounds.... familiar? Peter's slowly turning in confusion, only to see.... )

Shoyo?!

( He's caught him just as he's getting those pants back up, and Peter's ogling the older boy with some mix of relief and confused horror that any of this is happening at all. Did he say toilets? )

Dude, were you on a toilet?!

@strongroots

[asas]

[ "never mind believes in knowledge". yes. they also believe in forced therapy. call shoyo a little skeptical after an overabundance of dimension hopping, he just wants a dimensional break! the ravens call him, guide him— picanha, his chocolate border collie omen with floppy, pointed ears tilts her head up at him, bites a lip with a lower canine— and goes after them with a hailing bark. she seems to stop halfway and calls for shoyo.

it's all right to follow, and all right to head the compulsive call to do so. not long after is the red-headed athlete in a jog straight into gaze district following his canine spirit. do something new, they say. talk to a stranger. you will be rewarded. something for planting. while shoyo doesn't have much of a green thumb— he has talented hands. he'd love to plant some things for salad, and snacks.

picanha does the honors of choosing their contender: a teenage boy, lost and searching. the dog is friendly and welcoming, panting at the young man's heels, sitting to signal she's found someone, and greets him with a lopsided, friendly canine grin just asking to be pet. ]

[strongroots]

[ Get lost in a side of town once (read: get unceremoniously dumped out into said side of town after getting stuck in a hell maze dimension where you're sure a demon was hoping to snap your neck in, and you're glad you didn't find out either way) and you might want to know more about it.

Or in actuality you're Robby, and you want to stay the hell away from it. But there's pleased chatter about a gift from Never Mind, a means of giving health to the corrupted land. Which wouldn't be enough to keep Robby's interest, but he's told that they'll go for a good deal, and if you have more one? There'll be people happy to take them off your hands.

That's what leads Robby to cautiously approach the Gaze side of town again. It's no less unsettling a place to be in (he's never been into goth, thanks), and the birds that watch and caw are a dubious presence that he doesn't know if he wants to follow or ignore. Can you ignore ravens without insulting them? Please don't lead him back into a maze hellhole, he really doesn't want to go back.

So yes, he is rather lost and searching, and keeping his worry down behind the absolute uncertainty in everything around him - a true newbie to Trench. Being approached by a border collie is both a surprise, but very quickly a blessing; the friendly expression and way it sits at his feet giving him pause, but bringing Robby down to a knee. ]

Hey there, what's up? You got lost? [ He holds out a hand, lets it be sniff, since that's what you do with animals, right? And just put an ear or head or nose near it, friend, and Robby will give all the friendly pats Picanha deserves. ]

@faceblocks (cw: child soldiers, death, gun violence, violence against children)

[grice]

Through the surge of winds roaring past them, Falco yells to be heard: "The one who should inherit the Armored Titan— Is me!"

[ the words that start this chapter off could begin with a tense build-up— a child with a rifle practically her own size, falco, who tries to talk her down from doing something radical. if you're the type to skim to the rush of things, that is where the memory may pull: holding onto a dead body, for dear life, and leaving falco's older brother behind as they board the airship in a rushing blast upward caused by wiring connected to a trigger.

what happens after that is not good, neither for the children, the soldiers, or the reader, caught with them. ]

[faceblocks]

[her breath catches at the word falco - and though logic (and every experience before this save the one with the second sword) tells her to stop reading, to close the book, to put it down, to fling it away - violet does not do any of these things.

she reads as the girl, willing to shoot, hits her intended target, watches the man (soldier?) drop and hears (wait what?) her surprise as she speaks. the whirl is then, and she learns the girl's name not through written words but shouted words - that's falco's voice - and he sounds shocked, desperate:

gabi!

(falco?)

vi's knees strike the ground hard, and when she looks up she is staring at an airship. it's familiar somehow even though she knows she's never laid eyes on it before.

(someday i'm gonna ride in one of those

and someday i'm gonna---)]

---shoot one of 'em down.

[she whispers, an echo of her own memory, raising her rifle before inexplicably shouldering the weapon, instead staring at the piece of equipment in the dead man's hand and reaching for it - staring then at the thread tethering corpse to ship, and poising to pull the trigger.]

@cryptograms (cw: cult stuff)

[grice]

[ falco had recognized the man about the corrupted uglier version of trench from dipper's home when he had gone to visit— the family portrait. that, and he's sure dipper had mentioned him after the unholy attempt at an unsupervised exorcism (which, by the way, stan, he's still got an eldritch parasite to probe another day). it was easy enough to fall into line and form a quick plan of action, especially with someone so experienced. ]

Mister Ford? [ he's come baring a wooden bowl with only the slightest of curves and a fracture breaking into the center— he's not sure if it's good for crushing, so maybe another one would help once they get to mixing? well, when they get the rest of the ingredients, too. the reason that falco had spoken up though hadn't primarily been to show the elder man what he'd found and if it was proper— it's about what he heard in the streets. ] Do you think . . . Julia Sodder made this place?

[ at an alternate time, an alternate situation . . . but to be fair, falco had come just about two months after the veterans had left deerington. he only knows of julia sodder's name in passing. ]

[cryptograms]

[ Ford knows Falco by reputation (and maybe even in passing, if he'd gone to Dipper and Mabel's farewell party) but he's never met the boy himself. Fortunately, the Pines are a family of artists, and the rendition in Dipper's notes had been more than detailed enough for Ford to recognize Falco when they finally encountered one another. Ford's not feeling entirely himself when they meet,left searching for information in a way that's obsessive rather than excited.

But he's not feeling so unlike himself that he's going to just ignore a friend of Dipper's. Though they've just met devising a course of action together comes pretty naturally, and Ford is in the middle of poring over his hastily sketched map of their surroundings when Falco speaks up.

And it's one hell of a question, too. Ford flips his journal shut and stares at nothing for a long moment, frowning, before he finally speaks. ]

That's not a question with a simple answer.

[ But it's one Ford thinks he can manage. Falco obviously already knows who Julia is, so he can probably skip past explaining the origin of Deerington and the Dream and straight to... ]

How much do you know about the last six months before the Dream collapsed?

@spincycle (cw: beast violence, gore)

[grice]

[ the success in stripping a creature of its claws gladly didn’t depend on levi having his gear with him or not, especially not when he had the jaw titan at his heel. the process seemed a bit . . . inhumane, but maybe it’d be worse to keep one alive after the fact.

the streets in alternate trench helped. they were mostly cleared with all of human life crowded around scattered churches, so certainly whatever dragging, crawling thud they’d hear weren’t going to be human steps. ]

It shouldn’t be hard to find a beast . . .

[ he squeezes the clip of his bracelet until it comes loose, hiding a blade that’s now exposed. ]

sorry i'm so late holy fuck

[dirtdevil]

[ being here, there isn't much of a point in walking around all geared up and ready to fight an enemy that doesn't exist. it's a nice change, if only because the monsters that do exist in this place don't tend to require complicated gas-propelled grappling contraptions in order to even stand a chance in a fight.

that said, he carries a knife. he's good enough with it that it's usually more than sufficient for his own purposes, but having to get that close makes things pretty dangerous when it comes to avoiding monster blood. he could throw it, sure, but he'd still have to trek over and retrieve it from whatever oozing creature it got stuck in.

no, he needs to get something more practical. like a sword or a gun or a tween who can turn into a giant bird monster.

he's been wary ever since Falco got stuck in that form for weeks, but as long as he doesn't die again, that shouldn't happen. it won't happen, because Levi won't let it happen again.

even if all he has on him is a knife. ]

I think it's more likely one will find us.

[ he hasn't seen Falco shift before, and he's not very excited about it. this kid just can't catch a fucking break, can he? ]

@retsuden (maybe death, violence, cultists)

[asas]

[ by the time he’s gotten to work at a shopping list of ritualistic items as well as navigated most of what the cultists would dump on him and peter, shoyo has . . . more or less . . . gotten the hang of blending, or at least going unnoticed once he’d declare his love for— for, um . . .

well, stumbling on the worshipped pthumerian’s name does not get him off the hook when attempting to sneak past a lot for their roses. the cultists are beginning to close in on shoyo with death glares, calling him a heretic, a fake believer, blasphemous—

shoyo’s got good enough spring to split his legs wide over a lunging hooded man in a frog leap, but damn if he isn’t in trouble once he lands. he’s terribly outnumbered. ]

[retsuden]

[ Something about losing everyone you've ever loved from such a young age has made Sasuke a little... protective of the people he cares about. It's one of the only reasons he hasn't tried to find a way to rush out of here. A few of the people he's grown close to have been disappearing and he's determined to make sure they get out of here safe first, even if it means staying trapped here for good.

He's been keeping eyes on places that are the most dangerous for collecting ritual pieces and for the most part, intervention hasn't been necessary. He's seen the cultists attack, of course, but it hasn't been his friends, and so it also hasn't been his problem.

Until it's Shoyo, that is, and now it very much is his problem. Sasuke's quick to toss a shuriken into the ground beside Shoyo, using his Rinnegan to switch places with it seconds later, making it seem like he's appeared by the side of his friend out of thin air. It doesn't help to tone down the shouts of reprobate getting hurled at them, but he doesn't particular care about that. His hand is on the hilt of his sword, grip firm. ]

Are you hurt?

for 2b; cult lyfe (cw: sacrifice, death)

[strongroots]

[ The promise of sanctuary in the twisted world had sounded close enough to safety for Robby to take without a second thought. He has no thoughts towards religion, but he's been shifted once already while in Trench, to a series of hallways that rose his paranoia with the ticking seconds. Here, the danger is more visible, despite the fog of darkness that chokes vision and lungs. It hunts eagerly, quickly -- and it finds him just as the people of this place do.

He goes willingly. Into a house of worship with its decor and symbols only glanced at, his attention more on the people around, a more human companion. Noisy -- everything was busy, with voices both loud and hushed with the speeches ready to flow. His hands had been taken by one old woman, clasped together tightly as they gave praise to their favoured Pthumerian, how he had been saved because of Riteoir's grace. Robby barely gets it, but he keeps quiet except beyond a few nods, not having any reason to disagree or to upset.

It makes him agreeable for his lack of fuss, and he manages to blend in easy with the people around. Out of his element, but when was that anything new? --but he finds a face he recognises, a man that had gone missing from the docks. Robby sticks close to them on his first day, as they offer a reason for the troubling doubt sitting in his gut. ...As well as how many are not allowed to leave so easily, without reason Riteoir's cause; and the eloquent sermons that even Robby manages to catch the meaning of taking down the sinful, the dried bloodstains and its odour that hasn't been washed out from the pews.

The prisoner brought out to the front late at night, adding to the blood spilt, the ringing in Robby's ears.

It takes the next day for Robby to whisper with the older man about getting out. He'll help him, he promises him, saying they just need to join the groups doing the patrols for new recruits. A way to get out, and a way to get a weapon too, with Robby less than prepared for being whisked away. The man is doubtful without more numbers, but intends to speak to someone - maybe they can get out together.

But the doors never stop opening to new people. And there comes a familiar face, though it takes Robby a second look to realise, recognise, and for him to move from a pew he's been sitting at (trying to act innocuous, some worn book of texts where the words slip off the page, whenever he does look at it). Pushing against shoulders, his heart somewhere in his throat - god, he wants to warn her, paranoia making him unsure how direct he can be.

There's already someone ready to speak to 2B, 'Blessed that we have found you, it is by Riteoir's judgment--' ]

Sister, it's Robby--! I'm glad they found you. [ He lifts his voice, coming into their space, hoping that if 2B hasn't noticed him yet, she will now. A tight smile on his face, one that doesn't reach his eyes, let alone his lips; and he watches her intently, only glancing once to the man beside her as he tries to subtly tell her in his delivery, in his look-- ]

They've been telling me all about Riteoir -- please, let me tell you all about them. I know the truth.

[ '--Please follow me, be careful.' ]

good SHIT gOOD shit 🙌🙌🙌

[robussy]

[ 2B has become well known in these parts. infamously so, she has been marked viciously behind the eyes of the cultist population in favor of riteoir for rapturing their own, and propagating false gods. false hopes. she is our lady of blades under the command of a self imposed saint— “woe”, they call her.

it was all bullshit to 2B. she’s not here to care or preach or corrupt, as they whisper. she is doing her rounds, she is observing, and no single cult goer strikes up the courage to take her on alone. she will be outnumbered, and executed with the others, to pay homage and apologies to the great riteoir for her greatest sin. take out the lady, and woe should be vulnerable, no?

to their dismay, one of the cultists does a terrible job at masking his stink eye beneath his hood, lowering his face into the shadows under fabric to mutter something to a sister by his side. he does not like this— and he does not like how robby knows her.

the android poises herself and listens; her eyes are icy blue and perfectly attentive. she can figure out what was going on in a fraction— her neural transmitters worked in her favor, but she allows a pause to grow from her end, to feign at least a touch of thoughtfulness. it’s hard to tell if she’s doubtful when her expression is trained to keep neutral.

she nods to him, once and curt. ]

Enlighten me.

[ was that good? ]