Anna Amarande (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hauntedsavior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2022-01-06 10:22 pm
hauntedsavior) wrote in deercountry2022-01-06 10:22 pm
the balance of complete and incomplete [open]
Who: Anna Amarande and you!
What: January event catchall
When: January
Where: The Snake Den and around Trench
Content Warnings: Eye trauma, blood, swearing, artful robot nudity, will add as they come in
a. i will trust the artist molding me [the snake den]
Anna doesn't really need much help right now cutting loose at the Snake Den. Madam G has been on her list of Pthumerians to check out for a while, and even if there had been some kind of reluctance to begin with, now that she's here mingling in a borrowed suit she feels downright comfortable. It's like she's ten years younger, and though her voice is still smoky and she's still missing an eye as far as physical age goes, socially she's just. Free, right now. It's nice.
It's nice enough that, when she's not striking up conversation with other people, she decides to indulge herself in the open mic. Borrowing an electric bass from backstage, she walks up, sits down, plugs in, and grabs the mic. "This is one from back home," she says, "By a band called Silversun Pickups. It's about finding freedom and acceptance and love in the places and with the people that everyone else tells you to stay away from. They'll say that the only way to be who you are is to file yourself off. That you need to hold yourself back to make other people comfortable without ever worrying if you're comfortable." She's talking very passionately for someone who doesn't think of herself as a motivational speaker. With a confident look, she finally leads into the song. "Let's bury that lie, Trench. This is called 'The Pit'."
And she starts playing, and she starts singing. And when she doesn't need to be playing and her hands are free, even she's not really sure how she does it, but she finds a way to channel her androidinous self to modify her own voice—just for a little bit, just to test it out. Just to see what happens, before she snaps back into the final lines of the song. And regardless of how it's received, once she's done, she puts the bass down and gently thanks the crowd. Her heart-simulacrum is pulsing faster than it should be as she gets off the stage, and she waits there in the wings in case she happened to inspire anyone with that performance.
b. the echo of what is and what will be [the shedding ceremony]
This is... not a good month for Anna outside of that, so far. For her time at the Snake Den, yes, she's still resonating with A2, and she's still who she thinks she is. But it never really takes long for her to start shedding her own skin again, and damn her brain but she can't stop fucking picking at it long enough to avoid the transformation.
The first time it happens, Anna emerges in a pure white dress that she's wasting no time in staining red. Her hair is longer, cleaner, and in lieu of a katana she's brandishing a blood-red shortsword in her battles with these beasts at the edge of the city. Taking zero precautions against pollution or corruption, she swings her blade right at the neck and lets the blood spray wash over her. When it stops, she hunches forward and shrieks out a strangely melodic note while the beast falls over dead. Her back straightens, and it's clear even from whatever distance anyone may be watching at that she's no longer entirely who people might know. The flower blossoming from her right eye is a good early warning sign, but you'd better act fast, because her good eye is a blazing red and she's rushing towards her spectator with that bloodblade at the ready.
The second time is much less interesting by comparison, but it's not doing her much good. Because the second time, she's just... a normal 29 year old. Both her eyes are fine, she's fully organic, and she doesn't know how to use a sword. In fact, she's taking her time and walking slowly through the streets of a town that she's starting to get to know better, wondering what her life even is anymore. Her Omni helps her keep connected with back home, sure, but nobody can get in touch with her no matter how hard she tries. And she woke up, for lack of a better word, with this katana that she's got on her back, and the first friendly-looking person she sees, she just asks outright, "Hey, uh. You have any idea why I would have a sword if I don't remember ever actually owning a sword?"
c. i am creation both haunted and holy [wildcard]
((got anything else you want to do? hit me up here or at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
roseward!! also: source for the suit image and lyrics for the cover.))
What: January event catchall
When: January
Where: The Snake Den and around Trench
Content Warnings: Eye trauma, blood, swearing, artful robot nudity, will add as they come in
a. i will trust the artist molding me [the snake den]
Anna doesn't really need much help right now cutting loose at the Snake Den. Madam G has been on her list of Pthumerians to check out for a while, and even if there had been some kind of reluctance to begin with, now that she's here mingling in a borrowed suit she feels downright comfortable. It's like she's ten years younger, and though her voice is still smoky and she's still missing an eye as far as physical age goes, socially she's just. Free, right now. It's nice.
It's nice enough that, when she's not striking up conversation with other people, she decides to indulge herself in the open mic. Borrowing an electric bass from backstage, she walks up, sits down, plugs in, and grabs the mic. "This is one from back home," she says, "By a band called Silversun Pickups. It's about finding freedom and acceptance and love in the places and with the people that everyone else tells you to stay away from. They'll say that the only way to be who you are is to file yourself off. That you need to hold yourself back to make other people comfortable without ever worrying if you're comfortable." She's talking very passionately for someone who doesn't think of herself as a motivational speaker. With a confident look, she finally leads into the song. "Let's bury that lie, Trench. This is called 'The Pit'."
And she starts playing, and she starts singing. And when she doesn't need to be playing and her hands are free, even she's not really sure how she does it, but she finds a way to channel her androidinous self to modify her own voice—just for a little bit, just to test it out. Just to see what happens, before she snaps back into the final lines of the song. And regardless of how it's received, once she's done, she puts the bass down and gently thanks the crowd. Her heart-simulacrum is pulsing faster than it should be as she gets off the stage, and she waits there in the wings in case she happened to inspire anyone with that performance.
b. the echo of what is and what will be [the shedding ceremony]
This is... not a good month for Anna outside of that, so far. For her time at the Snake Den, yes, she's still resonating with A2, and she's still who she thinks she is. But it never really takes long for her to start shedding her own skin again, and damn her brain but she can't stop fucking picking at it long enough to avoid the transformation.
The first time it happens, Anna emerges in a pure white dress that she's wasting no time in staining red. Her hair is longer, cleaner, and in lieu of a katana she's brandishing a blood-red shortsword in her battles with these beasts at the edge of the city. Taking zero precautions against pollution or corruption, she swings her blade right at the neck and lets the blood spray wash over her. When it stops, she hunches forward and shrieks out a strangely melodic note while the beast falls over dead. Her back straightens, and it's clear even from whatever distance anyone may be watching at that she's no longer entirely who people might know. The flower blossoming from her right eye is a good early warning sign, but you'd better act fast, because her good eye is a blazing red and she's rushing towards her spectator with that bloodblade at the ready.
The second time is much less interesting by comparison, but it's not doing her much good. Because the second time, she's just... a normal 29 year old. Both her eyes are fine, she's fully organic, and she doesn't know how to use a sword. In fact, she's taking her time and walking slowly through the streets of a town that she's starting to get to know better, wondering what her life even is anymore. Her Omni helps her keep connected with back home, sure, but nobody can get in touch with her no matter how hard she tries. And she woke up, for lack of a better word, with this katana that she's got on her back, and the first friendly-looking person she sees, she just asks outright, "Hey, uh. You have any idea why I would have a sword if I don't remember ever actually owning a sword?"
c. i am creation both haunted and holy [wildcard]
((got anything else you want to do? hit me up here or at
no subject
-but when anna's arms slide underneath her own, there's an undeniable nostalgia to the feeling. the softness of anna's body reminds her of shion, in some ways; the hesitation, the way her arms go beneath instead of above satoko's, that reminds her of rika. and the scent of freshly-breathed nicotine percolating about her reminds her of satoshi, as clear as day.
it's a soothing sort of feeling. it's a gentle sort of feeling. it is, she's starting to suspect, something she's needed just as much as anna. so she wraps her own arms back around anna's back, and when she feels the tension in the "older" woman's frame she pats gently and murmurs: ]
There, there. It'll be fine.
[ words she's heard a hundred time over. words she wasn't quite expecting to be saying to another, but words she knows well nonetheless. ]
no subject
[things don't truly get complicated inside her head and heart until she feels satoko actually hug her back. she breathes out slowly but so shakily, like she's barely clinging to whatever passes for composure. what breaks her is the care in satoko's words. it feels sincere. it might be. it doesn't matter the truth when lies would affect her the same way.]
[she chokes a sob out against satoko's chest. free, open. afraid and lonely and in love and pain both at once. she is breaking herself open and doesn't know what will come out, but knows once it starts that her chains have held her in this position for too long.]
no subject
Shhh, shhh. I'm here.
[ it's strange. it's intimate. it's frightening. and she can't bring herself to dislike it - at least, not here, not in this place where her barriers have been eroded away like a frog in hot water. she continues to speak softly, thinking of the words satoshi and rika used to say to her when she needed consolation. ]
no subject
[so she'd kept it all inside until now. now, as she's letting her tears stain satoko's shirt. as her crying gets harder to ignore. her fingers press into satoko's back. this poor girl who's so much older than she could ever let on. who didn't ask for an adult woman to have a breakdown on her. it's too bad that this, too, is anna's actual reality.]
[she may be here for a while. even when she finishes crying, which she can't predict (and who truly could?), she won't be able to speak. her body shakes.]
no subject
she doesn't force anna to speak, and she doesn't try to leave. she just rests in her fortress of pillows, moving anna's head with each rise and fall of her chest. she breathes in... she breathes out. at some point, anna stops crying, and satoko stops speaking, and they just lay there like that.
it's nice. even now, it's still nice. ]