ic inbox - Pasture / Sheep Game

[finalbows]

choose

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[ Angel Devil. ]
[  chatcube, or action. ]
[ if you're visiting the rose barn,
look for the door with the creepy bat-and-angel-wing sigil on it. Knock first! Or get zapped. ]

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Comments

Re: evening 46

[finalbows]

I was giving you options.

1/3

[catposting]

How generous.

[ he considers for a moment, twirling his festive coin between his fingers ]

I suppose there's-

2/3

[catposting]

[ perhaps he's getting old. perhaps there's just a lot on his mind; perhaps the whole Pandora ordeal shook him up more than he's admitted to even Angie.

or perhaps the sheep really are learning to be little shits.

either way, while he's contemplating, a green sheep deftly yanks his remaining Clover-themed memory coin out of his pocket, and tosses it into the fountain. ]

Re: evening 46

[catposting]

[ it's just... white? ]

[ Angel Devil's no fool, though. it's quite clearly a second person memory. ]

...

[ Akrinak stares, transfixed. he doesn't remember this. ]

1/2

[finalbows]

What unruly sheep Clover has...

...

2/2

[finalbows]

_{[ monitoring yas's face the most rn, with his peripheral vision to the memory. ]}

[catposting]

[ it continues. remember what he said during the secrets game, about not giving a shit about his Workshop memories? Akrinak's a fucking liar. his face stays carefully blank, but his tail's taut with agitation, held a little too far from his body to not betray him.

very dryly: ]

And then we talked, solved the misunderstanding, and everyone lived happily ever after.

[ the memory's still going, though. he doesn't seem to want to intervene. ]

[finalbows]

_{I remember that little sigil he's wearing...} where from?

[catposting]

[ a little shakily ]

A mutual friend of ours called it a creche.

[ some creche. ]

[finalbows]

_{[ little bones break easier. the good thing about this happening in front of angel devil is no pesky emotions show on his face. ]}

1/2

[catposting]

[ Akrinak steals a tiny glance at his former teammate, just in case there's something. (does he want there to be something?) when there isn't, his eyes travel back to the fountain. for the grand finale. ]

...

[ he doesn't bother saying anything when the memory ends. there's nothing to say. is there? ]

[catposting]

[ well, there is one thing. ]

I killed him. Before I left.

[ there. ]

[finalbows]

Tell me it was satisfying.

<sub>[ carefully, he picks the offending coin up out of the fountain, as if contained within it is the fact of that past torture. maybe it is.



has anyone ever tried destroying a memory coin, before?




he thinks about it. the way he holds it, now, Akrinak could easily reach over and pluck it back from his fingertips. ]</sub>

[catposting]

[ he just stares, pointedly ignoring the question. or... maybe he didn't even register it. he does have a slightly dazed look about him, the kind you wear when you've just been hit over the head with a brick. ]

What are you doing?

1/2

[finalbows]

...I figured.

It never really is, as much as one wants it to be...

Still...

2/2

[finalbows]

_{[ the green coin starts to glow red in his fingers, and he lets it go to hover in the air so that won't scald him as it keeps heating up-- ]}

1/3

[catposting]

[ his eyes follow its path, lips parted in a half-formed protest.

it's not about satisfaction.
it's not about how he'd felt after the fact, because it had happened anyway.
it had happened, it could never unhappen, and despite the gaping hole in his mind, despite him truly believing that he hadn't needed to remember, part of him had still wondered.
wondered if he had always been a prisoner of his own bloodlust.
wondered if he'd killed that Disciple simply because he could.

it's true, in a way.
his tale is one of twin lives: one that covets, one that spurns.
only one survives, every time.
he destroys the other.
he just can't help himself. ]

2/3

[catposting]

[ he blinks, shaking away the invisible droplets of his delayed stupor. ]

[catposting]

[ and starts laughing. there's a manic edge to it, soft, cold -- yet still fond, somehow -- an inverse reflection of yesterday's theatrics. ]

Fire really is your go-to, huh?

[finalbows]

<sub>[ as the coin turns red, to yellow, to finally white-hot, a tiny, localized Flare Star goes off around it, leaving not a trace.

Angie dusts off his hands anyway. ]</sub>

You could say I'm a fan of the story of Prometheus. Want to try that again?

[catposting]

[ ... he's been holding the striped coin this whole time. it's somehow still in one piece. he opens his palm, letting it float over to Angie. ]

One cute redhead, coming up. Want to do the honors?

[finalbows]

Sure.

_{[ he takes over the float, letting it hover over a fingertip... before flicking it to make it drop into the water. ]}

[catposting]

[ plunk. ]

[ as the memory starts to unfold, a vague yet sharp annoyance crosses his face -- this wasn't the memory he'd intended to show. after a few seconds, he just sighs silently, resigned, the depths of his exhaustion finally breaking the surface of his ever-calm facade. rolling his eyes, he perches on the edge of the fountain, letting it play out. ]

[finalbows]

_{[ nosy nosy angel devil watching this one with far less melancholy~... ]}

Better watch out. We have a horse team now. That might mean she's statistically more likely to show up.

[catposting]

[ honestly he doesn't have the brainpower after all of this to react appropriately so he just ]



Wow. Akrinak would be tiny.