HEARTGAME DRESS REHEARSAL

[finalbows]

thank u rah u hero

tracking sheet
 

[ ..somewhere in the pasture, Angel Devil falls down.
His clothes have twisted away into bone-white rags, leaving a body covered over with only thick swathes of red fur, and downy feathers. His long tail is curled into a tense arc, banded fur standing on end.

The air wavers like he’s a heat mirage, not a man. He’s boiling away with absolutely stupid amounts of arcane power… and, most frighteningly, he does not seem in control of the fact that it is there and being brought to bear. It’s impossible to get any closer to him.


When he speaks, it’s quite timid. ]

Ah,
I thought… I had a little more time.

[ (and in a blinding flash of light, there is the sound of something breaking.) ]

~KRRSHHK~

[any observers will see, strangely see-through and superimposed on the scene, some kind of vast tree, illusionary roots twisting over and around to frame a door.  the door itself is wrought of opaque stained glass in blacks and whites and greys; a stylized rendition of Angie in that strangely ragged, feathered form, curled in on himself, eyes closed.  Angie himself is nowhere to be seen. ]

instead, a shadow . . . steps into view from behind the door.  for a moment it looks like nothing so much as a second genome – then it turns, gaining features and definition with the movement.  The monkey tail separates into three plumes; a ponytail unfurls into wings that lift up from the sides of the head.  

Teleute(?) is here, dressed in her customary black, but there is colour in her skin, and her hair and eyes are blue.  she’s frowning.]

. . . well.  This is the least I can do before I go, in exchange for the safe harbor.

[she lifts her head, nodding to any observers, and gestures at the door.]

You’ll want to head in there now if you don’t wish to lose your flockmate, I think.  Even the false-death of this place won’t be much help to him, if his soul is left to finish pulling itself apart.

My sisters and I can maintain the way into and out of it for you, but we were not made to knit such wounds by ourselves.  Have a care.

Comments

[finalbows]

[ that's what it's there for ☆
in that case...

the rose guest room is nice. comfortably appointed, by the standards of a human body. a shade shaped very much like angie sits primly on the side of the bed, a compact in his hand as he carefully works to fix no-doubt ruined make up.

...except it's not really doing much of anything, because he's wearing a familiar blue mask, ridden with holes. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Can we try removing his mask? Is there any resistance?]

[finalbows]

[ (as you advance across the room to him, something squishy pops under your shoe. that's. that's probably fine. you're busy.)
he's very preoccupied with his own face, right up until you wrap your hands around the corners of the unsettling mask and tug. it doesn't budge.

you abruptly find yourself wrapped up in vines again, pulled away just far enough you can no longer reach.

...the shade spares you what is probably an absolutely withering stare. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Did she just step on an egg. Why's that on the floor. That's not where it's supposed to be.]

[Okay. Looks like switching out his mask isn't an option, so she's just going to do what she originally came here for, she guesses.]

[Thanks to the innate instruction she gets from being basted in soul vibes, she theoretically knows what to do. Other than that, she just has to try her best.]

[She casts Life.]

[But, like, while making this face.]

[finalbows]

[ DLLLING! the cute sparkly healing magic flies around angie's shade like a friendly fairy!

and the death mask starts glowing. changing shape, though not color. it is now a MASK OF PERSEVERANCE.
he reaches his hands up to touch his changed mask in wonder. ]

[wants_the_phd]

Good.

[Because of their truly absurd height difference, him sitting down while she stands probably puts them at about eye level.]

Révérence... You may have died in the past, but look: you're still here. And as long as you still enjoy this world, and want to be in it, then keep persevering. Don't give up without a fight. This may not be the world you fell in love with, but it doesn't mean it's not worth falling in love again. The universe is bigger than we ever dreamed, and there's still more of it for you to discover.

That's why you need this:

[She takes off the mask of tenderness, knowing it may change this world for her. But now he need it more. So she presses it into his hands.]

[finalbows]

[ he takes it.
...holds it close to his chest. a little ruefully, he says, ]

...Thank you. Azdaja.

[ the vines had loosened, but now the rest of them recede, as he stands up... leans close to her...
whispers, ]

^{I'll never forget what you've done to me.}

[ all is quiet.
...though that shade of her flockmate has now vanished, she knows it is because that important piece of him has departed for where he's meant to be, prevented from sinking away to nothingness and shadow. ]

[wants_the_phd]

["I'll never forget what you've done to me."]

Good.

[She slips the Mask of Cruelty back on her face.]

[finalbows]

[ it's putting on your own pair of glasses after a day without.
the world is sharper. in focus. crisp; as it should be.

bone deep, she feels like she is a clever and dangerous thing. the evidence of her skill, the fact that she is still even standing.

is it lighter? or has she become more accustomed, to the weight? ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Maybe it's because she's leaned in and embraced it with eager claws. This is her favorite feeling, after all. And in a place where she got to put this feeling into action.]

[With that, she makes to leave the barn behind entirely. She's going to start checking out the other locations, if she can, starting with the church.]

[Let's see what else she can destroy gently fix, apparently]

[finalbows]

[ good pick. the church is nestled between Rose pasture and the inner depths of the puddle-filled forest. it's not in the best of condition... but that's a good sign for her little quest, isn't it?

...with the clarity of sight offered you by the mask of cruelty,
you notice all the scattered bones laying around the path up to its entrance.
if you take a close look, they're definitely from bipeds, but also reminiscent of rats. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Oohh... Angie mentioned these guys to her once during the memory share game. What were they called, again? B... Burmese...something.]

[oh well.]

[As usual when approaching something new that has an unknown danger level, she picks her way toward it as silently as she can, keeping her ears pricked and sniff sniff sniffing the air for info.]

[finalbows]

[ leaf litter... fresh rain... hints of graveyard dirt... wilting roses, but maybe that's from the place she just left...? though the ones outside in the pasture were all doing just fine.

and a sort of sour, burned scent. if she's in the habit of huffing a lot of different kinds of burned woods, it's from too-fresh oak. if not, the best word for it is 'vinegar and char.'


..sniff, sniff, sniff. when she's gotten almost terribly close, she'll become certain there's a human in there... though the scent is also clouded with... something kind of fizzy. electric. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Fizzy... is this what magic smells like?]

[She approaches even more cautiously, trying to find the human before it finds her. Maybe even perform a Scan again, if she's able.]

[finalbows]

[ bingo.
as she creeps eeeever closer,
...a sort of... scratchy, sound, starts up.

the shade of a masked human(?) in the dilapidated church is quietly sweeping the floor, cleaning up the dying rose petals. at the head of the room, there are two shrines, with empty basins of water before them: one, to a goddess in a flowing dress, the other, to a winged, four-armed demon. hey. hasn't.. hasn't she seen that guy before?

anyway, it takes some focus, and a lot of thinking over exactly what she wanted and did the last time it happened, but with effort...

the shade becomes a rather ethereal girl with green hair, who she now knows very much is NOT human.
but it seems that the act of casting the spell has alerted her to Azdaja's presence. she stops, midsweep, and looks up. ]


"...Hello? Is... someone out there?"

[wants_the_phd]

[Oh heck, the jig is already up. We'll just have to play it cool. ]

[Moving slowly, she comes out from the shadow she was sculking in and takes off her mask, forcing zazo to add another mark to the spreadsheet for no real reason.]

[Time to lie and look pathetic on purpose]

Uh... sorry. I was looking for shelter from the rain.

[finalbows]

[ azdaja doing her best to get her money's worth out of that special beta-test only spreadsheet. ]

[ seems like soggy energy works well on this chick. she gets a tiny smile. ]

"Oh...! In that case, please. Come in. It's... not much, but... it is dry."

[ there are pews. only one isn't broken. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[OK but she really is soggy this time. Method acting.]

[She comes in, shyly halting at the door (while discretely checking for someone who might be getting ready to jump out at her with a knife.)]

Um. Is that Chaos?

[finalbows]

[ the coast looks clear. no bad vibes from the shadowy corners. ]


[ more subdued, as she goes back to sweeping all the petals together into a pile,]

"Yes... the God of Destruction. I used to be one of his servants."

[ but not anymore, is the unspoken bit. ]

[wants_the_phd]

Then, do you know Révérence? Seven feet tall, long silver hair with feathers, never stops talking?

[I mean. Obviously she does, since azdaja found some of her hair under his bed.]

[finalbows]

"We've never had a proper conversation... but... he helped me, once."

[ she sets the broom aside, and holds out her hands where Azdaja can see them:
tens of cut threads, dangling from where they're tied haphazardly around her wrists. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Desire Clown strikes again]

What happened?

[finalbows]

"...A lot of it is a blur. I didn't know who I was... and when I wasn't fighting, it felt like my body was sleeping, even though I was awake. But one day, he just... showed up. Talked to me. Even though I couldn't speak.

And then... he cut them."

[wants_the_phd]

The strings?

Who put them on you? Was it the clown-looking guy?

[finalbows]

"Yes. His name's..."

[ ... ]

"...not... what matters, anymore. He turned me into a weapon. Because of my magic."