|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Mar 06, 2023 2:07 pm
Faustite wanted to see his favorite youma again. Wanted to see how they were thriving in their usual haunts, how they'd adjusted to their new locations if they migrated, how they were doing after the strange events that disturbed some of the youma in the Rift. He oft had just a margin more kinship with youma than with people, especially after his own time in the place they called theirs, but seldom had time visit them.
As he deteriorated, Faustite was granted more time to recover. The team fostered a lower energy burden, and some of his Supers had picked up some of the less sensitive paperwork. He could spend less time in the office. Most of that extra time was spent sleeping, as if it would do him much good. Other times, he forced himself to stay awake. To dig a little more deeply into Bloodstone's verdict and prove him wrong, or visit Axinite and ask if he'd found anything new in an ancient mildewed incunabulum. Sometimes he bothered his boys instead, and they chased away that poignant panic that always loomed over him.
But he hadn't taken the time to visit his youma friends until now. He blamed the princess who so thoughtlessly dusted his cat youma, then avoided the rest as if his presence would attract White Moon to dust those ones, too.
Tonight, he'd made his way through the theatre district, sticking to the surface level for how his body still ached and groaned after Cybele. It proved far easier to walk and wear his cincher if he needed to stay incognito, hood up and head bowed like someone who didn't want to be bothered. Then he'd reach a grungy alleyway with a few sprouted weeds that were trying to take it over, and he'd rip that cincher off and start coughing smoke into the air. While this took longer than sneaking across rooftops, he still got to the back of the neon-lined theatre where he knew a scorpion youma liked to park itself on the fence.kyuseisha no hikari omg i am so sorry this took me like 7,065 years +1 gorb
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 12, 2023 9:30 pm
After all these years, Malus still didn’t like being out at night alone. He’d learned to distrust the night well before he’d learned of the Negaverse and Youma. Sometimes, power felt like an illusion. Having magic now meant that the common person wasn’t typically a threat, but it meant that he had a different sort of target on his back.
An energy signature made him as much of a target as Faustite’s made him–only, Malus couldn’t teleport, and he wasn’t carrying any sort of weapon.
Their last interaction hadn’t been bad. It had been enough to give him a bit of hope that Faustite wasn’t irredeemable. He’d had his doubts after everything that happened with Lysithea, but she was always trying to find the good in people.
Malus wasn’t so idealistic, but he tried.
The energy signature was familiar to him, so he suspected it was Faustite even before he saw him. But then, he didn’t know if it was just his imagination, or wishful thinking, that helped him identify the signature. If he hadn’t thought it was him, he might have fled.
Foolish, for an Eternal Senshi, but tonight was one of those nights where the shadows seemed particularly dark.
He was practically on top of the energy signature when he saw movement.
“...Hey,” he greeted, as uncertain as it was friendly. There was some hesitation, but not enough to deter him from trying to at least give a proper greeting.
Just in case.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 14, 2023 7:19 am
Once he walked his broken, beleaguered self over to the fence proper, he saw that the scorpion youma wasn't there. Could've been that it had gotten too exhausted and had to return to the Rift. Could've been that the Knight Who Was Once Uranophane had destroyed it again. Could've been that it found a different spot to haunt and hadn't told him.
He had recognized that a White Moon aura was about, and Faustite had thought that the convenience of the aura being present might've spelled disaster for his scorpion friend. But Faustite recognized the voice that called to him, and the absence of youma dust insisted that Malus could not have been the one to dust the youma he'd been after. If the scorpion youma had been dusted at all.
So Faustite turned, leaned against the fence, let himself slump down its chain links until he sat on dusty ground. His left hand was splinted, but that was fine; he'd been gesticulating with his right alone since Bloodstone had stabbed him in the shoulder.
"Malus," he replied. HIs voice was raspy, overworked from all his coughing. "Seen a scorpion youma lately?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 19, 2023 7:35 am
Faustite didn’t look good.
They weren’t friends, Malus couldn’t bring himself to consider him as much. He had to remind himself that Faustite had been at least partly responsible for taking Lysithea from them. He’d tricked her into living a lie. He’d attacked him.
He looked rough, though.
Maybe Malus was foolish, or maybe Lysithea’s compassion was rubbing off on him. In any case, it overrode his need for self preservation.
He hadn’t tried to slip away unnoticed, at least. And Faustite wasn’t giving him any reason to worry right now.
“No, I haven’t,” he answered slowly, cautiously. It was hard not to be unnerved by his appearance. If he called Lysithea, he wondered if she’d come and try to heal him.
…Although, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to bring her into things right now.
“Sorry. Are you–” No, he didn’t look okay. That seemed like a foolish question to ask. He interrupted himself to ask, “What happened?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 22, 2023 2:08 pm
"Damn," Faustite muttered. He spat on the ground — something black and tarry, like motor oil gone bad.
He just needed a few minutes to rest, he told himself. Malus was unlikely to attack him. He couldn't recall a moment when he saw the senshi fight, anyway. So Faustite sighed slow and smoky at the boy's question, then a smooth breath broke into a cough, and more smoke came from him than was reasonable as he winced through it. Waving the smoke away did nothing; it only curled around his fingers.
"Ran into Cybele." Slower, smaller breaths this time. "Think she's still mad about her feet."
Malus could've known her. Could've met her before or after. So many of the White Moon appeared alone that it was difficult to determine if they had any connection to one another, or what that connection was. He had thought, after encountering Ida, that they had to mostly know each other. How could they not, if a veritable army answered to the beck and call of a Princess?
"Guess I'm dying, too." Bruised ribs told him he couldn't laugh sardonically about it, either.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 26, 2023 9:07 am
Malus visibly grimaced at the sight of the tar he spat up. Faustite seemed a bit crass and apocalyptic–or, maybe that was just Malus’ impression of the Negaverse bleeding into his opinions on everything.
Either way, when Faustite said he must be dying, Malus wasn’t even sure that was an exaggeration.
He’d seen people spit up blood, and he knew that youma were different from humans, and half-youma were somewhere between the both of them while still being completely different.
The smoke was unnatural, and Malus’ eyes followed it briefly like he expected it to take shape and strike.
He didn’t know Cybele. Didn’t understand the comment about her feet. She could have been a Senshi like him and fought him, or some cranky agent too pumped up on Chaos to differentiate friend from foe. She could have been a dog he stepped on.
“Dying, like you need medical assistance? Like you need some healing magic, or…? Dying like you just need to go home and lay down for a while? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that.” Cough up tar, or blow black smoke anywhere. He wondered if the machines inside of him had been damaged in a fight or something. Did Faustite call a doctor or a blacksmith when he was falling apart?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
