Frozen Time (3) : Midnight is a magical time of night; parties, dancing, kisses--there are a number of rituals celebrated in the winter nights. Every night has a midnight, but this one is special. There is an old church and bell tower on the quiet outskirts of town, near a beautiful forest that has been decorated with lights to celebrate the season. Maybe you are alone, maybe you are with friends, or maybe you’re at a party celebrating one of the many events--whatever the case, small, delicate snowflakes have been falling lightly for the past hour. And then--suddenly--they stop. The clock strikes midnight and the bell echoes a low, metallic chime that feels like it can be heard for miles. By the second chime, you realize that nothing else is moving. Snowflakes are suspended in the air and all living creatures--plants, animals, and people alike--are completely frozen. The clock chimes twelve times and the world is still frozen.
Suddenly, there’s no way to tell how much time has passed--but nothing moves. Maybe it feels like a moment, maybe it feels like an hour. You can try to leave the area but you can never go far enough that the church is out of sight. In an instant, time seems to snap back into motion. To everyone else, it feels like no time has passed. To you, you know. The church seems eerie and foreboding and if you return you feel uncomfortable, as though you have broken something and are unwelcome. If roleplaying with a partner, multiple characters can remain unfrozen as the world around them freezes!
Starring: Cryptomelane, Troilus, and Isidor.
When Cryptomelane had prepared to head out tonight, he’d given Ympe a starseed and politely requested that Ympe stay in Negaspace. Not that Cryptomelane didn’t appreciate his little youma companion’s initiative or Ympe’s help. Both of those things came in spades with Ympe—truly, he always seemed eager to help in whatever way Cryptomelane needed, all in exchange for Cryptomelane treating him decently—and Cryptomelane did appreciate it. But the operation he had in mind tonight was a delicate one, and Ympe’s enthusiasm might have too easily made things go very, very wrong.
Plans like “What if I drain or maybe gently starseed Dr. Sturm into a near-death experience to make him remember that he wants to live, or at least that he doesn’t want to die” already had so many potential ways of going awry. If Ympe got grabby at the wrong moment, it could have ruined everything, securing a starseed for the Negaverse (or at least for Ympe personally) but leaving Preston in the unenviable position of needing to find a new advisor and chair for his dissertation committee. That would’ve sounded like literal torture had it happened when Preston had been in his first or second year of this PhD, but having it happen now? So close to his date for presenting and defending his dissertation? No. Absolutely not. He didn’t need that in his life.
But if Cryptomelane wanted to do anything about his advisor, then he needed to act now. The spring semester would start soon and, once it did, he wouldn’t have too many chances to pull a stunt like this safely. Even if he managed this without killing Dr. Sturm, doing it too far into the semester could’ve had serious negative repercussions for both of them on campus.
Fortunately for Cryptomelane, Dr. Sturm didn’t make himself too difficult to find nor too wildly inaccessible during winter break. Part of that came down to Preston knowing his advisor’s address and general schedule. Part of it was likely down to the fact that Dr. Sturm was and had, ever since his divorce, been an absolute mess. Waiting near the church where he’d first met Ympe, which stood not too far from Dr. Sturm’s place, Cryptomelane lurked in the shadows. As midnight dolled, and most people around the street stopped moving, Dr. Sturm seemed largely unaffected. All the better for Cryptomelane, then, who didn’t need to feel guilty, starting to drain Dr. Sturm’s energy as he got close enough.
Noir Songbird
genovianprince
Posted: Sat Jan 04, 2025 12:24 pm
To say that Isidor was unwell would, in Isidor's opinion, be massively overstating the situation. He was perfectly fine. As fine as any man could be, mopping up after a messy, public divorce from the woman he'd loved since he was a starry-eyed grad student and with whom he'd shared the better part of a decade and a half. And sure, it had been a year since Maria slapped divorce papers on his desk at home and informed him she'd accepted a job in California and they would be communicating through lawyers from now on, but...one year did not wipe out the many they'd shared together.
Sometimes, all Isidor could think was that he was glad they didn't have kids and she hadn't cared to take the cat. Tara was, these days, about sixty percent of the reason he even got out of bed int he morning. His students were the other forty percent, and he felt like that was being generous to them. But he had his responsibilities, and he did his best to fulfill them.
And if, tonight, he was a little drunk on a midnight walk to clear his head in the cold weather, then that was probably fine. Sure, it was snowing, and being unsure of his footing in the snow was probably dangerous, but....well. He didn't exactly care. If anything were to happen to him, it would happen, and that would be that.
With his head already a little woozy, he didn't notice that he felt slower and more sluggish--nor did he notice that the world seemed to have frozen around him, stretching a quiet moment into an infinity.
Imnolu hadn't meant to get caught in some new magical thing tonight. He'd just wanted to go get some late-night takeout from a nearby restaurant that stayed open later than most, and then all the snowflakes froze in the air and several of the people left on the streets froze as well. His skin prickled with anticipation and he quickly ducked behind a wall where the one person he could see moving wouldn't see him—not yet—and powered up quietly in a hissing whisper.
Troilus emerged from his brief hiding place, eyes scanning the area. The person headed towards him was definitely a civilian by the lack of aura—at least, at the moment—so that might make whatever was happening easier. Or harder. He didn't know.
Then he realized he sensed the aura of some Negaverse agent and he straightened, tense and growling lightly under his breath. The person coming towards him was still quite far down the street—but so was the aura he could sense. It would be just like one of those Agents to take the chance to nab a starseed, so he started to make his way forward, but slowly, carefully. Best not to rush in headlong to a situation he knew truly nothing about.
Noir Songbird
amorremanet
Posted: Sat Jan 04, 2025 9:36 pm
Cryptomelane detected the Order aura flaring up nearby, but he didn’t give it any thought. Some basic senshi or Page, unworthy of his time or his consideration unless they decided to come down and cause problems for him. If they did try it, then Cryptomelane had more power than they did and he didn’t mind exercising it. Unlike those who stood with Order, he labored under no delusions of being “the good guy” and felt no reason to shirk his obvious advantage just because it “wasn’t fair conduct” or whatever they would say.
Nothing in this world was fair, and it was better for them to learn that sooner, rather than later.
Anyway, if they decided to mess with him, so much the better. If they did, it would make saving Dr. Sturm easier, like as not. And if they didn’t, Cryptomelane would simply have to give the starseed back himself.
On only very few occasions had Cryptomelane ever felt anything about Dr. Sturm’s drinking than exasperation and something akin to concern. But as he rushed forward out of the alley, he thanked his lucky stars that his advisor was at least somewhat shitfaced. Made it that much easier to swoop in behind him and plunge a hand into Dr. Sturm’s chest.
The next, something was happening that his mind could barely wrap itself around, especially drunk. It felt as if there was a hand in his chest, but that was so obviously impossible that--
Everything hurt, and Isidor didn't know how to begin struggling to get away. Part of him wondered if this was death--if he was having a heart attack or something--but that didn't really make sense, except that nothing made sense--
Isidor's knees gave out, and he began to collapse.
amorremanet
genovianprince
Posted: Sun Jan 05, 2025 10:59 am
Troilus could tell that the Agent was stronger than him, but he didn't care. Especially not once he saw the hand go into the civ's chest, the civ's knees buckle—
He went into a dead sprint, frantic, despite his disadvantage. He needed to try to save this man's life—that's what he was here for.
"Let him go! Enthused Gasp!" he shouted, praying his magic would work, feeling it churn beneath his skin. He needed to do this. He needed to make himself useful, to do his job right.
As Troilus speaks his attack's name, the magic ripples out. Enemies within radius of 12 feet will experience restless energy, racing heartbeat, and a slightly clouded ability to think assault the enemies around him. Their thoughts start to focus on the last thing they had been enthusiastic about—the latest patch for their favorite video game, a new cookbook by their favorite chef, or even enthusiasm about killing Troilus (or allies). This spell lasts 30 seconds, has 3 uses, and a radius of 10 feet.
Very familiar, at this point, with what happened when you pulled a starseed, Cryptomelane was ready to catch Dr. Sturm when he collapsed. Letting him fall in any way that led to a head injury wouldn’t work for Cryptomelane. Might have still left Preston in need of a new advisor, given how dicey head injuries could get.
But ah, there it was. The rush of an Order aura coming toward Cryptomelane, motivated to come fight him, right as he was easing Dr. Sturm to the ground. Then, the magic hit him and suddenly, everything burst into—so, so much. Sharp pain jolted though Cryptomelane’s head like a bolt of lightning as he tried to think. His thoughts rushed and whirled. His heart raced. Felt like it would try to claw its way out of his chest.
With Dr. Sturm safe on the ground, Cryptomelane pushed himself back to standing. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he faced the senshi who’d done this to him. Eugh, a space senshi. Cryptomelane hated how self-righteous the ******** space senshi were. They thought that having survived for a thousand years, trapped out in space, made them the ultimate arbiters of good and evil on this world, and <******** Hell, they were insufferable. The fact that the space senshi looked like some DCU students who liked painting themselves purple and making noise all over the lawn distinctly didn’t help.
“I was going to give it BACK, you meddlesome FILTH!” Cryptomelane didn’t know why he cared enough to snap like this, but distantly, some part of him was grateful that the only people who seemed unaffected by the church’s midnight magic were himself, the senshi, and Dr. Sturm. “I know this man, alright? Any other night, with any other person, you’d have entirely the correct measure of the situation but not. this. time.”
A heated sigh, and Cryptomelane dug even harder at his nose, as though this might banish both his racing thoughts and the……feeling. A noxious feeling, worming through his chest, making him feel compelled to explain what was happening. It wouldn’t matter if he did, Cryptomelane knew that. Order senshi weren’t open-minded like Sonora. Whoever this one was, they wouldn’t understand. They had already decided that Cryptomelane was up to his usual shenanigans and that he was treating Dr. Sturm in the same way that he admittedly treated most people whom he ever starseeded.
“I know this man in my normal life,” Cryptomelane said, despite his better judgment screaming at him that this wouldn’t matter because it never did. Why he felt so enthusiastic about exculpating himself and proving that he’d only meant to help, he couldn’t have said. “It’s been a year or so, he has been trying to self-destruct—and giving it his best efforts short of actively embracing a more permanent solution. He doesn’t want to die, or he would have done it by now. But he needs to remember that and stop treating himself as though he doesn’t matter—as though he doesn’t hurt other people while trying to only hurt himself—and well? Here I am, with the ability to help jog his memory. Maybe not in the nicest or politest way, but I have already tried being nice and polite with him, so I thought he might need the shock of a near-death experience to pull him out of this spiral.”
Noir Songbird
genovianprince
Posted: Mon Jan 06, 2025 2:47 pm
Huh. That, well... Huh. Troilus hadn't expected this to come out of his magic—sure, he was used to people latching onto odd things or trying to kill him enthusiastically, but this... Okay, so he knew his magic wasn't a truth spell or anything, but generally speaking, people didn't lie when it came to something that made them enthusiastic.
All in all, he believed Cryptomelane. His ears flicked downward slightly, fluffy tail following suit.
"Okay," he said gently, nodding slightly. "I won't hurt you. I believe you. I don't think you're right, but you know more about him than I do."
He shrugged. "Sorry for charging at you." He took a closer look at the civilian, though, studying him. He did look rather... disheveled. Handsome, but very much not put-together.
"What do you want to happen when he wakes up? You take him home, or... I could help. Somehow." He shuffled his feet, stirring up snow. "If you want."
“………Here,” Cryptomelane snapped, holding out his hand and uncurling his fingers.
The streetlamps glittered, their light bouncing off the starseed’s flat planes and sharp angles in a way that reminded him how very easy it would’ve been to just eat the stupid thing. He wouldn’t have needed the rush of extra power to thrash this senshi to within an inch of his life. Although his weapon certainly helped with violence, Cryptomelane wouldn’t have needed that either. With only the power contained in his own fists, he could have made the senshi before him bleed, could have broken his bones and pummeled him, could have ignored any pleas for mercy and continued beating him until he died.
Only the thought of the bureaucratic nightmare this would’ve caused him at school made him restrain himself. Even then, it took herculean effort to hold back when the intensity of that feeling and the enthusiastic desire to do violence burned so hot in Cryptomelane’s chest.
“Whatever your magic did to me,” he said, “I don’t think I’m the person who should be here when he rouses. Take the starseed and I’ll make myself scarce.”
genovianprince
Noir Songbird
Posted: Sun Jan 26, 2025 10:30 pm
Troilus carefully took the starseed from Cryptomelane's hand, nodding sagely.
"I won't let true harm come to your friend," he said quietly, returning the starseed to the civilian's chest and watching it sink back in where it belonged after Cryptomelane walked away. He held the civilian's body carefully and hoped the man wouldn't thrash excessively upon waking.
Part of him couldn't help but stare at the pretty face, as gray as it appeared from the brief loss of its soul. He felt ashamed of that part—it had been such a short time since he'd woken from his slumber to the horrible loss of his husband and son. He shouldn't be looking at anyone and admiring their attractiveness. And especially not while they were passed out from soul loss!
Coming back to awareness was a slow thing. Slow, and a bit surprising.
Isidor had been sure, in the moment before darkness claimed him, that he was going to die. That something had finally caught up with him, hat some part of his body was giving out. He hadn't had time, really, to have any feelings about it, but as he stirred back to awarness, he thought--
I'm alive.
And then
I want to be alive.
He had not thought about that in active terms, before this moment. He had simply accepted that some parts of his world had gone dark, that his failings and failures had grown so great that even someone who had once loved his follies could no longer stand him, and all he would have was a lot of loneliness and then he would die. And that had been--well, it wasn't fine, but he'd felt resigned to that fate.
And yet. He had almost died. He was sure of that, in some soul-deep way. And he was glad, even if a little dimply, that he had not.
He blinked once, twice. There was something warm underneath him--a body? A stranger, he realized, slowly--perhaps the prettiest stranger he had ever seen.
A stranger with dusky purple skin and pointed ears.
"What...happened?" Isidor asked, as if that could even begin to account for his myriad of swirling questions. It would have to be a start.
genovianprince
Posted: Tue Jan 28, 2025 3:46 am
Troilus sighed in relief as the handsome stranger woke up, albeit slowly. He helped the man sit up, sucking on his teeth as he decided how to answer that loaded question.
"Well... how much do you know about the strange things that happen in this city?" he asked slowly. If he knew how much knowledge the man had in the first place, he would be able to give a more thorough explanation. "Because if I just say 'a man literally stole your soul from your chest for a moment', ah, I'm not sure if that would make any sense to you."
Though he had just said it after all. He smiled a little sheepishly as he looked into the stranger's eyes.
Something there felt... familiar. He couldn't explain it. Something in this stranger's eyes felt warm and inviting in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.
Somewhere in the back of Isidor's brain, it occurred to him that this was probably the most physical contact he'd had since Maria left him. An odd thing to think about, here and now, but maybe part of him was focusing on that so he didn't have to focus on the knowledge sitting in the pit of his stomach that apparently, he was right.
"I know enough to know it's happening," Isidor admitted.
In the distance, a church bell chimed.
"But that's...I was going to say pretty unbelievable, but you're not wearing face paint or anything, are you. I'm talking to someone who's actually purple." Which likely meant not human, which meant that a lot of weird rumors were apparently truer than Isidor had ever given them credit for.
Oh. Wow.
"So I'm guessing you...saved me, then?"
genovianprince
Posted: Tue Jan 28, 2025 10:15 pm
Troilus couldn't help a small grin. "No face paint," he assured, reaching up to tug harshly on the point of his ear. "No glued on ears, either. Totally real."
He shifted a little, reaching behind him to grab his curly tail and pull it forward. "Poof! Tail, too. I'm a mixed-race alien." He grinned a little wider. It was rare he had the chance to blow someone's mind in a good way. Or mess with someone about alien biology. Both. Both was good. And really, really funny. His tail began to wag gently behind him once he released it and it sprang back where it belonged.
He couldn't tell this man the full truth of what happened, exactly. It was very possible the man could guess the identity of the person who'd done this to him initially... and something about that moment felt intensely private in a way that even he'd intruded on. It wasn't his truth to tell. He felt bad for it, but... He would feel worse if he told.
"Yeah," he answered. "Souls naturally want to go back home, so once I stopped the person doing it, it just wooshed back in. Very scientifically." He snorted at his own joke.
"Uh huh," Isidor said, which was about all he could think to say given the situation in front of him. The person in front of him. A real alien, from outer space. Or possibly he was so drunk he was hallucinating. That seemed reasonable as an alternate explanation.
"I....thanks," he said, and he started to force himself to stand, even though getting vertical made his head spin and his legs wobble. Whatever had happened to him was definitely not interacting well with being very drunk. "I'm glad that's back where it belongs."
