The Magician

Look into my eyes. Now look harder. Micolash, Host of the Nightmare Subgiant || CONDO 401 Affiliated with Isola Radiale Penned by Cru

[augurdivinus]

Micolash || Bloodborne

➜ healing church and its affiliates dni ➜ studied at the prestigious byrgenwerth before becoming an enlightened brain genius ➜ post-grad student and founder of his own school     ⇢ take from that what you will ➜ did a dissertation on ascending humanity to the next stage of evolution which resulted in the extinction of an entire village and eldritch flesh horrors being birthed from the cosmos     ⇢ it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine that just means we’re on the right track ➜ it's just what college does to a mf ➜ all he cares about is being right, his life’s work, and understanding everything ➜ “empathy? what’s that i’m too busy trying to become god to think about human needs”    ⇢ being uncaring towards humans extends to himself please help him-- ➜ red flags in a single human flesh cavity. do you have your rabies vaccine?

[augurdivinus]

tilitili​:

      ☾ ❝ Just because it has yet to happen does not mean that it never will. Perhaps someday a bright rainbow will appear over Yharnam when the long night ends. ❞

   “Ah, do you really believe so? Or are you just reciting a hopeful dream you’ve been once told?”

[augurdivinus]

negative ebay reviews

[blog]

[augurdivinus]

lunarprophet​:

Judging by his progress, it was easy to tell that Waka was no artist. While the instruments he was using managed to respond to his thoughts, his sketches of his friends and the celestials were a far cry from the artistry of those like Issun.

“…perhaps I should have stuck to the sculptures,” he murmured, paying no mind to his surroundings until he heard someone chatting away while hovering over his shoulder.

“…there are many moons throughout the universe, and across multiple worlds; I assume the same is true of the lunar realms to which they belong,” he said, wondering just who this person was.

“As for how they are connected, who knows? Perhaps it is a form of divine intervention, or the will of the gods, or something else entirely.” The questions reminded him of the ones many of his people asked with regards to their own origins.

“At the end of the day; does it really matter?” His people had all died off, save for himself and Kaguya, and he had a suspicion that other lunar civilizations in other worlds met the same fate.

   Oh— Micolash blinked and looked down at the man sitting in front of him, as if seeing him for the first time as they responded to him. Marvelous how they seemed to know what he was thinking! Ah, but doesn't it always seem to be that way? 

   "Divine intervention...? Well I should hope so, lest all my work go to waste. I've made contact with them, and from your scent, I assume you have as well...?" He peered at the artistry they've created... well, smeared on the canvas. Oils bleeding together depicting... he tilted his head. Animals. White and red in colour, though still distinguishable. A boar, a rabbit, a snake, and most notably, a wolf. 

   “It does matter. To learn about them, to understand, is the key to growth. Evolution is what all life aims to do, is it not? To stagnate is just another form of death." Interestingly, paintings are likewise a stagnation, a portrait life in the moment; or worse, a memory, all of which then makes it a thing of the past, and yet...

   As the stranger sets down his brush, something about the wet paint seems to move. Claws on the white tiger becoming more notably sharp. A sinister, crazed look upon the horses face stomping it's hooves against the fabric. 

   "... You know, my artistic friend. I'd hate to interrupt myself here, but is that normal?"

[augurdivinus]

eat the watermeleon between the bagels. do it

"That sounds delicious!"

"But it also has to have peanut butter on it."

[kaijuno]

Also being a scientist pretty much gives you a free pass to be as eccentric as you want like you’ll be at a conference and it’s like “is that guy wearing socks and sandals and plaid pants???” “Ya but he was on the team that discovered gravitational waves let him be”

[inthisquarter]

I once saw a highly-respected mineralogist take a slice of watermelon, put it between the two halves of a bagel, and eat it like a sandwich.

[augurdivinus]

babelbane​:

“My, that’s quite an extreme stance to take. How exactly would one be ‘the object of the gods’?” Vanitas leaned toward the man who busily annotated his writing, trying to score a peek of the paper on which his words flowed. Undeniably, he was being impolite by intruding on a stranger’s space like this, but being a nuisance is what he does best (and Vanitas could argue that this man struck as simply too interesting to leave be). “Are those holes in your paper intended to accentuate your story somehow~?” Now he’s just poking fun…

   “ —AH!” Micolash jolted back sharply, body coiled up as if about to try and kick the other but more-or-less looking like he’s a moment away from simply toppling over. What is with people sneaking up on him all the time in this wretched place?!

   And yet... 

   “Curious, aren’t you?” He relaxed a little at the others seemingly oblivious disposition, though his paper, now crumpled, was still held tightly in his hands. “If only it were as easy to poke a hole in the sky as it is a paper. But alas, we are here on the ground, with the future looking frighteningly foggy.” He cleared his throat before sitting up properly to look forward at him. “No, no, I’m... merely struggling with a lack of writing foundation. The words can only do so much on such delicate forms of writing. The idiom is paper-thin for a reason, though the fluidity of mere writing matters little in the context of what concepts are being portrayed here. Yes, my theories on ownership, and what it does to mental fortitude. Loyalty, as my thesis states, is a weakness. Putting such things like trust on others, on humans, is rarely time and effort worth spent.” 

   “... And, you are...?”

[augurdivinus]

ascarletflame​:

The moth with a soul of fire despises the rain. Wet and cold and miserable. He can’t wait for summer to come around… but at least this was an opportunity to use his very gothic lolita umbrella that he’d bought. For now, it’s at his side while he rests.

Grimm’s attention is caught by a strange man’s shout, then. Is he… wearing a cage on his head? Is this some sort of odd fashion statement from a different world? Even his question is… ah well. He himself is perhaps one of the strangest things on the island. This should be entertaining.

“I cannot say anyone’s ever stopped me from entering a building, my good sir. I don’t understand the mammalian obsession with clothing. Certainly, I look quite dashing in a suit or dress, but I hardly need wear something every moment of every day. So, if you’re wondering if you can enter a building without a shirt and shoes, why not? Should they take issue, just tell them you’re exercising your free will.”

   Fascinating! So it speaks a verbal language! Strangely, Micolash was having anticipated something more like mental assault in terms of how it communicated, but this was certainly easier than having to deal with the blood trying to escape your own body in terror!

   “I admire your line of thinking! Indeed, I’ve only ever encountered... problems with certain establishments about dress code, but ever since I became my own master, nothing’s stopped me since, and I dress how I please.” He spreads out his arms in demonstration, to show off the ill-fitted and draping robes. This is of course, excluding the fact that he’s never since re-entered society after he became his own master. “Unfortunately I’ve still found myself confined, though welcome in this chillier weather.”

   Speaking of which... He looked the other up and down, pressing a thin hand to the front of his cage in thought. Carapace, large compound eyes, coxa-trochanter joints, tarsomeres... An insect.

   Taking apart whatever this creature was would be an interesting experience. Perhaps it’s innards held answers for his plight. Sentient bugs always seemed to, even if they were far from home. “You’re looking rather miserable here as well. Don’t care for rain much?”

[galaxychords]

        Alterations to spacetime were DJSS’s bread and butter; his people were quite literally space voyagers and his mother had worked to instill an acute awareness of spatial qualities in them from a tender age. Hence the abrupt pause given in the lobby of the newly constructed museum that everyone had flocked to in droves, the DJ left fidgeting by the ornate wood carvings while other passed by into the depths.

        An ask of a nervous looking cretin revealed no answers as to where they could find a map, deflection following deflection. Nova had no choice but to walk into this strange tilting place, only through the way gravity wells of other patrons rapidly vanished into a distance outside of what the museum’s exterior was Nova clued in to shifting labyrinth.

        …A labyrinth to mock him, apparently. Staring with ill intent at the Bed Bunk Junction posters and graffiti lining the walls of the gallery room, they moved swiftly toward the sculpture section as a passing thought of just where are the musical instruments occurred to them. And lo and behold, a tilt here and a door appeared in the hallway, its emergence disguised by a bend in the hallway.

        But Nova knew. He knew.

        Like any good scientist he could not let a mystery lie and opened the unlocked door to a sound studio with all the bells and whistles of a live room, a recording room, even an isolation booth. All new technology too and free of dust too- “EAH!”

        Jumping at both the lights inside turning on and a throat clearing from under their shoulder, Nova turned to stare at the…small human swaying on the spot.

        “Can I help you?”

@augurdivinus​​

[augurdivinus]

   Long fingers brushed over strange strings and wood paneling of a foreign instrument. A music studio, though unlike one he’d ever known. His culture didn’t have anything like this, having to rely on acoustics wrought by architectural design. Not that he was any good at it, despite his time spent in... Ugh. He visibly shuddered. The Church, with its notable and notorious Choir had fronted themselves with hymns of the blood.

   All vain efforts to mythicize itself, to cement an aesthetic; worthless in the pursuit of finding true meaning in the world. It had, by all accounts, seemed quite settled in just wanting to seem higher in the eyes of the people. Not that—

“— AH!”

   Micolash turned sharply at the sudden voice behind him, in the process hurling the first thing in his hands with astonishingly eagle-eyed aim; a guitar.

[augurdivinus]

   “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a rainbow in Yharnam. I had thought them a myth.”

[augurdivinus]

@haemoneiron​ || Starter

   It was by all accounts, shockingly easy to find the castle. It’s architecture was unmistakably Cainhurst among the marble pillars and warm atmosphere; stark stone walls, castiron gates, the nobilic framing of the parapets and rooftops.

   Not that anything about the foreboding shadow of it looming over him was going to stop him from entering. He had recalled, before being awoken once more at the pit, that there was something... important he had to do. What was it? No matter, he’d figure it out on the go. Philosophy posited questions, but true enlightenment comes from the results.

   However...

   He turned sharply at the creak and clang of well-used metal. He was not expecting the doors to have the gates simply... open for him. Here he was fully prepared to attempt scaling the walls, and yet.

   “...”

   Well, best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say. It’d be terribly rude to ignore the invitation.

   Stepping inside, his arcane senses went off almost instantly; a cold and electric rush overcoming him with the sounds of something like wind and the crushing of depths squeezing his veins. A delightful sensation.

   He turned idly to look at the cause— Creatures, pale blue in hue floating aimlessly through the low-cut hedges. “Phantasms?” He mused aloud with the temerity to approach, a hand held out to run his fingers over their slimy bodies.

[augurdivinus]

@lunarprophet​ || CANVAS Starter

   It was difficult to deny it. The other, across the room there, messing about with the oils and the brushes and the fabrics was unequivocally moon-scented, though not in any way he had known. Unfamiliar, and yet unmistakable.

   Micolash has smelled others like this before. Clearly, whoever this was must be from another moon. “... But just how many other moons were there in the universe? Countless perhaps, each with their own beings attached to them in some way or another.”

   “But why? Do they correlate in any way? If it is so prevalent in every society, does it mean they’re connected somehow? Must every society crawl in the dirt to uncover the meaning behind the mystery and mystique behind it?”

   Talking aloud again... All while hovering over the shoulder of the poor gentleman who seems to just be in search of the next colour to use on his canvas.

[augurdivinus]

So... What's with the cage?

"So I can speak with the higher beings that hover out of sight over us all. Obviously."

[augurdivinus]

@losingmyjustice​ || CANVAS Starter

   Simply astonishing, the labyrinthian nature of the winding, twisting, dizzyingly confusing halls of the museum that had cropped up was comfortingly similar to his Nightmare. How fascinating, that even some of the art of it had seemed ripped straight out of his homeworld, or perhaps even his memories. And look! A portrait of Laurence! He scoffed a small laugh, oh how much he wanted to snap that mans neck!

   Delightful.

   But what was most intriguing was the looming room ahead, statues and sculptures lining the walls, dotting the floors. Some he had no attachments to, strolling past them with little care; if he personally could not hold meaning to them, what good were they?

   Oh--

   He paused as another caught his attention. The passive turn of their head, stature, and cloth on their back had a striking resemblance to a particularly traitorous student he’d known, before... Well.

   Bless him, looking so disinterested at a sculpture depicting what looked to be a strange machine, yet apparently holding them captive enough to linger on it.

   “Hello, there. Are you one of the artists here?”

[augurdivinus]

@apexquartz​ || CANVAS Starter

   Well that certainly was an eye-catching shade of orange to have your whole being be drenched in. And only certainly exacerbated by the fact that she was quite big. A Hunter of some sorts, likely, in the ways she reminded him of another that he had known for what seemed so long ago... Though, clearly, lacking in the style of any sort he knew. A warrior in stature, though such things were archaic to his culture, and outside of his expertise. And for what purposes was what looked like a strange gemstone embedded in her face?

   Either way, it didn’t seem like trying to wrestle with the sculptures dotting the halls of the museum revealed any progress of their destruction. If that was, indeed, her intended goal as she’d been doing it for some time now.

   “Are you planning on doing the same thing all day, or are you going to try something new? Really, I’m curious.”

[augurdivinus]

@ascarletflame || Starter

"Tsk..." Not that he minded the mess that it made, but it was the simple fact of getting his feet wet in puddles that was most annoying.

Wet socks! Why must human minds become so insufferably agitated over the feeling of wet socks! Wet pant cuffs, wet shirts, wet sleeves, perfectly adaptable but it was always the socks!

Granted the rest of him was just as miserable and wet; the rain hadn't let up in hours no matter how much he glared at the sky.

"You there!" A creature! A new being he'd never lays eyes upon before! An insect far larger than before believed, perhaps touched with consciousness and nightmares much like the Gardens of Eyes he'd known to haunt the grounds of his old school! And most importantly, devoid of shoes!

Fascinating, the anatomy and structure of such beings. Inhuman, and yet recognizably alive, full of meat and powered by tiny volts of electricity much like any other thing. Maybe. He'd love to study it.

And interestingly enough, it taking shelter 'neath a nearby awning. Intelligent indeed! Creatures without much thought couldn't spare a braincell to consider the existence of rain.

"Do they still let you into buildings around here? Even without shirts or shoes?"

[augurdivinus]

@babelbane || Starter

"-As such, it is the reason I have refuted the declarations of others when the usage of possessives comes up when referring to me or my title. I am not your professor, I am a professor, or perhaps the professor. Such claims is of ownership, and I'd rather be the object of the gods before anyone could claim me. Yes... Yes! Loyalty free from..."

Oh, it seems he wasn't talking to anyone specific, and was instead simply speaking aloud while writing. Frantically. On a piece of paper that keeps ripping under his pen because he's not using a solid foundation beneath it and just ends up stabbing holes through it's thin surface.