Cosimo Galluzzi
occasionally subtle
roma★
KIROKAZE
if i look back, i am lost
titsay
Sweet Seals For You, Always
JBB: An Artblog!
Janaina Medeiros
d e v o n
AnasAbdin
taylor price
will byers stan first human second
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
pixel skylines
dirt enthusiast
No title available
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Andulka
Love Begins
seen from Denmark
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seen from Malaysia
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@aworldrebuilt
So um. How are you doing?
Ah, Hugo -- I'm glad to see you, as always. {You've aged somewhat since your last interaction with this man. The energies about you are plainly more subdued -- more wise? -- than he might recall.}How have you been?
After what could’ve been months of stability, the rifts between your Room and others are cropping up again.
It’s a shame. Here you’d just made progress with your grief, too.
"I’m glad to hear," he said, with a rare warm note. "Much time has passed since we last met — I beg your pardon; it was impolite of me to grow so distant after all the help you’ve been."
He paused, smiled.
"I’m relieved to see you well."
“It’s okay, I didn’t really… do all that much.” Hugo rubs his neck, sheepish. “I figured you were busy, or lost, like some of the others. It happens and I’ve gotten used to it by now. I hope everything’s been okay…?”
"For a given measure of 'okay', I suppose they have."
Your kingdom is still standing, for one, and your beloved — well, 'no news is good news', as you've come to learn. Your smile is smaller now.
"Everyone is alive and well, and I shall ensure they remain as such while the zones are fortified. One cannot pay too close attention to the security of one's realm, no?"
You glance skywards with a sigh.
"Lovely weather. It must be convenient for construction — or whatever your current priority may be."
An Important, yet Undesirable, Guest has arrived at your file
”..Well..”
Though it was clear that this man was not the King of her file, it did not change the fact that his appearance has perturbed her in a sense.
"What a ‘pleasant’ surprise."
You are no more glad to see her than she is to you. You stand straighter, due less to vanity than tension, and stare into the shadow beneath her cap where her eyes should be.
This Batteress isn’t yours, but she may as well be. Ever regal, you grip your wrist behind your back, elbows bent at a perfect right angle, and tilt your head just so in acknowledgement. The effort required both baffles and shames you.
“Likewise.” The syllables curl away from your lips in a glacial hush. “I had not expected to encounter a renegade queen, given how elusive you all are.”
Ah, Hugo. Have you been well?
Maybe he didn’t know this Vader that well before he lost contact with him completely, but he’s still relieved to see him again. It gives him some hope for the others.
"All things considered, it hasn’t been as bad as it could’ve been."
"I'm glad to hear," he said, with a rare warm note. "Much time has passed since we last met -- I beg your pardon; it was impolite of me to grow so distant after all the help you've been."
He paused, smiled.
"I'm relieved to see you well."
i miss these two…
(( shrieks ))
the King and the Atoner | regretfullypure + aworldrebuilt
“I can refuse to start the mission before it’s even begun. I haven’t played a single save file since my first one, and I don’t know what good it does, but if they fall it wouldn’t have been by my hand. Perhaps if I started approaching the Guardians, and the alternates of you first, before the game has yet to start, I can make a change. I don’t know, I really don’t. Doing all this is ruining the preprogrammed script and actions beyond repair. There’s no guideline for me to rely on or check with anymore.
“I can only rely on myself and guess, but if it means that I’ve managed to take at the very least the first step to atoning for my sins, the very reason I’ve returned to my screen at all, if I can stop more worlds from becoming destroyed like the one I journeyed through did, if I can save the Guardians that I know have been trying their hardest even if their methods are unorthodox at best - that’s why I’m attempting all this at all.
“Other than the fact that I honestly deserve your disdain anyway, irrelevant to the fact that perhaps I should meekly accept what you have to say, it’s because I want to redeem myself that I have started all this. I don’t want to cause the death of thousands and thousands of Elsens, like you’ve mentioned. I don’t want to tear down the Guardians that are working tirelessly to keep their Zones going. I don’t want to kill you, or your child.
“I know I can’t speak for any other with these words, but if they could be swayed, I wouldn’t want them to have to go through the same guilt that I did, and I don’t want their world’s people to suffer for their unwitting mistakes. I want to help stop the Puppeteers that know exactly what they’re doing from destroying the Zones.
“I don’t know how much you can trust me, or my words. But I do want to help you and your Guardians keep your Zones.”
The Lamenter’s voice is as sincere as he can make it, if perhaps not as reverent as one should be using when addressing a King. The player really does desperately want to redeem himself and assist in protecting the place. He’s dubious about how, exactly, he’d manage such a thing.
But the desire is still there. And that must count for something. Right?
As the Player explains his motives, you find yourself becoming more and more convinced of his sincerity. Perhaps desperation has finally taken hold of you. Disguising a sour smile against the rim of your teacup, you square your posture and debase yourself enough to stare dubiously skywards, hoping you might somehow lock eyes.
"I see."
Now, the time for business discussion has come, and you drain the remainder of your beverage before setting cup and saucer aside. He might be an intruder, but you suppose you can elevate his status to 'guest' in light of recent developments.
Your expression relaxes into something less hostile, but no less unreadable.
"How, pray tell, do you intend to lend me your aid?"
damelumiere has sought an audience.
It’s impossible to shake the feeling that this world bears more than a passing relation to the one you left behind. The thought curls itself neatly around your heart like grasping claws.
You certainly won’t ask, though. Maybe another time, but without a doubt, not just yet. Your instinct, sharpened nearly from birth, is telling you to let sleeping dogs lie.
“It can be a little daunting, making sure that everyone has enough of each particular element to survive…there are those who prefer to hoard sources from others, you see. But save for that, I’d say it’s a lovely, agreeable place.”
"I'm glad to hear that, Miss. The situation is not so well controlled in this realm."
You give a soft, deliberate sigh, hoping to ease her nerves by turning attention away from whatever unpleasant thoughts you might've incited. The misfortune of others is always an effective distraction.
"As I've implied, this world is still in progress. The area within which we stand is still untamed -- and might remain as such for awhile yet. I've but a single companion to aid me with urbanizing... or perhaps she has but me, as I've granted her control of the Zone."
A soft smile.
"Might I enquire after your duties, Miss?"
“I didn’t know either, until recently. Your maternal family is quite large.” Chuckling, you take the boy’s hand in yours. He took the news far better than he could have otherwise. “It’s a pleasure, Hugo. You are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay.”
You look up to him, hand loosely in his own. “I-I am? That’s really nice…thank you. I won’t bother you for too long, though,” you say, reaching up to adjust your hat before coughing into your other hand. “Just for a little while.”
"As you wish. In the meantime, if you wish for anything -- refreshments, rest, anything at all -- I'll be glad to grant it to you."
You already know what you shall give the boy first. Noting his cough, you produce a lace kerchief from an elegantly hidden pocket and offer it to your firstborn's alternate.
"You're better off wiping your mouth with cloth," you suggest with a smile. "Keep this. One can never be sure when they might find themselves wanting for a handkerchief."
Seeing her King in such disarray is enough to upset her, causing tears to well up in those big bright blue eyes of hers as she speaks with a broken voice.
“She has been in contact…she was duped and…aided her through the zones.”
Even though she’s ten feet tall, she feels like a mouse before the other.
“I’m sorry, my King…I wish she was wrong…”
A maelstrom of dread and despair begins in your stomach, whirling upwards and upwards until your chest's gone tight and you feel as though your heart's been torn out of place. Your eyes narrow-- Paula isn't at fault for the Puppeteer's designs, but you need someone to blame, and so you shall turn your distress upon the cat.
"I'd been foolish to grant a mere cat her own Zone." Soft voice laced with acid, you take a rattling breath and look away. "All this time, I had been convinced that her erudition betrayed some modicum of intelligence."
You don't mean it; not really. Later, when your panic settles into nerves less raw, you'll rethink your words and be grateful that you hadn't spoken them to Paula herself. For now, you're anxious and angry, and you haven't the strength to care.
"I do not wish to entertain her apologies."
Another breath, and a familiar twinge about your shoulders alerts you to the failing state of your humanoid arms. For shame. One of the first skills you perfected was altering the shape of your forelimbs.
"Tell the Judge she is unwelcome here," you say, and swallow against a knot in your throat. You wish Edith wouldn't cry. It's damnably tempting to join her. "If she cares to redeem herself, than she shall partake in preventing the disaster she's incited. How she'll manage is hers to decide."
Breathe in, breathe out. Your shoulders don't tingle so much anymore.
"And you, Edith? What shall you do? What shall we all do, now that the Player has seized control of our fates?"
[She softly sighs at these revelations.]
Fate is a very complicated thing to change when it is so strongly woven, yes. It pains me to hear that, dear, and if I can help in any way, please tell me.
[She isn’t sure if her answer will be satisfactory, but her survival was shrouded in mystery even for her.]
The laws of this universe were bent to keep me from disappearing, is all I can say. Without me, there is nothing. So without you, your universe will cease to be as well. I believe, if the time comes for you to vanish, that you will reappear again shortly. If not, I will do all I can to ensure your return.
{You remember what that particular puppeteer told you about the 'game'. Perhaps there is no 'save point' beyond Room? Perhaps... what is the word... 'reloading' to a previous save state resurrects you.}
{All the same, the thought comforts you very little.}
Thank you.
I shall appreciate it, should the need arise.
I can only hope that it doesn't.
{You pause yet again.}
I wonder every day why fate has penned us so tragic a tale.
Do you like clubbing?
Certainly.
I've love immeasurable for the garish lighting, clothing, and music associated with this elegant Old World activity.
And your "twin?" What are your thoughts on her?
Do not ask me to consider her.
The simple act brings nausea upon me.
There are no words with which I might express my contempt for this vile creature. Her -- and I use the pronoun 'her' far too generously -- face is no more appealing than a slavering Von Gacy's.
Must you force me to continue? Very well.
That mane of straw and dander she calls 'hair' is nowhere near rich or luxurious, and if I were, by some misfortune, to touch it, I'd have no choice but to sever my own forelimb.
Recalling the particulars of her clothing pains me far too much to describe. Simply know thus: Those scraps of fabric she hangs upon her rickety frame are more suited to wiping the soot from a miner's face.
Her carriage is deplorable, her voice akin to a screeching Burnt's, and I'd rather toss myself into a pool of boiling plastic before spending another second in her company.
I'm loath to terminate this discussion so suddenly, but I've been overcome by the urge to vomit.
Excuse me.
{Inwardly, you're laughing harder than you have in years.}
And how do you feel about (tendresucre) Sugar?
I've nothing but disdain and revulsion for that hideous woman. Such a frigid, unsightly body holds no appeal for me in the least, and her false hands send most unpleasant sensations shuddering through my flesh. Plainly put, she is ugly, ill-suited to touch, and certainly unworthy of the Royal Physician title.
{My. Your pokerface is impressive, isn't it?}
How do you feel about Sugar?
That child disgusts me. I've not borne witness to any creature more hideous than he. Beyond that, his character is repulsive and I do not pity him for his failing sight in the least. Sugar deserves every ounce of misfortune put upon him.
I should hope I never encounter him again.
{This one hurt to answer. You're proud of yourself for answering with such a straight face.}
“Hmm? Oh no, the Von Gacy are under control…”
She seems rather nervous all of a sudden, and after a moment or two of silence she speaks.
“The…the Batter…has begun her mission…Paula warned me…”
For a moment, you cannot recall how to breathe.
"That is impossible," you say, and your practised calm begins to fissure; the first cracks evident in the sudden hush of your voice and the edge to a clearly forced smile. "You must have misheard. Paula is kindly, but a mere cat regardless-- how can a creature contained to her private isle bear such terrible news?"
Your eyelids flutter for a moment. Then, you grip your wrist behind your back, elbows at a flawless right angle, and look up at Edith with serenity so misplaced that it betrays far more pain than any tearful eye.
"Tell me she is wrong."
"Thank you, your Majesty. I appreciate the time." It kept its tone respectful, even inclining its head politely at the screen despite the other not being able to see the gesture. There was a pause in its reply as it hesitated to give him the answer. Though the king had probably already noticed the odd air it tended to give off "... I am called the Corrupted. I am an... impure player if you will. I assure you the corruption is contained strictly in my realm and self though. It will not spread."
Your title certainly does you no favours.
All the same, I shall risk believing you.
Define 'corruption'.
