[ . . . ] feeling delirious .

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎?

[callmeteor]

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CALLMETEOR ⸻ an independent , mutual - exclusive , multi - verse , semi - active roleplay blog for 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐄 from square enix's 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙑𝙄𝙄   ( '97 - inspired + remake(s) inclusive ) .

STATUS: [ic] : pausing new interactions ♡ [ooc] : busy + quiet + tired

[callmeteor]

okay ummmmmmmmmmmmm i'm gonna be gone for ALMOST the rest of july <3 i will try to get to some things today if i can find the time!! but i'm goin to visit my friend internationally and wanna be present and also keep up with my health enough o(--( BUT I WILL MISS U GUYSSS

[planetcry]

" i'll kill you. " / hi :)

cacophonous vainglory spasms the psyche into awareness; a rapturous panoply of things untethered and unseen, malice which slithers up her vertebrae like ripe infection and seizes her body with the precision of a sabre.

there exists a quiet death somewhere between the point of infinity's beginning and its end, gutting selfhood of its reason in sequential accuracy, mote by mote. reality is an exposition of colors unseen and voices yet heard, a maelstrom whirling the lesser spirit into frenzied delirium. she feels it like heat lapping against her body, as endless as the abyss from whence she emerged, transcending the sick-sweet call of long-death. a velarium of artificial giants stand sentinel to each downstroke of a stygian wing, its span so profound that it blots out what little light breaches the steely heavens. in spite of the distance between the bristled pawn, the scintillation of a mako-green leer unravels the keener eye, and unravels it again. the masamune is a fang beneath the low-light, a coiling serpent in the tall grass awaiting its mark: there are memories yet of warm flesh capitulating to the force of whetted metal, a sanguinary effort of life revealing itself to whom it belongs. she is owed.

“ do you feel it—that impenetrable anguish? ” she queries, her voice an illusory hammock on which to rest upon, guiding the blind towards a salvation not for her sake, but for the planet within which they exist. the sardonic bite is hardly perceptible; far too earnest a smile twists at the corners of his lips, a breaching mania so profound that it reaches slit pupils, as acute as an incision deep within the veiny yolk of her eyes. “ only through trials will you become what you must, sharpened into the blade. within that juncture, i'll be awaiting you. ”

@callmeteor.

[callmeteor]

Instability  –  the  greeting  of  winds  that  disrupt  one  another's  flow,  fighting  from  within;  a  source  that  battles  against  only  itself,  spiraling  into  the  descent  dropped  from  the  grips  of  control.  His  breaths  go  ragged,  fingers,  nails,  through  the  texture  of  sweat-soaked  leather,  digging  into  his  palms.     ❛  Sephiroth…  !  ❜      His  voice  is  loaded  with  ignition,  detonating  when  it  dares  touch  those  flames  of  his  past.  Flames  born  of  animosity,  shared,  now  sunk  into  the  deepest  parts  of  him,  flowing  through  the  blood  in  his  veins,  the  electricity  that  controls  his  mind.  Everything,  when  he  sees  them,  fades  to  madness.

❛  Stop…  running  away…!  ❜   As  if  she's  the  one  who's  been  running.  As  if  she's  the  one  who  burns  her  energy  on  a  falsified  cross  made  up  of  everything  cruel,  everything  “bad,"  sinful,  that's  ever  happened.  Every  wrong  path  of  his  life  gets  placed  on  her  altar  of  crucifixion. 

His  words  ring  through  his  thoughts,  cacophonous  …  trials…  sharpened  blade…?  None  of  it  makes  any  sense.  Nothing  ever  makes  any  sense. 

Familiar  aches  toy  at  his  temples,  pressure  exploding  in  an  instant,  no  build-up,  no  expectation,  just  pain  surging  from  one  side  of  his  head  to  another,  and  it  takes  everything  in  him  not  to  collapse  in  the  moment.  Weakness.  He  can't  be  weak.  He  won't.  Nothing,  however,  stops  his  hands  from  gripping  at  his  head,  pulling  the  hair  in  his  fingers,  desperate  for  a  different  kind  of  pain;  he'd  take  any  other  pain  than  this.

❛  What  trials…?!  I'm  not…  I  won't  be  something  you  can  use  to  destroy  everything   !  ❜

Something  in  him  sinks  deeper  into  the  abyss  that  warps  his  thoughts,  twisting  them  into  things  unfathomable,  frightening,  lies  believed  as  truths.  He  gives  in  to  that  vitriol.  The  bloodlust  that  leads  him  in  Sephiroth's  shadow,  ever  a  step  behind.

❛  I'm  gonna…  I  will…  ❜   Voice  is  strained  with  violence,  a  nature  that  grew  with  him,  born  in  his  childhood,  molded  as  the  years  passed  him  by.   ❛  I'm  gonna  kill  you,  Sephiroth.  You  can't  run  forever.  ❜

[callmeteor]

if im not here today, assume im in hell

[callmeteor]

more several day migraines u guys... in the trenches...

[reunioned]

ELENA STARES BACK. She narrows her eyes. Waiting. WAITING for him to say something. ANYTHING. Or even DO something ? What was this guys deal ? Was she supposed to just wait around for something to happen ? Her brows furrow in annoyance. For a bit she waits in the silence. Only when it becomes unbearable does she wave her hand infront of him.

' Hey -- you gonna SAY something ?? You know , I wasn't SERIOUS when I said you should camp out here. So why don't you GET LOST ? '

[callmeteor]

His  brows  raise,  his  eyes  squint.  He  stares  at  her  and  crosses  his  arms  indignantly  …  He's  not  here  to  take  orders  from  anyone,  though  he's  certain  he's  not  here  for  some  kind  of  sleepover  either.  There  hasn't  been  a  single  hint  toward  what  he's  here  for,  and  there  are  two  parts  of  him  that  deny  any  provision  of  the  information.  One,  because  no  one  needs  to  know,  least  of  all  Elena  of  the  Turks.  Two,  because  it  brings  him  vague  joy  to  keep  secrets  that  make  others  confused.  He'd  like  to  think  he  could  remain  mysterious,  despite  every  air  of  mystery  being  zapped  from  him  constantly,  at  any  given  moment. 

❛  Didn't  think  you  were.  ❜   Paired  with  a  shrug.   ❛  Got  shit  to  take  care  of.  ❜ 

[warcleric]

she feels almost out of place in a place like the gold saucer — much the way she imagines her company does. in all likelihood, it is probably this fact that brings the pair together: each member of their motley crew going their own ways; the two of them hanging back, uncertain. sera doesn't quite remember who suggested they couple up, only that it led them to the brilliant, flashing screens that lit up wonder square. 

" there's so many options ... i'm not sure where to start.   "  gaze flitting from the virtual basketball hoops and flickering battle simulations to settle upon cloud, a small smile tugging at her lips, wondering if he'll choose to play along.  "  what about you, cloud? has anything caught your eye?   "

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 ‚  @callmeteor & cloud .

[callmeteor]

Ever  the  bright  and  overwhelming  place  the  Gold  Saucer  is.  The  lights  are  usually  enough  to  spur  on  a  mild  headache,  but  for  the  moment,  at  Serafina's  side,  he  fares  decently  well.  Not  to  say  he's  stuck  with  her  for  the  evening,  by  any  means,  but  he  thinks  if  he  were  the  last  to  be  left  alone,  he'd  keep  to  the  room,  get  some  extra  rest…  and  fail  to  mention  to  anyone  that  he'd  feel  –  a  bit  pathetically  –  left  out,  lonely.  Each  version  of  his  night  that  played  out  in  his  head  just  hours  prior  had  pros  and  cons,  but  for  whatever  reason,  this  one  seemed  much  more  preferable. 

❛  Uhh..  dunno.  Maybe.  ❜   He  offers  an  uncertain  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  followed  by  a  gesture  toward  the  nearby  map.   ❛  Why  don't  we  check  it  out?  Narrow  our  options.  ❜   It's  always  easier  to  make  decisions  when  he  can  visualize  a  potential  next  step. 

[sanctiichor]

PROMPTS FROM BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ( Still Accepting! )

@callmeteor asked: "i was trying to be hospitable." / guy who is not hospitable.

There was no stopping the sigh that escaped the confines of the Warrior's chest, the knight taking a moment to close his eyes and collect his thoughts.

He had just finished apologizing on behalf of his comrade after a customer who had hired Cloud was quite displeased at the blonde swordsman's lack of manners, it had gotten to the point where Cloud had ended up calling Light asking for support -- the knight had initially thought it was something to do with the crystals and the like but he was sorely mistaken. When he had arrived, Cloud told him to pretend that he was his 'agent' , as the client wanted to talk to a supposed 'higher up'.

While Cloud's client ironically didn't have the best manners either, the Warrior nonetheless managed to calm them down and had even procured Cloud's promised payment, which the client was originally going to withhold.

Holding the envelope of Cloud's earnings, now the Warrior would be the one to withhold it -- pulling his hand away just some when the swordsman reached for it.

"Cloud, you must understand that we are guest to this plane --" he doesn't mean to lecture, far from it, for he knows his comrades are grown people and are more than capable of minding themselves most of the time.

However, as their leader, he cannot offer them leeway, even for something as trivial as a upset client.

"We must remain diligent and set to be exemplary and courteous to the denizens of this world, even if they do not offer us that same courtesy." while he won't blame any of them for defending themselves, unfortunately, the cultural norms of this world are different from any of theirs, from food and music, all the way to manners -- they must respect it all the same.

He finally hands the envelope to Cloud--

"Do not let this happen again."

[callmeteor]

The  situation  was  handled  poorly,  as  it  often  is  when  dealing  with  unruly  clients.  Cloud  hasn't  the  best  social  etiquette,  decorum,  or  table  manners;  it's  all  made  up  of  societal  expectations  that  have  no  relevance  to  humanity  or  personal  belonging.  But  maybe  that's  part  of  why  he  never  experienced  the  feeling  of  true  belonging…  Not  for  a  long  time,  that  is;  a  feeling  that  sticks  with  him,  despite  his  forged  bonds,  ever  echoing  from  the  past  that  lingers  in  the  back  of  his  mind.  He  misses  them…  Those,  like  family.  He'll  not  say  such  things  aloud.

Then,  as  he  reaches  for  his  payment,  it's  held  away  from  him,  like  a  child  to  be  taught  a  lesson.  He  crosses  his  arms  and  scoffs,  agitated  by  the  treatment  as  his  eyes  cast  themselves  from  him.

❛  I  know.  ❜  Defensive,  as  usual  –  a  common  trait  of  his  when  faced  with  correction  for  something  he  doesn't  deem  incorrect.  ❛  He  was  being  an  asshole.  ❜         Like  it  excuses  anything.

❛  Don't  see  why  it  matters.  ❜ He  thought  he'd  been  doing  a  decent  job  at  handling  the  situation,  but  it  seems  his  opinions  were  far  from  the  truth  of  the  situation. 

Having  his  payment  bestowed  upon  him,  suddenly  less  anxious,  he  takes  it  and  stuffs  it  in  his  pocket  with  all  due  haste,  and  sighs  with  agitation.  

❛  I  won't.  ❜         That  may  or  may  not  be  true.

[callmeteor]

AS MUCH AS I AM LOATHE TO, i fear i must go through and clear out some older threads... </3 i've just been so overwhelmed and exhausted with life lately but i miss being here like i was... so i think i'll clear some old threads and do an inbox sweep (except for unprompted asks, i'd like to get around to those!)

[bluemoonscribbler]

buster sword as a curse instead of legacy *shrug*

[callmeteor]

FUCK YEAHHHHH

[callmeteor]

sends a yellow scrub daddy via strife deliveries

❛   The  hell  is  this  thing..?   ❜   Muttered  quietly,  beneath  his  breath.   ❛   'n  why  does  it  feel  like  that?   ❜ 

[warcleric]

"  cloud —  " she's only just composed herself, dusting herself off from this latest skirmish ( soldier footmen; she's not unfamiliar with their sort, having rubbed shoulders with them in wall market ) when the bark of cloud's words cuts through the aftermath's silence. exertion is plain on her face when she turns to face cloud: pallid skin; a line of brilliant crimson across her cheek where a bullet had narrowly grazed the skin. a close call, to be sure. the smudge of blood upon her fingertips as she presses them to the wound, curative magic flowing, is a reminder of as much.

"  you know, i can hold my own in a fight. " the faintest upwards curl of her lips as she responds. she's not making light of his concern — far from it. as her hand falls away from her face, the wound mostly sutured by the grace of her materia, she makes as much clear: her tone soothing, reassuring. "—  i'm alright. really. this was the worst of it, so ... you don't have to fret. or frown like that.  "  okay, maybe she couldn't help that last bit. cloud made it too easy.

[callmeteor]

❛ I  know. ❜   Snappier  than  he'd  like,  because  he  knows  her  capabilities  are  not  his  concern.  Naturally  abrasive,  he  takes  a  brief  moment  to  check  himself,  drawing  his  shoulders  back  into  something  closer  to  relaxed,  but  not  quite  there.  The  dip  in  his  lips  remains  unchanging,  and  his  arms  are  folded  over  his  chest  like  he's  invulnerable,  but  it's  just  a  protection  from  an  inner  weakness  he  can't  seem  to  place.

❛  Anyway,  ‘m  not  fretting.  ❜   He  pauses  a  moment,  eyes  set  on  her  crimson-stained  cheek,  and  sighs.  ❛  Just  can't  be  letting  you  get  hurt  on  my  watch.  ❜

A  guilty  conscience  he  bears,  wears,  and  has  since  he  can  remember.  He's  certain  it  will  remain  unchanging.

❛  Let's  just  get  somewhere  safe.  Still  dangerous  here.  ❜

[callmeteor]

what i keep on monitor display 2 while i do virtual therapy

[sacredflorist]

Aerith wants to comfort Cloud as much as she can, but it's not always easy. When he bottles himself up like this, she never really knows how to react. She doesn't want to leave his side, though. He's her friend, and she plans to remain here for her friends, even in the hardest times. But this strange connection he has with Sephiroth... it's so hard to explain. Aerith herself wishes she knows more about it herself. She wishes her abilities as a Cetra could be useful for this, but they're not. She knows nothing about them, it's just her instinct making her use them from time to time. She didn't have time to learn about them. She's still discovering them most of the time.

She frowns for a moment before sadness crosses her features. She wishes she could understand Cloud, too. That's what she has been trying to do with this conversation. But it's hard, it's always hard. Sometimes he seems fully present, and at other moments, it's like he's far, far away.

A part of her wishes to reach for his hand or to pat his shoulder, but he seems so closed off right now, she decides to not touch him and respect his boundaries. "We're stuck here, but it doesn't mean it'll always be the case." She offers him an encouraging smile before she lets a soft chuckle escape her mouth. "Sephiroth won't be out there forever. We'll stop him. He won't always have this... effect on you. I'm sure."

[callmeteor]

Aerith  always  seems  to  bring  out  some  level  of  vulnerability  in  him,  earnesty  where  he  thinks  he  most  lacks.  Despite  his  stiff  composure,  he  begins  to  relax,  his  eyes  widening  just-so  as  he  looks  to  her;  a  sense  of  compassion  clear  through  mako-burdened  eyes.  He  sighs  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  pieces  of  his  hair  drifting  over  his  face.  Hands  peel  back  as  he  places  them  behind  him,  opening  up  again,  trying  to  relax.  He's  not  here  right  now,  and  despite  his  sleeplessness,  he  shouldn't  let  it  get  to  him  the  way  it  does.  Cloud  Strife  lives  this  life,  no  one  else…  No  one  else.

❛  Yeah,  you're  right.  ❜   He  concedes  gently.   ❛  Sorry.  Always  get  in  my  head  over  that  kinda  stuff.  ❜

His  eyes  close  for  a  moment  as  he  faces  the  sky.  There's  a  certain  hatred  that  burns  in  him,  fueling  the  fire  for  survival;  an  inferno  that  drives  him,  but  does  not  consume.  Not  yet…  Not  right  now.

❛  We're  gonna  kill  him.  ❜   The  words  come  out  a  little  more  intense  than  he'd  intended.

[sinquiem]

❛ i like to make use of what i know. ❜

' well , maybe you should know more. ' tone denotes a sense of arrogance , confidence in abilities that could potentially be passed on to another.

in his youth , he too sought to make use of a singular handgun. warriors of the first class did not particularly promote the use of any guns among the lesser - ranked soldiers , it was brute strength and swords. dante , however , saw fit to make use of other techniques , much to the director's dismay. they would eventually concede , since he was one of few strongest in his batch that could wield multiple different weapons. he rose in ranks with aforementioned talents. and as time passed within SOLDIER , some others have learned the efficiency of using two guns. one in each hand , maximize damage.

such is the reason that he stands there before another , ebony and ivory reloaded , pointed at the training module's projections. both arms extended to manage recoil , crossed atop one another , then he shoots both guns at once. the sound near deafening. ' see , like that. ' he says with a smirk , ' i'll teach you. '

[callmeteor]

‘Maybe  you  should  know  more.’  The  sentiment  rings  like  an  echo  in  his  ears…  He  should  know  more;  he's  always  thought  so,  and  he  always  will.  If  he  is  no  better  than  the  version  of  him  from  the  past,  in  Nibelheim,  then  he's  no  good  at  all.  The  criticism,  however,  is  welcome,  but  it  does  not  make  it  sting  any  less,  as  a  reminder  of  the  lack  of  grip  he  still  holds  over  his  secret  concerns  and  insecurities.  He's  got  to  pull  himself  together.  If  he  ever  wants  to  make  SOLDIER,  who  better  to  learn  from  than  SOLDIERs,  themselves? 

He  takes  deep  breaths  quietly  –  calm  /  he  attempts  to  collect  what  he's  lost:  a  piece  of  himself  –  that  boy  from  Nibelheim  who  did  not  care  what  others  thought  of  him.  …  At  least,  that's  how  he  acted.  His  true  feelings  would  be  disregarded  this  moment.

❛  Okay.  ❜   The  word  comes  off  his  tongue,  resolute  and  eager.  ❛  I  wanna  learn.  ❜

[callmeteor]

ok i slept im back in business kind of