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affiliated phainon.

[eachdawn]

✦ affiliated phainon of aedes elysiae. ✦ written by mel.

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dialogue color: #7faab6

[eachdawn]

( closing time by semisonic blares through your neighbor's wall at 2 am )

hey, folks.

I've been thinking all day about this group, about all of you, and about how much I'll miss the gnostic hymns I adored so dearly and relied on as a space to write characters I love around people I admire. as many of you know, this group has meant a lot to me and seen a lot of challenges and changes in my own life, just as it has for lots of other members of the group. the early days of gnostic hymns was my first time venturing back into the world of writing canon characters while I was also getting pretty sick with preeclampsia smh what was I thinking, and I've been so thankful for the opportunity to write with you all here and get to know you.

since it's taken me all day to really get my thoughts together on this, I'll try to keep the rest of this short and sweet wrt the details about what's going on with my accounts.

I will still be writing phainon on this blog, and want to continue taking on threads with him for as long as possible. I will still be in the server and reachable here on his blog, and I'll post occasional starter calls on him to get new interactions going and try to broaden his interactions more. to me this also means I may also open up to exploring some of the indie community if I can with him after the group is formally closed at the end of the month.

I will no longer be maintaining a soft thread cap on phainon's blog since I will be seeking out new threads, but from march onward, I will assume that a thread not responded to in more than two months is dead and/or concluded unless you communicate with me that you intend to respond soon. this new personal rule will also apply for arlecchino and jiaoqiu. however, for the two of them, I will not be actively seeking out new threads and instead really want to just try and finish up the ones they have so I can see them off in what feels like the right way. if you have something you're dying to write with jiaoqiu or arlecchino, please let me know before february is over; otherwise, I'll be easing the two of them into a slow retirement after their much longer tenure so that branching out more with phainon can take priority.

thank you again for everything, gnostic hymns! see you in the stars.

[twilighthealer]

friendship solves all (including theft) (๑>؂•̀๑)

[twilighthealer]

Lord Phainon was always dependable, too dependable and in this moment, Hyacine saw that again. She brightened at his words, nodding along. “Right! But, you know, me and Little Ica are plenty dependable,” she clarified. Little Ica, himself, jumped out to doot in agreement. She looked at him as if to say (or shout) ‘see!’. Of course, they had to move quick to catch the thief in time.

At Lord Phainon’s words, she and Little Ica hurried out. The train line was… yes, this way. Still, it would be best to follow someone who was more knowledgeable of the area, like Lord Phainon. She made some mental notes as they went, however, in hopes of being the one leading next time. Hyacine hadn’t spent much time below outside of the occasional visit to see the activities of those rushing to show the joys of the festivities. Mostly, just because Little Ica ended up dashing about the Administrative District without restraint. 

“Not very much. Little Ica has an eye for adventure… typically an adventure where much of the food lies.” Of course, Little Ica flew just a bit ahead of them, as if to ignore her words. Hyacine smiled, fondly, shaking her head. “I would raise concern about it but his nose has yet to lead us astray. After this, I’m sure Little Ica will be willing to show you some of his favourites!”

As they neared the Underworld, Hyacine jumped ahead. Her eyes scanned the area, where would a thief with a flower hide…?

“Lord Phainon, do you have any idea where our thief might be hiding away?”

[eachdawn]

phainon chuckles at the thought of little ica running about through the city above while the train takes them down to the city beneath: had the little flying horse been at the creampuff stand where he'd run into that strange man who spoke cryptically of the road ahead, maybe there wouldn't have been anything left for anyone else to choose from. better still, he imagined, was all the locals trying to make sense after of how hyacine's small companion still flew quickly through the streets on such small wings and with a terribly full tummy...

...mirth still teases at his tone as phainon focuses back on hyacine once more. "I'll need to come along next time little ica goes on a food rampage in the district above us! surely, the image in my mind can't do justice to the real thing."

once they've disembarked and taken a few steps into the underground, pale eyes widen as hyacine moves ahead to look around quickly, then turn back to him with a request for his own theories. just thinking of what sort of evidence they'd found in the store... where would a small person hide with a flower?

"hm... well, where down here would be the best place to try and grow a plant?..." the answer is nowhere, he imagines, but maybe a small thief from the city beneath the city is not keen on plants needing more light to grow than the heaters down here could provide. "the robot settlement's ground is frigid to the point of being frozen in most areas. so... we could probably rule it out, if it's not reasonable to even try and dig up soil. maybe the dirt in the city proper is a little easier to work with, thanks to the concentration of heaters... let's check out the alleys first, and then ask around any other institutions here that may know more about the locals after. a school teacher may know who's interested in flowers, while a clinic may have had someone of a small stature stop in with a few peculiar, fresh cuts..." as he continues coming up with a few strategies, phainon walks alongside hyacine and further away from the station they arrived at.

what else could help them find their thief? off the main underground street they walk down, he spies the first alley that isn't blocked off by metal fencing to their right, and gestures towards it. "let's go check out that alley, hm?"

[mydcimos]

𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖈𝖊, 𝖓𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒌 - [ 𝒎𝒚𝒅𝒆𝒊 / 𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒏 ]

[mydcimos]

Sad, romantic stories? At first, he doesn’t understand the tangent, amber eyes searching Phainon’s expression to determine his dwindling sanity before he catches the book itself. The cover. “Tales of grief are rarely romantic.” He stalls, trying to picture it. To love and feel sadness for it? He doesn’t know why it’s important he point this out, so in the next breath he’s moving to where Phainon wishes to go. “You sound foolish.”

In and out. They’ve already accomplished their objective…but he can concede that it’d be smarter to see what else they can offer dying flames.

It is warmer, if only by a few degrees. Enough for Mydei’s skin to prickle with added awareness. The hallways are cramped and narrow – some flaw of design that allows the buildings to be so closely packed together while still housing full families. “They would have fared better staying in this house.” He says to himself, bypassing a child’s room along the corridor and finding two larger ones. In each, the linens had been stripped from the beds and taken titan’s only know where. The clothes were small, more befitting of one the size of Anaxagoras or Hyacine. “We can break down bed frames. Take these-“ These are thick, heavy curtains. Someone had clearly attempted to take them  down without the proper tools and had given up halfway through.

After a few testing tugs, he rips the steel beam from the wall itself, limbs protesting his call to shift away from the debris. At least it’s nothing like Amphoreus’ falling pillars, he thinks, but it still draws a hiss from behind clenched teeth. Cool air rushes in from the place where the wall has been broken overhead, but the drape of thick fabric in his hands seems worth it. “Don’t just stand there.” He commands, wiping dust from stinging eyes and finding a bit of golden blood from how it collapsed over his head.

It's nothing. “Come…and help me.” Better that Phainon take the curtains, too long and tangled for his aching fingers.

[eachdawn]

just a few degrees warmer upstairs is enough to even push off the cape he's been keeping closer around himself: from a few looks around, and with what little was left behind downstairs, it seemed like the people who had once been in here led vibrant lives that they hoped to come back to soon. and truly, it's as mydei says with how these homes are built --- perhaps the family that lived here once would've been better staying here than risking the makeshift shelters for warmth that the community had put together. perhaps their reasons for gathering had to do with something else, or at least it was not just the shared heat alone...

... with the groan of metal and burst of plaster that gives way and dusts everything around the window, phainon turns away quickly from the bedframe he's started to inspect to see if he can take off the legs, the footboard, anything. ( why is it suddenly so cold? ) "wh -- what are you... mydei, are you alright!?" confusion, shock, concern, and a hint of his earlier thought to not damage the houses too much by letting in the cold all seem to color phainon's tone at the same time. brow wrinkles incredulously, and he pulls the curtain rod away to try and detach the fabric hanging from it without looking away from the blood that escapes a notable gash at the crown of the other man's head.

but aside from the question, the look of worry, phainon leaves words at that --- just waiting for a response as he finally frees the thick velvet curtain, then reaches around to wrap it and pull it tightly across mydei's shoulders. right hand continues to hold the makeshift shawl shut as left lets go, then rises up to wipe away the trail of gold and follow it up to its source to apply pressure without even thinking to ask permission.

[mydcimos]

𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖈𝖊, 𝖓𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒌 - [ 𝒎𝒚𝒅𝒆𝒊 / 𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒏 ]

[mydcimos]

Finally, an agreement.

His limbs are slow to release tension, called by there Phainon’s assertation. As if Mydeimos were a common, petty criminal. That these measures he would consider to keep Phainon himself and the rest of the mortal natives of this planet from a permanent, frozen death is a weakness.

( …he understands. would his people not chant that those lacking the strength to survive were irrelevant? not worthy of a ruler’s attention, regardless. )

When the other looks back at him, he cast his gaze elsewhere – looking into the darkness of the home. Wisely, he keeps the offense to himself, the metal of his greaves echo his footsteps as he follows. The inside of the house is as unimpressive as the city itself, going cold and stale with abandonment. “The books will be good kindling,” What’s one more personal library that burns? He gives Phainon as much space as he can, picking his way through the trash-riddled floor. “But we will need more if this winter is to last.” A beat passes, where he finds the unintended slight still needles his sides more than he likes.

If they were home, they could head to the sparring grounds. He could express his displeasure in full. Now, his hand falters where he tugs at an exposed wooden beam. The entire house creaks back in warning. With a huff, he catches Phainon’s gaze. “If the person who owns these things is by that fire, they would gladly make these offerings for warmth. Dying in the cold…” He struggles to find the words, keenly aware that he has to offer something, now that’s he’s begun. His pitch dips. “I do not want to watch any suffer it.”

It's good enough, he thinks, that even the dense Deliverer will catch his meaning. The unceasing shivering that rattles his system is a telltale sign of its own, but Phainon seems to fare better.

[eachdawn]

brows pinch sharply almost on impulse at the mention of burning the abandoned books, but the nagging, angry thought the mental image provokes is quickly and quietly subdued as expression evens out to something neutral once more. phainon bends down to pick one up as mydei continues speaking, looking first at the cover: simple blocks of color portray a woman in a long, billowing skirt with a wide-brimmed hat as she stands against the railing of one of the vehicles he'd seen driving around the city on metal tracks, face angled towards the figure of a man at the side of the vehicle who seems to be watching her in turn. the trolley problem: a love story, the simple title reads: a flip inside the cover starts the tale of a woman named margaret with dusty hair that curls softly and freckles on her cheeks who is posed with a difficult, near-impossible choice from the very first line...

hairs stand up on the back of his neck: phainon lowers the novel in his hand.

ah. mydei is looking at him.

he glances up and holds the eye contact quietly: then, when it seems the other man has finished his thought, he shakes his head and starts to walk over. "well, I'd wager that the person who owns these things likes sad and romantic stories," not that this assertion has anything to do with anything at all. he still doesn't like the idea of burning these, as silly or serious as they may be. then, a slow sigh: he pushes the book to the other man's chest, and nods his head towards a narrow staircase partly concealed by a shadowy hallway beyond this main room. "let's go upstairs and see if there's anything better to work with, maybe some furniture that the homeowner thought was too much a hassle to bring down earlier this week. it should be a little warmer up there, too." he doesn't move on himself just yet, though --- a glance down that traces over red markings wonders about what his final thought left implied and unsaid.

are you cold this time, genuinely? it seems so.

[philiaes]

𑣲 — through patches of violet .

( Here we are at the fated land — Will you watch me end? ) / phainon & cyrene !!

[philiaes]

  ( Year 4829, Before the Eternal Recurrence ) 

Over the little dock's weathered edge, her feet swing in perfect time opposite one another. She is not quite tall enough that her feet might disturb the water that murmurs below, but she has left her sandals a few paces back regardless. As if to say just in case, and I'll be as tall as you any day now, you know! Because they are still on a page of the story where that feels true.

In her lap are a deck of cards, her most prized possessions. One might warn her of shuffling such delicate things so near to the water's edge, but Cyrene's not worried. Her fingers shuffle with such a loving precision, moving as though dancing to the melody she hums. Anyone might assume her attention occupied— her focus so intent upon the cards, the song, the water striders skipping about around her feet— that the rest of the world has faded from around her.

"You're late~"

She says it without looking back, without breaking her rhythm. A mere pause in her refrain, one that picks up a breath later in the space until she next speaks. Late— laughter weaves easily into this verse, a dozen crystal bells. They had not agreed upon a time, because that just isn't quite their way. Seeing one another again is an inevitability, it need not be scheduled any more particularly then this afternoon. Then tomorrow.

But he is late because she got here first, or perhaps he is late just because she says he is. It doesn't matter. Cards fall neatly into place, a perfectly aligned deck once more, and Cyrene turns her head such that she might peer over her shoulder at the sun and the boy beneath it. The same as he was yesterday, the same as he will be tomorrow.

"Well, don't just stand there! The cards can't see you from here, y'know."

@eachdawn !!

[eachdawn]

there was little to do at this time of year, at this stage of harvest: a week or two of reprieve came between each cycle of sewing seeds and tending to what grows. now, there's small shoots of pale green in neat rows across the hills: next week, there would be weeding, tending, watering to help with. so, what else is there to do?... a thought seems to steer towards the idea of fishing somewhere around the village for the unusually lazy afternoon.

the scent of juvenile wheatgrass as he heads down the path to this dock in a meandering way gives way to a crispness of water and old mildewy planks, just before phainon spots her at the dock's edge: colors of the short-lived green that tints their usually golden surroundings in a brighter hue fades away to warm wood and deep blue.

a smile comes first as he heads towards some of the fishing tackle left out on the side dock without a second thought to what she may be doing --- who left this out, exactly? one of the village's children, perhaps: piso seemed a likely candidate... then, phainon hears her cheerful accusation and subsequent invitation. "wh... huh? when did you tell me to meet you here today, cyrene?" phainon tries to untangle the tackle already twisted and turned around fingers awkwardly for several moments as he thinks on it himself, looking back to the last time they talked: was that a few days ago? yesterday? last week?...

a shake of his head: he's certain cyrene is teasing at this point, and once fingers are free, phainon leaves the fishing equipment once more to come over and see his childhood friend. "but... sure, let's see what your cards are saying today." cyrene's treasured oracle cards seem to be the perfect size to fall between the slats and into the water below: silver brows furrow, but he comes around to take a seat nearby on the dock's edge, then turns towards her expectantly. "which kind of spread were you thinking of trying? hopefully not the one with just a single card drawn." without waiting too much longer for an instruction, he reaches out one hand to offer to take a card.

[aarnivalkie]

Dziad(z)y

Flins & Phainon - Eerie Atmosphere | 🔥 A roaring bonfire in the distance on a pitch black night, with dark silhouettes crowded or dancing around it

[aarnivalkie]

The four robed figures spare him no time for dignity. One gives him a sharp strike to the backs of the knees and all but throws him onto the ground mere inches from the gleaming tip of the blade.

”All gathered - witness this relic!” The dark shadows further exaggerate the man’s stretched features, and in the flicker of the firelight, his fanged, too-wide mouth almost appears to move with each word. He raises the dagger high above his head and the circle’s chanting fades to a whisper cooing for golden blood.

”A lamb, pure in spirit, divine in body, has been brought to us. With this relic, I shall spill the golden blood as ordained by the soothsayer, and each man and woman gathered by the holy fire shall partake so that we may leave this Everwinter behind.”

The murmuring rises again, slowly, undulating in pitch as glassy eyes watch hungrily from the perimeter. The one with the blade grabs a fistful of silvery hair, long claws scraping all the way to the scalp, and pulls the ‘lamb’s head back. Ravines of dark, melted skin, a twisted mouth full of broken and jagged teeth, and eyes dark yellow where the whites should be make up the face that gazes down at him. A demon, by all appearances, mutated from what once had been a man. Horns pierce through the strings of grey hair lying limp over his forehead, and where there may have once been a nose, nothing but the dark depths of the nasal cavity remains.

He brings the sharp edge of the blade to the golden sun etched into pale skin.

With an explosion of blue fire, startled screams erupt from the gathering, and a bolt of lightning sends the sword flying through the air.

”What is this?!” The ceremony leader hisses, staggering backwards, eyes darting, with his wrist held tightly in his other hand. From the flames steps the figure of a man, eyes aglow with sparking fire.

”Can you stand?” He throws over his shoulder to the silver-haired man who’d been thrust onto the ground. “Rather I should ask: Can you fight?”

[eachdawn]

with every muscle in him restrained in some form, it's hard to resist any commands, as much as he wishes to: these people, if they can be called that, seem to have no patience, provide no opportunity to defy what they command. ending like this, after everything he's seen, all he recalls... it must be a cruel joke of fate, something orchestrated by obscure aeons from beyond the sky he knows with a cruel sense of humor. pale eyes scan the scene still half in a daze, trying to understand the faces of the participants that surround him... but the look is brief, as a hand steadies his head and forces it downward before a familiar sharpness of steel comes to rest at his neck.

then, blue fire. the interruption is enough for attention to force upwards: phainon watches the sword at his neck as it's knocked away, and quickly pushes up to his feet at the sight of the strange man emerging from the cool tone flames. that isn't normal, but... he nods at the question, then quickly steps away to grab the blade that had been at his throat moments before. "I can certainly fight."

seems he would have to, from how things are going.

as awareness gradually evens out while pale eyes register their surroundings, phainon processes that what seemed like grotesque masks are no masks at all: these are... monsters of some kind? still humanoid in overall appearance, and he could understand most of what they were saying when they had him pinned to the ground. but there was no time to spare understanding these people further: they approach cautiously, multitudes of beady and crimson eyes among the crowd now mostly focused on the interloper.

a twist of his wrist with the weapon in hand documents the light weight of the weapon, despite its ceremonial ornamentation. probably not too sturdy, nor meant for long-term use. a dash forward starts to swing it for the nearest kidnapper... but when the sharp edge slams into a robed side, it feels more like a bread knife hitting stone than a sword to flesh. "... what?..." the demon lashes back an arm at him, and phainon pulls back with the ceremonial sword still in hand: a quick glance to his rescuer follows as he continues to retreat. "I... can usually fight. you wouldn't have happened to see a... better sword around, would you? perhaps my own?"

[twilighthealer]

friendship solves all (including theft) (๑>؂•̀๑)

[twilighthealer]

The microexpressions of the florist told Hyacine more than enough. Panic, concern, worry. Those words were practically written upon her face. She listened carefully to the words spoken of the culprit. Short, had a cape and probably from the Underworld. Hmmm…

It seemed like the guards present wouldn’t do anything. Though she could not see their faces, their tones told it all. Lord Phainon’s voice only just registered in her mind but by the time he was halfway through his sentence, she walked over to them. 

“From your microexpressions, you’re in need of help, right, Miss?” she smiled, “well, not to worry. We have some time to spare, if you’re okay with leaving this in our hands, of course.”

The florist seemed to brighten upon just hearing Hyacine’s words. Poor dear, the bulb must mean quite a bit to her… “Oh, yes, please! I’ll tell you all you need to know! This way, please!”

She began walking towards the broken glass, pointing towards the empty space. “It was here last. I didn’t see much of the perpetrator, but they seemed to go out in that direction and into the Underworld. I would be so very glad to have it returned. Its monetary value is of no concern to me but it only blooms once a year and I’m afraid to miss it. Please! Do all that you can!”

Hyacine nodded. “No worries, we’ll start our search, thank you for entrusting this task to us.”

She glanced back at Lord Phainon. Ah. Maybe she should’ve asked him first… whoops. She gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, are you alright joining me? It’s alright if not, we can just divide the tasks, I can go find the thief and you can continue getting samples for the Grove.”

[eachdawn]

as they listen to the florist explain the situation, phainon looks around a little more —- there’s really nothing else missing, save for a little mess that appears around the place where the prized bulb had once been. while miss hyacine speaks with the proprietor, he takes one last look at the scene… a nearby handprint on the otherwise polished wood counter seems awfully small. phainon turns to the silvermane guard officers, who seem to be discussing with each other, before a notepad held by one of the two closes, and they start to walk for the door.

suppose they’re quite serious about not spending their time with this…

he hears hyacine’s voice the next moment, and turns toward her: a shake of his head and a smile answer her question first. “no, I’ll go with you. it seems the silvermane guards have no intention to take this matter seriously… and I wouldn’t want you and little ica handling everything all alone.” then, phainon nods his head towards the door, and waves goodbye to the florist behind the counter. “let’s get going, then? we’ve got a flower thief to find.” and perhaps a small one, if that handprint did belong to whoever took the bulb.

once out in the city proper again, phainon leads the way to where a train line would take them down to the underground: it was one of the first places he had visited earlier in the week, off to see the civilization of automatons who made their home in a city beneath this one. had hyacine been there yet on her own? he hadn’t had a chance to ask her… but in passing, phainon was fairly certain he had seen the professor down there, too. as they get down to the platform, phainon turns to her to ask: “how much time have you spent in the underground thus far? I spied professor anaxagoras spending some time down there, but it was more towards the place where many machines lived.”

[mydcimos]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲...

noncommission thread. mydei/phainon.

[mydcimos]

Of course you don’t understand.

Mydei’s lips curl, a sneer. The reception of his people in Ohkema has been met with opposition from all sides. His Detachment, his people, who alternate between obeying his command and calling for his traitorous golden blood. Phainon’s response validates that the feelings must be mutual.

He still seeks to understand why Aglaea would send this man to stand before him. If the Goldweaver is as all-knowing as rumor suggests, then she must believe that Phainon’s simpering means something to him. Right? “Yes.” It would do no good to explain the traditions of his people to those who stand ready to find flaw. “Understand that you try my patience.”

A celebration is a celebration, after all. “If I wish to send my most loyal warrior to the Sea of Souls to demonstrate reverence to the dead, what will you do?” As he says this, he paces closer – well within reach to strike.

[eachdawn]

pale eyes widen and trace movement as mydei speaks and paces closer --- what would aglaea do? she sent him here to try and mediate, after all: when the other man's words turn more perplexing, a few blinks accompany a bewildered response. "what...? send your most loyal to... you mean to say you'd take a man's life that he's sworn to you, just to satisfy some sort of ritual for those who have passed?" a life taken for souls that could not answer for a heavy sacrifice made... has his own capacity to return after each death clouded mydei's judgement of a life's value? it can't be a lack of loss of those he cares for in the past, of that phainon is sure: the crumbling of the kremnoan kingdom had to come with countless casualties.

phainon shakes his head, and steps closer himself, a hand outstretched to one side to try and emphasize a lack of harmful intent. "that isn't a peaceful way to revere the dead. it's just... loss, for loss's sake," dark smoke spread across fields of gold, a scent of something burning turned foul --- he's losing the objective here, phainon realizes, mediation abandoned in favor of questioning without fully comprehending. "the lives of ordinary people, kremnoan or no... once gone, they're gone. that can't be an acceptable outcome for the detachment in its current state, can it?"

[eachdawn]

in the darkest corners.

searching the fleuve cendre with @tartagliare & @muscle-blues.

[muscle-blues]

Shaking her hands, Yelan dismissed the Lifeline. Stopping a claymore that had been in the hands of a man with killing intent was a tall order. Though, she found herself happy to see that her effort paid off. Now was the time to try and piece things back together after the chaos.

First, she looked to the silver-haired man. Yelan scanned his figure properly now, and once again drew the conclusion that he hadn’t been from here. At least, he didn’t look familiar to Yelan at all, and she ensured that she kept up with anyone that might be important. “Well, Childe explained himself better than I could, and he explained the general situation well enough too. We’re down here chasing the same target, and as much as I could confidently tell you that Childe would be high on many suspect lists, he isn’t the suspect for this case. You didn’t seem like the type who would move on from making an irreversible mistake like that.” Nodding, Yelan felt as though her explanation for her intervention was adequate. “Call me Yelan.” Adequate enough, that she even tacked on an introduction to follow. 

Then, Yelan looked to Tartaglia. The Harbinger was battle hungry, and this little match showed that in spades. Even his explanation for his involvement painted a perfectly clear picture. The longer Yelan stared at him, the more she found it in herself to sigh. Each of the Harbingers were dangerous in their own way. She knew that, but she also knew that explaining that that was why she knew Tartaglia would only put him and more importantly, herself, in danger under the silver-haired man’s ire. “As for my involvement…”

Yelan crossed her arms now, a bit annoyed that she had to explain herself, but knew it was a bit inevitable. Tartaglia was right, this was far from her style. However, “If someone visiting Fontaine from Liyue was hurt because of some murder-hungry Snezhnayan, I wouldn’t exactly be happy.”

Looking to the ground, Yelan nodded. Maybe her explanation was noble, maybe it was a cop-out. Despite that, she understood herself best, and understood that she acted as Liyue’s vanguard from all corners. “I think the three of us should work together. We have the same goal in mind, and if I’m right,” She looked up, eyes meeting those of the silver-haired man, “you aren’t exactly from here. At least Childe and I could help you navigate without getting lost. You two guys are pretty strong, too,” ‘almost annoyingly so, if that fight was anything to say,’  “which could be pretty intimidating to any murderers lurking around Fontaine’s sewers. You two can take the reward when all is said and done, I’ll just… leave my involvement as a footnote. Are you guys in agreement?”

next up -> @eachdawn

[eachdawn]

the name the ginger-haired man gives himself is strange --- child? why would he call himself that? --- and it's even more evident that he and the woman ( who introduced herself as yelan, which seems like a much more normal name ) know one another to some degree... as her blue strings dissipate, phainon turns dawnmaker down to brace the tip of the massive blade against the stone underfoot as he listens to both of these strangers speak.

mr. child never leaves pale peripheries completely, even when ms. yelan explains herself: the other man could feign affront all he liked. something in the shade of his darker blue eyes still felt wrong, cold, familiar in an unsettling way that made skin crawl and the hand holding on to his own blade's hilt tighten. not the suspect in this case, the intervening woman says: the suspect is from snezhnaya, he hears --- and that was why mr. child insists he'll bring him in.

finally, ms. yelan makes her offer, one to work together --- and gaze focuses on her more squarely at last as phainon shakes his head with a flat, barely-present, polite smile. "no." it was a complete sentence on its own, but her courtesy to at least make the offer of assistance pushes him to explain the refusal. "if I've followed correctly, none of us are from here --- you are from a place called liyue, right, ms. yelan?... and mr. child is from the same snezhnaya as the killer hiding in these sewers. so, in actuality, I cannot rely on either of you to know these sewers any better than me, can I? I've worked my way this far alone, and I see no issue with continuing that way." hand holding dawnmaker turns the blade, and it dismisses in a shimmering golden glow: steps start up again, and with a nod, he steps past ms. yelan to head out of the large central cistern towards one of the corridors that branch off of it.

once he's nearly there, phainon turns back to the pair: "the two of you clearly know one another, too --- at least far more than I know either of you. and if you did know me as well as you know each other, I would imagine you'd know the reward for this killer is of no interest to me, either. in fact, I -- "

the sentence cannot finish --- heartbeat skips in his chest as a sudden, distant, sharp wail echoes down the corridor behind him.

@tartagliare.

[eachdawn]

[ TRAP ]: listen...this what not what i started out writing

When asked what kind of character a good leader must have…

Jing Yuan would laugh lightly, sidestepping the conversation with enough idle pleasantries to fill the space of the interview. Far be it for his own opinions to shape the nature and expectations to those rising through the ranks.

Pleasant silence fills the space, the gentle click of a hand-carved chess piece ringing a note that only enhances the false sway of an evening breeze. As he does after every move, Jing Yuan’s attention shifts to study the man at the other end of the board.

What will you do next? He doesn’t ask it, respectful of the concentration that’s made him momentarily silent. They’ve played a few games – virtual starchess has been something he hasn’t indulged in often, far preferring the physical company of another. There are still some that surprise him in how enjoyable they can be.

Sometimes, Jing Yuan’s victories are swift. Other times, like now, the board arranges itself into a map of certain destruction. Should his opponent choose, he could make the move that would end the game immediately. Or, he could linger within the general’s well-laid trap for a slow, painful defeat…perhaps hoping that the General would make a misstep that would turn the tide.

Whichever path he would take, the thrill is in the answer. Perseverance, willpower, strategy, hope – all the kind of steadfast qualities that might make a desirable leader.

At least, in his very humble opinion.

nonverbal meme: oh my god these are ancient but if you still want to send please do

the game the man across from him is playing seems to have a strategy to it: pieces with different shapes and sizes, vaguely familiar with rules he only somewhat recalls. this game does exist somewhere in amphoreus, even if he didn't frequently play, even if it looked much more like tangible pieces of wood and ivory instead of part of a digital display. what he could recall was that the two pieces in the center of the last row were the most important, with one being the piece that would cost the game and another being the strongest player: the little horse-like ones also move in an odd pattern, don't they?...

of the board games he does know better than this one, where it is played with two players working against one another... one of the best strategies is always playing the other player, more than actual game. silver brows furrow as he watches the other man's hand move pieces across the board, and his own slide in almost a strange mirror, slightly twisted and a few spaces off. his opponent has something in mind, that much is clear from his movements: phainon tries to keep track of what the other pieces do as they move.

finally, when a look on the other man's face seems to indicate that his strategy is fully set, phainon glances down at the board again: he's waiting for something, isn't he? which piece does he expect him to move? the queen, probably... there's a clear opening there to take several pieces in a few turns. but that would leave the king open, wouldn't it?...

then, blue eyes return with a smile: his hand moves to grab one of his own pawns at the far right of the board, then pushes it a single space forward, primed to be quickly whisked away and off the board. "your turn again. I have to say, if it hasn't been clear by now... I'm only vaguely familiar with this game: please do let me know if a move I make is against the rules of play."

[twilighthealer]

friendship solves all (including theft) (๑>؂•̀๑)

[twilighthealer]

Jarilo VI held a great number of unknowns, specifically in regards to organic life. The natural really super icy setting allowed for a select few species to survive its harsh winters. Apparently, it was… warmer??? Now??? How cold were the seasons before?!? 

Last time she was here to strictly have fun, hard ask with the Professor but Hyacine did always love a challenge! Or so she’d say if he was around, otherwise she had a pretty good time all things considered. Fortunately for him, he was not! Instead, she was being escorted by Lord Phainon!! And this time! She was here strictly for the pursuit of furthering the Grove. Aka collecting cool flower samples for the Grove. 

“Thank you for joining me, Lord Phainon! It’s much appreciated,” she said, beaming at the much taller Chrysos Heir. If she were to be very completely honest with herself, the truth of the matter didn’t lie within gaining samples for the Grove. She could easily brave that on her own or with Little Ica. But rather… Lord Phainon carried a little too much, if something like this allowed him to relax, it’d all be worth it. 

Dooooon’t know if he’d join me if I voiced that out loud though, hehe! So super spy Hyacine was undercover!! “The flower shop should be just up ahead! There are a few flora that I think would be good for the Grove… oh! But if you find any of them interesting, let me know! Personal taste matters a lot too.”

The familiar building of the flower shop drew ever closer as did its… broken windows…? Hyacine paused, a few steps away from the entrance. Did something happen? Ah… this isn’t going to be as relaxing like this, is it? A rather selfish thought to have when the matter was likely distressing to the florist. She looked over to Lord Phainon. 

“There may be a story behind the broken glass, should we ask the florist about it?”

Hopefully, it wasn’t anything too bad… 

The desired flora may be of lesser concern with this new development. Not that it was particularly high before but well… hard not to become irrelevant when there were signs of a break in. Ah, well, there was always next time! 

꒰ @eachdawn ꒱

[eachdawn]

it seemed a perfectly reasonable proposal: who wouldn't see the value in studying plant life that can grow even somewhere as cold as this? it did remind him that there was an old tome from a scholar in the grove wherein the writer documented the impacts of plants spreading to different environments than those they are accustomed to, and sometimes even causing issues for the plants that were there first... invasive species spread by kremnoan invaders, it was titled. the authoring scholar really spared no blame for any other persons in his study of the phenomena, either...

regardless: so long as the plants found here were grown in a controlled environment... what's the worst that could happen? he's tempted to bring up this thought to the petite teaching assistant next to him, before she speaks up with thanks for his company and a sighting of the flower shop: he nods and turns to her while they get to the door. "do you think any could have useful medicinal properties, miss hyacine? I'm not well-versed enough in botany to know what to look for in that respect, but I'd imagine it would be of much interest to you and the rest of the grove." but when he looks back up again, phainon notices it, too --- some sort of commotion has just happened outside the flower shop. "... oh. oh, no... yes, let's head inside and see if everything is alright with the owner. broken glass like this can't be great for her business."

once inside, pale blue eyes spot a few armored guards seem to be taking the florist's report: a woman with auburn hair speaks emphatically as she pushes a novel of some sort to the side on the counter. "I'm telling you --- one of the most valuable bulbs I've grown here was taken! I think I saw the thief heading for the underground... whoever it was, they were short, and in a hood, and... they ran off with it after breaking in before I even opened!"

one of the guards is scribbling down notes --- the other raises his hands in front of him as he speaks to try and calm her. "miss vaska, please -- we understand that this is a major loss for your business. but... isn't your shop insured? you'll need to contact your agent for that, we don't want to spend resources hunting down someone who stole a flower in the underground." the other guard lifts the notepad towards the one speaking, and circles a question with his pen, which the first then asks. "was anything else of value taken?"

miss vaska, presumably the shop's proprietor, shakes her head. "just the bulb, and there's also some broken windows... but listen, it's worth more than its monetary value! that flower is one of a kind! you really won't go looking for it?"

phainon's elbow nudges hyacine once: head tilts as well to speak softly to her. "think we could help? sounds like she's in quite the bind."

[eachdawn]

small warmth in the snowdrifts.

in which there may or may not eventually be a race to the death with @mydcimos.

[mydcimos]

They’re not awful creatures when observed up close – and in this, he has no choice. The little one cries in the palm of his hand while the other draws short lines of golden blood with tiny claws. As always, the Deliverer misses the mark of significance completely, drawn to some inane knowledge from some dusty, destroyed book.

( In any other setting, perhaps he would be interested to hear more )

As for whether or not Castrum Kremnos kept records of such extinct creatures (of course they had), he ignores it. These kinds of conversations only slow them down. Distract from the objective at hand.  

“What they are called doesn’t matter.” His voice pitches lower, an irritation that’s born only because he knows that Phainon is skilled in such distractions. “We should have left them.” They still could drop the bears and go…the blonde observes Phainon with measured consideration – how long before the other decided to name the beasts? The mobile bear has climbed over his shoulder now, half hidden by hair as it tries to burrow into the pauldron on his left shoulder.

Despite this, he follows further into the forest. Whatever tracks the other bears had left have already been blown over by the breeze. “Five …” He considers calling them chimera, to humor himself and agitate his companion, watching Phainon from his peripherals. “Bears. I will assume that your skill with a blade does not translate to hunting prey.” How could it? Only the light of the Dawn Device made Ohkema habitable – everything outside the walls had been dead or dying for decades.

“A challenge. Whoever can find them first…?” It’s unlike their usual battles…but then, this planet is an unusual field all of its own.

[eachdawn]

"tracking bears down in a chilly forest..." quiet falls between them as the offer is considered. it certainly wasn't his first impulse of a challenge to make out of this --- instead, phainon was considering who could tame one best before they found where the cubs belong, or seeing who could come up with the best name. ( he wonders if mydei expects exactly that. then again, who knows what he's thinking, truly?... )

after a few more moments pacing along in the snow, a noise aside from the crunch underfoot comes from below in the form of a soft, small grunt: the bear snuggled into his own arms and against his chest nuzzles a little closer, and yawns slightly before burying its face in the bend of one arm. "sure, I'll even concede your head start of two bear cubs to my little one. if there were only four total, couldn't that result in a tie? or is it two still out there... either way, let's get moving."

several more minutes pass, and the trail of small paw prints in the snow starts to fade into no clear forward path as they run over a large patch of exposed tundra, doubtlessly thawing under cool sunlight overhead. phainon's steps slow as pale eyes strain to look for even the smallest indentation in the damp dirt... but after considering it further, he starts to walk around the perimeter of the bare patch of tundra to look for the cubs' path forward.

as he walks, phainon calls back to the other man --- "so, if you're so sure I have no hunting skills, does that mean you have them yourself, mydei? I do actually know a thing or two about fishing." though, as he thinks on it... there was a trick galba had tried to teach him once that he practiced with small pests in the wheat fields. but he never had the opportunity to learn enough from the village hunters back home, did he?... feet stop in front of where paw prints seem to resume, diverting off to the right towards denser forest: then, phainon turns up to mydei with a smile. "let me guess. you're able to hunt and feed yourself for weeks on wild dromas meat, if need be?"

[eachdawn]

never fear, deliverer² are here!

board c, night 1 featuring caelus & phainon,

[trailblczed]

❛ Pah! 'Tis but a flesh-wound. ❜

The silver dismisses with a weak hand wave, even as his extremely poor posture and body language would state otherwise. It's fine though, they've been through far worse like taking a giant ice spear to the chest. Doesn't make the exhaustion any less heavy. Besides, there seems to be more pressing matters at hand- aside from the never-ending-fragmentum-monsters.

Caelus obviously isn't surprised to see others out in the wild, but he is a tad surprised to find a single Silvermane Guard just.. hanging around. Well, not "hanging out" like chilling, more like ten seconds away from death kind of "hanging on".

They don't have a whole lot on them in terms of medical supplies, but one glance at the snow haired man and Caelus knows they're on the same page. Rather clumsily, likely due to the lingering soreness and the need for a power nap, Caelus fishes out what bandages he can out of his coat.

The Nameless remains uncharacteristically quiet- partly because he's trying to focus ( listen he's only treated injures a handful of times, he doesn't want to mess it up! ) and partly because he doesn't want to ask the elephant in the room. "Where is the rest of your squad?" He knows. They all know.

.... such is the way of the battlefield.

[eachdawn]

the soldier made it, and some time later, he was just barely able to stand: arms move to hoist the man's weight partly onto shoulders as they walk back. another night gradually comes to a close, with creatures fought and comrades found --- as dawn rises and turns the graywashed darkness that surrounds them into a more pale silver, he turns to caelus while they head back to camp. "starting to think there's no end to these things, haha..." with this guard now in their care, they hadn't even cleared the last of the ones they saw in the night before the sun rose over the horizon.

day and night being so cyclical here so innately... there's deep, ancient memories of pale eyes that lost their shine watching amphoreus do the same, before aquila inevitably cowered, before the dawn device became the root of a powerful lie... those sights in the back of his mind blend together strangely when provoked by this frigid, frozen planet. still...

phainon brings up another subject as they had back to camp, even with the rescued guard balanced here between each shoulder. "partner, you seem to know all sorts of people, madam herta aside --- is there anyone else here fighting with us I should know more about?"

[mydcimos]

𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖈𝖊, 𝖓𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒌 - [ 𝒎𝒚𝒅𝒆𝒊 / 𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒏 ]

[mydcimos]

For seconds, his eyes are liquid gold with disbelief as he stares at the waning flames. His crimson robe still pools in his hands, the material thick and resilient in the face of countless battles. The flame it would provide the people huddled around would burn for much, much longer than the flimsy soles of Phainon’s boots.

Was it a willful rejection, or did the other simply fail to grasp the situation?

Did Mydei have a handle on it? Of course he did, even if numb fingers attach the robe to its place once more, following Phainon’s suggestion. “Your clothes are replaceable,” He seethes, trailing as they step away from the camp. Even this far from the fire, the temperature drops considerably. His fists clench reflexively, drawing whatever warmth he can. “Never thought you’d be afraid of ice and snow.”

It’s a taunt. It’s disdain. It’s something distorted heavily by the weight of their situation. Mydei himself doesn’t know, would rather have an enemy to defeat over this crippling freeze. “Break the windows. The homes may offer something of value.” That he sounds like a regular thief is not lost on him.

@eachdawn

[eachdawn]

little more than an exasperated huff answers mydei's assertion as they start to walk away from the camp: if they burned these clothes and no new ones came before the fire went out... what then, mydeimos?... the thought makes pale blue shoot a glare back at the suggestion that he could fear the cold --- but mydei's next words draw attention to something else. they're coming up on a row of dark homes, abandoned by families seeking warmer shelter elsewhere with their community. a sigh follows, which turns to a fog of chilled vapor the moment it leaves lips: "... you mean to suggest we steal clothes to burn that aren't currently being worn and used?..."

but, he thinks back to the local armored man he'd met days before, and helped carry donated furniture to communal bonfires... maybe it wasn't that outrageous of an idea to check the closets. "breaking the windows will subject the interiors of these homes to even colder conditions and potentially damage their interior. let's... at least check the doors first." phainon walks over to the first door, and tries the handle with a few firm jiggles and a push --- surprisingly, it gives, with wood scraping against the frigid stone threshold below.

a blink of mild surprise, but phainon glances back to mydei --- "come on, let's head inside." from a first glance as he turns back and steps in... looks like the place had already been ransacked and picked over of anything obviously useful, but several books and rugs are strewn about. probably why the door was left unlocked in the first place...

[eachdawn]

never fear, deliverer² are here!

board c, night 1 featuring caelus & phainon,

[trailblczed]

Caelus almost points out how it wouldn't be weird for a Hero to not know every single person, but that many would know the Hero. That, however, is perhaps for another time. The Nameless similarly notes movement just beyond their make-shift camp's area. Seems like they really are Partners- twinsies Deliverers- as Caelus is already booking it after the large beast. He can't let it get to base camp, he can't let it get to the city, he can't--

❛ C'mon slow-poke! Bet I can catch it before you can. ❜

The silver calls over his shoulder, far too sing-song-y for the situation. In Caelus' defense, this isn't anything too new for him.. and it's easier to handle things if you turn it all into a joke. While he teases, the pair pretty much catch up in-sync, slicing into the Ice cream man like the amazing duo they were back in Amphoreous. At least some things don't change, eh?

Unfortunately for them, a blizzard rushes in during the middle of their fight, making it rather hard to see more than a few feet in front of them. Drat, and the creature was almost defeated, too! The storm is so heavy that they wander around ( not too far, but still trying to relocate the fragmentum monster ) for half an hour before the twins nearly crash into it.

Further misfortune comes as they seemingly can't land another hit, only going blow for blow with the creature for a few minutes- only to them get repeatedly smacked and impaled with frost. Man, look at all my lost HP!

❛ Ugh... think you might wanna go all OP Boss mode soon? That'd probably help- ❜

They're not losing the fight, they are just.. getting some bad RNG.

[eachdawn]

"hm?..." a single hum asks caelus' request to clarify itself, after several hours more of exploring the territory around them and following the largest creatures they can find through blizzard conditions... maybe he was still mentally recovering from that, and half-bewildered that the two of them didn't get separated in all that. but as he thinks on it more... it clicks. oh. he means... "oh. haha... no, I don't think that's really necessary, here. not yet, at least..."

especially not with the others they could rely on around here. especially not with the risk that drawing that part of himself forward could pose with so many allies in close proximity... if a time came where that was the way they decided to go --- pulling out a form, a side of himself that could scar the land beneath this snow permanently, perhaps --- things would be quite dire indeed. "anyway. for now... we can try and hunt that big fellow down again, I suppose. but... how are you feeling right now, partner? that thing hit us pretty hard a few times before the snow swept in."

[eachdawn]

never fear, deliverer² are here!

board c, night 1 featuring caelus & phainon,

[trailblczed]

The Nameless lets out a dreamy sigh at the reminder of Belobog's wondrous varieties of trash cans, a hand coming to his chest in slight theatrics.

❛ Belobog is the one and only place that gets me. ❜

Caelus swoons, clearly teasing-- mostly. Places and People are two very different things. His swoon quickly transitions into a soft snort.

❛ "Compromise", eh? .. Yeah. Relic grinding sounds fun. Plus, you still have way more to teach me about trying to spot fakes- uh.. counterfeits? But, I can agree to the lack of moldy injest-ables. Even I know it's pretty icky. ❜

Though he bathes- REGULARLY!!- Caelus can admit that the things that aren't worthy finds are kinda gross. He can ignore the yucky if it means he can have his collection of goodies ( and a shower ) afterward. The walk from "base camp" to one of the outer areas was rather quick, though they do say "time flies when you're in good company"... or something like that.

It's easy enough to spot what they're out here for- fragmentum monsters. Caelus is used to these annoying creatures, has been for over two years now, so being able to notice it from a decent amount away is practically second nature. Mostly wanting to at least make the Grind™ less boring, Caelus decides- in his tactical brilliance- to chuck his Galactic Bat into the white void. Unsurprisingly, the bat nails its target, shattering one of the Frostspawn's wings off.

Pleased and proud, the silver then proceeds to summon the flaming lance... only to similarly ya-yeet his trusted weapon as a follow-up attack ( hey devs, can we make that part of the next Path's kit? ) to finish the monster off. Man with this kind of aim, maybe he should have March teach him how to use a bow... being stuck with only melee weapons kinda sucks.

With an almost-skip in his step, Caelus catches up to his tossed weapons to retrieve them- even picking up some mob materials that got dropped for his troubles. Score!

❛ Why were you so interested in Herta, anyway? Did you get to meet her? I'd be shocked, since she's pretty busy most the time. Hell, if I even try to text her a lot of the time I get an automated "please try again later" message. ❜

The Nameless asks so casually- unfazed- as if he didn't just do something completely ridiculous. Dan Heng probably sighing out there somewhere already aware of the silver's tomfoolery- like how people sneeze when someone is talking about them.

[eachdawn]

the conversation returns once they've cut through nearly all the creatures here, with several strikes of blade and lance working in quick succession --- the topic of miss herta again, in particular. posture straightens as he stabs dawnmaker into a snowbank, and shakes out a slight cramp in one hand as he thinks back to when he met her the other day. "mm... she came up to me not too long ago and seemed to know exactly who I was," that in itself was an oddity --- she was no resident of amphoreus. and he hadn't met her in the trotter race, nor had he run into her anywhere else he could think of... so, truly, why had her tone carried so many expectations? "... considering the circumstances, of which I'm sure you're well-aware... I find it odd that someone I've never met before would seem to know who I am from a look alone. does this aeon you've mentioned bless her with knowledge of all things in the universe?...." perhaps he doesn't expect an answer to that question: instead of lingering on it, phainon scans the area around them now that the dust has cleared.

a glance spies another monster, far off in the distance... but it's not close enough to give them much trouble, providing a chance to set up camp here and hold down the snowbound territory. "she also... essentially referenced you taking on the title that I once held. that level of knowledge seems more like what I'd expect of you, or someone more like lygus, the theoros." it's still so strange to consider everything around who that automaton was and what implications it had for amphoreus' existence, but... after a few more moments contemplating it, phainon shakes his head, then glances around to assess their surroundings. "anyway... I think we should set up camp here for the rest of the evening, and keep an eye on the monsters on the horizon: they're sure to try and break through sometime soon."

dawn eventually comes: then, a brief day turns into another night.

at sundown, creatures flood into snow-covered land just beyond their range of view: seems their watch was coming to a close. when he rises again from a fire they've set up to keep warm, phainon grips dawnmaker's hilt again. "partner --- one of the largest monsters is heading south of us. think we should try and chase it down?"