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@entropynchaos
Ind. roleplay and ask blog for a fandomless oc inspired by TMA
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Promo drawn by @townofcadence
can axolotls survive in a gallon bucket of sprite
Yeah they can but you really shouldn't.
"...." Artair frowns. Mock is making about as much sense as Lock ever does. The cartwheel is just the way he is when he is distorted: if there is one thing Lock detests, it is being predictable.
Which makes this difficult. They didn't sense anything, and that's obvious. So is Mock lying, to trick them over something so achingly obvious in order to laugh at them later after wasting time? Or is it more unpredictable to tell the truth here, when a lie would feel so obvious that being honest is more of a shock?
They consider, but there's really only one way not to regret their decision.
".... Alright." They cross their arms. "I trust you enough to double check. Where is it, though? And what do you mean about light and fear?"
Mock bursts out into a fit of laughter at what they say, as if they've just told the funniest joke imaginable. They laugh and laugh and eventually have to catch their breath! It wipes a tear from it's eye. "I'm surprised you don't know! But I suppose there's a lot about your insides that you're unaware of~!" He says it in a sing-song voice, hands held behind his back as he spins in a circle on one heel.
He doesn't seem to actually answer any of the questions, though. "A basement is a funny place, isn't it! I couldn't count on allllll of my hands how many people have been buried alive in basements! I would very much like to see someone buried alive in at attic, at some point!" He's rocking on his heels again, eyes trained up towards the roof of the basement. "Tell me Artair, what do you think is the most tragic part of a house?"
âStairs Appear in a Hole Outside of Town,â by John Philip Johnson and Julian Peters (Rattle #38, Winter 2012)
They are used to the worst of what Lock is capable of, even just in presence alone. So a tinnitus laugh is nothing next to his usual attempts to make you spiral. Artair only shows a slight wince initially as it sets in, before it is smoothed away from their face. At least Lock in this form isn't nearly so headache-inducing. Except when he talks and says nonsensical things that imply he knows a little too much. But by now, that was par for the course.
"....What creature?" They tilt their head at him, brows furrowing further. "I just searched this place from top to bottom. There isn't anything of that level here, as far as I can tell. I'm pretty sure the rumors have to be a false alarm. Definitely not something of a universe breaking kind of magnitude."
Anything that was here was just.... natural, for a place in the word. There was nowhere anyone could go that wouldn't have spirits and motes and ghosts in some quantity. But nothing here was strong enough to make a ripple in the mundane world. Liminal spaces like these just evoked a sense of unease in humans; they were born of magical leyline 'capillaries', where the veil between physical and the magical were so much thinner. That led to uncanny feelings and senses of something off, no matter how mundane the place actually was on the human side. They did tend to host a lot of entities who enjoyed the bleed-through of energy, and sometimes humans that were more sensitive might pick up on them and the in-between spaces, but it was ultimately harmless. Just a place that felt uncanny enough to generate a few stories.
This one was no different. And with something like themself here, it was all the more obvious there wasn't anything substantial enough to call it haunted. Nothing that wasn't about as haunted as any other place in existence.
"The one we're here to investigate, of course!" Mock parrots the response to the question, as if it hadn't already said that. They reach to run a hand through their hair, finger twirling one of the locks there before pulling away once more. "As for the rumors, those are most certainly not true, as far as we know! I'm looking into something that is new here, that is trapped so very in between that I'm not surprised you wouldn't have found it!" He laughs, steps forward, and does a cartwheel. They kick something over in the effortless move, but don't seem to care.
"Oooh silly Artair, aren't you lucky you've got the likes of me here~?" He's smiling so much, something that looks genuinely warm and delightful on the chubby cheeks it's donned. He looks just like Mason did, almost as much as he doesn't. "The thing we're here to find is absolutely of a universe breaking magnitude! Or at least-- it will be." He giggles. "Potentially, anyway! But you know what they say, darkness begets darkness and all that. Funny thing to think though, when you're talking about light and fear!"
"Ha HA! Some people are crazy~..."
@entropynchaos Sent: a part of the universe had been hollowed out and the firmament was now permanently dark!
".....I understand what the words you are using mean, but what the fuck are you talking about." Not that Lock saying batshit things isn't normal for him. But the sky here isn't even dark, and they're inside in the basement, so they can't even see if it was.
Lock laughs at that. He laughs and he laughs but it doesn't splinter off into echos and fade away like normal. No of course not, not now, not that they had or ever would do that. Right now they are Mock, a version of itself that looks like a mashed together version of both Lock and Mason. Lock made it though of course, vaguely told Artair it would help him 'blend in' more. If anything, the laughter just triggers some ringing in the ears. But surely that was unrelated.
He rolls his eyes, and rocks back onto his heels in animated gesture. "I'm talking about the creature I'm here to investigate, of course..! The one that you are going to investigate with me!"
I Don't Know
Sits Artair down in an office chair and spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins himspins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him-
@entropynchaos // Unprompted!
Help him
This is his new eternal torment
"Ooh this is the MOST entertaining thing that has happened in a very long time! I will be taking notes! Side note, I am also afraid of horses now!"
There's an overwhelming surge of something through his veins, adrenaline that he's unsure he needs; Lock is close, and he's saying things, dangerous things, but he knows Lock would never aim to harm him without purpose. Probably. Maybe. He hopes. But the sensation is static and spiders that crawl just beneath his flesh and set his breath to quickened exhales. Lock's hands are on him and he's in his space and looks ready to hurt him, says he is in every word. His brain blanks out at the sudden dump of everything through his system. He can't read him. He doesn't know Lock's intent. Lock is saying those things and so dreadfully in his space and--
He grabs Lock's curly hair, and as it wraps like tendrils around his hands and arms, he pulls that long neck down for an upside-down kiss. It is intense and fierce, and it gives him several seconds to think and catch up-- though honestly he's just shocked at himself too. Still, he uses the surprise to his advantage. His hands reach for shoulders while still in the kiss, and clamp to Lock's own, before heaving his light, slender body over his shoulders and down to the ground in front of him.
"Th---that first time wasn't a fight!" He pants, red-faced and wide eyes. "You were coming after me like some shit from a horror movie and crawling all over the place! That--- it doesn't count!" He shakes a finger at him just to-- do something with his hand.
Lock's seems unfazed at first when Artair grabs at his hair and yanks his head down, a movement heralded by a cacophony of bone and meat shifting and breaking and tearing beneath his skin. His eyes widen when he's kissed, though. Somehow, he hadn't expected it. Not that he had any expectations really, but the little eye never ceased to keep him on his toes. It was magnetic. Oh how he wanted him, oh how he wanted to be him. But if they were him, he wouldn't get to experience the surprises anymore. Not like this. Lock's eyes close, and despite the kiss of which he returns, Artair can feel the grin growing on his face.
And the next thing he knows he's in the air, gangly too long limbs flailing before his back hits the ground. He lands like he's made of lead, and bounces like a spring. And oh how he laughs. He laughs and he laughs and he laughs, and every painting and mirror and door laughs with him. "Perhaps I wasn't talking about that, then! Don't you remember our real fight, little eye? For a fount of knowledge you certainly have quite the gaps in memory!"
His body begins to contort then, twist and turn and break in every way until he's on all fours, like a spider waiting to jump. Was that sensation a spider crawling up Artair's back, under his shirt? "Doesn't this mean we need a redo?"
Butch can definitely sense something very off about this stranger; he can feel him in front of him and behind him at the same time, like a chaotic orbiting essence. Like a million eyes watching him from every angle and yet not all at once. He's never felt something so discordant tied to one single being before, but it's very reminiscent of... of The Other Realm. Was this guy a product of his past? One he had tried to forget? Now he's second guessing himself.
Butch's grin falters and then slowly fades, his eyes darting off to the side and a brow raising in uncertainty. He's almost positive he's never seen this guy before in his life. He's sure he would have remembered a fella so unique in appearance, so.... unsettling. Even the way that smile meets his eyes and nearly nearly splits his face is enough to make a chill crawl down his spine, but... but why?
Abruptly, his hat is pushed over his face, obstructing his view and he scrambles to push the rim out of his eyes and to adjust his bangs. "Wh--hey, now! What're ya-- how would I know ya? Yer fuckin' with me." He asserts, all the playfulness he had held in his tone before having diminished.
When the hat is lifted from Butch's face, Lock is behind him. He always has been, after all. Hands with fingers too long and too pointed at the ends wrap around Butch's shoulders to hold him. "Oooh!" The sound bounces with giddy laughter. "My what a change, what happened to your fluster? Red does suit you, you know! Are you not still charmed by my forwardness and spontaneity?"
He leans over the other, so tall that he can hang his head upside down and be face to face with Butch again. Was that... anatomically possible, even? "You've got lots of experience with me, you know! Though it has been quite some time... I'm sure you've missed me though, haven't you?" He beams.
"I heard somebody looooved ponies! So I hired this one to stare at you, you're welcome!"
@arcanescholxr
Artair does not laugh. He hardly speaks, advancing on Lock instead. The words do not seem to have any impact, green eyes locked on him like they would any other prey. The expression he wears is porcelain.
"You are nothing." He finally answers, flat and factual tone. "I would never be like you. I am not weak enough for you to prey on. You are just a human that could not leave, and a hallway pretending to be something that matters. Entertain me, at least."
Eyes open in the lingering, growing shadows, green and acid like paintings that come and go. They are all fixated on Lock. Artair swings his knife, but it is not where Lock is seeming to stand. No, because with this skill that isn't his, he knows the truth, and it cuts through the distortions of Lock like his knife will sever his flesh.
"Is that what you think?" Lock giggles, seemingly unbothered by the statement. His head tilts, grin amused. "Oh tell me how you truly feel, little cloudy eye! I would never want to be you-- perhaps Artair, but not you. You don't seem very fun. But I still think you would be tasty!"
It's all fun and games, all joyful playfulness. All of the growing shadows and opening eyes, all of the staring and the seeing. All of it is fine. Until a blade slices into him, bringing forth a small spurt of what appears to be liquid static. In an instant Lock's own eyes widen, his grin falls and he takes a step back, hand raising to the surprise wound. He never stops grinning, the merriment on his face does not fade, even when it does. And he-- laughs, but it's a bit more stuttery of a sound than it should be. "Ahah-ha-- aa?"
He looks at this not-Artair, as if seeing him for the first time. He can see him..?
"What the fuck! That hardly seems fair, cloudy little eye! Don't you know how to have any fun?"
á( â˘Ě ︿â˘Ě )á
@entropynchaos // Challenged to a Fight
"Um." He's not really sure what to say, because there's really no way to predict Lock and what he's planning. Lock could easily mean it to be helpful--- but sometimes his idea of help was teaching you to fly by shoving you off a cliff. And he did seem to have a bit of a thing about being especially random lately, to a point of causing him some real stress just to prove he would? So this felt just as much as an offer for help and practice as it did a trap ready to be sprung.
".....Can I ask why you'd even want to?" He finally manages, tilting his head.
"Are you nervous, Artair? You certainly smell like it!" The sound of his laughter fills the space, echoing and swirling around Artair as if it truly had a presence of its own. Lock is behind Artair, he always has been even if he was just in front of him a moment ago. Long hands land on Artair's shoulder, and a grinning face leans into view, eyes closed.
"I suppose I couldn't blame you, the last time we fought you were awfully sloppy! Do you think you've improved any? Do you think you could stop me from tearing you apart atom from atom? Stop me from devouring you whole, little eye?" His voice is so jovial, it's too discordant from his words to settle correctly. A long, sharp hand draws back slowly, looking as if it's about to slash or stab. The other hand is still clamped to Artair's shoulder.
"What are you going to do, Artair?"
âââ
Send " âââ " for your muse to suddenly and unexpectedly kiss mine. // @entropynchaos
Butchâs brows jump up to his forehead when out of nowhere a tall mysterious stranger plants one right on him! His face flushes somewhat when he finally gets a good look at the odd fella, albeit with wide blue eyes.
âW-Wellâhowdy, tall, pale, anâ handsome~ ya usually tha stranger smoochinâ type or âm I jusâ some kinda special~?â The demon blooded cowboy rubs his warm cheek, a cheesy gap toothed grin accompanying his words.
When they pull back, Lock laughs and laughs, the sound echoing out of a grin so wide it nearly splits his face. He stands before Butch, no, behind-- no, he's definitely still in front of him. Most likely. Either way he's leaned down to see him better.
A hand much too long and much too sharp at the edges lifts, pushing Butch's hat onto his face. When had he taken it?
"My what taste you have!" His voice is high, chittering, and sounds endlessly amused. "Oh but you're hardly a stranger to me, don't you remember?"