unimatronic:
Yes, yes, yes, YES. A Child of Linduru is forever a Child, as she always says! Of course they’d be drawn here. Don’t you know? Silly Artem, always so formal and so flustered. Just because you have a personal vendetta against Decay herself doesn’t mean you should take it out on all her Children!
Or does it?
After all, God Eaters do have personal vendettas against those from the God War that weren’t on their “side.” Really, though, such justification to hunt down and murder innocent lives who have different opinions is such a drag. Couldn’t they all just, you know… get over themselves and get a life?
The Librarian lurks in the shadows, well aware that a God Eater has entered his safe space. There’s just something about being imprisoned for centuries by them that really puts one on high alert! He’s trying not to laugh as Artem makes his way through reception and into the bowels of hell itself, or rather, the Daycare after hours. Lib knows well he’s not the only one here who hates intruders, and is quite eager to see how well his new friends take to being intruded upon by someone so vicious as to carry a gun around.
“Oh deary me,” his voice carries out through the shadows, masked by the echo his mechanical suit makes, “what ever did I do to invite such fantastic company as Artem Satei?”
He knows exactly what he did. He’s just determined to make this man’s life worse than it already was.
Ooooof course he’d do that. The voice is loud enough to echo through the dead cavern of the main hall, through the courtyard that currently lay open and inviting to him. Since there’s no glass separating the two, Artem can step freely from the halls into the gravel-ridden courtyard and find his bearings. The air is surprisingly fresh for such an old place, and he swears he can feel a thousand ghosts staring at him all at once, judging him for whatever sin he committed in coming here. It’s unsettling, but his nerves render him stoic enough to withstand the fear the other would’ve caused. At least for now.
He takes his time in replying to the demon, fixated instead on making sure he knows his exits and ways to get out should they be blocked off somehow. There’s a rotten gate in the far left corner of the courtyard he could squeeze through if absolutely necessary. The reception behind him, however, seems to be the only place viable enough to exit. There’s no scaling any of these walls.
A daycare turned death trap. Just where he wanted to be. In the distance, a child giggles.
“Y’know, y’could make it easier on the both of us,” he feels the walls crawling with life, sees the shadows moving and twisting out of the corners of his eyes. “You could turn yourself in, and we’d go back home peacefully.”
As if that’d ever happen.
