oh, hear me.

hello and welcome to cake's multi-muse rp blog! this is going to be much easier than making individual rp accounts, especially now that i barely have time to rp as it is, so please enjoy~. you can find the muse list on the last button from the above menu!

[musing-lullabies-blog]

When Mikoto spoke scathingly of the Kings, Reisi’s gaze turned to him calmly, an even look of solemnity that spoke volumes of what Mikoto should recognize and find familiar, but he was sure he wouldn’t. The pain, the isolation, the burden of being a King. How it felt to stand in a crowded room and relate to no one there but another King. Not even clansmen could fathom what a King lived. They walked on a separate plane of life and they walked utterly alone.

However, Reisi was greeted with an unnerved man. These emotions that he had been witnessing since he arrived were so foreign on Mikoto’s face. The blue wondered if this what it had been like to have known Mikoto before he become the Red King, but part of Reisi recalled that amnesia could cause behavioral manifestations that may not have been there before. Mikoto had forgotten everything, or at least close to it. Even the burden of being King, Munakata thought to himself. His brow eased at the thought of how nice that must be.

But Mikoto was shrouded in mystery, for both the man himself and the people around him. Surely that was no better alternative.

Realizing that his gaze had fallen to the expanse of stone between their feet, Reisi sighed and looked back up to face Mikoto. He expected another unfamiliar expression and he got what he thought he would receive. Nothing could have prepared him for this sort of expression, however…

Suoh…was crying.

Thick, gleaming streams of tears trailed down Mikoto’s sun-kissed cheeks and Reisi was in awe. Such… Such an emotion Mikoto was capable of, of course Reisi knew that, any human could cry, but—

The Suoh that Munakata knew was strong, stubborn, selfish, and tired. Not one who was expected to cry easily, if at all.

Fumbling with his jacket, Reisi materialized a handkerchief and turned to face Mikoto entirely, facing practically parallel to the back of the bench. For a moment, he hesitated until he found the courage to raise his hand and gently swiped the cloth across Mikoto’s uncovered cheek. So careful was the gesture that Reisi noticed the cloth hadn’t even properly dried the man’s skin, so he swept it over his cheekbone once again.

"I…" How could he answer that… Any answer he could provide would hurt one of them or if he played his cards right, both of them. Licking his lips, Reisi forced himself to speak the truth. Mikoto deserved no less.

"Enemies, unlikely allies, friends, l…" He coughed unwillingly.

"Lovers…" Reisi’s eyes flickered to the bulge under Mikoto’s shirt, signifying the gauze that covered the wound. "I was also…your executioner… Or so I thought."

[ignisdei]

Shit. Fuck. God damn it all, this wasn't how he was supposed to be acting. The entire action of crying, the tightening in his chest, the unbidden tears that ran down his face and the ache at his throat were all so foreign that the entire situation was absolutely jarring. Suoh Mikoto did not cry and yet here he was, chest bouncing ever so slightly through ragged sobs that he tried to mute as best as possible. 

"I..." He warbled, voice thick as he tried to recompose himself, but his body remembered and slowly, his mind began to catch up. His head was bowed, hiding his face from the man before him as best as he could. He remembered his crowning, remembered his first two Clansmen. He remembered the fire that came from him that so frightened him for the longest time, but that was kept in check by ... Totsuka, all laughter and smiles, the brat. He remembered Izumo's calm demeanor that helped even out his own feral nature and Tatara's carefree attitude. 

Yata, Kamamoto. Anna. Everyone. HOMRA. 

Fushimi's betrayal. The subtle shift of his foot towards Munakata when he was asked to join him in the middle of their talk. It had hurt, singed at his heart but he'd respected Saruhiko's decision. He was not a dictator.

Then came Totsuka's murder.

The faintest touch tickled his cheek and, nearly instinctively, he pressed against the hand that wiped at his tears. His stomach was roiling, he felt like throwing up, but the barrage of memories of his past life wasn't yet finished. Enemies; yes, HOMRA and Scepter 4 was always at odds, fighting petty turf wars like children. Unlikely allies; but still, on occasion, they worked together for a common cause, even if it was while throwing bitter glances. Friends. 

Lovers.

His sobs had diminished to quiet, trembling sniffles, and even then, they were being smothered by the bite at Mikoto's lower lip. He bit, and bit hard, as he remembered Reisi's blade running through the bone of his sternum. He remembered the Blue's warm hand against his chest, and being supported as he faltered. Why hadn't he died?

Suoh's golden eyes, suddenly brimming with life and not just tears, but recognition. He panted, quietly, his heart racing but this time it didn't scare him. It thrilled him. It brought him life, one that he had lost up until however many minutes ago Reisi had reentered his life. Suddenly he felt too tight in his body, too small for the existence that was encased in his chest, and he felt himself spring and wrap strong arms around Reisi's comparatively smaller frame. He felt restless, lion's fangs bared, and before he knew it, he crushed hot lips against the other King's own with a force that was nearly enough to bruise. 

Sloppy, fervent, desperate. And between the licking flames of frenzy, he rasped in a breathless voice that asked for no answers, but instead chastised himself entirely. "... Why did I forget?" His voice no longer broke at intervals, no longer wavered as it had before, but it carried that much more familiar drawl piqued only slightly with emotion. He was ... back.

[musing-lullabies-blog]

The change of the atmosphere was almost stifling. Reisi was confused as to why he felt pinned down by Mikoto’s gaze and voice; he had done nothing wrong, he believed. All the blue had meant to accomplish by this visit that he would satisfy his own selfish desire to be in the presence of this man after so long — too long — and perhaps stir some memories within him. What was happening it felt might be a little more than he bargained for. There was immediate danger linked to Mikoto pushing his amnesia to its limits.

When calloused hands firmly latched onto his shoulders, Reisi’s stomach twisted in on itself and something in his chest nearly snapped. Ah, his touch. A whirl of relief, yearning, and anxiety started up like a tempest in his head and his heart. What was happening here was so much calmer than what it felt like to the blue. Outside, it was still, but within he was a storm.

Reisi’s lips pursed into an awkward line on his face beneath Mikoto’s finger. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to make an attempt at quelling the insanity within that felt like it might tear him apart. He must keep calm and collected. This was a crucial moment. With a gentle, well-meaning touch, Reisi shook away all traces of Mikoto’s touch from him and turned his head to look forward.

"I know you," he affirmed, opening his eyes once again and fixing his gaze on his fingers in his lap.

Surprisingly, thinking of how to answer the red one’s question was much more difficult than he ever could have anticipated. On one hand, he could be objective: explain who he was and his line of work, ending on the cold note that he was the one who caused his amnesia. On the other, he could be subjective: rebuild their relationship over the years from the ground up within Mikoto, hoping to remind him of the good and the bad, the questionable, the late nights at the bar that ended preferably at a hotel but usually Reisi’s own home…

"I am Reisi Munakata, the Blue King. You are Mikoto Suoh, the previous Red King." It was a start…but from there, he had nary a clue how to continue.

"I have been many things to you, both good and bad."

Fantastic, now his own chest was beginning to ache.

[ignisdei]

Being brushed off was understandable, but Mikoto still hesitated. He winced as he furled and unfurled his fingers, as if unsure that letting go was the right thing to do. As though releasing Reisi from his grasp was letting go of the last chance he had at revealing a dark and muddled ghost of his past. Golden eyes fully expected the man to stand up, call him a creep, and walk off with that dignified strut of his, hips swaying to make his coat tails sway gracefully in the wind. Suoh flinched. There. More memories that he wasn't sure were his, but that were injected into his mind like a drug. He desperately wished to pounce on them, rip them open, drink in what they had to offer, but they were so ephemeral and transient that the smallest amount of time left thinking on them made them either blurry or outright physically painful.

"I know you."

Suoh blanched. So he wasn't insane?

Reisi Munakata, the Blue King. At first, those words were meaningless. Was that a stage name? Suoh snorted in disbelief. "Am I supposed t'believe y'er the sovereign king of some country? Please. Blue King, my ass--." However, right as those words from his lips, his mouth became dry. His tongue locked up and a shiver ran up his spine. The might of a King was not one to kid about; at least, that's what some instinct deep inside him told him. It was distant, not an overbearing presence, but a quiet whisper of something long past. But it showed in the way that his eyes caught a faint light that had been absent before.

And he was... the Red King? Was. Past tense. His eyes blinked as he looked up at the sky, as though there should have something there for him to see. But all he saw was the sky that was much too bright as much as it was empty. He found his hand straying over his heart, rubbing at the thick patch of gauze as he trembled for no discernible reason. His body was remembering faster than his head, and a rush of emotions threatened to gag him. Mikoto could feel his heart tremble under his hand, could feel his gut clench and wrack his entire body with a shuddder.

As the red-headed man turned to see the other, he found his face to feel warm -- hot. He wasn't flushed, he hoped. That would have been pathetic. His hand shot up to feel his cheeks, to see if they were warm with blood rushing to them, and he quickly found his theory to be mistaken. Thick, heavy tears had been flowing from his eyes. Words escaped his lips before he could propery think them over.

"What were we?"

[musing-lullabies-blog]

Although on any day a year ago Reisi would have been insulted and inspired to spit a jeer back in Mikoto’s face at that remark, now it elicited a small hum and confident smile. “Perhaps so, but it is merely my way,” he responded with nearly an equal amount of carelessness in his voice. Reisi was reassured with himself; he rarely questioned himself and often knew that his path was right. He did not a single thing to skew his path away from righteousness and justice.

The apology that stumbled from Mikoto’s lips made Reisi grin and he waved a hand before his face dismissively, chanting a few ‘no’s and reassuring the red one that all was well.

An apology… Wouldn’t have thought he’d receive one of those from Mikoto in his lifetime.

After a few moments of silently watching as Mikoto tried to wrack his brain for information, Reisi puffed out an amused sigh and gave him a sympathetic smile. “You needn’t push yourself, Suoh. Your memory will come with time. Don’t be so impatient,” he chided him. It was too late to retract those words when Reisi realized that he sounded like he did before, rebuking Mikoto for his brash behavior over and over again. Coming from a stranger, Reisi was sure that those words would off-put Mikoto.

However, the reaction that he received was far from what he expected, so much so that he knew instantly that it was almost entirely unrelated to his scolding.

Heliotropic eyes wide from being startled, Reisi turned his head to look more clearly at the narrow-eyed gaze being sent his way. The glinting flecks of gold between red eyelashes shone brilliantly and Reisi would have thought Mikoto angry if they weren’t searching the blue’s face. Before, Reisi wouldn’t have hesitated in making a scathing remark that Mikoto was actually thinking before speaking for once, but now was not the place nor the time.

The next words that came from the red nearly blew the blue away. For as astonished as he was, Reisi could not find his voice immediately after he was asked.

"…Well," he started, a slight waver in his voice, "Yes. I do, in fact, do."

[ignisdei]

Merely his way. For some reason, the nonchalance in the other's reply seemed as comfortable as it was to breathe air. As foreign as that very concept felt, Mikoto could also feel the edges of familiarity begin to worm their way into his mind. They made his world fuzzy, made the fringes blur and made it hard to discern what was his imagination and what was a far-off, distant memory that could actually yield some truth. 

The warning words were taken with a soft huff from Suoh's part. He should be careful, yes, 'lest he evoke another race of his heart, but something seemed much more pressing at the moment. There was a sense of urgency that came with these ghostly memories, as though he couldn't decipher them quickly enough. As though they'd disappear as soon as he let them go. 

So when he spoke his question and he managed to appreciate Reisi's surprise, he objectively knew he was onto something. The man slid a little closer, aureate eyes searching, like a lion stalking its prey through tall grasslands. Searching. Stalking. So close and yet so far. This man knew more than he gave away; and really, he hardly gave anything away. But there was still enough room for suspicion, of that Suoh was sure. 

The hesitance in the man's voice was more than enough of an answer for him. Mikoto reached up and gently put his hands on the man's shoulders. He watched gorgeous eyelashes flutter, watched as the other struggled to answer him in a way that would seem correct or polite or some damn other lie that he was hiding, and if he could conrol fire, he swore he'd be burning by now. "You know me." He spoke, not angrily, but sternly enough to show that he knew. He didn't know much, but he knew at least that. "Why? You're not family. I don't have family. Who are you?"

"And don't--." Before Reisi could babble an excuse, Suoh placed a finger over his pale lips to stop him from saying anything. "Don't lie to me."

[ignisdei]

tangible colors

Life was interesting when every sound you heard painted a canvas of colors behind your eyes. Twelve sat atop the rooftop of the fairly decent apartment Nine had managed to snag for the two of them; it acted as a hideout and as a headquarters for the entity known as Sphinx. Not that anyone knew that, though. For their neighbors, they were simply a couple of teenagers living in the same household and where never really home for some reason or another. That was fine.

They were anything but normal, though. Terrorists (presumably, that's what they wanted to be seen as) and mild-mannered savants; two but one. Two as two different, completely different people that were as similar as the sun was to the sky, but they meshed well together in the same way the sky fit perfectly in the wide firmament above. Twelve furrowed his brow at that image; when had he become a romantic? A flash of pink tongue wet his lips as concentrated on the bright, light hues of birds chirping nearby, the jarring saturated oranges of the cicadas that sung their song not far from the building. The brunet leaned back on his arms as he sighed let each color fill his mind, blundering and mixing with the dull gray of otherwise common noise in the streets. He wondered if, perhaps, this was common, and quickly arrived to the conclusion that, of course, it wasn't. Colors and sounds were, as seen to the public eye, completely different sensory inputs. Except that, for him, they weren't. A breath of bravery helped him think back to the institution, where the sounds of children screaming weren't from unadulterated joy due to receiving candy, but were instead filled with dread and pain and shock and a flurry of other emotions that he'd taught himself to drown out. A sigh of fright clipped from his lips as he pushed those memories away and waded for the ones he'd been looking for. Synesthesia was uncommon to the general populous but he remembered one or two children experiencing mixed sensory signals; one girl could taste colors, and he couldn't what the other boy's ability was. But he figured it all had to do with the experimentation they went through.

A remaining scar that told their story.

Still, though, Twelve refused to see it as a stigma. It was more of a mark of survival, and that gave him some sense of relief, in one way or another. It made his time with Nine all the nicer; his voice was such a soothing color, he liked to hear him speak and calm his nerves whenever they were allowed time together at the facility. Nine never talked much, not like how Twelve liked to ramble and talk and prod and giggle and laugh at everything to try and make conversation. Their coping systems seemed to differ like and oil and water, but that seemed to work. When they were together, Twelve would take the brunt of most conversations that were directed at them both and Nine would silently appreciate it. Twelve would be the distraction and Nine would be the brains. Nine once told him they meshed well because their numbers were both multiples of three, and Twelve didn't know if that was childish coincidence or if it actually meant something in that vast mind of his.

Rounded brown eyes slid to a comfortable close. He reminisced. Nine had nightmares, and he did too, but he was better about not waking up with a choked gasp and a bolt out of bed. Besides, doing that in his top bunk would probably lead to a painful descent and a broken arm. That scared him though. If his nightmares weren't as striking as Nine's, did that mean Nine was getting worse? His fingers curled into his shirt as he thought about that. A decade and Nine had become his light, the warbling croon of color in his world, his crutch, his everything. But they were destined to lose that all at some point. This life was not theirs too keep and not theirs to revel in. It was made and formed and constructed for a single purpose, and that's why they did what they did.

...

Right?

"Twelve."

A medley of blues and greens twisting into a beautiful teal enveloped him and he felt lighter somehow-- like that very color carried the sky and filled him with a weightlessness that brought life with its every beat. Twelve did not listen to music. Nine listened to music; but, to Twelve, Nine's voice was his music.

"Coming!"

Twelve glanced back at the dark-haired figure and waved his hand as he jumped up to his feet. The smaller brunet was all motion and talk but there was little physical contact between them, even if they were partners, even if they knew each other better than anyone else. But sometimes there were urges. Like a pressing warmth deep in his heart that shoved at him from all directions and made his entire being feel too small, too confined, inside his own body. It made him want to jump out of his skin and fill up the sky and cry out noiselessly in a gentle vibration that filled everything, anything, with unbeknownst energy. Nine barely spoke, but that made the color of his voice that much more rare and that much more satisfying to experience.

Twelve embraced Nine by the waist for a quick second before sprinting off towards the garage to grasp his helmet and mount his motorcycle.

How lovely it was to touch his music. 

[ignisdei]

CRASHES THROUGH THE CEILING HOLA MUCHAChoS

"Th-The ceiling! What do you have to say for yourself, I should penalize you with death!"

[musing-lullabies-blog]

The way the red repeated his name after him was strangely amusing yet also encouraging. Mikoto let each syllable roll off of his tongue with great care, as if he were sampling every letter and savoring it. Reisi had to purse his lips from snickering, eyes averted away to keep himself in check. At first, the Blue King thought his company was merely teasing him as that seemed like something his old self would do.

However, after exchanging pleasantries, the red continued to practice Reisi’s name and the blue was startled. His sapphire eyes obviously widened and he occasionally glanced to the side, noting how careful Mikoto was reciting his name. To anyone else, this would be strange, perhaps even creepy.

Reisi, however, was amazed.

'I've heard that name before.'

The blue’s throat became a desert and a dry chuckle, like sandpaper, emitted from his chest. “I couldn’t imagine being all that popular. I am no celebrity, I assure you,” Reisi said quickly. He wasn’t sure if his words were triggered by nervousness or hope that he could egg on Mikoto’s frail memory.

[ignisdei]

"You certainly carry yourself with the air of one," Mikoto murmured back with a flippancy that hadn't before made itself really present. It had been lying dormant on his tongue like a lazy creature and had only brought itself to wake at the spur of the moment. It was crass, and it sounded like it, but he hadn't meant it to be an insult or anything close to one. The red-head turned his head up after a moment and glanced back to the stranger with a bit of an apologetic grunt. "Not that it's a bad thing." He corrected, clearing his throat a little awkwardly. 

Suoh's head angled a little as he closed his eyes, arms crossed over his chest as his calloused fingers drummed against his forearm. Remembering hurt. Why? Thinking about it made his head cloud up even further and a strident growl echoed from his chest in frustration. He was not the type to carefully take problems apart and piece them back together. He wasn't good at jigsaw puzzles like this, Reisi was--

Mikoto froze. 

Golden eyes narrowed as he snapped his head around to stare at the blue-haired man sitting next to him, blood draining from his face as though he'd suddenly realized he'd been speaking with a ghost. But that was accurate, wasn't it? A ghost from his past that he didn't remember? Of course, this was all hinging on the fact that he wasn't simply making up facts in his head to try and make sense of this scary, brand new world. So he opted to try and voice his worries. "... You. You like puzzles, right? Or am I hallucinating?"

[musing-lullabies-blog]

Another chuckle rose from the pit of Reisi’s chest when Mikoto sarcastically spoke. That reminded him of Mikoto’s old self — before this. It was comforting to see little aspects of his true self in him. The tired yet serene look on his face, whether it was caused by his medication or injury or not, was perhaps the Blue King’s favorite. He found it interesting that Mikoto could stay so lax, though he didn’t admire it of course. If the redhead were more expressive, surely conversing with him wouldn’t be so tense in the past.

The old Mikoto was interested in sleeping, smoking, drinking, and causing trouble… Reisi would never come to a conclusion as to why he was so infatuated with him.

Ah, there, he said it.

The blue hesitated momentarily when he was asked for his name. Reisi felt his heart practically stop mid-beat as he considered the question. Of course, he intended to give the requested information, but hope was starting to choke him.

A knot formed in his throat and his mouth went dry, phenomena that rarely happened to the blue. Always so calm and collected, but now that was dashed.

"Munakata. Munakata Reisi."

He didn’t even go on his tangent about the spelling of his given name.

[ignisdei]

For some reason, now, more than ever, it seemed strange for the other to pause so distinctly at his question. He couldn't help but cock his head to the side in some degree of curiosity. Had the question made him uncomfortable? It wasn't like him to become this hyper aware of other people's reactions; hell, most of the time, he'd say something and let the breeze take his comments along with everyone's reactions to them and leave them be. But for some reason, this perfect stranger changed that. 

"Muna... kata." The name felt familiar on his tongue, like it was meant to roll off his lips with an idiosyncratic drawl. The 'n' in his name was a sultry press of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the 't' more dull and breathed than sharp and accentuated. The way the vowels rumbled in his throat like a quiet, languid growl seemed strangely relaxing. He liked it. He liked saying his name. It was a good name. "Reisi." His head canted to the side comfortably, eyes closing half-way. "M' like it."

As much as that may have sounded as indiscriminate flirting, the red-head continued. "My name's Suoh. Suoh Mikoto. It's nice to meet you."

The man left that in the air and paused, staring up at the sky as his hands wrapped around his stomach in a lazy cross. His lips could clearly be seen rolling and forming two words, repeatedly. The fold of his lips for an 'M' and the slight purse of the 'u' were the most clear with the first word, as well as the punctuating 'a's. With the second, the tell-tale signs were the roll of his 'R' and upturn of his lips with each 'i'. He repeated his name, quietly, in hushed whispers, over and over, as though there was something there to grab, but he couldn't quite close his hand around. "I've... heard that name before."

Somewhere.

[the-ragna-clones-archive]

"Ohh, I see, well that makes sen— Wait, w-wha- Huh!?" Azure’s casual explanation of who she was certainly sent all four of the clones’ brains to a screeching halt. Wha… how… how was that possible?! Raggy seemed to get his bearings quicker than the others. "… Wait… That— You’re serious?! Wooow… You must be tied to Original, then…"

He can’t help but look at his arm, flexing his hand to get a closer look at it, and the other clones promptly do the same. “Well… I dunno if host is so accurate… I’ve never heard my ar— er… you talk to me or anything… Heck, I don’t even think my grimoire works.”

"M-mine either…" Raygna pipes up. He couldn’t help but cower behind Raggy a bit, looking at both Azure and his arm with wary eyes.

"And that’s why you’re so weak, pink s**t." Rawrgna grunts. His grimoire was the most functioning out of the four of them. "… Y’know, I kinda imagined the grimoire’s conscious to look more… y’know… black beast-y? H**l, not like I’m complainin’, though…”

[ignisdei]

I don't blame you for being surprised. It takes a while for us to awaken as individual entities. I'm sure you've felt your arm buzz once in a while, though, as if reminding you of its presence by its own accord? Think of that, but amplified. The Darkling peered back at the pink clone, giggling like wind chimes. I'm not here to hurt you, don't act so scared. We've been partners for so long, I know you better than anyone, don't I?

Her eyes turned towards the black clone, however, and she flapped her wings as she trotted closer to him. We're not tied to one form, if that's what you're referring to. Darkness, much like the one that would form around Ragna's arm to form his tale-tale claws, began to pool at her feet, swirling and churning like a tamed tornado as it overtook her small form. 

And before long, it bust into a plume of shadows, leaving in its wake a much taller figure.

There is little shadows can't do. It just so seems to be easier to take on a friendlier form than attempting to intimidate on the get-go; I'm sure you understand. 

[the-ragna-clones-archive]

"Wooooahh…" Raggy, the blue-jacketed blonde, murmurs. Honestly, he’d been drawn to this person by her wings! They looked so… real, more real than any imitation Raggy had stitched together. So, he had approached, and being the ‘leader’, the other clones had followed. “… Oh, I— um— ahem, sorry! Hi, I couldn’t help but notice your… uh… y’know!”

"… That’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever f**kin’ heard, and I’m the godd**n alcoholic!” Rawrgna, the black clone, scoffs.

"H-hey! I-it wasn’t a pick-up line! I meant WINGS, not— Ugh, you’re hopeless…” Raggy groans, turning back to the lady. “Sorry, I’m Raggy. This is my… uh… ‘brother’ Rawrgna. And these two are Raygna and Raggeh. Nice to meet you… who are you?”

[ignisdei]

What an interesting group of you. Her voice did not actually resound in the air, it was an echo in their minds. That's how it acquired a honey-like, velvet texture, buzzing with energy in an almost ethereal wavelength. The compliment, however, surely was enough to make her pause and giggle, the wings at her back giving a faint twitch in amusement. You like them, do you? I'm flattered. Their exchange was, at the very least, endearing, and the Darkling moved back to give a faint curtsy, wings spreading as she did. 

My name is Azure, which should be a giveaway. I'm the conscience inside what each of you carry in your left arms, though I'm more specifically tied to another Ragna than you all. In the end, though, it's all the same. Her hands clapped together as she smiled. But it's quite a pleasure to meet all of you, dear hosts, as much as meeting someone I've known for so long goes, you know?

[ignisdei]

the-ragna-clones replied to your post:/// aLRIGHT. SO SINCE THIS IS A MULTI-MUSE… IF YOU...

[[O-oh! Sorry >_<;;]]

// NO NO OMG YOU'RE FINE. I JUST BARELY THOUGHT THIS UP RIGHT NOW. DON'T WORRY, FRIEND.

[the-reaper-lost-in-time]

"The hell ya want me to call her? I ain’t married to her, so she ain’t my wife. Bullet is her name. Sheesh, ya wanna meet Bullet, the girl whose holding my kid?"

[ignisdei]

Sounds like the makings of an absent father. I'm disappointed, Ragna. And yes, I'd love to meet her and the bundle of joy that is quite literally made up of half of you. Her head canted to the side for a moment. I wonder if they'd know me, even instinctually. 

[ignisdei]

/// aLRIGHT. SO SINCE THIS IS A MULTI-MUSE... IF YOU FOLLOW, I'LL LET YOU GO AHEAD AND MAKE AN OPENER, SO I CAN NARROW DOWN CHOICES TO ANSWER WITH.  that'll be easier for all of us.

[ignisdei]

blood-scythe replied to your post:blood-scythe replied to your post:blood-scythe...

Blood snorted and waved a hand. “Good luck to him.”

Most certainly agreed. 

[the-reaper-lost-in-time]

"… ‘guess ye’r right. Maybe I can introduce ya to the carrier? I dunno, would ya like that?"

[ignisdei]

Carrier? Oh that's cold. Here I was thinking you'd at least caller something more affectionate, seeing as she's carrying the fruits of your loins. Is that not human custom?

[ignisdei]

the-ragna-clones started following you

Oh ... my. That's quite a lot of Ragnas. Azure watched silently as she listened to the existential hum of each Grimoire each clone bore. Fascinating. 

... Well, greetings to you all. She murmured, waiting for at least one to step up and speak.

[ignisdei]

blood-scythe replied to your post:blood-scythe replied to your post:… Tiny Ragnas?...

"He? Ragna? /Ragna the Bloodedge/ manage to impregnate someome???" A snort. "Hell must’ve frozen over finally."

I believe the term appropriate for this situation is 'He couldn't keep it in his pants.' Her wings fluttered. Well, many people consider the Boundary to be similar to hell, and it is quite cold down there...

[the-reaper-lost-in-time]

"Please don’t touch the kids. I don’t want them getting your bad habits." 

[ignisdei]

Bad habits? What on earth could you be talking about, my dear host? I'm nigh a saint.