epic divorce guy

the batter, affiliated with isola radiale.

[purizone]

THE BATTER from OFF. Written by Zacharie (laugh it up).

That one baseball guy that bonks ghosts.

He was on a mission to "purify the world" and... almost succeeded...

...if it weren't for that meddling cat!

Straightforward, concise, task-oriented.

Without the puppeteer here and any real mission to complete, he's just kind of wandering around. explorin

Not interested in ""making friends"" but you could probably slowly get him there if you're treating him like a stray cat whose trust you're trying to earn.

Extremely divorced

super normal i promise

blood blood murder kill bite murder kill kill bite

rules / app / stats.

art cred @ nam3-kun, used with permission.

[punisheye]

put in my semi-hiatus request but i wanna post now, tomorrow i'm getting top surgery and will probably be out of commission for a week or so! i'll still be available on discord if you wanna reach out there (dm if you want it, or you can find me in the isola discord if you're in there) and might check my dash on my phone sometimes but otherwise i don't think i'll be doing much writing.

[masquer]

Even without seeing him, he feels the Batter's gaze leave. They gaze down the street together until Zacharie's interest in it wanes. When he turns back, the man is an angular profile looking toward where he came, intense as always. And Zacharie takes the opportunity to study him for a moment, this unfamiliarity of the Batter staring ahead with no goal to reach, how strangely human of him it is. ❝ Down the road? ❞ Zacharie asks, his brows lifting behind his mask. ❝ That about makes us neighbors. ❞ It's a fortunate placement, he thinks. The other wards are entirely foreign in comparison to the zones they once called home. Perhaps the Batter will acclimate somewhat better here than elsewhere, as much as one can when brought back from the dead, anyhow. ❝ I had wondered how long you wandered before finding me. No matter the game, it seems I can't be too far. Eh eh eh. ❞

[purizone]

Neighbors, he thinks. That's convenient. It's also odd to think about, living a life so... normal that he'd have neighbors. He isn't exactly sure how he should feel about it, but it at least means that someone he knows isn't too far.

He's not exactly anticipating spending much time in his assigned housing, anyway.

"Not long," he confirms. The Batter studies Zacharie in turn, eyes flickering over his mask, meeting amber eyes. Even if he doesn't outwardly express it, be it through expression or words, there is relief that the other is here as well.

A familiar face (mask?) among everything else.

In a moment of surprising vulnerability (masked with a stony expression and flat tone), he says, "I don't know what to do. Here."

[foolmate]

Spirale is nothing like any Zone she's ever been to... Although one could hardly suggest she deigned to grace the Zones with her presence often in the first place. It's so vibrant, full of life, full of people—bustling about, speaking animatedly to each other, clamoring to go somewhere, do something...

It's much like the world she envisioned for her son.

But Hugo is not here. Somehow, the Queen knows that much. She should not be here either. Ruthlessly struck down by her love, as he reduced her nation to ashes, all in service of his so-called "sacred mission." She doesn't understand it, doesn't understand him. Maybe she never will.

Her continued existence is an aberration, but there's nothing that can be done about it. She certainly won't complain. Even if her Add-Ons have been... reduced to a comical size, defanged and turned into toys. A few other things have fallen into her possession as well. A pamphlet, which she reads and tries to understand... And a peculiar little device, a "cell phone." This one is trickier, so she pockets it to examine later.

With no particular destination in mind, the Queen walks. And walks. And walks. Aimlessly drifting through Spirale's streets, in search of something...

And she finds something. Someone.

" Batter, " she calls out before she can think, the same gentle whisper. Her expression betrays nothing, but icy rage is all that she knows when she gazes upon him.

" How lovely, that we can be here together. If only our son could join us as well. "

@purizone

[purizone]

It's a nice day outside today.

The weather has started cooling down, the leaves are starting to change color, and the birds still sing in the trees. The sky is so very blue, there are no clouds, and the sun shines merrily, not too unforgiving. Despite everything, he can appreciate a nice day.

Something doesn't feel right, though.

He rarely ever feels anything even close to dread, but it's stirring in his belly now, like he'd eaten some particularly rotten piece of meat. There's a presence, heavy and suffocating, weighing down across the city.

And he knows.

When he sees her it is hardly a surprise. He knew that presence anywhere. He'd know her anywhere. Something stirs in his heart, distant emotions he's long quashed.

She's as beautiful as the day he met her.

She's as beautiful as the day he killed her.

For a moment, there's the phantom sensation of her hand on his cheek, smearing her blood before it hit the ground and her head lolled to the side.

It's so strange, hearing her call him anything but his true name. But there is no reason for her to do so now. Why would she?

"He would like it here," the Batter says, voice flat. "There are many children."

But he doesn't want to think about their creator, their child. He's dead for a reason.

"You and I are dead." It's a simple fact, but she wouldn't know about his own defeat. "We're no different than specters here."

[dreemerknight]

@purizone // Desert Record

Kris fiddles with his knife, sitting on top of a barricade and watching people gather with their groups and share supplies and whatnot. It looks like there's a lot of options but... they really don't want to work with other humans. It's one of those days where they don't feel right in their own skin, and they'd honestly rather work with someone less...

human.

They kind of wish Susie had come with them. But it isn't like they asked. Not because they didn't want to do it with her, but simply because they were restless and they don't want to let on that they're not doing okay today.

Maybe i should reconsider that though...

They're about to consider going home when they spot someone without a partner apparently; he looks human at a glance, but, the closer Kris looks, the less so he does. He looks like a baseball player, if a baseball player was fucking tall and was as white as a sheet of paper.

Honestly, he's kind of hard to look at in the sunlight.

That makes them perk up a bit, and, before they can think too hard about it, Kris hops off their perch and tucks their knife back into their belt, grabs their backpack, and approaches him.

"Hey," They ask, voice quiet and mumbly, same as it usually is when they're first approaching someone. "do you have a partner for this thing? I... kind of need one." Kris probably should have checked to see if there were ads or something. "... I'm good at puzzles. And I have some supplies I could share."

Hopefully the guy doesn't mind cheap beef jerky and apple juice.

[purizone]

The main thing that drew him to this was not the promise of treasure if you reach the end, but that innate desire to rid the world of things he found impure. The keep would undoubtedly be full of dangerous beings and rooms in need of cleansing.

But he does have to work together with someone. Without the puppeteer, he's totally alone. And he's not exactly the social type.

...Someone else approaches him first, though. Quiet, hair falling over their face. They look relatively unassuming, not entirely suited for any sort of dungeon crawling.

"Okay," he responds. "Can you fight?"

The Batter has the mace he'd bought from that strange merchant, what with his bat being taken from him and no other replacements he can buy here even close to equal in power. It moves the same, so he can make it work.

"If you can't," he begins, voice flat, "you do the puzzles, I do the defending. That's a fair trade."

[femboy-c-cups]

american ronin grips his baseball bat tight and flicks his wrist. after a beat your head explodes off your neck into the atmosphere and the baseball homerun organ noise plays

[plaguewares]

"Ah, a bludgeoner-" he says, nodding.

The cloaked peddler turns away, and pulls back a cloth from a long, thin box, retrieving a long mace from within. It had a balled end and guard for a pommel, flanged edges on the head and a spiked tip at the heavy end.

"This is a shishpar mace," he starts, "It's got a comfortable grip, and bladed flanges that'll add some slashing capability to your bludgeon- heh, and a piercing end just in case. Versatile weapon for those that prefer to swing their weapons and let gravity do the real work." He hands it over to the Batter to examine. "Give it a few swings, and hear the singin'... and if it isn't to your taste, I have a few more you can try... Or, if you're bravin' the keep, it'd do well to have some other supplies, if you're interested."

[purizone]

The mace is weighed in his hand, then his other. He turns away for a moment to swing it through the air to get a real feel for it, acutely aware of his surroundings to make sure he doesn't clip any passersby. Then he turns back to the merchant.

It'll do.

"I'll take it," he says. "Do you have medicine? Bandages?"

He only has one of his competences, and it only heals minor injuries. If he's going to be possibly fighting and getting hurt, he'll need something to patch his wounds. His and whomever he decides to work with.

The merchant clearly has rations available, too. The Batter points to a case of them. It'll be easy enough to put into a bag and carry.

"I want that, too."

Straightforward, to the point. He has no interest in dawdling around and looking at every piece of merchandise. But he does ask: "How did you come across all of these weapons?"

[masquer]

Zacharie watches and waits. It is Batter that crosses the distance between them with a hand outstretched. The poise of its palm and appendages as it approaches is like a grapple, and though Zacharie draws the quick conclusion that its aim lies locked on his neck, he allows it to take him. His first thought is that the Batter's hand is cold against his much warmer skin. The second is that the fit of him, light yet firm above his airway, is strange though not unwelcome. There's no hostility in his energy, though the gesture itself is innately so. One closed fist is all it would take to strangle him. And still, Zacharie doesn't move away. For a moment, it's them in silence, his pulse moving thin and vulnerable from his throat into the Batter's thumb with their gazes united. Then, the Batter lets go, and Zacharie breathes again. His expression is indecipherable, though Zacharie tries to decipher it, regardless. It's not an act of caution, but one of intrigue instead. ❝ Not even slightly. After that, I can decidedly say you're not spectral at all and are most definitely of flesh and blood. ❞ Zacharie chuckles and runs an absent hand over his throat, before he looks out to the city beyond them.

❝ You'd best begin with your lodgings. It's where you'll be staying, free of charge—a complimentary service, I suppose, for dragging us here. Have you found yours yet? ❞

[purizone]

The fingers of that hand flex at his side absentmindedly, then curl into a loose fist. He turns his eyes from Zacharie's mask to look down the street from where he came.

"Yeah." But he didn't stay long. "They brought me there after I woke up."

It wasn't too far away, they're still in the neighborhood. Since Zacharie is in the area, too, he wonders if he's also been assigned this same ward. Wouldn't that be convenient.

The Batter hasn't had a proper home in a long time. The fleeting memories are quashed by that vicious drive to complete his mission; he can hardly remember what it was like. It doesn't feel right, and he doesn't imagine he'll be spending much time there.

Maybe. He still needs to sleep and eat like any living being would. A bed to rest in instead of sleeping propped up against an alley wall like he'd done before is probably preferable.

"It's down the road. Not far from here. I just left, then I found you."

[nam3-kun]

small doodle of them

[snnilingcatt]

@purizone // starter

Out of the many places of Spirale, the Judge found the Boardwalk to be most agreeable. There were numerous railings or benches he could lounge upon, and the bustle and noise of the amusement park reminded him of Zone 2. 

Of course, it wasn’t without its longing. The familiarity made him miss home and his brother, though there was little he could do on that matter. So for now, he pushed the feelings aside.

It was here at the Boardwalk, as he padded along to his favorite section of railing that the cat caught sight of a familiar figure in the distance. He would recognize the shape of the man anywhere. It was the Batter.

Surprise overtook him and he was near dumbstruck to see him, of all places. But he quickly shook it off. Of course, whatever force had pulled he, himself, here, it certainly could have taken the Batter with him. He was more surprised it took this long for them to cross paths!

With delight, he leapt up onto the railing and quickly made his way after the Batter. With tail upright, he hopped down at the man’s feet, snaking himself between his legs as he rubbed against him.

“It appears that my vision does not delude me after all. If it isn’t my dearest marionette.”

[purizone]

The ocean here was nice. A deep blue under the sky, water lapping gently at the shore, unlike the endless white of plastic that he had known before. It was a nice day to watch it, sunny and breezy, bringing a sense of calm that he'd struggled to find since arriving in this strange place with his strings cut.

That calm is shattered in a moment, though, when he feels the familiar sensation of a cat weaving between his legs and rubbing its face up against him. That damn purr was loud, almost grating to his ears.

Why is he being so—

The Batter blinks a few times. Zacharie had said not everyone arrives here... the same way. There is no reason for the Judge to be so friendly with him had they the same memories, had they come from the same point in time.

But that doesn't make the memory of his throat getting torn open any less fresh, visceral, and humiliating.

I could end this here and now, he's vulnerable, he...

No, probably not the best idea to hurt a "defenseless" cat in broad daylight, huh. Besides, he's without a bat right now, leaving him defanged and vulnerable.

Best to go with it and gauge the situation and what the damned feline remembers.

"I didn't know you were here," he says, voice betraying nothing. "Zacharie... didn't mention it." Maybe he didn't know, either.

[hollowfaith]

Aurelius frowns, not expecting the direct question.

"An angel," he replies grudgingly, and resists the urge to purify him on the spot. "While I commend you for the ability to aim at an oversized target, I gather you have better uses for your skills."

"Or maybe you lack any entirely, considering you don't blame yourself at all."

Shirking responsibility? It was a bad look.

[purizone]

An angel? Isn't that something. Angels are pure and holy beings, but this simply looks like a man. A rather condescending man. The Batter looks him over, mouth twitching, and then meets his eyes again.

"Does it matter?"

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.

The Batter is clearly not sorry at all.

"You made it by unscathed. So far." Now what does that mean? "Watch where you're going next time."

[plaguewares]

Bright blue flames flicker from hung braziers around a makeshift stall. A long table with a heavy canvas cloth showcases steel blades, and polished firearms. Barrels and crates hold ammunition and meal rations, along with other supplies- lanterns and oil.

The purveyor of the goods is heavily obscured by layers of cloth and leather, hunched under the weight of a heavy backpack. Regardless, he turns to the adventurers, and hopefuls gathered around for a chance to delve for treasures.

"Over here, Stranger!" he calls to no one in particular, "I've got a good selection of wares on sale!"

[purizone]

Treasure doesn't exactly entice him. He had little need for riches in general. Still, curiosity when hearing about the strange keep had brought him out to this desert anyway. The bill of his cap casts a shadow over his face, shielding his eyes from the brutal desert sun.

Oddly enough, the ghost white of his skin doesn't seem to burn.

His attention drifts to the stranger. The Batter had only ever bought wares from one particular merchant, but he doesn't seem to be seizing the opportunity to set up shop out here.

Besides, if he decides to venture into the keep he ought to be prepared.

"Do you have something I can swing?" He asks as he picks up a hook-like blade that glints in the sunlight, giving it a good look, then sets it back down. The bat that he'd bought the other day doesn't seem suited for this sort of thing. Too fragile.

[purizone]

❓+ (Do you regret it?)

"No."

[purizone]

create something in my workshop.

a puppet.

your piece may be simplistic, but it is no doubt a skilled and precise creation. every detail of its costume is just as you meant it to be. every one of the strings is tied neatly, perfectly measured, responsive and resilient. the puppet’s limbs move with an ease that is a pleasure to watch. when you control it, it dances just as it does in your head: all of your impulses made material. at least, it does for a while. the more it dances, the more it seems to have a mind of its own. that’s how you rationalize it, when the puppet starts to jerk and stall at inopportune moments, when its limbs catch on each other, when it tangles itself in its strings. nobody else seems to see it. nobody else believes you, when you tell them that the puppet is moving itself, but there’s no other explanation. there’s no other reason that it shouldn’t respond to you. you had control. you should still have control. your friends tell you that they’re worried about you, but there are bigger problems at hand. you bounce between wanting to destroy the puppet, wanting to freeze it in resin, wanting to rebuild it entirely. your increasing desperation presses that something has to be done. this is something you’re supposed to be able to control. you don’t know what to do if you lose that.

[rpmemegraveyard]

The 'yes or no' game.

Send my muse "❓+" alongside harsh hitting questions, scenarios, anything question-related really, but they can only answer with "yes" or "no". Nothing more, nothing less.

[preciousdollie]

"Thank you." She cradles the open jar between her hands before smiling at him encouragingly. "You're quite dependable. Are you free at the moment?"

"We have a few more jars to open over there—they're holding a picnic today, you see, for the children. Hot dogs and pickles are on the menu."

She gestures behind her towards a different section of the park, spread out with tables full of food and kids running on the grass behind them. Notably, at least 10 more pickle jars lie sitting in wait.

[purizone]

One pickle jar was fine, maybe two, but ten more?

The Batter is... unmoved, really. Helping children isn't really motivating for him. In fact, he'd rather stay away from them. He really considers telling her to find someone else.

But he's also... got nothing else to do.

This is really stupid.

"Fine."

Make himself useful in some way, since his other... talents... don't do much here. He looks at her, eyes narrowed, and then strides over to the table. The kids don't seem to pay him any mind. Thankfully. He's never been good with them.

[computerqueen]

Queen watches as the ball hits the top of the net, then picks it up as it rolls her way. It'd be more convenient if she could get it without moving from her spot, but she doesn't have the ability nor the servants right now.

* Nice * If We Were Playing On A Field Then Would've Easily Been A Double

She gives him a double thumbs up to celebrate his achievement, then winds up for another pitch, this time going for a curveball on his non-dominant side. It's slower, but it may be harder to hit.

[purizone]

Still saying nothing, the Batter waits... and then swings again, albeit a little less clean than before. But the bat still connects, and the ball still goes flying until it hits the net and falls to the ground once more. The Batter thumps his bat against the dirt.

"You have a good arm," he states simply. He must be in a very good mood if he's willing to dish out any sort of compliment.

His expression remains stony, though.