神秘卿

Please read RULES | Independent RP Blog for Srajo from "Made in Abyss" | Side-Blog | Selective | May contain SPOILERS | Written by Hatsugiku

[s-r-a-j-o]

THAT UPDATE AHHH!!

spoilers below

Totally not what I expected obviously, BUT I AIN’T MAD!! I LOVE THAT DESIGN AND I LOVE THAT THE BIRB IS A LADY, and a hot one at that LOLOL I’m still gonna write my birb the way I’ve been writing them, but I’m really happy with this reveal!! Can’t wait to see what they’re like in the upcoming issues! ^^

[s-r-a-j-o]

annihilyza​:

Over the next few minutes, the signs of struggle escaping the increasingly thick and concealing cloud of gas began to taper off. The shadows of motion diminished, the choking and shouting were extinguished; occasionally punctuated by a scream of pain, the boom of thunder or shot, or the crack of breaking bone. And then without fanfare, they fell silent. 

The fog parts with a slow gust as The Lord of Annihilation strides out of it, dragging the limp body of one of the largest raiders by his collar, his face beaten to a pulp and her spear still lodged halfway through his shoulder. Lyza herself was hardly unharmed having accumulated a smattering of nicks, tears, slashes and bruises across her body from either the occasional lucky hit- perhaps as a consequence of her own recklessness- but it was clear the victory was as decisive as it was quick and violent.

She unceremoniously drops the body against the rock Srajo had been hiding behind before, spitting out the bark and calling out for them. “Clear!! 9 assholes, 9 bodies. I got ‘em all.” She takes the opportunity to slump down and look over her wounds while waiting for Srajo to reappear, wincing as she prods at them before reaching for her first aid kit. No wound was safe to leave undressed this deep in the abyss, even if they appeared minor.

She glances back at the body with a scowl, yanking her spear out with disgust and collapsing it back into her wrist guard. “This fat fuck here must’ve been their leader. Sure seemed like the hardest bastard of the lot. Maybe something interesting in his kit; see if we can find out why they’re here, what they grabbed. Who they iced on the way down. Or we could just feed him to the Piercers. Better fate than they deserve…” She grunts and exhales heavily as she relaxes, coming down from her battle-high as she looks around for Srajo to check on their friend and see how bad their injury would be.

As silence descended upon them, Srajo straightened so that they could see over the rock. The veil of settling smoke parted, revealing the Lord of Annihilation and her prize. The Obscure’s hidden eye took stock of the injuries their companion sustained, flesh wounds that didn’t seem to reach deep muscle or bone. Usually, a thorough wash and disinfection would do. Regardless, they wanted to be of aid, if only because they felt compelled to take care of a friend.

With a short whistle, the shroud dissipated, and Srajo came into view a few feet away from Lyza. They took out the bottle of white bone dust once more, and handed it to her for her to use. [This will help with closing the wound. It will speed up the healing process as well.] They signed before turning towards the raider. [Death by Piercer does seem disproportionally light.] They commented in idle observation, a cool, scientific apathy as though studying a common relic of the First.

The heavy throbbing in their shoulder pulled their attention away from the raider. Srajo sighed, and started to undo their cloak and robes, just enough to expose the sight of the wound. Spindly as they were, it was surprising the bullet hadn’t punctured straight through their thin shoulder. The bleeding has already stopped, but they’d have to make an incision to reach the ball. With their uninjured arm, they reached and grabbed a small first aid kit from their suitcase.

Field surgery with only one hand was going to be tricky, but it wasn’t anything new for a White Whistle that enjoyed their own company. They started by soaking a scalpel and a pair of tweezers in a bottle of self-made disinfecting solution, and washed their injury with a wet cloth to clear away the powder. It stung like a flame, but they knew this wouldn’t be the worst of what was to come.

[s-r-a-j-o]

annihilyza​:

As Srajo begins their approach Lyza had gotten herself well and truly embroiled in the melee. 4 of the remaining delvers move to surround her and all attack at once, aiming to leverage their numbers against the lone woman and completely underestimating her ability to use their confidence against them. A sword swinging from the right is deflected with a quick strike of her spear in the same motion of twisting away from the maul’s overhead swing slams down into the earth from the opposite side. 

Before the next unfortunate fool could even make his attack, Lyza was already springing forward and thrusting her spear with two hands straight into the ribs of a surprised axewoman who buckles over in a cough of blood as her lungs are punctured, loosing grip on her axe just in time for Lyza to loosen her grip and snatch it in a freed hand. Her waists twists as she steps into a throw, leaving her spear impaled in its victim as the axe leaves her hand as quickly as it entered and snaps through the air and cleaves into the other swordsman’s skull.

The sudden sizzling and billowing of smoke bursts up from the ground just as Lyza began to move, and she steps back from the impaled woman, kicking her forward into the crowd to make space between her and the raiders. Her goggles snap down onto her face in a swift motion as her tongue pushes the strip of bark up from underneath it, biting down to protect herself from the gas with its bitter filter as instructed while the invaders shouted and choked. The effects were brutal, and even Lyza was given a moment of pause as she saw up close how gruesomely effective the airborne toxins were. The raiders she’d already injured or unbalanced were helpless as their skin wept bloody sweat and their lips frothed with the fluid asphyxiating them from inside, and the few far enough to escape its immediate effects could only scatter in fear, scrambling to wrap their mouths and noses with scarfs and scatter to avoid suffering the same brutal deaths as their comrades. Srajo’s inventiveness impressed her; the level of violence they were able to inflict with their knowledge of alchemy and the abyss’s local toxins was severe when they were forced to apply it. Any normal delver’s instincts would scream for them to stay far back as readily as any other dangerous beast or hazard.

Lyza’s instincts however saw prey that were completely helpless to defend themselves, and smelling blood in the water her body was already preparing to dive back in for the kill and finish them off.

Where others might have found challenge in being outnumbered, Srajo knew, with a trust born of their unwavering belief in a fellow White Whistle’s abilities, that such circumstances were exactly the sort of trouble that gave Lyza her epithet. One would assume Lord Immovable, with her unparalleled physical strength, would be reputed for terminating invaders. However, the utter ferocity and proficiency in disposing of one’s enemies has given the title of Annihilator to a delver who was truly worthy of it.

The tangy, metallic stench of blood overpowered the fragrance of wet earth. A thick moisture weighed heavy in the air, but the cold has yet to abate entirely. At the boundary between the Sea and the Goblets, the foreign raiders would all meet their gruesome ends. Srajo was a little impressed they managed to make it this far, but the implication that the group likely hunted and killed numerous Whistles along the way soured any sliver of respect they might’ve felt towards them.

The Obscure wasn’t worried about Lyza, even as the cloud of poison grew in size and hovered. It wouldn’t dissipate for several more minutes, plenty of time for their companion to catch and eviscerate the very few that escaped the clutches of a watery death. Their own brand of vengeance bestowed, Srajo stepped back to give Lyza a wide berth. They weren’t concerned or afraid, but shrouded as they were, they didn’t want to get in the way.

A poison of this magnitude took months to process, and even longer to collect the ingredients of. Perhaps they shouldn’t have tossed all of their stash, but they’d been quite miffed about getting shot. Now that the rare lick of fiery anger has waned, Srajo found themself feeling a bit sheepish. Keeping an eye on Lyza’s progress, they made their way back to their suitcase. Once the gas settled to the ground, they’d have to neutralize its effects so it left no trace.

[s-r-a-j-o]

annihilyza​:

Lyza’s rage is momentarily blunted by a feeling of guilt at underestimating the Lord of Mystery, at underestimating her friend. Despite the deep respect she usually had for them, she’d unconsciously taken to treating them like they were helpless in a crisis. Or perhaps, she’d just begun to feel overly protective of those she was delving with. Unwilling to lose any more friends to to her own mistakes. But the empyreal drone of a true White Whistle stirred her senses, and seeing Srajo swiftly move to produce their own brand of resistance in the form of medicines, tools, and clever tricks reassured her. She grins as she takes the bark with a quick sign of [Thanks], and cracks her knuckles, thoughts back on the fight, but no longer disordered. Having successfully pissed off two White Whistles, these mercenary idiots didn’t stand a damn chance. She gestures behind her to count down, and if not for the warning to expect it someone with slower reflexes might have missed Lyza begin to move at all. The first resounding crack is not a gunshot in retaliation, but Lyza’s hand snapping to the opposite direction of her approach, hand crackling with a burst of concussive electricity as a combination of sheer force and magnetic propulsion send a Thunder Spar crashing into a rock face with a tremendous noise.

Before the first spear even lands, Lyza’s halfway across the open ground, sprinting low and streamlined as she blitzes straight towards the greatest threats; her mind flicking across each of her opponents and scanning their weapons, their vitals, every motion as she selects her targets. 

9 bodies; 4 rifles. 2 hatchets. 2 swords. 1 maul. 2 Gunners on the left, a third on the right, one center. The rest scattered throughout. She bends left towards the guns. Her wrist flicks and the air cracks with ozone again as another lightning-propelled spear streaks across the battlefield, with only a split second for the others to react as the missile impacts with it’s target to pin the rifleman to the wall through his ribs before the Annihilator’s on top of them in close quarters with her iron-clad fist connecting with his wingman’s jaw. 

The sound of the gunwoman’s teeth and jaw shattering would be deafening if it weren’t drowned out by the snap of concussion from her gauntlets as they discharge at point blank and turn a simple punch into a gruesomely deadly blow, or the snap of the distracting spear snapping back into her hand from distance with a magnetic hum, slashing through an swordsman’s side as it passes and dropping him to his knees. The muskets crack from behind her as the others react with shouts, but the haze of combat feels like moving in slow motion to the bloodthirsty wolf feasting on them. She twists sharp and the musket ball slams into her armored wrist, electricity sparking to deflect it but shattering the ball into shrapnel that tears across her face in a crimson rake, splattering blood back through her hair as the second whistles past.

Her neck snaps back with the impact before slowly bending back up, accompanied by a rumble of her chest and dripping of blood down her face. The streaks of splattered red frame the delver’s savage, toothy grin as she lets out a menacing, dismissive laugh. The Lord of Annihilation stretches out her blood-soaked gauntlet and beckons slow and steady to the melee fighters while their gunners frantically reload. “Shoulda killed me in one shot. Big mistake, cuz now it’s time to dance, baby.” 

Srajo knew they could simply sit back and let Lyza have her fill of bloodshed, but they were admittedly miffed about the bullet in their shoulder. They’d be satisfied with bringing down even one raider just to get their revenge. Lord Obscure wasn’t known for being a combatant, and it was true that they preferred to avoid conflict, but when conflict came by way of a musket shot, they weren’t going to back down.

If it weren’t for the immediate necessity to treat their wound, Srajo would’ve gladly watched Lyza in her element, fascinated by her relics and the vigor in her graceful rampage. They did take a moment to peek over the rock, reassured by the fact the invaders were far too busy with the Annihilator to pay attention to them. After a few moments, they ducked back down, and worked on smearing a handful of the powder onto their weeping injury. It managed to stall the bleeding for now, and that was enough for what they wanted to do.

Reaching inside their suitcase once more, Srajo took out three small, glass containers. Inside them was a purple, shimmering liquid. It looked quite pretty, like fluid, sparkling sand. Slipping them inside their pocket, they closed their suitcase - the seam disappearing, and redid the covering over their mouth before giving a short whistle. In an instance, they were shrouded, and they began to move, keeping an eye on where Lyza was to stay out of her way.

Strides long and silent, they closed in on the raiders. There was no fanfare to the acts of an imperceptible figure. Taking out the containers, they hurled them towards the invaders. Glass shattered. Purple liquid splattered across soil and rock, and began to sizzle. Within moments, massive clouds of smoke rose from the ground, and billowed towards the raiders. They encased the frightened raiders, fervent shouts quickly replaced by gurgling coughs and wet gasps.

It was an awful, agonizing death, having the water in one’s bloodstream drawn out into the lungs. A dry drowning - the raiders began to vomit torrents of water as their bodies began to shrivel. Srajo stayed put and watched, studying the effects of their poison. At least the raiders made good test subjects. Srajo has only ever used Abyssal creatures for this particular concoction, and it seemed to work just as well on humans.

[s-r-a-j-o]

♪ “I’m so cloudy. Days are cloudy…since you went away.” ♪

Srajo sat at the mouth of a small cave, music player humming gently amidst the soft patter of rain. The humid air of the Goblets fogged their spectacles. They took out a cloth, and gave them each a rub.

This was Srajo the Obscure’s first ascent in twenty Orth years. There were plants to harvest, ones that only grew in the upper layers. The cloaked figure munched on a handful of round, dried pellets that looked akin to charred medicine balls. An invention Srajo prepared themselves, the pellets were rich in protein, and much more flavourful than the dreadful ration bars.

Swaying a little to the lilting melody of the song, the Lord of Mystery watched the rain, safely hidden away from Orb Piercer territory.

[s-r-a-j-o]

annihilyza​:

Lyza herself smells as much as spots the blood as Srajo moves up next to her, and curses under her breath again in frustration at her own carelessness, even if it were induced by abyssal trickery. As much as she preferred to sign back to Srajo as a matter of respect, the tense situation lended an advantage to quick speech. “Abyss take them… no, I’m the one that’s sorry, Srajo. Between the curse and your relic, I couldn’t even remember you there were. How are you wounds? Are you going to be alright?”

She glances over the rock again for their position as another musket shot crashes into the rock right beside her head and sends rock chips flying everywhere. “Fuckers think have us pinned… I saw about that many as well. Some with firearms, some with swords and hatchets.” She runs over the numbers in her head, building a plan of attack and weighing their odds as she looks at Srajo’s wound. “I can’t ask you to do that… you’re already injured, and they might not even have noticed you yet. Don’t push yourself, Obscure.” She growls, frustrated at herself and feeling guilty that they still offered to help. She bares her teeth and the anger starts to show in her expression as she begins to look less like a bright and cheery woman and more a feral animal about to be unleashed. “Do as you must, but if worst comes to worst, I can handle ‘em myself. They don’t call me Annihilator for no reason, Sraj’.”

“I’ll show these fucking mercenary shit-lickers what happens when you cross me.” And what kind of pain I can inflict on them for hurting my friends. She nods to Srajo and prepares to move, moving to the edge of the rock and preparing to leap, spear at the ready, with another waiting to be released.

Srajo gave their head a slight shake to indicate Lyza didn’t need to apologize. After all, they were a White Whistle as well. They should’ve been able to take care of themself, and thus, their injury was no one’s fault but their own. [I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.] They tried to sound reassuring despite the hastened speed of their signing. [Flesh wounds are common for us delvers.] That was true, but it’s been a while since they’d had a wound that bled so much. They hoped the shot hadn’t nicked an artery.

The Lord of Mystery was harder to take down than a lucky shot, however. While Lyza checked on their enemy, Srajo tugged open the covering over their mouth, and gave their whistle a quick blow. The seam on their suitcase appeared, and, using their uninjured side, they opened it in search for a vial. Inside the vial was a white powder, ground from various herbs and animal bones. It wouldn’t help with the musket ball still lodged in their shoulder, but it would slow the bleeding.

Seeing the look of wrath on Lyza’s features, Srajo was reassured of their situation. They had no doubt in their mind that Lord Annihilator of the Abyss would tear apart all who’d dare invade the Netherworld and harm her fellow delver. Their heart fluttered a little at the nickname she gave them. Despite the pain and the blood loss, they felt a swell of warmth within their chest. It felt good to have a friend.

Just before Lyza was about to pounce, Srajo reached forward, and laid a gentle hand on her arm, a gesture to wait for a moment. Not wasting time, they took out a pouch in their suitcase, and produced a slim, small strip of bark to give to Lyza. [Put this in your mouth and breathe through it.] They smiled a little, the expression vaguely visible through the small opening in their mask. [I’m a White Whistle too, Lyza. I can’t simply sit here and watch you fight alone. This bark filters smoke and gas. Go on. I’ll be right behind you.]

[s-r-a-j-o]

annihilyza​:

Darting through the white, senseless haze of the curse of the 5th felt all the more strange to Lyza with the fleeting assistance of extra-sensory perception. In combination with her usual slew breathing techniques, strong tasting and smelling salts in her mouthpiece, and the sharp bite of pain keeping her focused, the vision of the forcefield felt almost as if she were traipsing through a dream; wavy and insubstantial, but intuitively understood.

Her mind struggled to hold on to her sense of self and purpose, making her question why she could see better than usual. What the weight she felt on her back was, her thoughts subtly yet actively pushed away from acknowledging the existence of her passenger despite her best efforts. Nonetheless Lyza continued her drive to her chosen destination, the best way to make progress senseless in the 5th to move with a decisive plan and not deviate for anything.

She approaches the crest, and just as her sense begin to clear and proper awareness of her surroundings and her own body fade back into focus, every nerve in her body trained to sense danger screams at her to move, as the blurred shapes become figures, a flash of light and smoke, and before she fully comprehends who she even is, she’s already diving to the ground to avoid the threat. Leaving the forcibly forgotten living cargo on her back directly in the line of fire as the musket ball strikes the blank space where she just stood and disappears without a trace. Gears turn in Lyza’s head as the inexplicable event forces her to focus, and realization of Srajo’s ethereally shrouded presence on her back snaps back into her thoughts. “Fuck! Srajo! Get down!”

Lyza crawls into cover and snaps her fingers, a slim, telescoping pencil-long rod springing from its holster along her forearm with a crack of electricity and extending to a full length 2-meter spear of glossy black metal, gripped tight in her metal-clad claw gauntlets as she peeks over the rocky promontory she’d dove behind to get a look at their attackers and assess their strength before trying to check on her invisible friend and see if they were okay.

In a blur of movement, Srajo felt Lyza dive away from the projectile. Air whooshed past their ears. The pain struck before they could make sense of their surroundings, unused as they were to being carried. The shot had left a ripple across the force field, the sensation disorientating. Srajo was reminded of their loathing towards illegal raiders as blood began to ooze from their shoulder. Thankfully, they hadn’t been hit in the head or some other fatal spot, but they could tell the bullet hadn’t punctured through, which meant they’d have to dig it out later.

Great. They were an efficient surgeon, but that didn’t make the task itself any more pleasant.

Shuffling to join Lyza’s side, Srajo whistled to deactivate their relic, and promptly came into being next to their fellow White Whistle. Through their dark and many layers of robes, it was hard to tell colour, but the smell was unmistakable. They could feel blood trickling down their chest and along their arm. Hopefully, this wouldn’t attract any predators, though it wouldn’t be so bad for an Abyssal beast to make a quick meal out of the raiders.

Gingerly, breaths slightly quickened, Srajo shrugged off their suitcase with a wince before plopping down with their back against a large rock. [Sorry.] They signed, looking a bit sheepish. [I tried to warn you, but I forgot you couldn’t sense me.] A silly blunder, now that they thought about it. [I think there are about ten of them. Maybe less. Would you like me to create a diversion? I can sneak up to them and smoke them out.]

[s-r-a-j-o]

annihilyza​:

[I appreciate your trust. I’ll ensure to be worthy of it.] “Hup!” Lyza grabbed on carefully to Srajo’s boney limbs and lifted with one steady motion of her legs, wasting no time before she started off a steady jog. As expected, Srajo wasn’t especially overburdening, though carrying all of her own kit along with a second whistle’s was never without its costs. It’d be a good workout for her. “Tap twice if there’s a problem, and I’ll stop.” Srajo would soon find their carrier making a quick pace, strong legs pounding long, confident strides along the ground and bounding across the rugged terrain of the abyss like it was a paved road. Her boots found purchase on uneven footing with practiced grace and agility, keeping the ride surprisingly steady even carrying a passenger as the distance passed.

Lyza felt a tickle as the hairs on the back of her neck rose, Srajo’s relic gradually flickering over her and bestowing her some semblance of its special sight. Lyza blinked her eyes, shaking her head as she tried to get used to it; the eery sense unfamiliar to her as she felt an ephemeral sort of vision fill her mind of the layout of the ground around her. 

As an experienced delver, and the legendary Annihilator at that, Lyza had developed a sort of experiential second sense of her own for navigating the Abyss; nothing preternatural, simply honed and tested instincts and careful attention paid to her senses and surroundings at every waking (and some sleeping) moments. If Lyza had to be honest, the two guiding forces were somewhat in conflict, and she imagined it must take a lot of practice to get used to relying on one to fill the other’s gaps. 

She quickly realized would likely never mesh with the sight in the same way that Srajo could even if the relic was affecting her alone, and it gave her a newfound appreciation for Srajo to get a taste of how they saw the Abyss and managed to keep themself safe with observational skill, knowledge, and subterfuge. Still, her mind turned with ideas on how to test it against her own knowledge, to dig deep and test the limits of the relic and see what further mysteries it might hold…

Right up until she snapped back into focus as the trail towards the shelter they sought took an upward turn, and pushing through the burden of the Fifth became unavoidable. She shifted slightly, popping a mouthpiece into place, taking a deep breath, and preparing to ford the senseless void once more.

Srajo tensed for the brief moment Lyza hefted them up, but it was quick to dissipate as their friend began to move. Being a slow delver themself, they’ve always been amazed by how quickly the more physically robust could make steady and swift work of climbing through the Netherworld. They cast their gaze around them, marveling at Lyza’s speed. They often wondered what delving was like for other White Whistles, and this was a tiny taste of it.

Srajo gave an instinctive nod at Lyza’s instruction, but realized soon after she couldn’t see them. Thus, they gave one tap, and started their look-out once their relic was activated. They were curious to later hear about the effect of their relic on a second person, having never done something like this before. It must’ve been somewhat disconcerting, they thought, to be weighed down yet struggling to perceive the one with the weight on her back.

Connected to the force field, the Lord of Mystery could tell when the two of them were about to experience the Burden. They took a deep breath as well, and focused purely on the sight given to them by the relic within their whistle. It was akin to viewing everything not by what they were, but by the negative space around them. Srajo could even see themself as an onlooker if they so wished, but that was rarely necessary.

The trek up has been uneventful thus far. Srajo kept a keen watch, but they didn’t spot anything of immediate concern. They’ve almost settled into a sense of security when movement caught their attention. Head swirling in its direction, they extended their awareness as far as they could, and tensed when they recognized the shapes obstructed by the landscape.

It looked like a team of delvers at first, but something was off. The way they moved lacked the intuitive grace all high-ranked delvers had. Srajo quickly tapped Lyza on the shoulder. However, they realized just as quickly that, shrouded as they were, the taps couldn’t be felt. Should they deactivate their relic? Would that make the two of them a bigger target? Before they could decide, the loud bang of a firearm shattered the silence.

[s-r-a-j-o]

[Isn’t Idofront just one big toilet on account of the giant turd inhabiting it?]

[s-r-a-j-o]

HONESTY 7: Which event in your life shaped you the most?

Ask My Muse | ACCEPTING

Srajo took a moment to contemplate their answer, head canted slightly in thought. [There's no denying that becoming a White Whistle is a life-changing event, but if I had to pick another one...] They paused, mulling over whether to respond, as they didn't often indulge in being openly personal. In the end, they figured it wouldn't hurt to reveal something that didn't affect their delving abilities.

[I thought I was a boy until my chest started to swell a little at puberty. It was scary at first, but I eventually decided since I wasn't ill or in pain, it was normal. I don't know if it shaped me as much as it surprised me. I had very little resources, so it took several years for me to learn about my body.]

[s-r-a-j-o]

HONESTY 3: Whom do you admire, and why?

Ask My Muse | ACCEPTING

Srajo visibly perked up at a chance about to talk about their favourite person. [I admire Lord Wakuna greatly.] They signed with excitement. [Lord Wakuna is wise and knowledgeable. He is kind and trustworthy. I didn't get to know him until late in my career, but I am happy I had the chance. He is everything a White Whistle should be: strong, dependable, smart, determined, curious, and a friend to fellow delvers. I only wish I could've spent more time with him.]

[s-r-a-j-o]

“Tell me a story.”

Srajo narrowed their eyes behind their mask. They didn't want to give Bondrewd anything, but they had to keep their promise. After shuffling through their pockets, they handed the Lord of Dawn a small box. Inside was a spring-loaded pocket of fine, glittery dust that would disperse the instance the box was opened. Have fun cleaning that out of multi-layered clothes.

[s-r-a-j-o]

HONESTY 1: What is your favorite scent?

Ask My Muse | ACCEPTING

[Aside from the usual nice scents like wet dirt and bubbling soup, I also enjoy the damp, mineral smell of warm caves. I suppose I've come to associate it with safety and sanctuary. It reminds me of the cave system I stay and store things in, where there are hot springs for drinking and bathing.]

[inboxmyrp-blog]

Ask my muse...

HONESTY 1: What is your favorite scent?

HONESTY 2: Where do you feel the most comfortable and happy?

HONESTY 3: Whom do you admire, and why?

HONESTY 4: What is your biggest fear?

HONESTY 5: If you could have one wish, what would it be?

HONESTY 7: Which event in your life shaped you the most?

HONESTY 8: What would your ideal lover be like?

HONESTY 9: What is something you're useless at?

[indiiesmemes]

send “rate me!” for my muse to rate yours on an attractiveness scale from 1-10!

[s-r-a-j-o]

abyssmail​:

Caerul’s jaw dropped when Srajo appeared out of nowhere—along with the rest of her as she fell to her feet to gape from the ground.

“That. Was. So. AWESOME!!!” she squealed, eyes sparkling with glee.  “Forget me, you spooked Bob!  The orb piercer!  That dude’s put dozens of Black Whistles on casualty lists, let alone all the relics he’s wrecked!  And you just shooed him off like it was nothing!”  The Moon Whistle watched silently as Srajo harvested the poison, lest she distract them from the delicate task.  She buzzed with excitement for the duration though, and released a flood of questions the moment the vial was corked.

“How did you disappear like that?  Is it a relic?  Is that how you’re so difficult to find all the time?  How many orb piercers have you beaten?  What do you use the poison for?”  She paused for air, only to light up even further when Srajo offered her the spine.  “Oh, would I?  Hell yeah, thank you so much!  No one’ll wanna mess with me when I could stick ‘em with this thing!”  Caerul picked up the spine and swung it through the air like a short sword.  “It may not be venomous anymore, but they don’t need to know that~”

Behind their mask, Srajo blinked. They didn’t think what they did was all that impressive, since they’d essentially just disappeared and played the part of a ghost to spook off a creature, unlike the other White Whistles who could fight off an Abyssal beast. Caerul’s excitement looked genuine, however, and they couldn’t help but feel a bit shy about her enthusiasm. There were so many questions to answer. After some picking and choosing, they decided on a few to respond to.

[It is a relic, and yes, it is why I am difficult to find.] There was no name to their relic, since they’d taken it for themself without the Association’s knowledge. [I haven’t reported it, however, and I’d rather not do so.] They figured that was enough of a clue for Caerul to understand their want for secrecy.

[I haven’t beaten any orb piercers. I only harvest them sometimes.] Srajo gave a silent chuckle when Caerul started to swing the spine like a sword. [It will make a formiddable weapon.]

[s-r-a-j-o]

abyssmail​:

[Oh, they still teach the kiddos curiosity—just not ‘willful reckless idiocy.’] Caerul rolled her eyes.  She knew all too well one could actually lead to the other.  In her case though, they weren’t related; the latter predated the former. [I did have a mentor—a couple of them, actually!  And they were awesome!]  She paused and reconsidered. […Well, Gracie was awesome.  Terrence was only sort of cool, and only some of the time.]  Caerul snickered.  Even in memory, she couldn’t resist a jab at the saturnine Moon Whistle.  In a way, it approximated the snarky banter she still mourned.  [They… couldn’t stick around long enough to finish the job, though.]

Caerul quietly examined the tree, resplendent with glittering tinsel and ornaments both classic and creative.  There were abstract colorful baubles, but also tiny replicas of the distinct flora, fauna, and personae of the Abyss.  A fluffy little splitjaw caught her attention, and she poked it gently to set it swinging, as if flying.  She could easily recognize Maruruk’s meticulous hand in the tree’s adornment, but the higher branches puzzled her.  How had the tiny apprentice reached them?  A ladder was the obvious explanation, of course, but some part of Caerul hoped the towering Unmovable Lord had participated in the decoration of the tree as well as (if the sheer size of the thing was any indicator) its procurement.  Even if only to give the child a boost to finish the job.

Srajo’s words brought warmth to her heart, but also a small chuckle to her lips.  [I’m glad you think so even after I insulted you when we first met!  And again not long ago!  I never thought that silly carol would bring us here.]

There was definitely a fine line between curiosity and recklessness, but Caerul has lived beyond Red and Blue Whistle ranks, so Srajo was of the mind to believe she had at least some idea of where to draw the line. Luck only ran so far in the Abyss. At the end of the day, skills and an acute awareness for self-preservation were the best bet a delver had to survival.

The name Gracie caught their attention. They tilted their head, and took a moment to sift through their memories. [The Gracie you mentioned, was she Lord Chosen’s apprentice?] They didn’t personally know her, as they’d been even more elusive back then, but they were pretty sure that was the name of Wakuna’s apprentice.

[I got my little revenge, so I think we’re even.] Srajo smiled, and seemed to chuckle as well. They finally found the small box, and offered it to Caerul after fixing the bow, which had gotten squished under the other presents. Inside the box was a jar containing five pebble sized medicine balls. They smelled quite strong, stinging the nostrils in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, but it definitely wasn’t anyone’s preferred scent.

[After our trouble with Bob, I thought this would be useful to you. It is an antidote to orb piercer venom. It requires that you wedge it into the wound within thirty seconds of getting cut or punctured. The process of making it is extremely difficult and tedious, so please keep its existence a secret. It’s better for delvers to continue avoiding a beast like the piercer than to rely on rare medicine.]