#archaicgeists

[centipyrrhic]

From Me To You

{ @archaicgeists }

-

{ * When did this nostalgia kick creep in? Was it the hues of blue, text on screen with little wingdings to accent and punctuate, a desire to learn the unknown stirring the familiar? }

{ * Is this longing? A rekindling of an old and smothered flame? Who knows. }

-

{ * Geist. It’s been a long time. You... I hope you don’t miss my lesser half I’ll be serviceable of some comfort company, even now. }

{ * You know I can’t go back, right...? Not after... everything that’s happened. I can’t. He’s not coming back. }

-

{ * There’s a man draped in a black cloak outside an achingly familiar entrance. He’s hesitating. }

{ * It’s been a while since he’s been inside the Void. Truth be told, he avoids the place. Bad blood. Bad memories. No looking back- }

{ * Bullshit. He’s looking the past square in the face right now, openly inviting all those past hurts and cuts into his heart again. Why? Why now? Why couldn’t he just- }

{ * The man knocks on the door. }

[lastinggaster]

Mercy //Closed RP

@archaicgeists

* [And off he goes.

Eight lifts himself out of his seat, groaning with the effort. Stiff body. He might not be quite dead yet, but his leg appears to be convinced.

Figment, in Eights field of view, seems to vanish for a moment, returning only when he’s vacated the train carriage he’d been staying in. 

He takes a last glance at Apologys’s home. There’s a sense of finality about it- a place he’ll miss, and the people associated with it, even if he really had been the only one there for a while.

...His thoughts are interrupted by the Cubesy-Clone drifting back into sight. He frowns. ]

YOU’RE GOING THROUGH WITH IT, THEN? AFTER ALL THIS?

* We’re not discussing it.

YOU’RE ONLY TALKING WITH YOURSELF, DEAR.

* Exactly.

* [Any other attempts to speak to Eight are ignored. He has enough on his mind already- as he heads towards the Lich’s voidspace.

He has a request to make. Here’s hoping Geist would grant it- though his expectations aren’t all that high.

...After a long walk, he approaches the space with not a hit of caution. He has no need for it at this point.

Upon his approach, Eight appears completely alone. There’s nobody else with him. Not to onlookers, anyway.]

[fragmentednothing]

[ @archaicgeists 

The poor fragment has been wandering the void, lost- not many have given him any clues as to who exactly he is, outside of “Gaster” and apparently.. “Nix”? It’s eerily familiar, in any case.

He’s paused, taking a seat on a rock, glancing left and right across the empty black expanse. He’s found a phone in his pocket, and asked if he could meet a fragment named “Geist.” His name sounds so familiar. 

Now he just waits for him to arrive, quietly. ]

[askthefallenfrisk]

*pats the older socked child lightly on the head* -archaicgeists-

@archaicgeists

Socks: You feel different, You... you’re not MY Mister Gaster, are you?

[flapsinhands-a]

Overdue Apologies

[ Closed w/ @archaicgeists ]

* [It had been a nice couple of days visiting with Sera and his dad. It was definitely the first time Flaps had been even partially out of the void since his fall into the core, and it had been a very relaxing break from the tenseness in the house.]

* [But they couldn’t stay there forever, they knew that. Flaps was already starting to feel the pull to come back home, and it was affecting the other two.]

* [Before they would go back home, though, Flaps had a stop to make. The amalgamation was already out and about in the void, it would be best for them to just stop in now instead of waiting and putting it off for another day.]

* [It would take a couple hours of travel, but sure enough, they arrived, and knocked softly on the door. Hopefully this wouldn’t go too badly...]

[lastinggaster]

Tall rock shelf, are you maybe here to help me hurt myself? Miasma sky, would you swallow me alive? Otherwise there is very little you can do for me [x]

---

Moodboard for @archaicgeists

[lastinggaster]

Marshy has been having…a day

Discord shenanigans I guess??? Why would u pick a fight with the guy who cut your goddamn legs off what’s wrong with u

He’s missing an arm and half his face but he’ll be fine. Probably.

[wingdgaster]

      Tea filled mug sat warm betwixt palms, the long since stilled spoon sourcing the rippling waves that washed up against the edges of the vessel in hand-- could he say he’d made the right choice in meddling as he had with things as he had...? 

       Could he really say he was doing the right thing as the Lich collected himself in the far room-- an end brought to himself in act of his own... his own hand... 

        The long since cold tea rippled with movement, lifting it to settle the weighty vessel on the olden carved table seated near the broken in fireplace recliner-- he needed to move... he needed to shift his mind, he’d stuck his nose somewhere it didn’t belong, and he knew it-- in the name of helping another, and yet-- 

       And yet... 

       Dull and weighty footsteps carried the man through, risen from the well loved chair, pouring the contents of the untouched mug into the sink and setting the dirtied cup to sit. Brows furrowed and eyes fell shut, hands meeting with the counter and clutching at the sink’s metal edge. 

       ...why did he feel guilty...