#falsitiess

[phantommirrored]

“   Got caught giving a fuck. Embarrassing. ”

"Happens to the best of us. You should die. Violently."

[lorene-dairson]

don’t chase the rabbit

Send me "Don't chase the rabbit" and your muse will be shown a random memory from my muse's past. continued from here

When Lorene awoke, it happened suddenly, all at once. Energy such as he hadn't felt in months surged through him--the need to get up, to move, because he hadn't been able to. He needed to.

He didn't open his eyes. He didn't move a muscle.

Lorene felt more alive than he had in four months, more alive than he had since the doomed patrol had left Tir Dolmindon and ventured onto the tundra, where Captain Rin and all his men had been slaughtered by Orcs, leaving Lorene the sole survivor. A sense of awe and sheer incredulity filled his brain up, so intense that he couldn't form words to his thoughts, his questions--but still, he knew better than to show it. He knew better than to show any of this on his face, or in his movements.

Any drastic change, and the scientists in the laboratory he'd been imprisoned in would be on him like a swarm of flies on a turd.

So when he awoke, he pretended like he was still asleep. He lay on his side, still and quiet, his breathing still deep and even as if he slumbered on.

Of one thing he was certain: that had not been a dream. He hadn't simply dreamed up the coming of Polaris, the Goddess of the North Star. He hadn't dreamed her pulling off a piece of herself, pulling off the substance of her shoulder--substance, he thought wryly, as if gods are made of flesh. They weren't. Gods were beings entirely of soul-energy, of spirit. So that amulet she'd given him--it was a piece of her soul. If the body of a star was a giant ball of perpetually-combusting gasses, then the soul of a star was a minor god, such as Polaris.

Slowly, subtly, Lorene moved his hand. The amulet was still there, sitting around his neck, hidden under the plain tunic (a "scrub top", they'd called it) that the lab had put him in. Not a dream. Not a dream.

She said this would fix me. His hand clenched harder around the amulet under his shirt. The metal was warm, even through the fabric. How? How did it fix me? Why do I feel better? Why am I--

Not dying. I'm not dying anymore.

Lorene stopped breathing. He went very, very still.

My soul, he concluded. It found something to latch onto. It latched onto HER. The piece of herself that she gave me.

Instead of the soul of Asgard, its Gaia-flow, my soul is connected to the soul of a star. My life is drawing power from a goddess. And stars--stars are everywhere. I could go anywhere. I could stay in this universe indefinitely, or go to any other realm in the Multiverse--and still be okay. I'll be okay.

I'll be okay.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry so badly it hurt. But Lorene knew he was being observed, and he didn't dare. He just lay there, and kept on breathing, slowly, deeply. In. Out.

Alright. So I'm going to live. That's good.

...now what?

[sbcjacinthe]

"Alors, I overheard that a "Professor Sycamore" frequented this area and sought to meet you, but I daresay you are not the one I was expecting!"

Jacinthe didn't look troubled by it, but her misguided persistence could have easily troubled this fellow...

Tilting her head, she inquired, "Do you at least possess a Pokémon or two?"

💜 @falsitiess

[fiestywolfchild]

A Novel Idea!

Yuki has a holiday from school, but Juliyah didn't have a holiday from work. So, she was dropped off at the Library of Xalphina, where an event showcasing the stories from other words was being promoted.

Yuki didn't really care about that, though. Yuki was 6, and interested in colorful books, and catching up on learning how to read. Reading was the hardest for her in school, despite her mothers best efforts to home school her, and the same was true in Spirale's elementary school. Still, despite disliking reading most of the time, even Yuki could want to hear a story every now and again.

Unfortunately, the draken-like storyteller had just finished up his latest tale, and was going to take a break. Yuki's shoulders slumped as she clutched a book in her hands, a children's one from the illustrations, and watched the staff member shuffle off for his lunch. Fine. She would find someone else to help her read it! Huffing, the small child looks around until she sees a very smart-looking man, glasses and all.

"E'scuse me." She whispers loudly, peeking over the edge of the high table he's sat at.

"Can you help me read this?" She asks, sliding it toward him. The title, embossed with shiny gold ink reads 'The Aurora and The Sycamore Tree'.

@falsitiess

[mortevivante]

@falsitiess ⎛ desert record s.c. ⎠

the heat of the desert was never enjoyable. while erik had his fair amount of experience traveling under harsh sunlight, mazandaran was more beautiful than it was anything else- oppressive summers aside ... and it was humid, rather than the awful drought of a desert. needless to say, erik had not worn the garb of the khanum's angel of death in quite a while- but it was better suited than the fine cloths associated with the opera ghost. still, the attire allowed him to lurk in the shadows if he so needed. as he was so very used to.

he had come to the desert castle on a whim- finding himself partnered with another man in a mask.

ah, the mystery was always better, wasn't it? similar to something he had once told his christine- but she was not here now. she would not come back. why was it that he had never learned to let go of the pain of the past?

it was better, he thought, to simply distract himself for a time. quiet the sound in his mind; the voices, without silencing the music. ❝ you, ❞ he begins, voice echoing in the chamber like it belonged to a god, or an angel- from everywhere but his own mouth ⎛ left uncovered by the black mask, lips unmoving ⎠ ❝ require a traveling companion to pass beyond those doors. ❞

golden eyes narrow slightly as he takes note of this man's attire. thoroughly unsuited for something like this- but neither of them could afford to be too picky with that. when he'd entered, the doors to the outside world had shut, leaving only one path forward. ❝ i think, monsieur, we likely share a common goal in this. ❞

[dishonoredknife]

@falsitiess

Daud could not abide mysteries. Dunwall was full of them- and this place, Spirale, was something else entirely. The manner of arrivals was one of them.

He had died. He knew he did. He remembered the long, drawn out way he clung to life long enough to set Billie on her path, recording his audiograph while she was out, and letting the Void take him.

He remembered searching for his mother there, until he realized he no longer remembered her face. Encountering Billie, and letting her persuade him to free the Outsider to live as a mortal.

Others here were uncertain if they'd died to arrive here. Others still just arrived with no apparent cause.

So, it wasn't an afterlife. But what was it?

The question ate at him in the weeks he'd been here, enough to drive him to seeking out the archives.

Despite his appearance and brutally efficient practicality, the old assassin was an avid learner, and had spent a fair amount of time with the natural philosophers that propelled the Empire into an industrial expansion. He'd spent long enough to know the airs around academia, and the cutthroat profession that it was.

One person here certainly stood out in that regard. Dressed fastidiously neat, with medium-length hair coifed at the ends, keen eyes that peered out from behind spectacles. He could have been the curator of this place, and Daud operated on that assumption, seeing how the man carried himself with purpose.

"Excuse me," he rasps, "Where would I find any information about the arrivals here?"

[isolaradiale]

woops, i’m sorry. life got me. i’d like to reapply desmond sycamore / jean descole from professor layton, please!

Welcome back to frigid Isola Radiale, Desmond!

You’ll be staying in APARTMENT 313.

You will retain everything you were given in your previous stay.

Enjoy your stay!

– ⋆ diadem.

Because you were removed in an activity check, you have one week to make two eligible IC posts or you will be considered inactive again.

[badluckgoboom]

@falsitiess

Powder's hand pressed right over her own mouth, just keeping herself from crying aloud as she'd nearly lost balance. Fortunately it seemed the librarian had been occupied, though a couple of people had looked her way from where they sat with their books. Her eyes darted back and forth amongst them, then went back up to the shelf she'd been trying to reach.

She was a jinx. Whatever she did, she'd end up screwing it up. It was why she'd tried for a good minute now to get to that top shelf on her own. No use getting someone else wrapped up in her mess. But it was clear that it wasn't going to work. She was just going to ruin things even worse if she kept trying.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she approached someone nearby- a man. A stranger, sure, but that was everyone around here.

"Excuse me, sir..." she muttered. "Can you help me get to that shelf up there?"