#fatedevour

[inyvat]

"....." This wasn't good. Oh this was bad. "I thought we killed you! How many segments do you have?!"

@fatedevour

[gildstar]

the conclusions are as follows :

aether meat tastes somewhat similar to elk.

it doesn’t count as cannibalism. he’s a featherless biped. vaguely human shaped. he’s basically chicken.

reduced risk of prion disease.

if he could choose, he’d want to be cooked in some complicated roundabout way (think sous vide. reverse searing. wellington). something tasty.

[mlodic]

A lizard that CERTAINLY DOES NOT BELONG where currently is seems to be rather intently watching Columbina. Did it just roll its eyes when she started her signature melody? Rather similar to a certain doctor? Maybe, maybe not.

       Steps follow a same everyday path, melodic voice echoing through the wind. It's quite normal for her to have animals approaching, only to be close, to feel home. So it wasn't quite something to have one more watching her, except...

       Head turns into the direction of the little lizard, head turning slightly to the side as its features are quite... unique, per say.

       ' Well, hello, little one. Are you new here? Welcome. I hope you'll feel home. I could introduce you to the geckos... or... would you rather be alone? '

[lightricks]

" Your participation and consequential data collection from this will be quite useful. So for that, I must thank you for your contributions. " Dottore remarks, hands clasped behind his back in his usual pose from where he can (relatively) safely observe how Childe will handle them. " I think you'll find these two quite a bit more interesting than the usual automotons in the wild. " With a simple snap, the ruin guards immediately activate, followed by the rather signature blue glow of dottore's technology as shields ripple across the metallic surfaces. " With your skills, I'm sure you can handle this. You have five minutes before the secondary stage actives. " Which has evidently already started by the way the machines immediately launch into an attack on childe. ( We appreciate your contributions to science childe :) )

@fatedevour.

          he’s already having trouble paying attention, has since he caught onto the familiar whir of machinery in the background of this workshop. if his ears could swivel and twist like a dog’s, if his metaphorical tail would wag it would. the tsaritsa’s little vanguard-in-training was still so green, only seventeen and newly appointed. there were still other harbingers he hadn’t even met yet, so for one of his first encounters with il dottore to be an impromptu experiment, what else could he say but yes ? whatever information the second had gleaned on the young tartaglia was astute, that he took to battle experiments like a fish to water.

          an arrow pulsing with riptide shoots with devastating force the second dottore finishes the word ‘ activates, ’ drawn and released with devastating force. childe’s aimed a bullseye towards the ruin guard’s eye out of habit, the quickest way to put one out of commission in the wild, but the arrow can only drive the tip into the shield. he could see that it surrounded each of the automatons and moved as they advanced, so each of the shields was localised. that it had been added somewhere in its circuitry was the easiest assumption, but did it mean only brute force was going to take the machines down ? surely there had to be a quicker method. if the doctor wanted to see senseless bashing on his experiments, he could have asked any other grunt to play.

          the archer’s riptide traps applied to the arrows that couldn’t effectively penetrate the shields still seeped through, minimal damage but applying hydro into the machines beneath anyway. he cast a quick glance at dottore, wondering if he could see any indication of how this experiment was going and catching nothing. this was fine, this was fine. dual water blades made almost no indent in the shields either, information for the cost of a savage blow to his side, courtesy of the robot’s swinging arms.

          at this point he was just biding his time, a plan in mind put into place as soon as he saw the ruin guards hunker into place, ready to launch the homing missile assault. with abyss-aided blinding speed, childe leapt onto the ruin guard’s shoulder, narrowly missing the inevitable explosion as the projectiles locked onto his signature. he felt the missiles fly past his shoulder as he flipped off the automaton at the last second, feeling rather than hearing the implosion as its own missiles crashed into robot. the following explosion knocked it back into the next, resulting in several more detonations.

          messy uniform singed, and skin beginning to bruise, none of it seemed to bother the young harbinger as he let out an excited shout of victory, punching the air with bow in hand. he whirled on the doctor, grinning from ear to ear.

          “   what’s next, doc ?   ”

[gunnhildred]

It is quiet, the hustle and bustle of the city in the day falling silent in the nighttime. For Mondstadt it seems to be cold, but it is warm by Snezhnaya standards. Even so, a fire crackles in the fireplace of the hotel room, the soft pops and hisses of the fire occasionally breaking the quiet of the air whenever conversation lulls and offering a yellow-orange hue to the room.

Dottore is listening to Jean even as he contemplates within his own mind. It is arguable a pathetically simple gesture to physically carry out, what he contemplates, but it has never been THAT which was a problem. But she's seen him without his mask once before - albeit on the edge of passing out, but coherent enough to still converse for a little while. Neither has mentioned it since. Which leaves him contemplating it now, still unsettled at the idea, yet no longer with the intent of using it as a TEST or power flex. her words still echo, whether she herself recalls them or not.

" Your hot chocolate. And some classic Snezhnaya tea cakes. Though they're more akin to just sweet treats that actual tea cakes like in other lands. Some were delivered and I thought you might fancy trying them. " Dottore remarks as he sets both offerings down on the table in front of the couch for her before he sits down on the couch beside her. It's only once she leans forward to get the hot chocolate that he silently pries the familiar mask off of his own visage and lets it rest on the arm of the couch beside him. " You were too busy again to realize how late it was, weren't you? " It takes one to know one, and Dottore was certainly familiar with that particular situation all too well himself.

( It makes have taken several days bUT WE GOT THERE WITH THE ASK )

Regardless of what Snezhnaya may think, it is cold. Or at least it had been, as frost had peppered the outside of the windows, the howling wind far more inhospitable than it ought to be for a city such as Mondstadt. It was pleasantly and blissfully warm in that room however;  like a cozy refuge away from the elements, as a fire crackled and the muted light afforded them an ever easy glow. She’s more comfortable than she ought to be, as evidenced by the pair of white and gold heeled boots left neatly by the door, and the legs tucked up underneath her as she scans her eyes across pages and pages of a thesis she only barely understands. 

She knows how scandalous it looks to an outsider. How unfathomable and questionable, to be hidden away in the Goth Grand Hotel with a man whose reputation is far from glowing. Yet before anyone gets any salacious ideas about what had led the Acting Grand Master to be in his private accommodations after hours for the second time, it must be said that her presence is purely (or at least mostly) academic. Plus it means that for all intents and purposes she is unreachable by the current Grand Master should he wish to offload his administrative obligations.

Jean is mid-babble about some plant or other in his centuries old research when he returns bearing gifts, the scent of her favourite sweetened elixir already serving its purpose to draw her attention from the immaculate handwriting untouched by time. ❝Hot chocolate AND tea cakes? I hope you’ve asked Pantalone for a raise at this point, since this is peak diplomacy right here.❞ She muses aloud with an appreciative hum, ungloved hands reaching forth to cocoon around the mug and allow it’s warmth to breathe life back into arctic fingertips. Not that he needed much help on the diplomatic front, at least in recent weeks he’d been nothing short of the perfect guest in her city - a man on his best behaviour - though perhaps that in itself was what had sparked concern among her peers. 

Raising the mug to her nostrils, the blonde inhales deeply, savouring the beverage’s comforting appeal before daring to take a sip. It’s just as good as she remembers from last time. Not too sweet but not too bitter, perfectly balanced and ever so slightly spiced with something she can’t quite put her finger on. She’s almost surprised he remembered her penchant for hot chocolate, given the last time he’d shared his own supply, she’d been at far from her best. Placid blues close as she commits the taste to memory, appreciative hands nursing the heated mug before affording him an answer to his query. ❝I was momentarily distracted, what can I say? I was hung up on reading.❞ Plus the prospect of stepping foot outside again hadn’t helped to encourage her to move from her temporary and self-appointed nest. 

By the time she opens her eyes again, the atmosphere has changed, for it is not a masked adversary that greets her but a familiar yet simultaneously elusive face. A face, that she must now take great care to commit every detail to memory. She knows his mouth well enough, has watched it tirelessly through their many discussions, and occasionally his eyes when a glimmer of red peeked through the avian shroud that concealed his true thoughts. But there are aspects of his face that are undoubtedly and innocuously mundane, yet impossible to dismiss. The parts of a person that are so often overlooked yet scream character and identity in a way that simple words and actions cannot. To that end, Jean finds her staring, gaze following the slope of his nose to the set of his jaw, memorising the angle at which his ear vanishes beneath his hair or a scant slither of neck peeks out from his collar. 

It’s oddly and inexplicably intimate, and yet he’s not balked or run away, even when she finds herself leaning that little bit closer to raise a hand experimentally as if to reach out and touch and make sure this isn’t just another half baked fever dream. ❝You have tan lines. ❞ The grand master observes aloud, the faintest hint of endeared surprise colouring her tone as those cocoa warmed fingertips make contact with his cheek to trace the aforementioned anomaly. ❝Only faint ones, so I can only presume it’s been a while since you were last in warmer climes but they’re there all the same…❞ She trails off just as her fingers retreat, curling back into her palm at the sudden realisation of just how intrusive such an act could be. ❝My apologies, that was…❞ Overly Familiar. Violating. Presumptive. There were a great many words she could use to describe it, but none could find their way out of her throat to finish the sentence. 

Instead it was easier to change the subject, to return her attention to the thesis he had so benevolently shared and hope he wouldn’t render their camaraderie to ash for the overly tactile slight. Almost immediately the eldest Gunnhildr’s gaze drops, intently focusing on line upon line of information that made so little sense to her. She was no idiot, but nor was she a seasoned academic. She could read it, yes, but reading and understanding were two different things. One thing she could understand however, was the inclusion of an author’s name that had until now gone unnoticed. His name. A piece of forbidden knowledge so unwittingly shared and yet now determined to be priceless. 

❝Zandik.❞ She says it aloud. A name unheard for decades; just quietly rolling off her tongue with neither malice nor contempt - but something akin to curiosity. Appreciation even. She has no right to use it of course. No claim to a name that he himself hasn’t ever introduced himself with, but if he is willing to expose his face to her, then perhaps it’s time to share this slither of truth too. ❝Is that your real name?❞ 

[incertion]

unprompted. | @fatedevour said: Normal lizards don't stare at someone like they're picking them apart nor are they a shade of blue that errs dangerously close to a doctor's infamous shade or the red eyes that match. Normal lizards flinch and move at loud sounds or sharp movements or swift approaches. They don't stand there defiantly staring back, much less giving what almost seems like a well? head tilt accompanied with a loud tail thump.

it's a pleasant, quiet day. the sun shines overhead; the grass is green and thriving, and the sky is clear and blue. everything is perfectly ordinary. rhinedottir finds it exceedingly dull. as such, the notice of a particular reptile is not missed⸻ rather, pondered, until she reaches over to pick it up by the tail.

dangling in the space before her, she raises a questioning eyebrow, tilts her head. alchemist leans forward and meets irritated red eyes, containing a clean viciousness too large for the body it's in. naberius chuckles faintly within: what a fascinating sort of life you've found, dear rhinedottir. on this, they can agree. she flattens the palm of her left hand and places the lizard atop it, peering.

“ now, doctor, ” she says, mildly amused and tone lilting. “ how is it you've found yourself in this form? has the divine finally punished you for your arrogance? ”

[vonbirden]

“ Don't you seem awful chirpy today; what, did something meticulously die to your specifications? ”

@fatedevour sc. *ೃ༄

[tevystar]

She just looks at what's going on with Mateo and Rachel being terrorize by Dottore, "First time?"