#grieveexistence

[isilugay]

“Mina! I’m over here! We shouldn’t split up!”

And now Mina’s back in gray and red and purple hallways, the odd window showing snow whirling outside - this is the first Concern base! And Robin’s shouting at her from somewhere around that corner!

“Coming!!” Mina yells back, but when she hefts her shotgun - nice, that’s back - and runs for the sound, there’s no one there, not even soldiers. Just another corridor. “Robin? Where’d you go?” she calls, still running. She’s probably just ahead, just up this way -

“Over here! C’mon!”

Robin isn’t usually this talkative. Actually, she’s usually almost mute, talking in one- or two-word sentences or sign language, but whatever, apparently she’ll speak if it means getting the party back together. This time, the direction of the shout is harder to place. There’s a bit of a strange echo in these empty halls.

Mina keeps running, but there’s still no Robin, or anyone else either, and every time Robin calls out it seems farther away, and it’s tougher to tell where she is, and at the beginning the rooms looked familiar but now they don’t and there’s nothing to do but just keep on running and hope-

...and she’s definitely lost now. Fuck.

Mina barrels around a corner with no idea in hell where she’s going, and nearly runs smack dab into a sprinting Contra. Even if they hadn’t been wearing the uniform (their helmet’s not on quite right, looks like they jammed it on in a hurry, she can see a little bit of short yellow-blond hair, same color as Robin’s), all Contra seem to run the same weird way. “Hey, who-” Mina asks, but they just dash out of sight.

The room they came from looks sciencey. A couple of those crafting tables Robin uses to upgrade her stuff, but it’s mostly desks with all sorts of chemicals in vials and beakers strewn all over them. And in the center of the room is a puddle of dusty purple sludge, and...

“Oh, gods fucking dammit! Not you again!!”

@grieveexistence

[ofeternae-archive-blog]

          there the captain stands in a clearing, adorned in the elegant battlegown of the glorybringer. in truth she does not care about standing out, and prefers to do so either way---she was never one for keeping to herself. if there is a hand to be given, hers would be the first to aide. 

          although it is no ridill, her main weapon from home, she took to further her swordsmanship and prowess with the wooden sword given. her right hand grips the hilt with true resolve, even if it is a weak weapon. with a twisting and twirling body, she gracefully swings her blade with ease. it is during her practice an unknown passerby approaches. the sword is put away in order to greet with peace. 

          ❝ Who’s there? Sorry---did I disturb you? ❞

@grieveexistence

[iconochanic-blog]

you are, in every sense of the word, afraid.

    this is a dream that isn't a dream, nor a nightmare, it's something straight out of your mind and you've seen it dragged out before. you know these spectres, tall and towering in the distance; they hold hands and look at a house in ruins with long, long faces. the one concern has taken their hearts and the yellows of the flower field away. you screw away with your wrench, and the sunflower takes long to bloom, but you do it with desperation in your work and the shadow with a one-handed sword shrieks away.

     so everything changes: bubbles float, you've sunken down, and like one of the few friends you've known, this mind thinks you've reached rock bottom. but it’s the same thing as before. the lips around you want to speak, echoing their ancestral rites and their procreation and marriage; you spin electricity into sunflowers and that priestly shadow cannot harm you.

     and then there comes the enemy - the "enemy" you never considered as one, the moon with him as fragmented as ever, a skeleton of the one concern in the distance, and you rush so fast to wind up the gears that he can't do a thing. ( but you don’t know if you can breathe. )

     you hesitate when the scene changes. who appears is too familiar a face, crackling with ivory and not shade like the rest. you can’t really tell why she’s here in full form, and not a husk or anything like such.

     agent black should not be a figure in your own dreams, or your mind. not here. not a single finger moves. not a single weapon even dares to fire -- for you, anyways. after all, all you can feel is the fear wrapping around your hand.

@grieveexistence

[hyper-light]

questions for the mun: 11, 18

11 - What’s a thread you’d like to do in the near future?

honest confession; i’m always looking for fight threads, they’re tons of fun. i’m up for those anytime, and our muses don’t even have to be fighting each other--fighting a common enemy is cool with me too, or just training/sparring

18 - Your muse’s theme song.

i really can’t pick just one! i even made a fanmix of four last year here. truthfully when i think of the drifter i hear the main menu music of the game--but that’s a boring answer, haha.i relate lots of songs with the drifter, even made two music videos with some gameplay--and often think of making more of them.

one of these potential songs is magician by milo:

my transmissions beganwhen diamond said to coal:{ WHY SO YIELDING? }~you leave home.the important part is you leave home

who knows? might be seeing this video in the future

[karmotrinelifesaver]

Starter | @grieveexistence

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Jill had passed by where they were sitting a little bit ago, and got the impression she wasn’t in the best of moods. Jill’s been there, and for her, a nice drink sometimes helped. So she’d gone over to a nearby corner store and purchased two cans of beer, which she now brought back to offer one to the stranger.

“It’s yours if you want it, no strings attached. You don’t even have to talk to me.”