Thereâs a low groan from the yellow soul, kicking her feet out of boredom while sitting on a low âflyingâ island, glittering with various flowers and plants and âstarsâ on the ceiling. She just got finished calming down the purple soul enough so that she could make sure the cyan soul did her end of the bargain between the six of them. She just wants to go over to Snowdin and make sure things are okay there too, but her partner wonât let her go anywhere outside of Waterfall without her, or without her armor properly fixed up.
Earlier was a bit of a fluke, because the blue soul was still disoriented enough to agree to let them go. She was not happy about that, if that wasnât clear.
âIntegrity! Can we get going already?! We have to make sure the runes are still up before we can settle and relax! Then we need to find that prick who killed me!â
âJustice, would you be still? I can and will bind you so I can fix your gear since you wonât take it off for a few moments. You never know who will show up...well, we donât. And I told you, youâre not allowed to hunt anyone or anything in this frame of mind. Perseverance agrees with me, so... overruled.â
She chuckles at the second groan, refocusing on her work.
There's a certain pair of Souls occupying the kitchen as they are wont to do. Bravery is perhaps reciting a very familiar children's book, now that the word "fish" is known and what spacing it provided with the chimes of their voice. Kindness on the other hand is completely content with trying to make himself and Bravery something smaller to munch on while he fashions up something for the others.
Do they know completely who watches from the shadows? No not really. That was always more of the Hunters' gig.
Now, see, humans can't purr. They can make sounds similar to it, but ultimately, they can't purr. They don't have the necessary "equipment" for it like felines do.
And that's precisely why the partial-lie of a certain kiddo madman being human is so amusing.
But that's not the point. Not right now anyways.
Fleur's busying himself on his phone, chatting with his best friend, Leys, and his girlfriend, Katie. In hindsight, doing either of these things around his darling uncle, wasn't a great idea.
"Oooo is that Katie? Hiii Katie!"
Mmrrrr.
"Too bad, kiddo, I reserved the annoying uncle rights a long time ago! I have to embarrass you, it would physically hurt me not to."
Mmrrraow.  Rrrrm.
"Well, you decided it was a good idea to video chat with your bestie and your girlfriend while you're with me! Deal with it <3"
"...prick."
Leys finally speaks up through their laughter. "He speaks! You're a miracle worker."
"He knows I'm right~" Is Emrys having way too much fun embarrassing Fleur? Oh you bet he is.
"do you want to get yeeted? you will get yoten."Â Grumble-huff.
"You know you love me, kiddo!"
"yeah sure whatever."
Katie is giggling quietly on her end, enjoying seeing her boyfriend in high spirits despite his appearance. It's a nice change in pace from what she noticed last time.
"Dude, flower boy, we gotta get you and Katie to go out with me and Bits again- there's a great arcade place up the street, just opened. You can geek out all you want and you'd be surrounded by birds of your feather. Plus, you look like you could use a proper gaming-vay-cay."
"now hold on- i wouldn't geek out."
"He so would geek out, he does it all the time here~"
AT WHAT POINT DOES IT BECOME THE POINT OF NO RETURN? At what point are you forced to look at yourselvesâto determine that the rot comes from within?Â
Have you heard the latest news? one figure says to another, amusement dripping from the lazy lilt of their smile. They have determined that the cultists pose no issue to the greater kingdom.Â
You and your empire metaphors, the other scoffs. The rot is, and has always been, at the foundation. Little wonder that they havenât discovered this sooner.Â
It wouldnât have been as much fun if they had, the first replies, pressing their fingertips to the curve of their mouth. Havenât you wanted to watch them fall since the beginning?Â
Only to see how they would rise.
After the previous missionsâafter something terrible shivered from its own skin in a shudder of RED, a creature opens its maw and sharpens its teeth. Knowing is the first wonder, for when you look into the abyss, the abyss gazes back,
leaving you wrecked with its immutable purpose. OPERATION MASTICATE reports back to the Council: the artefact is not with their primary suspects. THE ONE WITH THE RED THOUGHTS has responded to the successful end of its testâthough apologetic, it denies the end of its hunt: it is not yet time for the Teeth to be sharpened.
Going further, it is now known that the artefact is based on dynamisâmore important than the retrieval of it is the warning of the entity involved with it. Willpower-based corruption is, and will always be, an effect of the artefact.
The Council asks the members of Vice and Virtue to heed this warning: DO NOT LET THE ARTEFACT POLLUTE YOUR THOUGHTS.Â
â â„ â
Welcome to PART II of the INTERLUDE. This part should be expected to play out until mid-April, before the start of the next ACT.
Tldr; it is now known that BAST, or the entity that the cult worships, does not know where its own artefact has gone. It is also unwilling to command its worshippers to be neutral to those under V&Vâand so members of V&V will have to fend off attacks from the outside whilst guarding from traitors in their midst. BAST has alluded to someone inside V&V stealing the artefact.
This plot drop will lead to both a witch-hunt and an ending trial: gather your information and guard against liars.
IT BEGINS, AS MOST THINGS DO, WITH A WHISPER. Spider-legs skitter through the walls of the House, as hushed voices carry to those who should know better. Things that remain stagnant will soon become as rot: there is only one path forward, even if the uneasy quiet must be broken.Â
(Make no mistake: this is not peace.)
Let this be a lesson: you cannot build an empire atop a tightrope wire, no matter how fun the fall is, one says to the other, voice heavy with mockery. They beckon forth a sparrow, painted lips curved underneath the shadow of their hood. Why want something so nebulous as power when you can have something to hold in your hands? They cage the little bird in their hands with a gentle squeeze.
Thereâs nothing that says you canât have both, the other hums, tail flick-flicking as they watch the sparrowâs master. Good news?
The best.Â
There is one truth in a world devoid of it: the Council has always had a vested interest in objects of power, and despite the wary way the Dreadwyrm crew heeds the orders of those who had once called for their heads in retribution, they would never fail to deliver. The Councilâs most wayward hounds have (or so they say, in whispers and pointed glances) brought back news of something the Council would want.Â
Wanting, after all, is the first sin.Â
It should have been a secret, but rumours carry through the air on spider-thin silks; now, the silence grows teeth. Information grows wrong and multiplies, as is its wontâeach division, least of all the Council itself, believes in their right to own the artifact. Is it not right that the Council should repay them for their unerring devotion?Â
But before the Council can make their decision, the whispers begin to escalate. The artifact was lost in transit, (or so they say). The quietest voice carries the furthest: it says that the artifact was stolen. Who could be so bold?
How unlucky. How strange. (A few voices even dare to accuse the Council of staging the theft: they have the least to lose, do they not?)
â â„ â
Welcome to our first event of the year! The INTERLUDE should be expected to play out until the end of the month, before the start of the next ACT. First, and most importantly, we would like volunteers to serve as the opposing (or more âantagonisticâ) roles. If youâd like to volunteer your character as tribute, please message us through MODMAIL!
Tldr; each division believes in the rumours of the artifactâthough there are skeptics, itâs better to be safe than sorry, right? The rumours themselves range from outlandish to too-grounded, but one thing is certain: the artifact will give the division that obtains it a great boost in power. For Ravensgate, this would be an incredible source of informationâor a way to obtain it. For Project Nox, this could be an exciting new research subject. So on and so forth.
The Council knows best of all what the artifact is: the Dreadwyrm crew is suspiciously silent on the matter, but they also were not the ones who came into contact with the object in question. (For better or for worse, the organization had hired an outside courier to deliver the artifact.)
In a weekâs time, there will be an investigation conducted in the place the artifact was last seen. Until then, this is as much information as most people know.
All of the kids look at each other. Sharing looks of which hold a conversation, an agreement as soon as they see the world weary gaze of a hopeless madman overlook them entirely in favor of curling up in the pillow fort undisturbed. Sharing looks that simply look like a group of plotting kids with ideas filled with fantasy and delight, but only to the wrong eyes.
They are Mages after all- well most of them are.
They've observed how to make portals, how to stabilize them. They've watched as they appear, watched as they crumbled. They've tried making small ones for small transports. They've gotten slowly bigger. It taxes them but together they can make one that sustains them for a long enough time to do what needs to be done.
Have you ever heard of the comment of cats going to hide somewhere dark and quiet when they know they're going to die? Well no one has ever claimed differently of mages. In fact, there's a reason behind the claim of witches and mages having feline companions, specifically black ones... They act rather similar. Always have and always will.
Perseverance is the one that stays behind for a little while. Assuring the group of kids that they'd be there shortly, they just need to reassure the others of the house that...things would be okay. That they'd all be alright. Not here, not there, not anywhere, but they'd be watching. They never said they weren't before after all.
A note is left on the living room table for a certain elder Hunter, one written on pretty lilac-dyed paper in simple black ink.
||Â Hey, Emrys. I want to thank you. Not only for giving us the opportunity to be kids again for a little while, but for helping our dear friend, maybe even big brother figure, get the help and care he deserves. There's not enough words we could give to you for that. But we have to get going now. There's still one last thing we have to do before we go. It'll be a gift for not only Fleur, but for the entire family to enjoy. It may take a couple weeks to show, but you know how us Mages work. Ever so flashy, without remorse.
                                    Gratefully, though briefly yours,
                              GALE đŒÂ ||
"Ya think this'll work though?" Usually black eyes shine with orange that spreads throughout their irises. "It's a long shot..."
"Of course it'll work. Of everything that's changed...this hasn't." The hand of a studious Enchantress brush against the flowers at her feet, uncaring of the muck and the mud staining her boots. It's a welcome change against the sterile cleanliness of someplace else. "This will work. I know it will."
"I'd trust the lady if I were ya! She's been workin' on 'is for over a week."Â Green eyes that usually burn with the passion of a fierce fighter are now a bright golden yellow.
"Of course. I trust your judgement, Integrity." Hazel eyes of a Kind soul are now as green as the magic he unintentionally uses in his cooking. "Let's get started shall we?"
"We shall," Patience nods slightly and holds a hand out to the remaining child who hasn't chimed in. "You ready, Gale?"
They sigh, ever so gently. "You can never truly be ready for your death, second or the first. But as far as this one goes?" They smile. Take her hand. And nod.
There's a too bright rainbow of colors, leaving nothing behind but what came before their arrival. An empty and dull Wishing Room in comparison to the glittering and glimmering of the old, an unspoken promise from those who need not talk to converse, and more questions than what answers they had could help.
