#t6fsama25

[t6fs]

The Dreaming Detective leans on the table, chin resting atop their intertwined fingers.

"You must have the most fascinating adventures. Care to tell about a frightening one?"

A smile creeps into their voice somewhere around the word "frightening."

[hewwo. in-character AMA because why not]

The Sixfinger'd Scrimshander's hands are cold, as it takes your own and wraps them in its long, bony fingers. As you find your eyes beginning to drift up to the Gant-glow in its scarred left socket, a deep pounding pulse begins to hammer in your ears. The room seems to plunge away from you, as your body lurches under you in that way one does when rosed from near-sleep — a vertigo that makes your ears ring as you discover you have not, in fact, begun to fall.

The waves lap softly at your feet.

You blink. For just a moment, you think you see a world with no sea. Dunes that once held an ocean, rolling on for miles and miles, dotted with whalefall that goes unharvested.

You blink again. No, the ocean is still there. What a silly idea.

The figure is still there. It seems to be a vhalruscoi, garbed in the rusted second-skin of a knight. Its feathers are matted and crusty, submerged in the sea and dried by the sun. It stares out into the fathoms.

You ready your camera, finger hovering over the trigger. You blink. The inital hostility is overcome by curiosity, by questioning.

You move, slowly, the way an insect might. The rusted plates of your armored boots submerge in the lapping, frothing surf.

"Ak"'a` szokh?"

The figure is further out in the water than you thought. You're close to treading water, by the time the figure is about fifteen paces away.

`...the figure is visible from the waist up. Is it just very tall, or...?`

The weight of the armor makes keeping your head up difficult, especially if you wants to keep your camera out. You bare your teeth in irritation, toeing the line between "too deep to be practical" and "close enough to see" in the fitful waves. There is a pounding heartbeat in your ears.

[No answer, huh?]

You repeat your question, more forceful this time.

"What are you?"

You know better than to ask who.

`The figure turns, in an oddly mechanical fashion, as though sat atop something that's rotating, rather than doing it under their own power.`

Seawater burbles and overflows from its frog-mouthed helmet, the underside encrusted with barnacles. The tides begin to shift as it speaks, mounting in intensity and threatening to throw you off your balance. Its voice emanates, drowned and scornful, coming as much from the water itself as the waterlogged armor.

`I AM THE FATHOMS, SANGUINE-HUED KNIGHT. AND I DO NOT TAKE KINDLY TO MOCKERY.`

"What do you call mockery?"

You hold your ground, speaking softly through bared teeth. There's a humming from under your mask, but you bow your head slightly. The shed-skins of your cape tremble.

"My misunderstanding was honest. I did not recognize you in this shape."

`IT THAT WOULD ABDUCT MY HUE DOES NOT KNOW MY SHAPE?`

The wind scrapes against the surface of the water. Your shed-skins rattle against each other like windchimes, as though responding to the knight's call.

`MY BENEDICTION IS NOT GIVEN AWAY TO ANY THAT DESIRE IT. IT MUST BE TAKEN.`

It occurs to you that you may, in fact, be speaking to a god.

"I do not recall being given anything. If you say I must take your hue—"

You spread your arms wide, and bare your wicked teeth.

"—then, clearly, I already have. Abducted, in fact, as you say."

The humming grows loud, drowning out the vicious, panicked laugh in your throat. The bones beneath your skin begin to glow. A rippling wave pattern forms in a sprawling radius around your waist, waters curled by the song that pants hungry in your skull. You swallows another mouthful of gold.

"While we're both here, I could show you something you've never seen before."

`I HAVE SEEN ALL OF THE WORKS OF MORTALS. I CARE FOR NONE OF THEM.`

Something begins to emerge from the water.

`BUT,`

The Red God walks on many legs. Too many — at least eight, but it unnaturally glides through the water, lower half blurring together like interlaid rolls of film. It's a deep maroon color, and horselike. The armored figure Crow was speaking with was little more than a poppet, and now that the god has revealed itself fully, the form flops uselessly to the side.

Its horrible mouth - just a little bit more human than a ghalznokki's - opens, and as it speaks the ocean roars with it.

`I WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY.`

It glowers at you with its one eye, concentric rings of red, black, and white. The other eye is pearl-white, rendered such by a deep gash running down the right side of the Red God's face.

There is a moment, despite your previous bravado, that you are taken aback.

A whisper,

"Ah."

And then...

Clawed gauntlets draw forth your shattered helm and you reveal your face, in kind. Your eye remains unfocused — it will soon be blind again. You shake out ink-stained braids and draw back the leather patch.

What Remains hums brightly in your skull. You extend a hand.

"Take my hand, bok" dlaï`emwï`. I will show you the Suns."

The Red God does not know what a sun is. It is not a concept known to the vhalruscoi, and such it is not known to their god.

And yet...

...the idea resonates with something deep inside it. The Suns - a brightness, a terrible heat, a destroyer from distant shores that warred with its father.

Perhaps, an ending.

`VERY WELL.`

Its maw opens, and from the blackness within, a bloodsoaked arm extends. Its hand clasps yours - five fingers interlocking with six.

Gravity seems to invert for a moment when the god makes contact with what remains, a sick vertigo that pours from your skull in atemporal waves.

`THE SUN IS BRIGHT. THE SUN IS RED. THE SUN IS BIGGER THAN ANYTHING YOU HAVE EVER SEEN BEFORE.`

An all-engulfing light that swallows half the sky, and the mote of pulsing white that sculpts it.

`THEY ORBIT ONE ANOTHER. RED SUPERGIANT AND PULSAR. SISTER AND BROTHER. STAR-EATER AND LIGHT-BENDER`

By its perception, the Red God meets the golden eyes of the Alleyman, as it reclines with him on the cliffside, and breathes in and out through alien lungs, cantering hearts  and screaming unbirds and crashing cliffs and dark, swirling, glowing red waves.

`THE SUNSFALL IS THE PLACE WHERE THE SUNS TOUCH THE OCEAN. AS RAEDLEI SINKS INTO THE SEA, IT BECOMES RED.`

The Memory is the last beautiful thing you see before the world ends. Tomorrow, you board a ship. In one month, you will be ANNIHILATED.

`YOU KNOW THE SONG ALREADY. LOOK. LOOK NOW. THIS IS YOUR ONLY CHANCE. WATCH THE SUNSFALL AND REMEMBER IT FOREVER.`

"Do you see?"

The Red God's single eye has gone wide. What is this ocean - its waters so similar to its own but outside of its dominion? Where are its legs - as it lies on the earth, unable to be hoisted with a mere two limbs? How can a star become so massive - too huge, too bright to be destroyed, much less contained?

`YES.`

The Red God sees. It is terrified. This is the only thing that can frighten a beast of perpetual motion - a stillness without end.

The waves are at low tide. Algae clings to your ankles. A hand withdraws from your own. The Red God's eye is still fixed on you, its too-human mouth set in an expression of disquiet.

`THERE IS NO BLESSING I CAN GIVE YOU. THERE IS NO REMEDY FOR WHAT YOU ARE.`

( portrait of the red god by @heavenbreached ; writing by myself and @visioncrown )

What Happens Next...>>>

[t6fs]

What is something you miss every day? - @lord-emerson

"My siblings... the way they laughed, sang, cooked, snored... how it felt to spend hours tattooing each other, or howling on the darkest nights. Sometimes, on the rooftops of London, I'll howl into the dark, just to hear the echoes bounce back and pretend its them — just out of reach."

"'Alïszto`, Tlawdïy, and Danekïn. 'Alïszto` was the oldest, almost 14 years older than me. It was a bastard both legally and emotionally bit of a jackass starting out,— but mellowed out a lot as it got older. I didn't even meet it until I was almost 6, but after I got older we got very close. Tlawdïy was kind of the family rock. 3rd oldest, 10 older than I am. It went blind when we all got sick, but that didn't stop it from doing what it loved. It taught me to tattoo while blind, and was a master itself. I still carry its cane. Danekïn was legally the oldest, 11 years older than I am, and was the one who our xotï` taught the Tïszkhovdane to — it was a skilled weaver who would make the star charts çuk"wï` have used for generations to travel the seas. Always softspoken and a little harsh."

"Ïnakh and Rrodïk". Ïnakh was the 5th sibling, six years older, and a poet. It never spoke a word as long as it was alive, but it wrote day in and out. It actually won the coat I wear now in a poetry contest held by the local newspaper — thought Danekïn added the scales. Rrodïk" was a hooligan, 4th and seven years older than me. The fever may have physically slowed it down, but it was a killer artist and loved to cook. I'd give anything to have its naghbok" again."

"Elïszïpet and Mo`tlogh. Elï is... hard. It died when we were very, very young from snowfever — they thought I was going to die with it, actually. It was only two years older than I was. We were really close, it was so confident and self-assured. Knew exactly who and what it wanted to be — which is why I know its name at all. It died before it was old enough to be named at all. Mo` took it hard — it was three years older than me, and after Elï died, it dedicated everything to keeping me safe — its lodnï` puï`, dragged me everywhere. We got into all sorts of trouble together. Its passion was photography, it would scrape change out of the gutters to buy a chance to take a photo at the shop of literally anyone willing to pose for it. It was very skilled at it, too. We were really, really close. I miss the shadow I was meant to stand in."

[t6fs]

How many teeth ya got?

"At this point, I've got 28 of my own teeth, plus 3 gold ones courtesy of @capn-twitchery , bringing me to 31. I still have one baby tooth I never lost, pictured here just behind my canine, but I lost the other three — the precarnassials don't grow back after they fall out. My canines are also cracked on this side, which usually doesn't bother me too bad, but makes them real sensitive to cold."

[t6fs]

Do you like any Zee-creature jerky?

Dangerous to say the word "jerky" around the Scrimshander. It'll eat anything.

[t6fs]

who's been your best wrestling opponent?

Its #1 answer changes day-to-day, hour by hour, usually by who most recently beat it up. The #2 spot has remained consistant, however...

[t6fs]

who are you closest to in the neath? connected be it enemy or friend

The scrimshander is known distantly by many — it makes a habit of offering aid to strangers, coming in through windows and leaving behind carved trinkets and bandaged wounds. It is circumstantially allied with the urchins — as a rooftop dweller they have learned to share their space. As a Licentiate, it is well connected with Criminal circles, and it does frequent wetwork for a variety of Midnighters in London.

There are a few standouts to whom it is particularly close — it is a longtime partner to Ellery Hart ( @elleryhart ), a Monster Hunter with a zest for the chase. It is a confidant and dear friend to Lt. Grace and bitter rival to Captain Twitchery Lazaret ( @capn-twitchery ), though the later relationship is slowly being repaired. It has, for a while now, been living with Professor August Shaw ( @zeebreezin ), and the two are rather intertwined — there have been many rumors as to their past or future complexities of relationship, unclear and vague points about marriage, an affair, expecting... but who can say what is true, least of all about the Professor's private life? College students will invent anything, he may as well be allowing it to crash on his couch out of charity.

Oh, and there is a pretty hefty bounty for its head at the Department of Menace Eradication! It's worth more than the criminal bounty, by a huge margin!

[t6fs]

ive already seen favorite foods asked here, so what about a favorite object? a prized possession or treasured item?

The Scrimshander is famously kind of a hoarder when it comes to trinkets and mementos, so it would offer a mountain of objects it holds dear, but high on the list would be Mo`tloghwï`'s Bottomless Carpetbag, embroidered with images of the suns and moons, Tlawdïywï`'s white cane, the handle of which it personally did the scrimshaw for, and of course, Ïnakhwï`'s heavy coat, with the scales stitched onto the shoulders, always a little to big for the littlest sibling. It clings to mementos that remind it of the family it left behind, especially its older siblings. Other important tokens include 'Alïszto`wï`'s tattoo kit, Danekïnwï`'s scarf and handloom, Rrodïk"wï`'s teapot, and so on.

[t6fs]

does scrim like to paint its nails? would it like it?

The Scrimshander is, at this point, blind — but it does like the feeling of getting its nails painted! It will gladly accept letting someone else paint its nails, even if it personally won't see it!