featherduster | ( sheep ) ic inbox

[ Oh.

Hey Charon! What the fuck was that doing there! Why was that mixed in with your dead boyfriend grief!!!! ]

Honestly . . .

[ Closes the now-grey hand into a fist at his side. The exasperation is more with himself than anything; this is not helping Charon with his nightmares, that's for sure. ]

Focus, focus.

[ He steps away from the corner, (which could have the decency to at least have shattered remnants in it, but whatever) doubling back toward the office door. ]

[they're going to have to have a talk about this later aren't they :(

when he heads out of the office through the door, it's into a well-stocked library (why is it always a library?) it's done in the same high-windowed, ornate style as the office, but the view of the outside has changed. a different city altogether -- far smaller, meaner, less airy and fantastical. many of the buildings he can see are burned out, only skeletons left standing.

the warmth of Charon's skin and hair colour catch the eye immediately, on the opposite side of the room: he's standing at the window at parade rest, gazing out at the view.

it's so, so, so cold here. that life-hating quality embodied in the entire environment hasn't abated at all, even with the scenery shifts.]

Edited 2024-02-27 02:52 (UTC)

[ They're going to have a talk about MANY things.

Part of him expects Charon to disappear as he approaches; he does so anyway, stopping once he's standing beside him at the window. His eyes move between the wreckage outside and Charon, a mute question. ]

[he doesn't disappear, but close up it's clear that he's at last partially under the same effect that Minuet got from messing with the corner horror orb -- the grey, the crumbling, in patches on his coat and hands and skin. his eyes are fine, though; he meets Minuet's look.]

...old sacrifices.

You got here after all.

[ An entire city? he does not say. ]

Were you expecting me?

[it might not be an entire city! it's definitely a decent chunk of one, though]

I wasn't sure you'd be let in. How much trouble did you have?

None.

[ That wasn't his own fault, anyway!!! ]

Tight security? That's certainly fitting for you.

I don't have any control over this.

Your dreams?

[ It's not an ordinary dip into someone's willing mind, he reminds himself. ]

Mm, I guess... we wouldn't be doing this, if you did.

This isn't . . .

[his mouth works, as he tries to figure out how to say it]

It's a prophecy, not a dream.

. . . What?

I told you that the True Runes have wills and a desire of their own, correct? That they are sentient, even if they are limited in how much they can act without someone bearing them.

Yes.

... Is this related to the Wind Rune you were attempting to destroy?

Yes and no. Luc...would have seen his own version of this.

But this is from the demon I work with -- he is also a True Rune bearer. I've never been able to ascertain if this is an involuntary side effect of our contract or if he does it on purpose, though.

[ Oh.

He thinks about that long tunnel, not so unlike Mute's gate, and the things beyond it that are all hungry to consume them.

His expression gets pretty stony for a moment, actually. ]

Back up. What, exactly, is he doing?

[turns his head to look at him properly]

Do you mean in general...?

I wanna know what he's doing to your head. It's obviously more than just the occasional headache.

But in general -- that too.

For the general . . .

[makes a weighing motion in the air with his hands, a little bit of the greyed-out part of his substance crumbling away into nothing as he does]

Yuber is the demon of chaos expressed through war, opposed by the force of order expressed though cessation. Order has grown ascendant, to a dire degree, to the point where the True Runes may eventually use it to revert the world to the state you see in this dream. We have an equal stake in preventing that, though different motivations. He is, in his way, a simple creature: the more his domain is expressed in the world, the more satisfied he is.

In my head...? We're connected by our contract. Sometimes things like this prophecy bleed through from him. I don't believe he is interested in anything coming from my side of it, unless I'm making him do something.

[ Catching one of those wrists in his hand before Charon lowers it ]

[he can do that! the hand and arm are grey and flaking into nonxistence in patches all the way to the elbow; the effect seems to hit clothes and flesh with equal impunity. the ring and little finger of that hand are already gone]

[ His eyes are fixed on the crumbling, of course. ]

And this? Also part of this prophecy?

Well...

We don't belong in the world of nothingness. Even if it's just a nightmare vision, it doesn't want us here.

[Minuet's own flesh hand is beginning to display similar damage from where the orb drained colour from it, though still just a little bit, at the edges.]

[ He struggles with something for a second, wordlessly, mouth pressed then. The radiating hostility bleeds through the link in their minds, even as it's immediately reeled back in.

He lets Charon's wrist go. ]

How often do you dream about the end of the world, Charon?

[he makes a slight movement like he's going to reach after Minuet's hand, but doesn't quite follow through, feeling that]

Not often.

[ Area man who only acknowledged his own psychic abilities at the age of 150+ questions whether he's really allowed to be territorial over another dude's mind or not ]

But you were anticipating it, in this case.

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