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Hidden 17 days ago Post by Mirandae
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Mirandae Prisk

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[Location] Landow, Estren
[Date/Time] Sunday, 07:00, September 15
[Weather] Partially cloudy, sunny
[Temperature] 16c / 60f

A meteor shower hit the world of Libra in the early morning hours of the late summer in Estren. It began as beautiful shooting stars clearly visible in the blue and orange drenched sky. However, over the course of the next half hour, those opportunities to make a wish turned into concern about what this incident might be. The falling lights could be seen far and wide, and close and personal. They were noticed by some, ignored by others, and completely evading the rest, at least for a short while. In the meantime, the food stands and other activities at the closing festivities of the Festival of Lights were opening as the morning reached 07:00 AM. The scent of newly baked bread, delicious soups, and even meat being grilled for those with a bottomless appetite filled the air of downtown Estren, being carried by winds to the shrines where most attendees were held up. As a precaution, the security detail of the festival have been ordered to control the movements of VIP and certain guests. The recommendation is to move away from the harbor and gather in the downtown area in case of an emergency. It is unknown at this time if the meteor shower poses an actual threat to the festival, but the security detail is there to consider all possibilities and act on it.

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Hidden 17 days ago Post by Mirandae
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Mirandae Prisk

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[Location] Near the harbor of Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 06:30 - 07:00
[Interactions] @Teyao@vietmyke

Akamu always undermined his own safety, or so it seemed at least. It had gotten on Laura’s nerves plenty of times before. She was most likely overprotective of him, as a way to repay him for that day he saved her from being abducted, even if she knew she did not have to compensate. “Gaia will give Titan the slipper if you’re not careful,” Laura muttered silently with a crumpled expression on her face as the jolly mountain patted her on the head. She brushed it all off in the end. The man had such a big heart for everyone else that there was little room left for himself. Laura was guilty of the same thing, but perhaps not to the same extreme as Akamu. Blondie returned her attention to the stranger again, taking a seat on the grass, as the children rushed Titan, the merry-go-around attraction. The stranger had an air of mystery to him. Laura could not quite pin point what it was, but she felt it in the way he spoke. He seemed confident and relaxed around Laura and Akamu, which was not the typical way people behaved around them or any other Regalia. This led her to believe that the stranger was Regalia himself, but she had never seen his picture anywhere. He must have been one of the lesser known ones, so she was aching to know his name.

Laura thought the nickname the stranger gave Akamu was fabulous. Not even the countless PR-people that Akamu probably had to endure, let alone the ones where Laura had been present herself, had thought of such a catchy name for Titan’s Regalia. However, his actual question was probably not suited for Laura and Akamu, or any other Accadian for that matter. Island people were simple people, not very philosophical, but excelling at many other things in life. There did not have to be any clear purpose in order to do or be something. And all the other times there was a clear enough purpose for anyone to understand – people need to eat, South Accadians go fishing; people want entertainment, North Accadians open night clubs. It is really that simple.

“OMG!” Laura gasped with excitement, mouth wide open. “That’s such a cool name! I mean title! I mean nickname!” Laura continued with a hurried tone, not finding the right words. “Like, that is soooo good, you should totally use that name," she grinned as widely as she could. Laura tried to settle herself down to hear the man’s actual question. And then there was the mention of ‘THEM’, which threw the blonde off and made her even more air headed than she already was. “Uhm, who is THEM? Like, the people here?” Laura chuckled at her inability to get it. “I don’t know anything about that, but about purpose… hmm,” she thought about it for a second or two, taking over from Akamu's thoughts on the matter. “I mean, Dominants have always blessed people, right? So, someone must’ve figured out what the purpose of it is by now, but I’ve never heard of any,” she said while enjoying the sight of the frolicking children around Akamu and squeezing the plushie. “For us it’s like Hakuna Matata, you know? That’s a South Accadian dialect for.. eh, ‘no worries’, right?” Laura glanced at Akamu for the translation. “Anyway, I think we are the wrong people to ask, really.” She smiled at the stranger, wanting to finally know his name: “I’m sorry, did I ask your name before? I think I missed that.”

A few moments later, shooting stars became visible in the sky. Laura did not notice it at first until one of the children tucked at her hoodie and pointed at the beautiful spectacle. “Gaia! – Look, look!” The little one exclaimed with excitement and wonder. Laura’s eyes instantly cast their attention upwards and were greeted by blinding flares of light moving across the great firmament. “Oh, woooow!” Laura nearly bellowed with awe, which caught the attention of all the other children around them, and some of the adult attendees nearby. “Would you look at that! Make a wish, honey – or ten wishes! There are so many of them,” she said to the kid that had brought her attention to the lights in the sky. “I’ve never seen something like this. What are shooting stars again? They’re not actual stars, right?” Laura pondered out loud.

While the spectacle in the sky so fitting for the Festival of Lights was amusing to the attendees, it was not as inviting for the security detail. Laura’s security guy, along with Akamu's, approached from behind the group where they sat on the grass, his gear making ample noise and notice, having stood a few feet away during the conversations. “Miss Genevieve,” he said with the common language pronunciation of Laura’s surname, which she was well accustomed to by now even though she preferred the correct one as spoken in North Accadia. “We should move away from the harbor at this time,” he continued. “The main attractions downtown are now open, I suggest we move there.” The man behind that thick helmet and intimidating guns did not seem to screw around when talking and giving ‘suggestions’ for the next course of action. “Well, okay then,” Laura sighed. “We need some breakfast anyway, I think!” She smiled, stuffing the plushie underneath one arm and holding hands with one of the children, as the little ones done with riding the Titan-merry-go-around gathered around to follow Earth Mother wherever she went.
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Hidden 12 days ago → 6 days ago Post by Aeolian
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Aeolian Proud Fujoshi

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[Location] Onboard the Skypiercer from Eshea to Estren
[Time] Saturday, 07:30 PM
[Interactions] @Silly

The Skypiercer hummed with the distant echo of thunder, though the sky beyond the great glass windows stretched on, azure and indigo, and endless. The ship moved through it with the grace of a creature born to flight, and yet, inside, Cécile's gossamer heart fluttered in his chest, small and fragile like a trapped bird. The air was thick with the scent of rose oil and lavender, a strange combination that reminded him of the distant gardens in Montá, where the flowers would bloom even in the shadow of the Citadel’s towering, metal rampart.

But here, aboard the Skypiercer, that same scent felt out of place, mingling with the metallic hum of the engines. Time, it seemed, had folded in on itself, and for a moment, he felt as though he were both a child again, lost in those gardens, and a man, standing on the edge of something far greater.

Cécile’s thoughts flickered like moths caught in a beam of light, drawn to Nia’s presence yet still tangled in memories that began to fester, faint echoes of a childhood long past—of laughter in the woodlands of Nibelheim, of running through the summer fields with the sun at their backs, the world spread wide before them like an untouched map. But those days were lost now, buried beneath the weight of years.

Though, he did remember some things, grasping frantically at the fractals. She had always been the braver of the two, always leading him, always pulling him into the land of the fairies and witches and Gods. Neibelheim was the land of stories, after all, but they did not always conclude with happy endings. Even so, there was an ache to it, that recognition. The kind of ache that comes from old memories stirring after too long a sleep.

Her hair was darker, her features more defined, but the glimmer in her violet eyes remained untouched by time, like stars trapped in amber. They had always held something otherworldly, those eyes—full of witchlight and unspoken stories she had kept secret to protect his delicate self. But there was something else, something foreign, a shadow of strangeness that clung to her like the scent of distant lands. He couldn’t quite grasp it, not yet.

And now, as her gaze met his, Cécile felt that familiar flutter of something both beautiful and painful. He wondered if she, too, had felt the distance between them, the quiet sorrow of years lost to duty, to silence.

Nia’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, warm and teasing. Cécile blinked, startled out of his reverie. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat, drowned in the rush of her sudden embrace. Her arms wrapped around him, familiar, and yet… foreign? His body stiffened, instinctively recoiling from the contact, his breath catching in his chest. He hadn’t expected this—not the warmth of her, not the press of her arms around him. He stood frozen, his arms awkwardly hanging at his sides, unsure of what to do. He wanted to return the embrace, to let himself melt into the familiarity of it, but something held him back. Instead, he remained still, his heartbeat quickening, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the words faltered on his lips. “I…”

The embrace swallowed the rest of his sentence, and for a moment, he was grateful for it. He didn’t know what he would have said. When Nia pulled back, there was a playful glint in her violet eyes, a spark of mischief that was unmistakably her. “Now, let’s address how you just said I look like an old man…” Her tone was light, but there was a teasing edge to it, her lips quirking into a smile.

Heat rushed to Cécile’s cheeks, the color rising like a blush of dawn. His eyes widened in mortification, and he stammered, “That’s not what I meant… I… I just meant…my apologies” His voice trailed off, too flustered to form a coherent defense. Cécile's fingers fidgeted at his sides, twisting in the fabric of his violet slip, a nervous habit he had never quite outgrown.

Oh Cécile, you haven't changed a bit…he imagined her thinking in that moment. When she teased him about giving orders and not being taller, feigning seriousness in that mock-regal tone, Cécile chuckled softly, his discomfort ebbing just enough to allow a hint of amusement to creep into his expression. “I suppose… that is true, cousin,” he replied, the corner of his lips curving into a faint smile as Nia turned to the passing attendants, as if to prove her point, and summoned them, her voice firm but kind as she fed them commands to escort the cousins to Cécile's personal chambers aboard the ship. He had rejected the offer initially when it had been offered, but who was he to deny his cousin of this experience? After all, she was HIS guest, and he would be more than pleased that she was pleased to reap some of the benefits he was too modest to relish for himself.

Cécile watched her, admiration blooming quietly in his chest. She commanded the staff with such ease, her presence magnetic and strong, while he… he was a wallflower, always lingering in the background, too quiet to command much of anything. His influence was subtle, a whisper rather than a shout, but watching Nia, he couldn’t help but marvel at her forthright gesture.

The attendants moved swiftly, guiding them through the ship’s labyrinthine corridors until they arrived at Cécile’s chambers. The doors opened with a soft hiss, revealing a room bathed in gentle light, its walls adorned with delicate carvings of butterflies and vines. As they walked, Cécile couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort settle over him. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of his duties as a Funérailles didn’t press quite so heavily on his shoulders. Nia’s presence filled the room like a warm fire, while Cécile’s remained soft and introspective, as if he were content to simply orbit her witchlight.

They spoke of many things—of the past, of the future, of the lives they had lived since they last saw each other. Cécile found himself talking about Cassiel, his voice tinged with quiet woe. He spoke of the höpes he had cared for, their fragile forms fluttering in the corners of his mind. He mentioned his Guardians, though when he spoke of Bastion, his tone faltered slightly. Curiously, Bastion seemed to harbor a silent disdain for him, though Cécile didn't quite understand why.

And he asked after her family—the Stryxs—whom he hadn’t seen since he was a child, his voice tinged with a tempered longing. There was hope, he felt, when he mentioned them, a hope that perhaps, one day, they might all be reunited. As the night wore on, their words faded into the quiet hum of the ship, the soft glow of the lanterns casting long shadows across the chamber. Distant stars outside the window watched over them, silent and eternal.

The reunion, fragile and beautiful, unfolded in the gentle silence of their shared past, and the unspoken promises of what lay ahead.

[Location] Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 07:00 AM
[Interactions] @Silly


The warmth of Estren wrapped around Cécile like a second skin, so unlike the cool, rain-swept winds of Eshea, and the city below seemed to pulse with life as the Festival of Lights reached its final crescendo. From the Skypiercer’s high vantage, Cécile could see the teeming crowds, their festive lanterns flickering like stars fallen to earth, the swell of music and laughter rising in waves from the streets. The festival goers, adorned in brilliant colors, moved like rivers of silk beneath the canopy of the early twilight, their joy infectious yet distant, like the hum of a dream one could observe but never fully join.

Cécile stood at the edge of it all, eyes wide, absorbing the kaleidoscope of movement and color before him. His heart trembled, half-thrilled, half-dismayed by the sheer magnitude of the festivities. This place was so alive, so warm, that he felt like a ghost wandering through a world too bright for him. The weight of his duties as a Funérailles hung around him like a shroud, as always, but for now, it was almost easy to forget the burden, to let the glow of the festival seep into his bones, warming the cold spaces within. Almost.

Dr. Featherswallow appeared at his side, her voice cutting through the din, "Before you are to attend the Festival, there's a matter of propriety we must attend to Downtown." He would soon discover that a formal Hopekeeper's customary robe awaited him at his hotel room. It was culturally inappropriate for a Hopekeeper to change in front of others, an act that could taint the purity of the role. Cécile nodded quietly, his gaze flickering to the sea of strangers, a sudden swell of apprehension tightening in his chest.

Formality. Modesty. Grace.

He would need to wear all these things like armor. Nia went ahead, slipping into the flow of the festival with the ease of someone who belonged in the world, while Cécile lingered at an impasse. He had promised to meet her later, once his formalities were done, but as the opulent vehicle arrived to carry him into the city, a small part of him wished she were still by his side.

The vehicle that pulled up was unlike anything Cécile had ever ridden in—sleek and polished, a shimmering beast of metal and glass that seemed more a creature of the future than the present. He hesitated for a moment, his delicate frame still caught in the past’s modest trappings, before stepping inside. The interior was cool, plush with velvet and dark wood. As the city blurred past them, Isolde handed him a sleek black phone, her fingers brushing his as she explained its purpose. “For emergencies,” she said simply, giving a meaningful glance toward Bastion and Hut, as if entrusting them with his care in a way that felt heavier than mere words.

The ride to the hotel was quiet, filled with Cécile’s soft wonder at the sights passing by—the city alight with lanterns and the faint flicker of something otherworldly in the air. Hut tried to make conversation, but Cécile didn't seem too keen on crosstalk at the moment. He'd fallen into the depths of his own mind. When they arrived, a small crowd of devotees had already gathered outside the hotel, their faces bright with awe as they caught sight of him.

Word had spread quickly of his last-minute attendance, and now they reached out to him as though a single touch might grant them some piece of divinity. His instinct was to shrink away, to fold into himself, but Hut’s arm wrapped protectively around him, shielding him from the grasping hands as they made their way inside. Cécile breathed a sigh of relief as Hut ushered him into the hotel, casting a grateful glance his way. Isolde murmured her thanks to Hut, but Bastion’s quiet scoff cut through the moment, though Hut seemed to ignore it entirely.

Inside Cécile's private hotel room, the tension was thick. Isolde’s frustration was evident as she spoke quickly, her tone sharp. “I’m going to speak to security,” she muttered, turning on her heel. “This is unacceptable. They should be handling the crowd better.”

“I’ll go with her,” Hut offered, his voice softening as he glanced at Cécile, “Need anything?” Cécile shook his head, too unsettled to trust his voice, and watched as Hut followed Isolde out, leaving him alone with Bastion. The silence stretched thin between them, taut as a thread about to snap. Bastion’s gaze was heavy, intense, as he watched Cécile with a scrutiny that made him uncomfortable. The young Hopekeeper turned to face him fully, the question hovering unspoken between them. The air felt strange, thick with something unsaid.

And then, unexpectedly, Bastion closed the distance between them, his footsteps soundless against the plush carpet. He stood before Cécile, who didn't have a chance to react as he naturally would have, to recoil from the taller, more hardened figure. There was a coldness there, yes, but beneath it, something else. "You really don’t remember me?" Bastion finally said, his voice was soft, almost fragile, as though the question itself might shatter if he pressed too hard.

Cécile returned the gaze, quiet, contemplative. He searched his memories, reaching for some thread of recognition, some connection to the man before him as he had with Nia and Hut. But there was nothing. Nothing beyond the formal roles they shared, the cold distance that had defined their interactions so far. At last, after a long moment, he shook his head. “No… I don’t.” His words fell from his mouth like a sigh, ephemeral and honest.

A flicker of something—disappointment?—crossed Bastion’s face, but it was quickly masked, replaced by the familiar stoic expression. “I see.”

There was a pause, a tension in the air that neither seemed willing to break, until Bastion, uncharacteristically hesitant, spoke again. “I wanted… a moment alone with you.” His voice faltered, the confidence he usually exuded slipping for just a second. Cécile blinked, taken aback by the admission. “Why?” he asked, his curiosity tinged with a wariness that crept up his spine.

Hesitantly, Bastion opened his mouth as if to answer, but the words died on his lips before they could form; something outside the window caught their attention. A streak of light, then another, and another—glorious trails of fire cutting through the sky. A meteor shower, brilliant and otherworldly, painting the heavens in hues of silver and gold. They both turned to the window, staring in silent awe at the celestial display. For a moment, the tension between them melted away, replaced by a shared wonder at the beauty before them. They glanced at each other, an unspoken understanding passing, both appreciating the the falling stars.

But then, a sharp pain lanced through Cécile’s head, a low moan slipping from his lips as he brought his hands to his temples. The allure of the moment dissolved, replaced by a throbbing ache that pulsed with something far more ominous. "Something's wrong..." he whispered, his voice trembling.

Bastion’s eyes widened in concern, a rare crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. He stepped forward, hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out, to touch and comfort him, but he stopped himself, knowing Cécile’s aversion. “What is it? What’s happening?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“I don’t know…” Cécile’s voice wavered, feeble as the pain pressed harder against his mind. And then, as if drawn forth by the agony, his astral butterflies began to materialize in a swirl of azure—blue morphos, delicate, shimmering, and alive. They fluttered about him, their wings catching the light in a twinkling cascade that was iridescent and dreamlike, as though woven from the threads of some forgotten star. But the butterflies seemed agitated, their movements restless, perhaps sensing something unseen and unpleasant. Cécile could feel their presence, not just around him but within him—extensions of his own consciousness, seeing through their myriad eyes as they hovered in the air—a hundred little smithereens of his inner self. The chaotic dance of their fairy-like forms reflected the growing unease.

The television in the room droned on in the background, a newscaster warning the citizens of Landow about the meteor shower, advising those near the harbor to move inland, closer to Downtown. The words just barely registered in Cécile’s mind, the pain subsiding but leaving a lingering dread in its wake. Bastion, still mesmerized by the sight of the ethereal creatures, blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Stay here,” he commanded, his voice firmer now, "You need to stay here until we know it’s safe. The authorities are already issuing warnings."

Cécile nodded absently, his thoughts elsewhere. Nia. His heart tightened with worry—he didn’t have her number, no way to contact her. Of course, Bastion wouldn't have her number either. Cécile's astral butterflies, still fluttering in the room, seemed to respond to his concerned thoughts. Without another word, they set forth through the open window and out into the city below, his mind’s eye following their flight. Through their eyes, he searched what he could of Landow, the streets teeming with festival-goers, many unaware of the potential looming threat that the stunning starshower belied. He pushed further, past the glow of streetlights and cars.

Eventually, several of the butterflies made it to the harbor. And there, through their eyes—he found her. Nia, standing amongst others at the shrine of Ultima, her familiar figure a beacon in the crowd. His heart clenched at the sight of Cassiel, and back in the hotel, Cécile was anxiously pacing back and forth by the window as his consciousness was fragmented amongst his butterflies. The feeling that lurched within him at the sight of Cassiel, his old friend, now something lesser, he tucked it away, focusing solely on Nia.

Those gathered by the shrine would likely notice the mystical blue morphos twinkling effervescently against the light of the starfall. The butterflies fluttered toward Nia, until one landed gently on her shoulder, its wings shimmering softly. Through the butterfly, Cécile spoke, his voice a whisper in her mind, as though he stood beside her.

“Nia…It's Cécile. I…I feel there's something wrong with the meteor shower. I can't explain it, but I don't think it's safe where you are, and the authorities are alerting people to move Downtown. Can you come to my hotel room? Just to be cautious. I can have Hut come to retrieve you, if you'd like."

A quiet warning, a gentle plea, carried on the delicate wings of a butterfly, pressing through the mental link he'd formed between them.



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Hidden 9 days ago → 5 days ago Post by Silly
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Silly

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[Location] Onboard the Skypiercer from Eshea to Estren
[Time] Saturday, 10:30 PM
[Interactions] @Aeolian

Conversation flowed as time passed, and the hour grew late. With a busy early morning ahead, it was time for them to rest. Nia said her farewells, stepping through the door and closing it behind her as she went to find her lodgings for the evening. She noticed Bastion watching her, suspicion in his eyes, likely due to the extended time she had spent alone with his charge. Smirking, she winked at him before turning to walk away, leaving him to momentarily panic as he rushed to check on Cécile out of concern.

As she walked along the corridor, she pondered her decision not to be completely honest with Cécile. They had discussed various Regalia, even touching on his connection with Anima, yet she had avoided talking about her own. She decided that this information simply wasn’t relevant right now; there were more important matters to focus on. She could enlighten him, and it wasn't that he wouldn’t make a good candidate—in fact, quite the opposite—but that wasn’t the purpose of their reunion, and she didn’t want to complicate things.

After seeking guidance from the ship's attendants, she finally found her cabin. It was far less spacious and luxurious than Cécile’s, but that didn’t bother her. She changed into something more comfortable, as the loose fabric clung to her, then lay on the bed, as she flicked through the paper-like screen as she browsed media to gather information on who might be present at the festival. She started with Anima’s Regalia, noting his modest presence on the platform, accompanied by a recent photograph of Cécile boarding the Skypiercer.

Her earlier conversation reminded her of another name, Cassiel, so she entered his name into the search bar. She was greeted by an image of a handsome blonde man in the golden city of light, with the text below reading: "Pilgrimage requires C-Visa. Would you like to know more?" Other Regalia also featured in the media—Akuma, grinning in a photo after rescuing a little girl and her dog; the distinctive Beth attracting a sub-genre following; tales of the wandering Mathias with blurred pictures; and a clip of Aethalos performing a ceremony in Votara.

Some minor figures were mentioned or rumoured, but she couldn't help but notice the overwhelming presence of Laura Genevieve. At least nine advertisements for her appeared without Nia needing to search. Clicking on one, she was greeted by the latest cover of Allure, Laura’s bright smile and pinchable cheeks splashed across it. The headline read: "Sex with Regalia: What’s it like?" Nia’s eyebrow arched at the blatant blasphemy, reminding her why she wasn’t a fan of such magazines. Still, with the same allure as a train wreck, she scrolled through the article, only to find it filled with generic, hypothetical fluff. She tried to distract herself with a search on Bahamut, and the first result was an article suggesting weird sex rituals. She planted her palm on her face in exasperation, then turned off the screen and cast it aside. Enough of that nonsense.

Turning off the lights, she settled into bed. Tomorrow would be a long day.


[Location] Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 07:00 AM
[Interactions] @rabidbacon @Aeolian @Tlaloc

The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a butterfly that gently settled on her shoulder. Nia turned her attention to it, sensing some kind of telepathic message from Cécile about a meteor shower.

As she looked up to the sky, she saw lights falling like stars, which appeared to mark the final day of the Festival. "Has Uilethoir blessed us?" she wondered aloud, and turned her gaze toward Cassiel, silently questioned him with her eyes.

The security details of various Regalia and guests began to stir, as reported by Cécile, as they started directing people toward the downtown area. Nia raised her hood over her head, and bowed politely to the Aethalos and Cassiel, before slipping away into the crowd mysteriously. Soon, she was replaced by a throng of bustling attendants, all eager to seek an audience with their Regalia charges.
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Hidden 9 days ago Post by Teyao
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Teyao

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[Location] Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 07:00 AM, September 15
[Interactions] @Mirandae @Vietmyke




The man was boisterous, his laughter feeling larger than life, he wondered for a second how would such a man fight, his large frame would be terrifying as a grappler but the way his posture always seemed secure to the ground spoke of excellent footwork, any punch thrown would have the weight of a mountain behind it.

She was different, more agile. A quick style with a smaller blade, or ranged maybe, she was a little trickier to imagine. He pondered for a second then his gaze slipped back to the man at her side, this time with another perspective, slowly he looked at the large number of people surrounding the temple of Gaia and the pieces fit a little better.

Then they seemed prepared to give their answers and he found himself focusing on them.

...Then he blinked as the answer to his second question registered in his mind. Unbidden, a smile formed on his face, and a small chuckle escaped his mouth before he raised a hand to cover it, taking a couple of seconds to get back under control he responded "My apologies Miss, I must confess it has been some time since this happened to me, to answer your question where I am from people tend to refer to the Dominants as 'THEY' or 'THEM' out of respect and I think I slipped into the old habit out of respect"

"As for your other answer, fret not, an honest answer given freely is worth more than I can pay you" Then he looked in the direction of the Regalia of Titan "I must say, your answer is especially deep Mr. Lafaele, 'your worth is seen through your every action, and in them you see Titan', indeed that is a powerful statement" A hand went to stroke his chin as he digested both answers.

Originally he had approached his fellow Regalia out of curiosity but now he was overjoyed to find someone who thought akin to him. Maybe it was fate that brought him here after all.

"Ah my apologies Miss Genevieve, I forgot to introduce myself" Calmly he brought his right hand to his chest while the other was firmly at his side, just like the old man used to do "My name is Mathias Voss" He paused for a second debating before deciding to proceed, anything less would be too much like lying "The Reg-"

Alas, before he could share enthusiastic exclamations and calls sounded all around him, making him turn around just in time to see the skies falling above them.

It was a beautiful show, the way the lights danced across the sky like a flowing river of comets, however as much as he found the show pleasant his attention was eventually brought back to the shrine, reminding him of the other people waiting their turn to speak with the Regalia in front of him. Time he was hogging for himself despite already getting more than what he was hoping for.

"I must apologize again, it appears I have been quite selfish with your time" Again he bowed towards the two Regalia "Thank you for sharing your wisdom with me, may you have a good day, I hope we speak again one day" Gifting them a nod he signaled to the next person that his turn was done, then moved towards the next shrine. If he was not mistaken it was Leviathan's wasn't it?

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Hidden 8 days ago → 8 days ago Post by vietmyke
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vietmyke

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[Location] Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 07:00 AM
[Mentions] @Teyao@Mirandae


"You are a kind sort, no doubt!" Akamu grinned, scratching the back of his head as the man before them introduced himself as Matthias Voss. Akamu didn't recognize the name, nor did he quite put two and two together with the man's more fiery personality. Akamu had never considered calling Mother Gaia or Titan a 'they' or 'them', but he supposed the customs of people were different in different regions of the continent. Accadians at the very least had a very 'familiar' style of worship when it came to the Dominants. Especially among South Accadians, shrines, rituals and prayers to the Dominants were often performed at the community level, with an intimacy close to that of families or neighbors. A bit unfortunate on the man's part that he'd found the two Accadians to ask such a question of, at least if he were looking for something a bit more philosophical. "Unsure if I'd call my line of thinking 'deep', as my kaikuahine says, for us, Hakuna Matata is sort of a way of life. We're a simple people- we just do what needs to be done."

Any further discussion was derailed by the presence of some countless number of falling stars, which captured the attention of most of those around them- particularly the children, though Akamu was no exception himself. He'd never seen so many fall in such quick succession, even during the clearest nights in Accadia. As Matthias excused himself, Akamu offered a friendly, if a bit confused nod, and waved him off regardless. "Next time then, hoaloha!"

Feeling rather than hearing the sound of his own head of security, approaching in tandem with Laura's, Akamu leaned over as the man beckoned for him to listen, gently dropping the children hanging from his arms to the ground. "Mister Lafaele," the guard more or less echoing what was being said to Laura. "We recommend moving away from the harbor. Our security specialists recommend relocating to the Downtown area." Akamu cocked a confused eyebrow at the man.

"Why? Is there something dangerous happening?" Akamu asked quietly, his voice low enough to remain undetected by the children around them, though his demeanor grew a bit more serious for a change.

"Unsure at this time." The security personnel replied, "Unlikely at best, but this is just a precaution. Miss Genevieve's team will be relocating her to the Downtown area as well. I think it'd be safest to keep both Accadian Regalia fairly close so our teams can support one another in case of any actual danger."

"I suppose that makes sense, strength in numbers and whatnot." Akamu nodded after a moment of thought. "If your team can spare it, reassign a few of them to Gaia's detail. I can make do with less- just, don't overcrowd her. Or make it too obvious."

"Wait for me, Kika!" Akamu chuckled boisterously, any hint of seriousness quickly hidden away as his bounds overtook Laura's smaller steps quite easily. There were more cheers and giddy laughter as Akamu's broad arms popped one of the children onto his shoulders, the child pulling at his hair and pointing forward excitedly. "Can't get rid of me that easily," He chuckled, his eyes glancing over as his security captain walked alongside Laura's, their two helmets dipping closer together as they exchanged words and nods, coordinating their next steps. Catching the polarized faceplate of Laura's security captain Akamu gave him a subtle nod, but didn't acknowledge the shifting of personnel otherwise. His eyes spotted the rather obvious figures of other security personnel from other teams- all of them starting to filter their charges towards the Downtown area as well. Akamu may have been a bit concerned, but as his own security had told him- this appeared to be mostly precautionary.

"Seems we're not the only ones with a similar idea," Akamu noted, glancing around, his height allowing him a better view than Laura might have had. "Anyway, I hear Landow is known for its seafood, wonder how well it stacks up to back home ah?"

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Hidden 8 days ago → 6 days ago Post by TokyoPewPew
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【Location】landow: shrines 🠞 food stands
【Time】sunday, 6:30 am
【Interactions】@tlaloc@rabidbacon
Before the crowd could even comprehend what had befallen it, already the great gust of wind, like from the shockwave of a fallen bomb, had delivered its intoxicating fallout. With traces of Regalian residue seeping their way into eyeballs and nostrils, absorbing through the gums and the pores and any other aperture it grazed, a score of people—more, even, within this or that a radius—all at once received an insidious, stupefying dose. For perhaps a minute or two would the ingestion thereof transfix them in place, swaying side-aside in blissful catatonia. Until then, the moment of their revivification, Beth could shelter within their multitudes, listening. Observing. Even as the onlookers at the peripheries of this ground zero inferred what must have happened; even as they pushed at the borders of this throng to suck at the turgid air, to thrust their tongues at every mote which glittered in the sunbeams, her human meat-wall afforded her a moment's respite. If only the one.

Before this long, tedious week, spent mostly in transit from hoverbus to hoverbus, from food line to food line, from speech to sedative speech, from ritual to soporific ritual, Beth had never visited sleepy Landowtown, nor the nearby Arosa City, across the bay, piercing its skyline with its towers, blued steel obelisks erected blasphemously at an indifferent heaven. Entirely and altogether unimpressed was she. True, all week she had balked at this theme-park simulacrum of a religious festival, with its souvenir stands and subscription plans and parking vouchers. But this was every Festival of Lights, and could she blame a hopeful tourist-town-to-be for giving the gormless masses what they wanted? Their Gilgamesh petting zoos and Anima butterfly facepaintings, their family photographs with grinning dragon mascots? No, hardly a girl-fool of her eight-and-twenty years, long ago had Beth come to expect nothing better from such farces. But there, erected for all to see atop the dais, stood the true Landow; behind all their appearances, and all their decorum, their true feelings laid bare. All their tenets and values giv'n shape.

Hast thou a friend whom thou trustest well,
from whom thou cravest good?
Share thy mind with him, gifts exchange with him,
fare to find him oft.

But hast thou one whom thou trustest ill
yet from whom thou cravest good?
Thou shalt speak him fair, but falsely think,
and leasing pay for a lie.

Beth did not always realize when she recited from the Words, their wisdoms so troughed upon her tongue, the gestures so worn into the marrow of her hands that at times they emerged entirely without design; and, seemingly, from naught and nowhere, alike to groundwater bubbling up around the blade of the well-digger's pick. This prayer she muttered, as if to purify her mouth where her eyes supped of this place's artifice and idolatry.

Ultima—lotus-seated Ultima, in all Her soapstone glory, headdress and nipples and fingernails all leafed in gold upon the dark and greenish rock of Her flesh—tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of likenesses exactly like this one laid strewn across the countrysides, and no different was Landowtown, paying acquiescence to the greatest of the Dominants, and the most widespread of Their worldly cults. Second was She in size and majesty upon the stage, wrought by the town's more competent craftsmen. In all, a perfectly dutiful depiction, if a dispassionate one; imbued with none the reverence, none the inspiration, none the terror and ecstasy corded through the streets of Malkuth. Coincidentally, the dais and all its constructs arranged as they were, row behind row, as the hour arrived for the sun to appear from behind the sea, and for dawn's first light to glisten diamond-like upon the waves, all the shrines cast long their shadows. And it brought Beth no small amusement to see not only how Landow's chosen tutelary dwarfed the ersatz Ultima; but how for a few delectable minutes, She quite literally sat in that other Dominant's shadow. A sight so delicious it could only have been intentional; purposeful; spiteful.

That other Dominant, of course, was none other than the Storm-soother, the Tidebringer; She Who Smashes the Fleets of Our Foes; Leviathan, the Deep-queen. Leviathan, whose serpentine body the Landowmen first knapped from an immense whalebone, then strung with painted shells for Her scales, these drilled through with artistic perforations, that the breeze from the sea sang through them. Leviathan, Her ivory body rasped by shipworms, bleached by salt. Leviathan whose antlers were driftwood, whose whiskers were the fronds from dried swordfish tails, whose teeth were the hollowed claws of gaily colored crabs. Steam-breath scrimshawed across Her neck, Her plumage streaming in the morning wind as pennants of silk and seaweed.

Obliging enough were the likenesses of other Dominants: a Titan of crumbling sandstone, an Ifrit of a composite fire agate, a vine-and-wicker Gaia......but much like Ultima, relegated were these to mere accompliceship; an entourage to flank the town's true patron, around whom the limelight-sucking Regalia, and, ergo, the attention of all the town, gathered. Her brother was there, as expected. His smile easily fooled the others, crinkling the skin around his eyes, seeming so warm and curious and sincere; he'd gotten so very skilled at smiling. But Beth saw Cassiel as only a sister could, and in that hypodermic smile glittered a familiar rage, waiting just behind the teeth like a venom sac. One of the others had done something to offend him, or, more likely, to compel him to pageantry thereof; the one in purple? Or the blonde in the sharkskin suit? The first Beth did not recognize, and so dismissed from her mind; as for the latter, she could not so easily banish the feeling that she'd seen that person elsewhere. Beth seldom left Cetra but to grudgingly attend the Festival of Lights, and other such travesties; a laymember of the Resplendency, then, a common sight in the Lower Circles? Perhaps a dignitary to the Crucible? Beth recalled moment after moment, scouring her memory for those pretty pale eyes, those forlorn and sullen lips. She did not realize she was staring.

But just at the moment the other Regalia—Leviathan's, judging by the guarded, sheltered way in which the woman strayed none too far from the magnificent whalebone statue—might have befallen Beth with her yearning gaze, the sleepers began to stir, and piece together one by one why they could not remember the last few minutes, and so the time had arrived to slip away from this throng and find refuge in another. Narrow of breast and subtle of step, scalpel-like did Beth sliver between the waking celebrants, pointedly ignoring all hands which descended her shoulders, all moans and cries which petitioned her to hear their ails, suspecting she to be the one who had so bewitched them, so anesthetized them with her residue. She still wanted to see. Despite how the answer always hurt her, she had to have it. Hold it in her hands and taste it on her teeth: where was Odin, and how did these Landowmen mock Him with their depiction? But then not only did the festival-goers begin to stir all around her but those masked mercenaries, the ones circling the stage to guard Cassiel and the others as if from a rabid horde. Wrist units were placed to earpieces; chins were lowered, dangerous words muttered into radios. Soon a contingent of these men had broken away from the dais, beginning to sweep through the crowds. Beth hardly needed linger and eavesdrop to infer what they sought. Nudges became shoves, skulking broke out into a hurried stride; and with one last inquisitive glance back toward Leviathan's champion, the corpsepainted girl, Death's Regalia, vanished into the masses.
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Hidden 7 days ago Post by Tlaloc
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Tlaloc Metal Fingers

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[Location] Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 07:00 AM
[Mentions] @rabidbacon & @Silly

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Cassiel mused silently as the amethyst’s carrier explained herself, inviting him to study her offering with a closer admiration. Indeed, light and dark were forces that were defined by the very existence of their antithesis. This was true in a very literal sense, inasmuch as a candle’s light might swell to banish its surrounding darkness, as the woman had posited. It was also true in a more figurative sense. After all, Ultima had chosen he; a turbulent, motherless no-body, to fill with her light. Indeed, he was beautiful, and he was gifted, and he was charming; but he had been no choir-boy in his youth, nor was he a pious devotee in adulthood. He cared very little for religion, save for what it offered him. He cared little for Ultima, save for what She offered him. He indulged in uncouth vices, he sinned without remorse; but he reasoned that any sacrilegious behaviours that he beheld would be forgiven by Ultima, or at least overlooked — for he was chosen for a reason. One did not need to be innately good and pure to be blessèd; as with a dark room, a troubled soul would be exonerated of their discrepancies when bathed in Her radiance. While the Resplendency would never admit to such beliefs, they too felt the same way. After all, Beth still lurked within the regal halls of Malkuth — ne'er in all of Libra would a more sunken, lightless soul be found; a woman whose countenance was of darkness uncompromised, and yet she was among Cetra’s most prized assets. Cassiel had long since accepted that true good and evil were imbecilic concepts used to keep children from misbehaving. The reality was, as he had learned through firsthand experience, is that the Gods either favoured you, or they didn’t.

"“Does this offering meet Her Radiance’s approval?”"

Cassiel’s brow furrowed. Regardless of the thought exercise, he mistrusted the stranger. He knew a provocateur when he heard one. This woman hadn’t yielded the gem in good faith alone, that much was clear — she had sought to draw out a reaction, and whether or not the incitement was cynical or well-meaning, he was unsure. He sighed, mulling over a response, but was interrupted by a furore that rippled across the crowd. The sky cried, this time far more violently than he had seen in some time.

"Has Uilethoir blessed us?," she continued.

Cassiel glanced back at her, brow furrowed. He would learn who she was later; he'd set one of his assistants to task on a dossier. It seemed to him that, whoever she was, she had came her to appraise him. For what reason? He did not know.

Before the conversation could continue, security flocked around him; not only sensing the disturbance of the meteor shower, but likely having also received executive orders to escort him to a designated point. He obliged as they requested his acquiescence, for the moment had been snatched away. He locked eyes again with Aethalos momentarily as his detail ushered him forth, hoping that she would oblige him with a private conversation later.


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Hidden 5 days ago → 5 days ago Post by Mirandae
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Mirandae Prisk

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[Location] Landow, Estren
[Date/Time] Sunday, 07:00 - 07:30, September 15
[Weather] Partially cloudy, sunny
[Temperature] 16c / 60f


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Mirandae Prisk

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[Location] Harbor ➙ Food Stands
[Time] Sunday, 07:00 - 07:30
[Interactions] @vietmyke

A slight déjà vu befell Laura when he mentioned his name, Mathias Voss. Where had she heard that before? She could swear on all things holy that the name rang a bell. It must have been mentioned in one of the countless ‘lore’ videos about Regalia that Laura had seen, but she just could not place it in the heat of the moment. Her suspicion that Mathias was Regalia himself was just within reach of being revealed before they were all interrupted by the wonder in the skies and the children being elated. Laura wanted to ask Mathias what he was about to say about Regalia, but the security detail was so adamant about relocating that the inquiry slipped her mind. She returned Mathias’s bow and wished him well before the crowd of kids and parents surrounding her slowly set off towards the food stands.

“Come on then!” Laura smiled at Akamu, as the jolly mountain caught up. No matter where they were in the world, children always came flocking and seemed to feel comfortable around the duo. Laura had not given it much thought before, but it struck her now that it was likely because of Gaia being the first Dominant that the children were introduce to, and Titan not only being a related element but also a friendly presence. “And you can never get rid of these kids easily!” Laura chuckled, watching the little one sit on Akamu’s shoulders and steer him like a robot. She threw a glance beyond Akamu, and slightly over her own shoulder, to see that herds of people were starting to move in the same directions as them. “Uhu, seems like they take this seriously,” she said with muted tone. There was little room for personal musings, however, as the talk of food was at the tip of everyone’s tongues. “Seafood for breakfast?!” Laura gasped. “What kind of seafood do you eat for breakfa—?”

Laura’s words were interrupted by a powerful thunderclap sounding above them in the sky. It was followed by a rumbling roar that she had never experienced before. The shooting stars were all of a sudden extremely close, splashing into the bay just a few kilometers off of Landow’s shore. Laura and many around her flinched at the intimidating sounds, many of the children starting to cry and running for their parents. Small but burning hot debris from the meteors rained down over the festival. The thought of one of the meteors hitting the festival itself certainly began to spread a bit of panic. The security detail dropped all manner of formal courtesy and almost pushed Laura and Akamu forward – “We really have to move,” one of the masked men said with a blank tone. Laura took a step back to avoid being touched by the soldier. Her composure was starting to wane. “If one of these meteors are about to hit us, then we have to change. Are you going to like shoot us or something if we do that?” Laura spoke with a hurried voice, her North Accadian accent starting spill into her words of worry. The security detail was silent for a brief moment. “No, Miss Genevieve, we’re not going to shoot you, but we strongly advise that you use your form as a last resort, preferably at our request. So, with all due respect, let's move to a more secure position where you will not be hit by the debris.” The man did not wait for an answer or acknowledgment from Laura, but simply continued to conspire with Akamu’s security detail, urging everyone in the strongest possible fashion to move forward.

The meteor shower refused to subside. Laura was too distracted to notice, but none of the impacts happened on land. Anything that was close enough to Landow to be seen and heard struck water, almost as if there was intelligence behind their trajectory. As intimidating as the spectacle had become, it was to no surprise that Laura and Akamu had amassed an even larger following of children and their families. If something were to actually happen, these people knew they stood a better chance of avoiding injury when close to Regalia, especially Laura and Akamu, who were known for being protective and healing. “What do we do, big brother?” Laura stepped closer to Akamu as they ventured further towards the food stands and downtown. “Like, are you able to stop a meteor? You can jump at it and punch it or something.” She chuckled, still keeping things lighthearted in a trembling situation.
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Silly

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[Location] Food Stands
[Time] Sunday, 07:30
[Interactions] @Aeolian @vietmyke @Mirandae

Fire blazed overhead as the meteors continued to fall. Smoky streaks filled the air as they crashed into the water, causing the waves to turn rough and roar, as they splashed hard against the harbour. Their darkness shrouded what would have been a bright, clear day, and an eerie tension filled the air ominously. This was no good omen or blessing from Uilethoir's, but rather a potential sign of Ifrinn's fury.

As Nia walked through the stalls, a woman was hawking her wares, offering ‘black magic’ solutions to everyday problems. “Genuine black magic specialist! Spells, mantras for all! Marriage, divorce, love, death—subjugate or control people or events!” the crone cried out loud, as she darted her head about as she displayed her mystic goods. “For even the stars above follow thy command of Vashikaren unsuspectedly and fall!” she exclaimed, waving her hands in the air. “Buy protection spells for you and your loved ones!” Her words created a murmur of unease in the crowd. Some appeared interested in the snake oil she was selling, but her claims attracted the wrong kind of attention, and security firmly escorted her away. Too late for some, though, as they were now afraid to look up to avoid her curse.

Nia reached towards the butterfly on her shoulder, allowed it to perch on her finger. She gazed at it with curiosity, and attempted to communicate through it in response. “Cécile, the sky is falling.” She paused, waiting for a gravity of the situation before added, “You should come; you may be needed.” Gently, she lowered her finger, and the butterfly took flight before it returned to rest on her shoulder again as she continued her exploration.

Security continued to usher the crowd toward the food stands from the Harbour area, where the sudden influx of people caught the stalls and queues unaware, and disrupted the usual flow of business due to the volume of people. Nia blended into the crowd easily, moving and mingled along with them. An unexpected commotion arose that caused the crowd to began abruptly parting as a high-security detail forcefully escorted their charges through the thicket of people, including an accompanying retinue of several children and their parents. Standing to the side, Nia overheard a voice remark about seafood for breakfast, and she caught a glimpse of the Regalia of Gaia's confused but cute expression. Amused, she decided to follow the crowd in an attempt to learn more about the current situation from their conversation.

“Mama, what’s happening?” a frightened child who appeared lost in the throng and crowds tugged on a dress, seeking comfort. The woman smiled down at him, and he gasped as he realized he had pulled on the wrong person. “Don’t worry, trust that Gàileadh will be here for us,” she reassured him with a soft and confident tone, giving him a gentle pat on the head before nodding towards his real mother, who expressed gratitude at the reunion at the temporary separation and hugged her son tightly.

Nia began weaving her way closer to the two Regalia, as she attempted to listen in on their conversation. She wasn’t inspired by the idea she overheard of Akamu jumping up to smash one of the meteors—doing so could cause dangerous debris to rain down on the parade and put many lives at risk. She thought it would be better to simply do nothing, but then realized that wasn't quite right—there were still important roles for them to play in this situation.

Nia approached and, breaking into their conversation, interrupted, “Wise Mother, your flock seeks your reassurance.” She gestured towards the retinue following the two Regalia. “They could do with guidance through this uncertain time and could be soothed by your presence.” Given Laura’s Dominant and her connection to nature, and her wide publicity, Nia imagined she had the ability to influence those around her subtly, perhaps soothe them through calming scents or aromas, like a freckled human-shaped scented candle. “And Lord Titan,” she continued, addressing Akamu, “we may need your strong arms to shield and protect us with the land itself.” She mimed a gesture resembling a protective hug, hoping to guide their actions in a positive direction. “Forgive the intrusion,” she added, as she bowed her head respectfully toward the pair. “It seemed like you were seeking insight in this predicament.”

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Hidden 1 day ago → 1 day ago Post by Aeolian
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Aeolian Proud Fujoshi

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[Location] Landow, Estren (Downtown to Food Stands)
[Time] Sunday, 07:30 AM
[Interactions] @Silly@vietmyke@Mirandae

The hotel room seemed to tighten around Cécile, as if the walls themselves were drawing closer, suffocating him with their stillness. Outside, the sky had deepened into a shade of violet twilight, and through the window, the brightest slivers of the meteor shower could still be seen streaking across the heavens, as if the stars were coming undone, falling to their small pocket of the universe in some cosmic unraveling. His butterflies fluttered around him in soft, luminous whispers, and though his body remained anchored in the room, his mind soared through their delicate wings, tethered to Nia. The azure shimmer of their wings kept vigil, a silent constellation of his presence amidst the rising tension in the city below. She was still near the harbor, surrounded by the others—Regalia gathered beneath the flickering, falling sky—but her response had been troubling. She wanted him to come to her.

“Why does she not understand?” Cécile murmured to himself, pacing the length of the room.

Every step felt heavier. Something was wrong, something more than the meteors themselves. He could feel it—an unease that curled in his chest, like the first breath before a scream. Cécile’s hands twitched restlessly at his sides, pulling at the fabric of his slip, the weight of inaction unbearable.

“I'm going,” he whispered, more to himself than to Bastion, but his words seemed to pierce the silence of the room. "I need to join my cousin."

But as he moved, his Guardian's shadow moved as well, stepping into his path before he could reach the door. Bastion's tall, broad frame stood like a wall between Cécile and the outside world. “No,” he said, his voice as firm as steel, "I am bound to protect you, Hopekeeper; you will stay here where it's safe."

Tension crackled between them, thick as volcanic smoke. Cécile’s heart raced, his pulse thundering in his ears. “Bastion, please,” he pleaded, his voice soft but trembling with urgency, “Step aside. I have to go." But Bastion’s face remained impassive, his eyes a cold, unyielding shield, his broad form blocking the doorway. "Dr. Featherswallow gave me strict orders to keep you safe. She'll have my head if I let you leave. My answer is no."

"Your answer?"

Something inside Cécile shifted then, something sharp and absolute, a rare spark of defiance flaring to life. His gentle voice hardened, his normally soft demeanor replaced by something more dangerous as a tremor of pale, violet witchlight flickered in his brown eyes. “Move, Bastion. Don’t make me do this.”

It was at that moment that Bastion's expression wavered, confusion flickering in his eyes as he noticed the sudden shift in Cécile’s demeanor. His gaze sharpened as the tension thickened between them. It all became too evident that he wasn't facing a delicate moonflower or a wistful Hopekeeper throwing some childish tantrum. Cécile was a Regalia, and his better judgment told him to be mindful of that fact, to tread Cécile's waters with more caution and grace. This was a side of himself that Cécile would never be able to show in public.

Around him, the air began to shimmer with the sudden appearance of more astral butterflies, their flickering azure wings taking on a frantic rhythm as they spun in the air, reflecting Cécile’s agitation. Their iridescence lit the room with a soft, otherworldly glow.

Somewhere, faintly, the hotel’s intercom clicked on, an attendant’s voice cool and detached, announcing the lockdown. "For your safety, the hotel will be going on full lockdown until the meteor shower passes. Thank you for your cooperation." But it was distant, background noise to the quiet war being waged between Cécile and Bastion’s locked gazes. Silence thickened around them, only the sound of the butterflies’ wings stirring the air.

After a long moment, Bastion’s voice softened, attempting to placate. “Even if I let you go," he began slowly, his tone almost appeasing, “Isolde wouldn’t allow it.” His words were steady, but there was something softer in his gaze now, as though the tension between them had pulled one of many knots loose. Cécile hesitated, his temper cooling as he considered Bastion’s words. He broke their stare, looking away, suddenly contemplative, knowing the truth of it. He knew Bastion was right—Isolde would never permit him to leave, and he couldn’t fight her authority. He wouldn't dare. Yet, his mind's eye flickered to Nia, to the butterflies still watching over her, and he knew he couldn’t simply stand by.

Bastion watched him with an expression Cécile thought he had never seen before, a novel look that seemed to trigger the faintest of a memory. A rare, lavender rose pressed into his open palm. A chocolate strawberry pressed to his supple lips. The smell of an old, cherished book long forgotten to the annals of some mysterious world left by his bedside. Where was this memory from, Cécile thought, unable to trace the images that flickered in his mind. They went as quickly as they came.

The ephemeral daydream shattered with the intrusion of Bastion's surprising words, “I have an idea,” he finally said, his voice unusually genteel, his gaze elsewhere. Cécile blinked, surprise flickering across his features. His guard lowered ever so slightly.

“You’ll help me?” he asked, hope slipping into his voice.

Bastion nodded, though his square jaw clenched with the weight of the consequences. “Dr. Featherswallow would have me dismissed if she knew, but...” His voice trailed off, and for the first time, there was something like affection in his eyes. “The window,” he said simply.

Cécile’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. “The window?” He glanced over at the glass, dread pooling in his stomach. They were several stories up, the ground below far too distant for comfort. “We’re too high, I can’t—”

“You’ve used your butterflies before,” Bastion interrupted, stepping toward the window, his tone matter-of-fact. “You’ve moved things with them. I’ve seen you do it. You can float us down.”

“How... how do you know I can do that?” Cécile asked, suspicion creeping into his voice, but Bastion didn’t answer. He simply changed the subject, his gaze steady, “Can you do it or not?” he pressed.

“I’ve never—” Cécile stammered, doubt clouding his thoughts. “I’ve never carried myself on my butterflies before. Let alone two people. And I can’t shift into my Dominant form easily…”

Bastion gave him a look, one warmer than Cécile had ever seen from him. It was an expression of quiet reassurance, a gesture so gentle that it eased some of Cécile’s doubt. "I think you can, Hopekeeper."

The trust in Bastion’s eyes was enough to make Cécile pause, his resolve slowly building. He took a deep breath, letting Bastion's words fill him with courage, even if only fleeting. He followed Bastion to the window, and together, they climbed onto the ledge, the morning air sticky and hot against Cécile’s skin. The ground below seemed impossibly far, a yawning abyss looking to swallow him whole in one final, magnificent ending. Cécile’s breath trembled, fear gnawing at him. Bastion, noticing the tremble in his form, wrapped an arm around Cécile’s waist and pulled him close, "Hold onto me." he said, voice low and steady, "I've got you."

It was a marvel that Cécile didn't recoil from his touch in that moment. Cécile nodded, clutching tightly to Bastion as he looked down and then back to his Guardian.

They shared a look and then jumped!

A sudden rush of air greeted them, and the world seemed to slow as they fell. But before panic could take hold, Cécile’s butterflies surged around them, materializing in a swirling, breathtaking luminescent cloud of blue morphos. Their wings shimmered in the sun, catching the stellar, cosmic lights as the fairy-like projections enveloped the pair, slowing their descent. They floated down gently, as if held by a dream, the butterflies moving in perfect synchronicity with Cécile’s will. Cradled in a delicate, shimmering net of fluttering azure, their feet finally touched the ground softly, and Bastion glanced at him, impressed for once, his eyes alight with something akin to awe.

"Impressive." he murmured. Around them, passersby had been watching the magnificent display of the Regalia of Anima. The mystical spectacle had drawn attention, and citizens stared at Cecile dumbstruck, almost bewitched. But he was too caught up in the moment to care.

Cécile, breathless, blinked in amazement at what he had just done. He hadn’t known his butterflies could carry such weight, or that they would respond so instinctively to his need. “I... I didn’t know I could do that,” he admitted softly.

“You did,” Bastion said, giving him a rare smile. “Are you alright?”

“I am,” Cécile breathed, sharing a fleeting, almost familial look with Bastion. There seemed to be a quiet understanding between them, but the moment passed quickly. Before he could say more, Bastion took his hand, urging him forward. “Come on. Let’s go before Dr. Featherswallow realizes we’re gone.”

They raced through the streets toward the harbor, Bastion hailing a taxi along the way and getting a free ride, thanks to Cécile's status as a Regalia. He was still keeping watch over Nia through the butterflies that fluttered around her. His mind stretched thin, his focus divided; it was a strain, he could feel, but he kept the tether active until they finally reached her. Cécile exited the vehicle, his heart racing from overexertion. Perhaps they hadn't noticed their interlocked hands the entire time. And when Bastion released Cécile’s hand so he could exit the taxi, he appeared almost reluctant to do so. Once he joined him, however, his expression hardened once more.

Cécile took a moment to gather himself before stepping forward, his gaze flickering to the other Regalia—Laura and Akamu. His shy disposition returned, as if he didn't quite belong in their presence. He bowed deeply, his hands gracefully folded together against his middle. "It is an honor to meet you both, Earth Mother and Ground Shaker." he said in a kind, delicate voice. Now that he was here, Cécile recalled his remaining butterflies back into his psyche; they seemed to vanish into wisps of azure stardust and then, nothing.

He had seen countless pictures Akamu and Laura in the magazines brought to him by the Tenshi supplier. He'd spend hours before bed, reading through those magazines to keep up with current world affairs as his höpes chirped quietly, almost as if begging him to finally get some sleep. Those flat pictorials did them no justice. Even as a Regalia himself, he was quite enamored by their presence. He tried not to stare, it was unbecoming.

"Pardon me for whispering," he said out of respect for the other Regalia present, shifting his focus back to Nia.

“Do you... do you sense it too? The danger... falling from the skies?” He could barely maintain his composure, his fear too raw, too close to the surface. There was a tremor of fear beneath his words, his hands clutching delicately to his chest as if holding something fragile, something too afraid to bloom.



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The Flame loomed.

Taller than the ceiling and as boundless as the sea -unconquered, unblemished, unmarred. In his hands, a fragment of starlight lay ignited, a small sun kindling the space in radiant heat. His hands shook, an emotion slipping through him too swiftly to grasp, vanishing before he could decipher it. Tempting whispers went ignored as he focused, a single mistake would mean death.

The Flame struck before the thought had even settled.

It moved with the speed of storms, its strike weighted as a mountain, he braced, and the Flame’s illusion shattered.

He rolled, his vision blurred by the murder weapon slashing above him, a breath, then he rolled again as his ribs cried upon feeling the searing kick the Flame delivered. This is pain, the fire inside him purred, delighted at his struggle. The Flame waited, content in its power. Why would the Flame rush, when it knew all things would eventually be set ablaze?

Air filled his lungs in gulps as he righted himself, steeling against a blow that would not come. Time stretched, and the fire inside him roared, drowning every other sound.

The piece of coal in his hands let out a few sparks as it collided with the starlight.

The starlight cast him aside.

Once, twice.

There was never a third.

This time pain split his stomach as a blow found its mark. He crumbled, the piece of charcoal falling from useless hands, then kicked further away by a quick flick of flame. He forced his gaze upward, locking onto a face emerging from the fire, vibrant emeralds glinting from behind empty sockets as the figure cast judgment.

"Burn"

And as darkness folded over him, the same unknown feeling bloomed at his center, faint and precious.

It was happiness.



[Location] Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 07:00 - 07:30 AM, September 15
[Interactions] @TokyoPewPew

As he made his way toward the next Shrine he couldn't help but observe the security standing around the Festival, their silent vigil was curious in its own right but what drew his eye was the equipment each sported. This was perhaps the first time he had seen such a quantity of advanced arms ever. The flame roused a little higher at the thought but just like with the Regalia he pushed it down, they were just people doing their job and were not looking to prove themselves, to test someone who isn't looking to be tested is not something he is eager to do.

Although, considering what he was seeing perhaps he may be wrong.

It was a subtle shift in posture, no doubt using one of those fancy ear devices that he heard so much about, whatever was conveyed to them was enough to light some tenseness on their frame, much like a cat who heard a predator. Slowly the security started to herd the masses towards downtown, it was subtle, so much so that he doubted most realized it but there was no doubt some were quick on the update.

It wasn't long before he could hear the sounds.

As he looked around he came to a decision, with quick steps he made his way toward the locker where he had stored his sword along with the rest of his pack, he didn't need to be some sort of seer to see the way the fire was blowing. Conflict was calling to him like a sweet siren song and he was going to be prepared to meet it.

Before long he was in front of the locker, sheathed sword in his hand as he fiddled with the accessory to sloth it on his belt.

Then he stopped.

It was but a glimpse, nothing more than a shadow at the very edge of his visual range. The fire roared, unrestrained like it hadn't in a long time and he moved.

That was how he found himself barely a couple of meters before a woman painted like a corpse, sheathed sword in one hand with the other beside his hip, curled almost like a claw. There was a curious aura around her, but what really caught his attention was the thing on her back.

A sword

Ah, it seemed that his reckless tendencies weren't as burned as he thought they were.

"...Hello Miss"
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[Location] Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 07:30 AM
[Mentions] @Mirandae @Aeolian @Silly



The rather mystitical and whimsical nature of the event quickly turned sour as the sky cracked with loud, unnatural thunder. The falling stars, once distant wisps to wish upon were now suddenly much closer- though none had fallen onto the town of Landow yet, the strikes into the bay themselves were already way too close for comfort. Their security detail had already begun pushing them forward, urging them not to change, but rather to begin evacuation. A strong, broad arm pressed on Laura's shoulder reassuringly as Akamu almost casually lifted the child off his shoulders and returned him to the ground, the child's mother quickly sweeping the little one up into her arms. Where Akamu's face was once jovial was now replaced by a more serious grimace as he looked around the town. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Akamu was rather calm in the panic.

"Not to worry Kika," Akamu murmured reassuringly, "Haven't fought a meteor before, but there's always a first time for everything. Hakuna Matata- everything will be fine, I'll take care of you kaikuahine."

They were interrupted by a few figures, one another Regalia, Cecile of Anima, Akamu had heard news of him a few times here and there, but this was the first time they'd spoken directly, the man with him Akamu didn't recogize. The other figure was a woman Akamu didn't recognize either, though she spoke with quiet authority. Laura and Akamu's combined security detail, just noticing them moved to begin pushing them away from the Gaia and Titan's location, but Akamu quickly waved them off.

"She's right." Akamu noted softly, nodding at Nia, "Letting panic spiral out of control will cause more harm than good. Kika, help keep things calm, they listen to you." Akamu turned to Cecile, offering the regalia a faint grin. "Ah, pleased to meet you as well Dreamer, I apologize for the unfortunate circumstances of our meeting, but formalities may have to wait."

Akamu's gaze returned to the town's skyline, watching the encroaching arc of the mentors before back to the town, his eyes scanning for anything that could be useful as shelters. Luckily none of the buildings in Landow were too big, so the worries about being buried in rubble weren't too extreme. Akamu turned to his security captain.

"Does Landow have anything akin to Underground shelters? Basements will do in a pinch, but preferably any place that one might use as an air raid shelter. Begin escorting the people to these places if you would."

"Our orders are strict, Mr. Lafaele, we are to prioritize Regalia-" The security captain shook his head, even as he glanced at the people around them.

"I was not asking, captain." Akamu's voice took on a faint rumble, reminiscent of ground tremors. "We won't be far behind, but we must prioritize the safety of the children. Take them, to the shelters, and have a few of your men begin to look for stragglers and do the same. Now, please."

Akamu turned to Laura, pulling her into a hug, a comforting hand patting her head. "You should go with them, Kika. Help keep everyone calm and safe. I'll hold up the rear." Pulling back, Akamu fixed her with a smile, "I already see what you're thinking Kika, mai hopohopo. I'll be right behind you."

"Cecile and Cecile's friend, go with Laura." Akamu said with a calm authority about him, he glanced at Nia and shrugged, "You seem calm in the chaos. A good quality to have. I'm unsure how well my stone walls would protect against falling meteors, but if it comes down to it, I'll stop them as best I can. In the meanwhile, I'd appreciate your assistance guiding the remaining civilians here."


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【Location】landow: food stands 🠞 harbor
【Time】sunday, 6:30 am 🠞 7:00 am
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What kind of man presumes to tell a demigod where she can go, what she can do, by what mode she must travel; how she will behave and conduct herself? These masked men who placed their trust in CBRN filters to protect them from the microfine, all-pervasive residue?—whose bodies would not be crushed for all their fanciful magnetorheological T-drip armors?—whose Crystal-pricked adrenal glands would surely see them speedily to shelter in their hours of need? Or was it the men who controlled those men: the highest bidders in a room full of politicians, bureaucrats, and shareholders? All praying to the same superstitions, clinging to the same fetishes: stunsticks and pulseguns and riot shields for some, but to the rest, contracts? NDAs? Parapets and oubliettes of red tape?

It should not have surprised any one of these men when their metal baubles and paper trinkets did not frighten the divine; when she flouted all the little rules they built up around themselves like so many feeble bricks. And yet......

One more warp later and Beth had safely evacuated the densest thickets of shrine-goers, breaking line-of-sight through a threadbare treeline. Another and she'd infiltrated the food stands, bypassed the breakfast lines; plucked skewers of grilled fish and glazed dango indiscriminately from the charcoal-blackened grates, from the sticky hands of eager customers, or wherever she found them waiting for her, soft and glistening. The smoke rising from the troughs of glowing coals, and the breaths which steamed and dewed in the morning chill, and the diesel exhaust guttering from rust-licked fishing boats, all of these shimmered, stiff in the congealed air of Godtime. And from this once more she emerged, this time stepping out from behind a cluster of dock pilings as if from the very shadows, giving the disquieting illusion that she had all that time been crouched there just beyond purview. But with her precious loot in tow she chose for herself the most secluded spot by the water, and sat there peacefully among the barnacles, spitting up bubbles through their clamshell smiles. Tired planks sighed and sagged beneath her weight, slight as it was. They needed replacing.

Working her jaw against the dense, tacky treats, she placed a finger to her temple, feeling for the tactile click of the button hidden just beneath the skin. A moment later and a faint, downpitched whine ushered in a darkening, a blindness, as her ferroglass eyes powered down within their sockets. A mere functionality—for maintenance, recharging, the occasional refitting or adjustment—but the waifish death-priest sought none of these. It was, in fact, that very blindness she sought; or, more precisely, what followed. For as her vision relented—not to any mere blackness, but to a kind of nothing which only one without eyes could see—in minutes her other senses, like so many courtly pretenders at the death of their tyrant, sharpened. Emboldened. First the nose, detecting more easily than before the distant whiffs of charcoal beneath the reeks of salt and rotten seaweed, of dead mossbunker floating belly-up in diesel-choked harbor. The tongue followed, coaxing sesame oil and delicate, sweet mirin out from underneath the all-smothering soy sauce, perfuming the chewy rice balls with a newfound complexity. And her ears. Whetted to the world around her, it seemed to come alive, in panoply and panorama. Out on the bay winches creaked and whirred as crab pots were reeled up from the churned, silt-swirled seabed. Only a few hundred feet from shore, a child aboard a charter boat squealed with delight as he pulled in a struggling flounder, twirling and pirouetting at the end of a snapper rig. Carnival games gulping up coins with blinking, chiptune laughter. And footsteps. So many footsteps as those dejected crabbers hopped from gunwale to wharf, piled their empty traps thereon; wound up their shrimp nets, untangled their lines. As a pair of bird watchers oohed and aahed, wondering aloud whether that shearwater skimming the shallows for sand eels was longtailed or blacktipped or Cordessan.

Beth shrugged out of her baldric, allowed the immense, clumsy thing on her back to loosen its grip on her. The sword she propped more lazily against one shoulder as she sprawled out in the legs, throwing one by one into the bobbing, buoyant water all the skewers she'd picked clean already of their contents. The dango all eaten, she nibbled then around the pinbones of a grilled mackerel, delicate flesh melting against her tongue, the skin crispy and brittle, and rasped with salt which vanished in her mouth. The rising sun's first needles pricked the sweat from Beth's wan skin, broiled her in her raiments black; she cared not.

More footsteps; beginning at the farther end of the pier, and pursuing some purpose which brought them past Beth's chosen resting place. At first—before the person to whom those footfalls belonged—before they'd paused so purposefully while crossing her shadow—Beth found them easily enough ignored. It was in the silence—the weight-shifting, board-creaking silence—that she began to wonder.

From the length of the stride, and the heaviness of the footsteps, she could have surmised of him a height of about six foot. Give or take a thumb. Well-built, but nothing clumsy, not so lumbering or corpulent. Light on his feet. Some kind of athlete.

If thoughts could kill, Beth's would have scorched to ash this meddler, this intruder upon her peace, ere he could ever have opened his mouth.

"Hello, miss."

Thoughts alone, of course, cannot kill; nor beggars nor residue addicts nor any other breed of miracle-seeker; leaving Death's champion, Odin's poor Regalia, bedeviled and exposed, like warm skin to all a summer evening's legions of mosquitoes.

The taste of the mackerel, a moment ago so oily and smoky and delectable, then curdling to ashes in her mouth, Beth sighed, and threw the half-gnawed carcass into the water. Securing her immense scabbard in one hand and scrabbling the other up the side of the dock pilings against which she had claimed her short-lived rest, between these two effects the blinded girl rose unsteadily to her feet. Gripping her weapon by its hilt, and probing ahead of her with the chape as one would a walking stick, she started down the pier, seeking her solitude elsewhere.
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