ERode

Kurai Majokko

Masculine, chiselled?

That's not how I'd describe the hands of a certain time-travelling depressolord.

Expedition to Isekai

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//Day 1 | Location: Nameless Forest - Lakeside
_{@AThousandCurses@baraquiel@Nakushita@Yankee@Vertigo}
Whatever Masato had hoped to gather in that moment scattered when Duncan’s guts spilled open, floodgates parting to the sheer madness that seized everyone else. Ayana’s hands reached immediately to pull the grass out from his organs, finding much success in pulling the plantlife away. And yet, that same success wasn’t mirrored when she tried to use a part of her skirt to clot up the wound. The fabric didn’t absorb any of the blood at all as the liquid substance seemed to be squeezed around it instead, coating Ayana’s fingers. Viscous, that’s what it was. It was a substance that flowed like a liquid, and yet was not so easily soaked up like one.

And though its taste may have stayed a perpetual unknown, Shun was drawn to that golden blood like a bear to a pot of honey. Shifting away Ayana’s pitiful attempts to clot up the wound, she poked a finger inside Duncan’s open wound, eliciting a sensation through his body that felt…less like someone stabbing into him and more like someone pushing something into his belly button. Mad as it was, the basketball star could only recognize it as ‘touch’ not ‘pain’. And before much else could be done, Shun took a taste.

It didn’t taste like blood.

It didn’t taste like honey either.

It had no taste at all, but left a numbing, near-electric sting upon her tongue, one that spread around her mouth, down her throat, and finally into her stomach, her core. And then, though it was nothing more than a slight jolt, she could indeed recognize that jolt. Like the feeling of a sugar rush, the feeling of a cleaned-out engine. It was meager, but Shun was just a little bit more energetic than before.

Perhaps then, that was what they needed. Asahi came to the conclusion, and Duncan acted upon that conclusion. His own blood pooled so freely in his hands, and yet none of the effects of blood loss seemed to actually affect him. There was no dizziness of his head, no pain in his abdomen, no weakness of his limbs as he allowed himself to bleed, the plantlife around him still crawling over his lap as he poured the weighty, viscous fluid into the half-parted lips of Sasuke.

“Ah, that might be…” Only one person said it this time. Hiroshi. But whatever he said, he didn’t finish, because it was already too late. And who knows. Maybe it wasn’t even possible to choke on this fluid.

And maybe, it was because whatever was happening to Sasuke was immediate.

His complexion recovered its color, deathly pale skin gaining a warmth once more. His breathing, thankfully unobstructed, became stronger. Stronger still was his heartbeat, thrumming with more strength every moment that passed. The warmth that emerged upon his skin, upon his cheeks, turned red. His breathing became deeper, more rapid, chest heaving up and down and up and down! Asahi could hear his heart audibly now, and everyone else could hear it too, the jackhammer roar that blended into a singular sound! His skin, from reds to purple, scant sweatdrops beading over skin that was feverish yet dehydrated! Lips parting in a scathing gasp, sucking in more and more and yet never getting enough! His heart, his heart!

Blood burst out from his orifices. Black blood, rotten blood, from his nose and his eyes and his ears, staining Asahi’s clothes, steaming upon the long-grass. The putrid purging caused Daisuke to gag and then stumble away, even as Sasuke’s own body continued to convulse, joints cracking and bones grinding in wretched restraint.

Because hey, it wasn’t like it could make things any worse at this point, right?

Kurai Majokko

Oh yeah @TheWendil I had already mentioned this to The World when I first did the post, but just note that rather than hitting the ground, Nonsuch's hammer would've actually stopped perhaps a foot away from where Acid Drop's head had been, before slingshotting off into the distance.

No need to edit though; just something to keep in mind for future hijinks.

Iris Ascendis

Was tempted, really, to just have Otis go whip out his gun and blast off the kneecaps of the first six people in his vicinity.

Was also tempted to have him bomb the bridge, but alas, it's probably invulnerable.

Iris Ascendis

But why?

Punctuality was important in the military, but this wasn't a military academy. Even if this academy for 'heroes' sought to instill 'heroic ideals' unto its first batch of students, punctuality wasn't something that mattered in that profession either. It completely confounded Otis, in truth, the strangely harsh punishment for not being present for the very first second of orientation. What could be so important in that first second? In those first ten seconds? In perhaps, even a whole half minute? It was the sort of lunatic behavior that he expected out of prison guards, who had nothing better to do than to abuse what scraps of power they possessed. Or bad teachers, perhaps, who conflated politeness with capability, when such qualities had nothing to do with each other. And what would they even do if one of the carriages had ended up being late?

On the other hand, however...

As prestigious and well-funded as Wingram Academy was, resources were ever-finite. There were limits present, from something as simple as food to something as unalterable as the amount of time in a day. If this was a matter of 'arriving on time or you'll be expelled', then from another angle, one could say that this was a matter of 'causing as many expulsions as possible in order to monopolize resources'. What other reason was there, for one to give a little less than an hour for the mere task of reaching an auditorium? Otis toyed with that idea briefly, his amber gaze glancing over the other students present. They were all 'talented', but only a few were talented. Over the rise and fall of sun and stars, over the decades and centuries that have cycled past Castalia, it had never been the masses that decided the fate of the world. It had only ever been individuals. The Clockwork Empress. The Star-Eater. Klara-Astra, the Ever-Present.

He looked them over, one by one, and nodded.

There were too many. There were never that many. So he would withhold his question, and operate under his hypothesis.

'Reach the auditorium. Seal it.'

"Show me wonders of this world."

The gateway opened, and from it, the Strigidae called forth one of the simplest creations: a wooden board with four small wheels. It clattered against the ground before he stomped upon it, flipping it up upon the railings of the downward-swinging bridge. Then, Otis joined that wooden board up there, and with a terrific squeal, he dropped, sliding down upon the railing at a breakneck pace that could only be rivaled by those willing to dive into freefall.

Sparks scattered in his wake; the Seeker sought nothing more than monopoly, and they should all thank him for not choosing direct violence as his method of achieving it.

Iris Ascendis

@EstylwenNice to see you too, but also, remind me of where we've RPed together before? If that happened at all.

@SifrThe vibes I'm getting here (so take it with a grain of salt) is that in terms of technology, most of it is modern-era tech that's accomplished via magitech. Which comes up with problemos because environmental magic is running out. At this point, one can expect that places that used to be abundant in magitech are now prioritizing the rich and powerful over the poor, while those places that never had that magitech (I'd imagine that'd be non-Vaalin Union places) either figured out some regular tech (the clockwork nation with the immortal bitch) or exist in a general fantasy-medieval vibe.

Iris Ascendis

It's two spots left, ye.

Iris Ascendis

Aighto, good to know.

Iris Ascendis

Right, Nanaya, you got an idea of when you're gonna start the IC?

Kurai Majokko

Ah, glorious Russian cover.