◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ mood: stressed ▣ interaction:▣ ooc: ◢ Spoiler: dream "Cherno?" " ... Cherno? Wake up!" "Wake up! Wake up wake up wake up!" Thrash. Smash. "What! What-- who, what do you--" "Cherno! Help! Please!" "... Is that--" "Cherno! Please! Help! They're fighting! They're fighting again!" Crack. Smash. What was that? "I-- I can't breathe! Stop! Calm down! What the hell is going on?" "He's planning to kill her, Cherno! I found out! He was on the phone! He was on the phone! He's broke, Cherno! Please help! Please please please!" "What?" "We have to get out of here! Cherno! Can't you do anything to stop this? Cherno!"Sacrifices are a necessary part of existence. "Shut up you bitch!" Smack. Why does the hand sting so much? "You've ruined my life enough! If you want help maybe you should just get out of this hellhole!" "Save yourself, dammit! Nobody liked you. Neither of them did. So stop treating them like they're your own already! You aren't a part of this family! You never were!" Why does the heart sting so much? "C-Cherno ..." "Shut up! He'll hear you! They'll all hear you! Do you want to die so quickly?" Why does the soul shake in fear? Why does it collapse in the sense of the forsaken pasts? All souls lead to oblivion in the end. "Get out of here! Out! Quickly! You-- you aren't welcome here anymore you useless good-for-nothing street urchin!" Push. Shove. Reality is a blur. Reality is but a lens, a virtual image of refracted light that hides a truth. "C-Cherno ... stop ... please ... you're hurting me ..." The tears of a soul refract its inner truth, and projects a virtual image. "I'm giving you one thing. I--It's spring-activated and can only help your sorry self when you need some kind of guidance. Get the hell out of here. I'm taking you to the street with your bags." "Cherno ..." "Now! And if I ever see you here again, Marigold, Your life will come to an end. You dig?" Who-- what ... I--is aaack, h-he could not e--even who was fucking shaking him like this?! Cherno opened his eyes-- FUCKING ANTHONY. He quickly shoved the boy out of the way and looked at him with a scowl. "What in the name of derivatives to the fourth fucking degree do you think you're doing, kid?!" Fuck. That dream. Ugh. His hand-- jesus christ, it was, it was hurting ... so much ... he needed his painkillers quickly ugh goddamnit. Cherno wrestled through his robe pocket to grab the bottle and quickly downed a few pills. The pain slowly ebbed its tendrils away from his bandaged hand. The dreams were getting worse. He slammed his good hand against the solid wooden covering of the seat's arm, and a sharp noise cracked through the room. He turned back to Anthony. Oh. Anthony. What was he doing on top of him anyway? Was he -- was he the cause of that horrible dream? Ugh. Cherno sighed. He was being too harsh on the poor kid. "Oh. Sorry, kid. I-- uh. It was nothing. I can't think right now. Please excuse me if you can, haha." He gulped. Real smooth, Cherno. "Maybe you should-- maybe you should go eat breakfast. I don't feel like joining you guys for a bit to be honest. I-- I need to uh ..." Think, Cherno. Think think think. "Find ... out ... how I can access the Trigonometric Gateway Constant of the Fifth ... Dark Witch ... Estate. Yeah. S-something like that." He smiled jovially and patted Anthony's head. Wait, shit, did he still have the Rubik's cube? Goddamnit. Now he was never going to get it back. "Oh, you can uh, keep my cube if you want." Cherno said. "I'll catch you later, kid." He smiled back at Anthony and drifted out of the room, like a spirit whose presence was barely noticeable. Brian's house was not the largest, but now that Cherno had a better look at everything, it was stylish, modern, and pleasant. Cherno would not mind staying here for a while. As he stepped into the hall, the scent of bacon and eggs wafted through his nostrils. He sniffed. Euugh. A bit too greasy for him. He would have to skip breakfast for now, but maybe help later with the clean up. He knew the real reason he was skipping breakfast wasn't because of the food but because where there was food there would be people. He even directed Anthony there. He'd hopefully help Brian later, maybe. Just so he didn't have to go through the clean up on his own, or something. Cherno stepped towards the back end of the house and surreptitiously exited. Winter morning. The sun was still attempting to climb itself to the top of the sky, and everything around Brian's small house seemed to be cast in a gloomy yet calming blue light. Stars poked out their final starry breaths before slowly beginning to be snuffed out. South Bellhurst was a nice place, though a bit hilly. This entire part of the neighbourhood seemed to be on a bit of an incline. Its culture and the elevation always reminded him a bit of San Francisco. Far off in the distance, Cherno could see the churning, heavy waters of the strait that divided the northern, more residential part of the city from the active heart of the south. He sat down on the wet grass. Oh, did Temperance respond to the text message? Cherno checked his phone. She did. But-- but it seemed she wasn't very willing to talk, at all. Oh well. Cherno concluded that people needed some time on their own from time to time. He sighed and placed his phone back into his pocket, looking out across the coastal edge of Brian's little neighbourhood. That dream. That fucking dream. Were these pills messing with his head? But a better question faced Cherno. Was she still alive? Were they still alive? ... He gazed across the rest of the town and the strait. But goddamnit. The memories were so painful. He-- he couldn't bear to even want to remember anything like what happened on that day. He clenched his bad hand and he winced in pain, more tears rolling down his cheeks. What a weak little boy. Good thing nobody acknowledged him. He quickly wiped away the stains on his cheeks.
Cherno was pleased with how clean Brian's home was. Very pleased. It seemed a stark contrast from many of the other homes that he had visited during his time in the enormous city. He was stylish and clean. South Bellhurst as well, what a trendy place. Cherno had the shaky fear that he would have to spend the night in a pig sty, but that did not seem the case. He was almost tempted to vocally thank the young boy, but at this point he was too tired to even speak. Brian informed the congregation about the available rooms. He saw the others move off to different parts of the house. It was small and quaint, but sweet. Where was Brian's family? Did he live here alone? Cherno himself was used to living alone, so he would not mind it very much -- if anything, it seemed it was another connection between him and Brian. He slowly walked into the living room, where he saw Anthony plopped off on the couch. Oh goddamnit, what was he doing here. The others seemed to be out in the kitchen or the guest room. Cherno had no choice. He sighed. Time to share the living room with Anthony. Please, please, he begged to the parabolas of the universe, do not let the kid wake him up. He had been unable to sleep for how long? It had been almost an entire weak now, and his legs were shaky. Fuck. His hand. He sat on one of the warm cushioned seats directly opposite the sofa where Anthony lounged casually and grabbed his painkillers from his pocket. Gulp. Down three and four of you little things go. Cherno coughed a bit. His bad hand numbed. Was he getting dependent on these? Nah. They did make him sleepy though. Cherno looked around, in a bit of a daze. It looks like most of the others from the auditorium would be here, huh? Even Madeline. Odd. But-- but something was off. Johnathan had moved off somewhere. Were there any shelters nearby? He was resourceful. Heck, he could probably stay in one of the churches without any fear and with much more peace than wanting to be here. He turned back to Anthony. The girl with him wasn't here, or anywhere. Where did she go? And -- He looked at his phone. Right. Temperance. Where was she going to stay? Her house must have been completely flooded. Things could not get any worse for her, could they? Why was he so worried about her anyway. Dear lord. I suppose it would not hurt to check on her. She was strong, she would be okay, right? So Cherno sent her a text message. Sent. He shut off his phone and placed it back in the tattered remains of his jacket that he used as a robe. The claws of sleep grabbed at him and he felt his eyes dimming slightly, his body feeling slow as he sat upon the chair. Cherno felt as if he would be off into a deep, long sleep. Elizabeth, John, and Temperance. Everybody else was here. Funny, they weren't considered the most popular bunch out of the team, those three. Could it truly be that everyone in the team would be able to congregate in one place peacefully? Everybody else was here, except those three. And Abby. ... As he slowly began to fall asleep, Cherno rose the tattered robe around his head to act as a hood, so nobody could see the single tear that crossed his cheek.
Happy birthday dearest gramps.
La sorcière des jours cents An opera now playing at the Opéra Ravensview Get your tickets today! Spoiler Characters Ertimencia Apolline Thalasseus Cybilline Sophrosyne Astrapos Pyridaeon Otrakonna Acheronion Letheus Nychsilia Soleanus Vespassa Baccherix Act I Scene I: L'inondation des larmes The story begins with the protagonists in the middle of a storm. The motley crew of characters consists of various citizens of the kingdom who are forced together by the witch Baccherix's efforts to be at the mercy of her obscure attempts to toy with the mortal folk. Song title :Story description Le cri des murs dans la honte : The convict Apolline, trapped in the dungeon of the Palais Bellourste, laments on the buffeting of the walls of the castle by the incessant winds of the storm, and how they represent the chains of society that constantly tug at her past mistakes. The lights go out, and Apolline realizes she is freed. Apolline begins her escape of the dungeon. Dame d'incertitude dans l'ombre : Apolline moves through the castle as a shadow, avoiding the guards whom themselves seem too preoccupied trying to keep the castle from flooding. She gets lost and lands headfirst in the quarters of another convict – the pirate Vespassa. Apolline, disliking people as a whole, is very suspicious of Vespassa, but they eventually band together to try and find a way out of the castle. Working together as women of uncertainties in the shadow, they eventually escape Vespassa's cell. L'amour ou le devoir sous la pluie minuit : The captain of the palace guard, Ertimencia, hears the noise of an unlocked cell echo through the darkness. She rushes over to the floor and realizes that the convict Apolline has escaped with Vespassa. As the thunder strikes and castle continues to flood, one of the first major and most popular opera soliloquies are heard as Ertimencia fights with herself over letting Apolline, her secret beloved crush, escape and lose her life to the storm, or be chained like a bird but continue to live. La sorcière des vents, le demon des vents : Ertimencia is interrupted by Otrakonna, the keeper of the winged lizards in the castle, who sends her the message of the sorcière des vents, the potential cause of the flood that hits the kingdom. Simultaneously while crawling through the castle passages, Vespassa informs Apolline of the demon des vents, the potential cause of the flood that hits the kingdom. Interestingly, Vespassa compares this demon to her sister, whom she has referenced as an evil, nasty temptress multiple times in their dialogue. Apolline and Ertimencia mirror their replies and questions when singing in this piece. L'or de mon âme : Vespassa reveals she has not been leading Apolline out of the castle, but instead to the Grand Vault of Palais Bellourste, filled with gold and all sorts of extremely valuable material possessions. She laments about her past, especially her quarrels with her sister, and how her future shall be filled with an immense amount of gold if she can get Apolline to help her – as Vespassa is the only one who can get Apolline to escape this castle. Apolline constantly disagrees as they exchange comments. Eventually, Apolline comes across a silver scroll among the gold, and keeps it to herself. Vespassa sees this secret stealing, and calls Apolline no better than herself, 'scum of the earth and the heavens' ends'. She draws a golden sword at Apolline, who is forced to take up a silver sword. The song ends on a long high note with the doors of the vault shutting on them, leaving them in darkness. La fleur de la cupidité : A deep voice booms through the room and the lights darken to mere shadows that begin to dance on the wall. The voice of a witch who reveals her name to be Baccherix ('Baccherix, c'est elle! Baccherix, c'est elle!') challenges Vespassa and Apolline for their greed, and sings about the morality of all humanity and the very sins that drive them, before posing Vespassa a question. Une question des damnés : The thunder and lightning strike and the room begins to flood. The witch Baccherix poses Vespassa the question: to take the life of an innocent she hated in order to keep all of the wealth in the room, or let the innocent live at the expense of the gold and the wealth. Vespassa contemplates ridding of Apolline in case she wishes to fight for the gold, but changes her mind and yells to the sky her hatred of her sister, Sophrosyne, who has cursed her to a life in the slums and annals of society, and as the thunder strikes, the scene transitions. Baccherix cackles evilly. Les yeux verts dans la têmpete : We cut to Sophrosyne, who stands in her home, slowly flooding, as she stands on the roof and prays in the storm to a deity for save her. She repents all her sins past, all her mistakes and accidental mishaps from her bad luck that indirectly doomed her beloved sister Vespassa to a life of hell, but laments in the loud winds about how the past will always haunt her. As her house sinks to the storm, she is taken up by the winds onto a raft. En flottant sur les ailes de l'humanite : Sophrosyne is rescued by the young village hermit Astrapos, who had once been a student of the scientific renaissance before forsaking society and leaving himself to his own devices. He carries Sophrosyne through the storm on his enormous Ark, the Idrogeno, moving towards the castle, which serves as the last point of refuge in the kingdom. Sophrosyne and Astrapos contrast in song the methods in which they have been victims of the society of the kingdom, and how it is mirrored through the tumultuous storm – and yet, they continue to have each other's company on the 'wings of humanity'. They reach the Palais Bellourste. Dans les douleurs des vents : Ertimencia moves off towards the Grand Vault to see if Apolline and Vespassa are present. She leaves Otrakonna with head guard Nychsilia. Otrakonna tells Nychsilia her sorrows over dying in the storm and being unable to see her beloved Pyridaeon again, who is trapped in the Far Keep at the edge of the kingdom. Nychsilia comforts Otrakonna, telling her of her own feelings of her resourceful younger brother Soleanus, whom she worries will survive the storm. As Nychsilia views the Idrogeno reach the castle, she instructs high castle priest Acheronion to begin leading all attendants of the castle to the central room, where Prince Thalasseus and his consort Maid Cybelline wait. Nychsilia and Otrakonna retreat to Prince Thalasseus' chamber. À la lumiere d'Icarus : The words of Nychsilia seem to echo across the storm to Soleanus, who has finished building his contraption in order to get to the castle – a pair of wind-resistant wings that serve doubly as a floatation device in case. He casts off from his sinking home and zips through the sky, laughing in ecstasy as he is able to dodge lightning bolts, in a sense of mortal-defying hubris. Looking through the storm, he spots the contents of the Grand Vault emptying out into the flood, and he manages to recover a silver scroll. He crashes into the chamber of Prince Thalasseus, tangling himself with his scarf. Prince Thalasseus and Maid Cybelline claim that this gift from the sky is the beginning of this great exodus to their chamber. Le rêve : One of the most famous of Act I's opera pieces. Apolline has been rendered unconscious due to Baccherix, and dances and sings around in her dreams of her past. She goes through her memories of the only time she was happy – when she was with her currently un-named lover, but the scenes quickly switch between happy and joyful to morose and depressing, as if reflecting Apolline's own capricious moods towards everyone thus far. Right before she ends with a kiss, the dream falls apart into a hellish, smoky world of fear and darkness. Apolline slowly draws closer to a cliff where her lover waits, and fights with herself about escaping the hell of society she finds herself in. But immediately the dream breaks, as Ertimencia reaches her unconscious body. Le clair-obscur de la lune brille : Ertimencia reaches the unconscious Apolline, who sits outside the grand vault. Carrying Apolline, she realizes the royal contents have been emptied, and Vespassa has been cast into the flood by the unknown forces of the storm. The castle is without what grounds its power – its very wealth and gold. Ertimencia softly and slowly carries Apolline while quietly singing to herself how the constraints of society should not affect them anymore in this palace. Le silence du sage : On the way, they meet with an old hobbling man, calling himself the damned old man – the blind prophet Letheus. He tells Ertimencia of how he warned of this before, but nobody listened to his wisdom due to how he was mocked and laughed at. He directs Ertimencia and Apolline, on direction of the high priest Acheronion, to the chamber of Prince Thalasseus, and follows them there.Le labyrinthe de l'infini et de la vie : The mysterious high priest Acheronion, who apparently has a past connection with Astrapos that puts both of them on edge, directs Astrapos and Sophrosyne to the chamber of Prince Thalassa. As they move through the dark castle together, they learn about each other, and establish a friendship and protective union that temporarily allows them to get past their differences of class and social status and move towards the chamber of Prince Thalassa. This song is known to be slightly flirtatious and comical in nature. La Chambre du Prince Thalasseus : As these surviving members of the flood reach the chamber of Prince Thalasseus, he calls a meeting of the kingdom, so that they may discuss how to wait out this storm, but the discussion leads nowhere as various others begin to fight, and is interrupted again by Baccherix. She explains herself as the master of this game among immortal gods, where mere mortals are but pawns. She informs Soleanus to read the silver scroll. She sings in tune with the others mockingly, claiming that they will be unable to escape the chamber of Prince Thalasseus unless they discover a way to test their morality. La vie ou la mort! La vie ou la mort! : Soleanus reads the silver scroll, which turns out to be Baccherix's rules to survive in her little game. By this point it is clear that very little of the others from the various parts of the kingdom dislike each other. There begins an argument of two sides stating whether or not Baccherix wants them to kill one of themselves in order to save all. Les ombres d'un passé lointain : These fights over wishing to kill someone lead Ertimencia to conduct an opera soliloquy on how she can face killing another innocent person. She is wracked with fear and guilt, and it is revealed the Ertimencia appears to talk to herself, and constantly mention an unknown man named the 'Harleyquinne' as the source of her troubles. Her constantly increasing and frenzied singing matches the chorus of the other fighting characters until it results in Ertimencia, being the captain of the guard and most experienced with slaying, to murder the selected victim. La victime de la sélection : There is a gruff worry as everyone draws lots. Eventually, the last lot is the forsaken lot, chosen by Otrakonna, who cries out in anguish, to stop this, but in her yelling she faints as the victim of the selection. Sang sous la pluie des larmes : One of the most dramatic pieces of the act. Ertimencia breaks down realizing she has to murder Otrakonna, and dramatically leaves in high notes of anguish and sorrow as she fires the arrow into Otrakonna's heart, finally ending her life. La malédiction de Baccherix : The storm turns into a frenzied wind, and Baccherix possesses the body of Ertimencia. She claims that though Ertimencia has saved all of them, an eye for an eye is only appropriate, hence the reason of the slaying of Vespassa, who wished death upon another. Baccherix attempts to make Ertimencia kill herself with an arrow, but is stopped by the blind prophet Letheus. Letheus curses Baccherix to her face, and Baccherix retaliates with her own curse upon their souls. The people in the chamber are knocked unconscious and the storm settles. The kingdom is saved, and Apolline wakes, distraught at everything that has happened. She rushes to Ertimencia, who slowly wakes, and claims that this is but the first instance of 'the curse of Baccherix'.
Cherno silently looked on as Temperance moved out of the auditorium. She was a strong girl. He simply hoped that she would be able to find a place to stay during this mess. The flood hit many of their homes hard. He stood silently for a while, simply contemplating and observing the area. Quin seemed to be texting away on her phone and hovering around Abby. Poor Quin. She wasn't the type to enjoy killing. Cherno wondered if she had even ever done something so ... gruesome, before. It didn't seem like it -- unless she certainly kept a good play of empathy. Cherno could barely feel anything right now -- all but the heart-rending stings of his bad hand. He struggled to take out his painkillers and quickly popped a few in his mouth, gulping them down quickly. He heard someone approach him from behind. It was-- Brian, right, the stylish scarf kid! He looked comparatively alright. That was good. He was dragging along his distressed girlfriend Aileen. They-- they were in a relationship, right? Cherno hadn't observed them well enough to really see if it was anything else but a romantic relationship. Poor Aileen. Cherno shivered as he looked at her worrisome expressions. But he was too tired to feel anything else right now. Brian asked him if he wanted to stay at his house. South Bellhurst, right? It was really quite nice of him. Cherno didn't mind. His house-- eck, anything to not have to visit that place anyway. He could not believe there was one positive out of all of this flood debacle. "Sure thing, brother. I may be a bit late." Cherno tried to smile but he was not sure if it was working out well. Brian then asked him about his hand. Cherno glared at him briefly, instinctively, as if a light suddenly switched on in his body and he suddenly had become extremely tense. The hospital! Ridiculous. Absolutely. "I already went there." And he was telling the truth. They didn't help. They were rarely able to help with his problems. His problems specifically. Cherno would always silently curse that day. "They can't really help it right now. Just, don't ask about it kid. Thanks." There was disgruntlement in his voice and he turned away from Brian. Quin seemed to be a bit faint. Was she okay? He began walking towards her as his last task before heading off. But he turned back to Brian and tried to smile harder. "Thanks so much for giving me a place to stay, brother. I'll make it up to you for being so fly soon." He pointed his index finger at Brian and let off a Bang. He then placed his hands back in the pockets of his tattered robe and walked over to Quin. Be quick about it. Be quick about it. Cherno cleared his throat. "Hey sister. Quin. Quintus. Right." He cleared his throat again. Ugh. This was, kind of painful, even for him. He was talking to Abby's murderer here. "I hope you'll be okay. I don't blame you. Nobody does. Some ... some could say--" Cherno stumbled a bit. "Some could say you did sort of save us there too. So please, if you ... if you need any help, don't hesitate to ask, you-- you dig?" Cherno turned off and walked towards the exit of the auditorium, waving back. ... In that entire ordeal, he was unable to feel anything. Everything he said to Quin and Brian seemed so hollow. He felt no happiness nor did he feel sadness. He simply felt nothing, and nothing was what brought his feet step to step as he exited out of the wet, ruined shell of Bellhurst High and onto the street, still running with water here and there.
I touched boobies once. They kicked me out of the zoo because I was disturbing the birds' feeding time.
It only took a few minutes for everything to have gone to hell. The death went by too fast. Too quickly. That wasn't the plan! Fuck it. Fuck everything. The painkiller bottle shook in his hand, or was it his hand alone that was shaking. That wasn't the fucking plan! Cherno had it all quickly set. She wouldn't have had to die like that. She-- she wouldn't have even-- needed to die-- fuck. Fuck this. Cherno threw the painkiller bottle violently to the wet floor in anger, and its loud clattering echoed through the auditorium in an almost playful, mocking manner at how morbid everything was. The voice. Crestatia. She possessed Quin! That arrow. Jesus christ. Was Cherno right? They all worked together -- in a vote -- to come up with the solution. Right? He felt tempted to shout it out loud. He was right. He was wrong too. This entire scene had no logic behind it. And Altair. Cherno's struggling eyes darted to the form of the boy up on the stage, laughing away. They were all going to snap soon. They were cursed? Pah, of course they were cursed. They were cursed from the beginning they received the stupid fucking e-mail. Cherno knew from the start he didn't have one hundred days to live, and he had planned for it. Did any of them? Fuck. His bandaged hand burned with stinging pain. And it was as if this pain brought him back to the reality they were in. Cherno's mind cleared up a bit. He looked at Abby's lifeless form. Fucking parabolas on a bicycle. She saved him. Back at that horrible Lacey's place. She saved him from the truck. And how was she repaid? With death. With an improper end to her story. It was terrible. Life was a cruel mistress. Cherno-- he was about to tear up. He was frustrated at how illogical this world had been. This system was too fucking chaotic! Right. Calm down, Cherno. Baby steps. He lifted his feet. Was that the bottle near him? He picked it up and put it back in the pocket of his robe. The ground was wet from that brief wave, and it soaked the carpet. It seemed to draw in a few leaves, plants, and twigs, washed through the city. Was the city still intact? Cherno was like a ghost, dark-robed and with deathly pale skin. His hair was still wet. Crestatia's unearthly scream was still stuck in his head. Fuck. It wasn't-- it wasn't really leaving it. Just turning into a ringing. It seemed he had aged significantly in those few minutes, as his eyes had lost their lustrous observational, cat-like quality, replaced only with a seething moroseness and taciturn cloudiness. He barely felt himself walk slowly towards the stage, where Abby's lifeless body lay, and the others involved seemed to sit, dazed and confused. Poor Quin. She was just as much a victim. They were all victims. He bent down and picked up something small, soft, and pink on the wet floor. There were many others around it. Cherno stepped onto the stage, slowly and carefully, and looked over Abby. The arrow wasn't supposed to kill her. Not even from this angle. It had no logic behind it. Crestatia did this intentionally. She wanted them to kill each other to escape -- to show that she wanted entertainment. She wanted blood. She wanted them to end each other in the end, did she really? Perhaps they could not work together after all. But Altair's entire debacle -- and the interesting way in which Crestatia reacted -- not with defiant, playful toying, but almost with a sense of anger and fearful disproval, taught Cherno something. It made him calculate. She didn't want that. There were ways. Alternatives to experiment. Quin was saved, but at what cost? "Could not work together? Had to kill each other?" Cherno looked solemnly at Abby. That very event taught Cherno to fuck that noise. He bent down and placed the soft, pink flower head in Abby's hands, and brought them close together, close to her chest. This was-- this was-- goddamnit. Nobody could see him tearing up! He had to do it. He had to. He pointed his index finger at her, and shot it in a gun-like motion. Bang. Goodnight, sweet princess. But his hand was shaky. So shaky. He could barely handle this. Fuck everything. He turned away quickly, facing away from the others on the stage. Cherno stared off at nothing in particular through the room, with his vantage point on the stage offering him an appropriate view of everything. They were all scattered. They looked scattered. Like pebbles senseless controlled by a wave of fate. " Someone tell me what h - happened . . . " Called a voice behind Cherno, barely a murmur. He was too dazed, and too busy fighting back tears to determine its origin. Cherno did not speak to anyone in particular. In fact, he seemed to have almost whispered to himself, his words trailing the stagnant, apprehensive air of he wind. And he wondered if only the origin of the voice heard him. And then he spotted something that made him apprehensive. Who was that? On the chair? Who in their right mind would be standing on a chair here? That-- those eyes. Oh. Was that Temperance? What was she doing? Cherno looked around her. The carpet was very wet. She was-- she was shaking. Fearful. Of the event? Of the water. Maybe both. That is right, Cherno. People here were still scared. They had no idea what was going on. They were all in the same boat. Everyone was scared in some way. The fear was persistent. The fear was what Crestatia used to drive this game forward, wasn't it? He stepped down from the stage and walked towards Temperance. It seemed that the others were too dazed to even notice her. His hand was stinging a bit. He probably needed the painkillers soon. She stood there, on the chair, quivering. Did the flooding really damage the poor girl that badly? Nonetheless, though Cherno would need to take observations of how to tackle this illogical world effectively, he still understood that fighting the very essence of Crestatia's morbid little game -- this fear, would perhaps be for the best. So he extended his hand towards Temperance. He looked almost zombie-like and immensely fatigued. "Come on, sister. The doors are open. We can all leave now. Grab my hand."
No wonder the Republicans deemed an Axis of Evil. I suppose they were not big yuri fans.
A love that movie. Holy maledictions I know Plums is an extremely intelligent mathematical genius! Can you even /believe/
Cherno sighed. He felt his ears redden. Was his anger going to flare here? He brought the painkillers down and away. He looked at Quin. At least, it didn't seem like she was enjoying this conclusion herself. "I never said that. You don't mighty look like you're a big fan of this conclusion. The entire reason I'm here is because I'm also ... whack enough to have to agree about the possibility." Cherno lowered his head and moved his good hand through his slightly dirty hair in definite frustration. Quin mentioned Abigail, Aileen, and Brian. Sure. They were definitely the weakest links, but would he let them die so quickly? Without turning to face her, he replied, a bit exasperated. "That ... that is the most logical conclusion, I suppose. The weakest. Right." This was fucking painful. Cherno's words felt hollow. "I'm not sure if it would be the best to breed distrust among already established positive relationships. While I understand your jive little thought process, would it be better to stay among strong people who distrust each other, or weaker ones who have the power of trust backing them?" This was terrible. So terrible. Cherno's head hurt. "Have you not already considered the various other things? Try ... try confessing something you feel guilty about, like Brian said. We should leave the barbarism to the last choice if we have ... alternatives." "And besides," He turned back up to Quin. "Who's to say that the demoness would show up?" "This is an extreme risk we are taking, sister. This has to be carefully done." Cherno wondered if he could slip in a possible proof of his earlier solidarity hypothesis. "Carefully done, and with the consent of the majority."
Jesus fuck goddamnit stop tumbling holy hell Temperance pushed Cherno off to the side and he landed by the back of a chair, slowly sliding to the floor. What was her problem? She seemed overly distressed from everything. Temperance began her shaky, barely put-together comments on the entire matter. Cherno just sat on the paneled floor, a bit nervous from its potential dirtiness, listening quietly. It could entirely be possible he was wrong. At the same time, it would be the events in the next few moments that would note how much truth was behind Cherno's ideas. Temperance was talking about Analynne. Analynne. No Analynne. There was no question she was a key for the whole thing. Could she have done this? They had little idea who or what exactly "Analynne" was, besides Crestatia being opposed to, uh, that thing. Did she really trap them here? It seemed possible. But the malevolence of the atmosphere here seemed sinister regardless. This was all assuming Analynne was even a positive force to begin with. She had yet to reveal herself. How would they even summon Analynne? They barely had any idea on how to summon Crestatia herself, and now here they were trying to look for what she hated. Not to mention it was against the rules, very clearly. Temperance had a point, but to Cherno it seemed unlikely that this "Analynne" concept had very much to do with what was going on right now. Then through the riff-raff, the many comments, as Cherno sat on the floor, his cheek to the seat, listening with dazed eyes, he heard one statement that made his eyes widen. " I have been reveling in a great deal of thought, and I have come to a conclusion that is both unsatisfactory and yet, viadble an conclusive. " Oh no. " If we were to . . . off someone, " Fuck. " who do you think would be the best candidate to dismiss? " Was she really suggesting that? Seriously suggesting that? Talk about bloodthirsty insane people. Bluh. Now now, Cherno. Your hunger was getting to you, it seemed. But really, Quin? Funny. Cherno thought of Quin a civilized person. ... But it was something that had been lingering in Cherno's doubts before as well. Killing off someone to test if it would bring about any reveal with what to do here. The gruesome, sickening truth is that it could definitely be a probable way to fix this. And in all of Crestatia's omnipotence, they could never trick her. No cunning tricks here, Cherno. And yet, it was such a huge wager. Fuck everything. Either they sacrifice one to save many, or they sacrifice one and save none. They lose one in the process, and it begins a spiraling, downward curve of people hurting each other after the gateway slaying has been done. Could they really risk it? Was everyone that irrational that killing someone would be the first decision? Right. He shouldn't expect rational logic with these people or with this entire situation anymore. He would have to change his method of thinking for the sake of getting as many people to survive. But what would work in this setting? There was too little information to grab at to make a surefire, satisfactory conclusion on what sort of values worked. Well. At least if everyone agreed, it would show that Cherno's statements on people working together had some basis behind them. Cherno chuckled. How morbid. How very morbid. This was ridiculous. His stomach growled slightly. When was the last time he ate? Shit, it was making him a bit irritable, wasn't it? ... Who would be the best to off, really? Mostly everyone here had connections that could protect them somehow. And those who had no other allies were the ones who could fend for themselves. This wasn't going to just test the morals of individuals. This was a game of testing trust. He heard Brian say something off in the distance."I think we all should confess something we feel guilty about." This was a better alternative. Would it really bring any fruit? Cherno had the mind of a scientist. An analyst who worked with rational conclusions. This world was little to him. He should take the plunge. Confess. Confess. But what would he confess? Something he was guilty about. What wasn't he guilty about? His stomach growled. He looked at his bandaged hand. The pain could come back soon. He only had one bottle of painkillers left, right? What then? These painkillers were pretty potent at times. Maybe they could make sure the person was knocked out before ... before dying ... No screams of pain. No crying out. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Cherno's head throbbed. This was fucking ridiculous. These people were crazy. So why was he thinking about it? They had little choice right now, did they? But he was a scientist. He needed to try every form of experimentation. He took out his bottle of painkillers and silently placed them next to his feet. Was killing someone really the way of getting out of here? Something he felt guilty about, Brian said. Cherno silently whispered to himself. "Going along with this fucking ridiculous plan." He stood up and moved towards Quin, who seemed to be in a state of contemplating herself. "Quin," He said, sitting down next to her. He glared menacingly and disapprovingly at her, but at the same time shook the bottle of painkillers in front of their faces. "Who exactly are you planning to kill? And you realize that any death here would be gateway to ... more chaos, if it does not work out, yes?" At least, Cherno had the potential chance to save another person. He would need to be careful.
HUMAN. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I WILL TREAT YOUR DAY. OF BIRTH AND HAPPINESS. BY ALLOWING YOU TO EXIST. AND PERMITTING YOU TO ENGAGE IN THE *TENDERNESS*. AND *SWEETNESS*. OF AIGIS MUD WRESTLING. HUMAN.
The ability to buy you a new laptop. And enough money to buy many a huge amount of people gifts. Why capitalism.
Cherno looked solemnly at Temperance from across the room during her short reply. They were nearly on opposite sides of the auditorium at this point, and her replied echoed through the chamber. Whoops! She looked a bit peeved at how he seemed to surreptitiously indicate those two particular people in his murder comment. Kidding, Cherno, kidding. Be careful with the jokes ... especially here. You were always terrible at them. But to Cherno, Temperance did seem a bit annoyed in general. But to be honest, this entire experience was not something that one could consider calming. He lifted his legs off the table and leaped out of the seat. Hands in pockets, he slowly moved over to Temperance's seats, shortening the distance between them with every second. Temperance had a point. But at the same time, her point also seemed to point out a contradiction in its own root. She was stuck in the gas station and would have died. She was definitely close to dying. Cherno still shuddered at the prospect. He stood before Temperance, with the chairs acting as a barrier between them, his height allowing him to look down on her very slightly. Green eyes. Green eyes. Cherno blinked, and said gently. "That is exactly what I mean. If it wasn't for the connections you had, then there was the potential possibility of your death. Think about it." He turned back to the majority of the congregation for a brief moment. "Look at any one person here. We're ... we're still kids, most of us. What good are we working alone with our limiting strengths and weaknesses especially when the entire world is trying to kill us? What if one of us, or naw, even a bunch of us, were separately on the edge of death, and-- and we couldn't get to each other because we decided to forsake each other and work separately." Cherno sighed. "I never said it would be easy. I never said you'd all have to like each other to survive. Consider that a challenge in its own right. Trying not to attack each other for the-- prospect of mutual survival." Cherno chuckled. "The story of the existence of human civilization. Working together with asses to save everyone, including yourself. How poignant." "And you know, it's experiences of working together that build up a community and friendship, you dig?" But Cherno never wanted to rule out possibilities. And Temperance did have a few things going for her. He was definitely curious, and he could never stand not hearing the clear points of the other side in a fiery debate. Cherno stood peering at the ceiling for a few moments, and did not turn towards Temperance's direction. "Temperance," he began, a bit more quietly. "You're a smart cookie. If you've got any clear-cut train of logic that is opposed to this little altruistic idea, then please, shoot. Out of all things, we've gotta make sure our conclusions are the most logical ones. Something something that may help us get out of here too, maybe. I'm really terrible at these pacing things."
Cherno, at this time, had been silently watching this entire ordeal with a blaze of thoughts rushing through his head. He was-- he was smiling, for once. Granted, it was sly. It was a tricky, cunning smile. But how long had it been since he had smiled like this? It was the type of smile he had whenever he was off gallivanting in refreshing, passionate debates with Johnathan. It was the type of smile that meant he had control of his intellectual faculties again. And damn did he take pride in that. His heart was burning. "'Maybe we're all just supposed to kill each other," Cherno said, in echo of M's previous statement. He let out a small chuckle. And clapped. And clapped. And clapped a bit more. int logic ( ) { "First," Cherno called out. "I'd like to congratulate our little Anthony on helping us crack a few things. He's a little, passionate genius after any cryptographer's own jive heart, you dig?" He shot off a smile at Anthony. A genuine smile at Anthony, the crazy freak! Cherno still did not like Anthony that much -- but, but eh, he wasn't that bad ... Cherno guessed. In fact, he was kind of sweet. "It's now been a case closing fly-off reveal handle that we've been duped under these little rules. The mini hidden ones have surfaced their damn fine postures to our ogling eyes and it seems we were working under a contract we didn't exactly know all the terms of. But--" Cherno shrugged, "What choice did we have? This isn't any sale." int logic ( ) { So why did the rules exist? Crestatia wanted entertainment. Right. This was a game to her. And yet-- and yet nobody had died from the rules yet, had they? Cherno looked around with his eyes in an intense, narrowed observational glare. He stopped at a few particular people for a bit more time -- M, Quin, Brian, and Altair. These four would have been dead by now, no? Unless these rules weren't simply cut-and-dry. If that was the case ... } Cherno clapped his hands together and closed his eyes. "The people who have ... who have--" Cherno, for once, stumbled a bit in saying this message. Fuck ... those memories. "Uh, left ... us ... have left under very specific, rule-breaking circumstances, from what we understand. And yet, it appears thus far we have been relatively alright. What is more, it looks to me like these rules are pretty vague." He paced to the front of the auditorium and deftly hopped onto the stage, his legs dangling a bit and his tattered robe trailing behind him. "To me this means three things." Cherno again closed his eyes and smiled in a fox-like manner towards the rest of the group. He held up his hand and extended one finger "One! The hundred days inevitability limit is because of these. These are passive rules. A bit like a slow poison, if you will." His feet rapped against the side of the stage and he extended his second finger, keeping the smile all the same. "Two! These rules work on the principal of reveal. Now we know they're there, we've gotta abide by them. Finally, he slowly extended his third finger. "Three. We have these vague rules under something that can be considered a game ..." Cherno lowered his eyebrows, giving off the impression of a rather devilish grin. His heart was pounding. "Rules were meant to be broken." He leaped off the stage and walked slowly towards the direction of Anthony and his sister. "Let me explain. While we've gotta be mad careful about keeping within the rules, if Crestatia really wants entertainment, and if we want a chance to escape our fate, then we musn't confine ourselves to being dictated by these rules alone." He took out his Rubik's cube and tossed it towards Anthony, shouting "Catch, brother". "If we did that, we wouldn't be human, would we? No love. No mercy, kindness, hope. Doing that is the ... is the path of the loser, who has lost this game, if you will. Why does this game exist? Follow me on this, brothers and sisters: we're all locked in this room together, under these restrictive rules, being tested. It seems to me that the only way to win this game is to be creative. To impress dear Crestatia. To show that shorty what sort of mettle we can find in humans. And that, is one of my current theories for why this game exists." "I echoed, in my previous statement, Madeline's question about killing each other." Cherno grew a bit more resolute. Would it really come to that? Not right now. "I believe, if what I said is indeed the purpose of the game, then killing each other would be the exact opposite of the entire objective, you dig? There's-- there's no doubt, in my heart, nor my mind, that some people will try and kill others." Cherno shot a glance between M and Temperance. "If we're fighting against a cosmic force, the best way to do this is to work together." } "And that, brothers and sisters, may be the reason why we are here." Cherno shrugged. By this point he had been throwing his logical process out of his mouth like a crazed professor, and he was hoping it worked. "I give you no promises. I may be on the complete opposite track, in which case I give you all permission to kill me for dooming us all, haha. But right now? Right now we are here because Crestatia may want us to see if we can work together to escape. A microcosm of the whole. In the junebug is such stuff stars are made of, as they say. To prove the mettle of human spirit. I just hope Tyrone will-- will be okay, though." Cherno walked slowly off to the other corner of the auditorium, his back slightly hunched and his hands in the pockets of his tattered robe. He reached one of the plastic benches and swung his long legs on top of the desks. Tyrone was his name, right? Cherno was terrible with names. He turned to Quin and shrugged again.
◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ mood: tired ▣ interaction:▣ ooc: ◢ int logic ( ) {Think, Cherno.He looked around at the congregation that had appeared in the auditorium. It was absolutely clear that Crestatia had gathered them here -- and there was absolutely no doubt about her continued existence. But--But why? What was the reason?He sat at the far end of the room, away from the majority of the others so he had enough space to mull around in his thoughts. At the same time, he would be able to hear them well enough. He rested his chin on his fingers and his eyes aimlessly darted around the floor in a deep sense of almost existential concentration. He hoped nobody would bother him just now. But even as he heard the theories of the others, it looks like they were simply shooting guns off into the air and only hoping for targets or escape velocity. Oh well. It was a reason why multiple heads were definitely better than a few. There was definitely a chance that they could collectively think of something, at least.He let the comments of others drift to and fro around his head as he turned them out and around. It doesn't look like they were getting out of here anytime soon. Brick walls. Why? Crestatia's doing, definitely. But she always seems to have a motive behind her reason. Thus, the question to ask right now is why we are here, not how we can escape. If we can find out the why, the escape will come naturally. Questions that deconstructed the reasoning over the process were much more potent, especially in these cases.So why were they here? Cherno played around with the wet Rubik's cube hidden in the pocket of his tattered robe.He heard Aileen shoot off something about entertainment, and it seemed a few others agreed.Okay. Were they not entertaining enough? It was possible. The problem here, Cherno thought, was that we could never understand to which degree their little demoness master would find everything entertaining. If she wanted death in entertainment, she would have killed them off long ago. There would be no point to all of this playfully dangerous adventure. It seemed more to him that she was being entertained enough by their crazy antics. She instigated everything, after all. Entertaniment may not exactly be the key, could it be? She seemed entertained. And if they weren't entertaining enough, it was she who could make things entertaining -- she was a fairly direct game master, after all.Game master. What does that mean?Games imply entertainment regardless. From their very existence. Cherno concluded that entertainment was less likely an option, in his opinion.There were a few murmurs from the group about rule breaking.Rule breaking! Did someone really break any rules? He reconsidered the letter from what he remembered. Ah. Hm. No, nothing had been broken yet. What were the standards of romance, anyhow? If he could use Thomas' ... death, as a standard, then it would appear to be public displays of romantic affection. Did anyone here break any rules intentionally yet? Eh, it couldn't be. They were rational enough not to do so.So it would have to be unintentionally.Cherno's eyes lit up as he remembered the extremely small fine print of the e-mail. He was never able to identify that. Yet, he-- he seemed so close as well. Perhaps that was the key. He began to sit up. Did they really break any rules? Could it be that the illegible script in the e-mail was in fact related to the rules? If that was the case, then it was a possibility for why they were trapped here. Cherno named this the Rule Possibility. However, it seemed to tug the question -- if they did break any hypothetical rules in the fine print, would they have not died by now? Perhaps it was only because they were not aware?Hm.There was one other idea tugging at Cherno. It was directly related to how their meetups continually failed. To how they were all trapped here yet managed to get here. To how they were in the same boat. To how they were pawns of entertainment. All of these ...All of these had some element of requiring team work to them, no?} Cherno stood up and walked closer to the congregation of the other players in this game. He moved back to where he was originally -- next to Johnathan, and briefly closed his eyes and tugged at his own robe, drawing it a bit closer. "Excuse me," He began, a bit loudly. His voice echoed through the auditorium. Advantages of acoustics! He needed to confirm something first. "We need to start off somewhere to shoot off conclusions, you dig? Let's start in a place that, I've got some believing, we can connect to why we could be here. If--" He began pacing around, filing through ideas again. "If we can be rational about anything, it would not only be the end result that would get us closer to why we are here," Cherno smirked back towards a few of the others. "But, the process would help us get closer to the reason why." He lowered his eyes and continued to smirk playfully at the others, and tapped his nose in coy amusement. "And if we are successful, we can either naturally come to the conclusion, or it would be a simple explanation." He stopped pacing and leaned by a chair, supported by his hands. He yawned slightly. Time to ignite the bright flame of truth-searching. "The first point that I have been wondering about. Has anyone made any progress with that bitty little fine print text in the e-mail? It is currently the one point of mystery -- that we have concretely in our mortal realm -- that unites us together. And we, we should probably get started on this starting points for drawing conclusions quickly. We're under Crestatia's mercy, not vice versa. If we want to actually get any clue of that totally basic anti-fly viper here, we've got to work for it."
Is it just me or does the one on the right have the rough body shape of Obama.
*hOnK*
Thank you dearly! Achieving a balance is a fun task. Danke! I would certainly not mind giving tips! Is there anything particular you are wishing to achieve from the above work? Ah, please do! The more the merrier, especially when 'tis the season, and improvement is always applicable. Thank you very much! New submissions! Ｄｅｃｅｍｂｅｒ ０４ These two avatars are a bit simpler in process. There were less focuses on the background of the icons and more on attempting to emphasize certain parts of it, or the foreground as a whole. Sharpening and a wee bit of blurring was also used more selectively here and there. Also some experimentation with a few filters. Though much of it seems a bit subtle.
