( TDM #7 )

[spellbindmods]

TDMs can be used for anyone interested in the game and/or testing out a new muse.

Test Drive samples are encouraged to be used for your application sample, though they are NOT a requirement.

Feel free to use one prompt, multiple prompts or make up your own!

These threads can be considered game canon upon game opening if you so choose.

Telepathy and magic can be used at any point in time on the TDM, from Prompt A to your wildcard prompt. A specific prompt exists, however, that makes sure all characters have an equal chance to use this mechanic within the TDM. You're encouraged to have characters use telepathy and their magic accidentally or even purposefully on any TDM prompt.

If you aren't set on your character's power yet or want to try out a few, you're still able to use the test drive. Maybe your character is a late bloomer and hasn't fully unlocked their intuitive drive yet. In the case of multiple powers, only prompts that contain the power you choose for your application will count as potential game canon threads.

While only one character can be apped or reserved during a cycle, feel free to post with more than one character if you like! This is for those who are uncertain of their first choice or who would like to try out different characters within the setting.

IMPORTANT: This world is low-frequency. No canon powers or abilities are allowed! Also check out the setting information for more info about Shehui.

You blink and that's all it takes. At first, the picture doesn't come in clear, like you're waiting for a screen to fully load -- more aptly, it's like you're waiting for a camera to focus so you can find image clarity. Before you happened to rapidly close your eyes and open them, your life was normal...well, normal for you, anyway. Fighting an alien, making a quesadilla, dying. And then that blurry picture suddenly takes over. There's a lot to take in here -- you feel weird, your surroundings are weird. Everything is just weird. For starters, there's that new piece of jewelry inserted in the space above your chest. That certainly wasn't there before you opened your eyes. A ▢ Perhaps the signet in your chest isn't the most pressing matter right now. You notice that the building you're in (Chips!) is pretty large -- but even that isn't the most demanding thing capturing your interest right now. It's the video game you're in front of. Maybe it's Duck Hunt, or a zombie killing game that involves those huge red and blue guns. There are a variety of arcade games in Chips!, after all -- but are you Player 1 or Player 2? B ▢ After a strange incident a couple of days ago, the area around Anmung tower has been essentially dead. This may or may not be lucky for you -- since you're on the top of the observation deck, and all. If you're afraid of heights...oops. It's not that people aren't allowed to be up there, it's just that there aren't too many people. The view is still pretty good, though! C ▢ Let's say that you just want some answers and information about the strange signet you now have. You may find some success in asking around, but be warned: not everyone in Shehui will know what the fuck you're talking about. If you're lucky enough, you may eventually run into a coven member that will be able to explain. D ▢ Since your character didn't show up via any special means, they may not know that magic is a bit taboo in Shehui. If their new magic manifests, it might be a bit of an issue. Locals certainly won't like it, and they'll definitely attract the attention of more than a few monitors. The good news? This is also a pretty good way to snag the attention of a coven member who is here to help! E ▢ Let's get back to some fun stuff. Your character is enveloped in darkness for a brief moment, something clasped in their hand. Lights, camera, action -- the glowing screen that suddenly flashes on turns out to belong to a karaoke booth TV! You and and someone else have been locked in this booth for an hour -- at least there's a mini bar and some snacks! F ▢ For something not so fun, the snowfall has stopped in Shehui, except for those residences and businesses who want to keep paying for it. A lot aren't willing to cough up the credits, so it's safe to say the streets aren't. Everything is frosty and slippery, from melted snow to frozen water littering the sidewalks. Watch your step or you could hurt yourself...or bump into an unexceptional stranger! G ▢ Finally, you may have had the fortunate luck of ending up in the coven's apartment complex. There are names on the door to all apartments, if you want to go exploring. Whether you find the name of someone you recognize, or maybe you just want some shelter from the cold weather, knock knock...is anyone home? H ▢ Wildcard! How will your character react to this strange world?

GAME NAVIGATION

Comments

orga itsuka · mobile suit gundam: iron-blooded orphans

[counteracts]

C · (ACTION/NETWORK/BOTH, up to you!)
[He's not aboard the Isaribi. Not the Hotarubi either—hell, he wasn't even in space as far as he could tell.

Edmonton had seemed difficult to grasp for a group of kids that had only really seen the Martian frontier town of Chryse growing up, but what he finds in Shehui put even it to shame. At first he has to assume logically that it's some dream, but as time passes and compounding evidence of the sights, sounds, smells, and feeling of a living city around him piles up, it slowly wears down that paltry defense to leave him in stupefaction and wonder. The machinery he was used to was form to suit function; the unncessary lavishness of the technology and the architecture was staggering, causing him to wander aimlessly for a while.

But no, that was not productive. After a quick scan of the street, he approaches a young man who was idling at a street corner, looking at a communication device.] Hello, excuse me. Could I ask —

[Sorry. I'm in the middle of something. And then the young man crossed the street, a blinking light on the other side beckoning him forward.

Perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes of similar responses follow, a discouraging pattern of people either too busy to respond (be the claims honest or not), too apathetic, or too unfamiliar with the vague sorts of searching questions he ends up asking. With a huge sigh he collapses back onto a bench, resting momentarily with his head propped up against the face of the building behind him as the city continued to flow around him, expression a mask of frustration.]

What the hell is going on?

[That the thought was broadcast for others to hear was something he would not be immediately aware of. Chalk it up to being a true greenhorn at this magic kind of thing, or perhaps that he's a young leader who's used to his words being heard by those around him so that the same suddenly began to apply itself to his thoughts.

Regardless of the reason, it's sure there.]

A
[So he's susceptible to be drawn in by bright colors, flashing lights, and musical chimes. Who the hell isn't?

Orga ends up in an arcade booth, hunched slightly over a brightly-lit screen displaying what seems to be some version of Galaga. Vague interest had him give it a first shot, and after that it is just blind competitiveness and stubborn tenacity that keep him trying to climb the leaderboards for scores. For his credit, he's starting to work his way up, albeit gradually — the guy's got some good twitch skills and a definite eye for visual patterns.

Though someone passing by might pick him up as he mutters:] Nothing about this game is even close to accurate...

[No idiot would fly in a formation like that...]

CLOSED TO MIKA
[Dead ahead down the street was what he had found out to be Anmung Tower, and he is drawn towards it as something small might always be pulled in towards something huge and imposing, as if affected by a type of gravitational field.

As city blocks pass, the bright and festive lights of what seems to be some type of holiday fade and dim, replaced with what he recognizes (more symbolically than from personal experience) as clusters of flowers. The sight of them cause something in his chest to twist, his lips pressing together into a firm line before he pushes onward. The realization that he had seemingly left behind everyone of Tekkadan in coming here still pained him, the faint connections to each of those he considered his family still feeling partially intact, like an entire group of phantom limbs.

To distract himself from this, he addresses a woman that was working on entwining some of those flower decorations around the spiked fence of a nearby building.] Excuse me. [She looks up to inspect him with mingling curiosity and caution.] Can you tell me what these decorations are for?

[She's a bit more helpful than others he'd met in this city so far. "The day of mourning is coming up." Her manner of speaking was clipped and terse, though not unfriendly. She looks back to her work as she continues. "This is how we prepare for it, so we can remember those that we have lost."

Her answer did nothing to help, only serving to further deepen his thoughts of those he had left behind; he stands still as the woman moves on to work on another section of fence, the monolithic tower rising in the distance ahead.]

H · WILDCARD!
[Anything and everything else! Feel free to contact me if you have questions or require clarifications! (: ]

[deusex]

[ The festival is nothing more than a distant discarded incident now, much like the fireworks from the night — brilliant and eye-catching but fading all too fast from sight the next; existing only in time, a brief moment of utter brilliance cutting through the darkness, shattering against the barrier of the sky, then nothing. Maybe they're all nothing more than sparks that shiver into million fragments of dust against the restraints of society that made them. But if that's all they could amount to be, let them shine. If that's all they can be, let them remember.

Mikazuki has a delivery to make, from work. It's for some kind of preparation for another event, a holiday of sorts, and they hand him an address and an armful of stargazer lilies and tulips. It's not that hard to find, they told him, just follow the direction to the Tower straight down. He tucks the flowers carefully into the crook of his arm, getting pollen all over the shoulder of his coat, and starts off.

It's like he feels Orga's presence before he even sees him — like there's an invisible sort of line, a pull of magnet that directs his gaze straight towards the other as he stands less than a hundred metres ahead. There's no need for double-checking or to confirm the fact that it is him; they've known each other too long for that; Mikazuki will know him even in the dark. There's a curious sort of thundering in his ears like being submerged in water, like the empty echo of space, and Mikazuki stops walking — but only for a moment. Maybe it's his pulse, the beat of his heart quickening, but Mikazuki doesn't think about any of that. What he thinks is, ah, finally, and something in his chest loosens, the tension slackening. ]

Orga, [ In the dawning light of the morning the streets are quiet and Mikazuki barely has to raise his voice. He steps toward him, and for all the likes it could be streets of Saisei, some quiet lane in Chryse, not a place miles and miles away from everything and everyone they know. But here, the faint connection catches alight, sparks growing into fire that gleams in the gaze that fixes themselves so unerringly on the other boy. ]

[counteracts]

[Everything that was beautiful soon faded.

The ice flowers that had bloomed off of the bow of their ship, sent to mark their grief and symbolize their simultaneous feeling of loss and appreciation for those that had given their lives so that the rest of Tekkadan could continue forward—they had been beautiful in an instant before they had faded, leaving them to the cold and silent void of space. So too had the lives that they had honored, flashes of vivid determination and courage that only youth could provide, snuffed out in singular instances of violence, noise, and steel.

Orga had thought it useless to hold a funeral—such a thing had never been allotted to them, for when a member of the third group was ever killed in action, they were disposed of as industrial waste indicative of the loathsome nanomachines that swum in their blood. But it wasn't just about him and his own perception of it—to send out the thoughts, hopes, and sorrows for those that they had lost into space had done a lot for many, and he had seen it in their faces. It had humbled him, made him realize that such a thing was, despite his own feelings on the matter, his alone to bear. It simply wasn't his way. Orga mourned in his own way, carrying the name and memory of each and every person they had lost along the way close to his heart, the weight of them weighing down his shoulders.

And then he marched on, ever forward, eyes ever upward, searching for the loftiest place they could ever hope to achieve. In his mind, that was the only way all of their sacrifices could be worth it, that all of his decisions which had led to them could be redeemed.

That, or they would burn bright. And then fade.

Something he can't quite define shifts in the atmosphere around him, even before the voice breaks out over the relatively low hum of the sound of the city. A quiet instinctual recognition that seemed to understand and agree, yes, that this would be how it would have to go. That in the middle of these thoughts, thinking of all of those names and fearing that more might be added to their number in the wake of his sudden and unexplained absence, that no other voice but Mika's would cut through noise both external and internal alike.

He turns towards the call and Mika is there. Suddenly it's as if that weight was no longer there, the soaring relief of seeing him causing a smile to break across his face like the sun rising at dawn. Before he has time to think about it he's moving towards him, a walk and then a jog, the Tekkadan jacket thrown across his shoulders streaming behind him.]

Mika. [He says it when he comes to a halt in front of him, still beaming with a happiness and relief that felt palpable. He reaches out to clasp his shoulder with one hand, grip tight as he held him steady—though also to ascertain and prove to himself that it was really him standing before him.

Someone else might've said you have no idea how happy I am to see you, but he knew he had no need. Mika would know, just as Orga knew he felt the same.

He merely tightens his grip for a moment.] Took your time, huh? [His laugh is a quiet rumble.] I've been wandering around this place all night. [And now the sun was about to rise.]

[deusex]

[ There's no way that Orga isn't real, Mika has no doubts about it. He's known that even before the other started towards him, and Mika looks up at him with the corners of his mouth quirking up, the morning light glancing off the piercing gaze, softening for a moment. It's good to see you. I missed you. There is no need for words like that. The strength of his grip on Mika's shoulder, the look in his face is enough — that's the way it's always been. ]

I've been waiting a month.

[ Mika raises his good hand, clasping around the others wrist in a loose grip — grounding them both, somehow, to this place.

He tilts his head slightly, moving his focus over every little part of the other's face that he can see; it's not to commit his face to memory — Mika had done that already a long time ago. The freckled petals of the lilies swing with the motion, the breeze picking up. ]

You took your time getting here.

[counteracts]

[I've been waiting a month.

The expression freezes on his face as the realization hits him like a wave of cold water, bringing with it first shock and confusion that causes the smile to slowly drop off of his face. Instead his brow knits, the line of his mouth falling into a frown as he rapidly processed the information.] I — [it was difficult, it was like his mind was purposefully wiped blank for the moment,] I just saw you, a few hours ago, back on the ship. We... we were talking about Takaki, about...

[The words trail away as he becomes aware of Mika's hand around his wrist, loose and almost casual, and the usual clear keenness of his eyes. He closes his mouth, teeth grinding for a moment as he realized that the words had almost seemed like dissent—something almost blasphemous when he knew Mika would never lie to him.

One month... How?

Orga's grip on Mika's shoulder has softened by this point as well, just something to keep them linked together, that they not be for some reason drifted apart once more.]

I'm sorry, Mika.

[Even if it wasn't within his control. He didn't care. His life was one of dozens of overlapping promises, and all of them had with them the implied oath that he would always be there for him. That they would never be separate or separated, because they were a family forged of iron—something stronger than blood.

He sighs, shaking his head. He'd had enough time with regret and remorse to know that the feelings were natural, that they were even indicative of a good leader, but it was also the mark of a good leader to not dwell upon them. To make an example and lead the way, to allow others to move beyond it all as well.] Well, I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere.

[deusex]

[ The apology is met with one of Mika's usual reactions; a furrow of brows, quizzical turn of his head like he doesn't understand why Orga should even apologise at all. It was through powers beyond them that brought him here first separately to the other, even though it seemed impossible to consider; the knowledge that they could be separate, that someone could somehow sever their bond so easily through this thing called magic. It's a disquieting thought that'd stayed with Mika the past few weeks — if Qri has power enough for this, what else?

The possibility that Orga may not remember the same things as him had not escaped his notice, from the conversations he's had with people here. McGillis and that other man, they seem to remember different things, things further down the line than what Mika is aware of. It's with a strange sort of relief that he lets Orga talk, the transition of disbelief to apology.

His fingers curl around Orga's wrist a little more securely in the next breath. A slow breath, a sure grip. ] No, you're not.

[ They were here now, together, and Mika feels, for the first time, that he can breathe a little easier. A little breath of a laugh escape him, a sound barely audible. ]

You're stuck with me again.

[counteracts]

[Orga's response is silent as well; a slight smile, delicate to the point of feeble, which persisted just long enough for him to roll his shoulders in a shrug. It might not have been anything he could've controlled, but he still felt badly about it, imagining Mika being here on his own for a full month. Not that he couldn't handle it—he was constantly put into states of awe at what Mika could accomplish, whether he had been instructed or not—but it seemed an unnecessary stress on him.

Others couldn't see it as clearly as Orga could. Mika's mien was usually so flat and stoic, he might seem unfazed by nearly anything one could throw at him. Generally, that was right, but there were a few things that got to him after a while. Idleness was one. Loneliness was another. He'd been able to tell this years ago, and it was why he tried to keep the guy as busy as he could—and never too far from his side, if he could help it.

Mika's fingers tighten slightly around his wrist; he smiles, giving the boy another light shake at the shoulder as he spoke.] "Stuck?" [He sniffs, as if offended.] Please. I wouldn't be the same without you around.

[They'd been together so long, and Mika had been so intrinsic to what Orga had shaped himself into (for who and what he needed to be), he barely knew who he would even be without him.

Something catches his eye, something which until this point he'd not noticed, be it due to the dim lighting or everything else they had discussed. His hand leaves Mika's shoulder, moving to catch his chin and angle his face a little so he could scrutinize his left eye — or, rather, the light pattern of fading bruises that were evident there beneath the skin.

He clicks his tongue, letting him go and tracing a line under his own eye to highlight it.] So. What happened here? [He lifts his chin slightly, expression stern — he leaves him alone for one month and he goes ahead and gets into a fight? It doesn't surprise him, he has to say, but... fuck, he just wanted the guy to keep himself safe. He'd had to let go of many of his worries a long time ago, knowing that Mika would always be fighting, but usually only when he asked it of him.]

The other guy better look a hell of a lot worse.

c

[sharpestsword]

[ There's that feeling again. Thoughts appearing in her head that are not her own. Her immediate reaction is to turn sharply and look behind her, but everyone is going about their business. It's not a voice she recognizes and she doesn't much care for the use of that particular ability without her permission. Most people seem to be occupied with their partners. Except that guy on the bench. She approaches, hands in her pockets, peering down at him from behind the scarf wrapped around her. ]

Was that you broadcasting that message just now?

[counteracts]

[There was nothing along the lines of magic in their own universe, so the eventual coming to terms and then to grips with what they had been bestowed would be something gradual and clumsy (not to mention overwhelming), like a blind man suddenly finding himself being forced to acclimate to the sight of the world around him.

For now, that sense is still profoundly dim for him; there's no sense of communication until he finds someone addressing him — right now, in person.

He sits up sharply, setting the short blond woman in a gaze that was equal parts confused and discerning.]

Uh, [mumbled very intelligently, of course,] No? I haven't been broadcasting anything.

[What, does he look like he's plugged into a comms unit to her?]

[sharpestsword]

Huh? But that voice I just heard sounded just like you. The one saying "what the hell is going on?" Did you hear it too?

[ Now she's confused. Maybe she's just remembering it wrong. She's still getting used to this too. It could be somebody else making vague mass voice messages. But what's the point of that? It's a little too personal to bother people directly in their heads like that without anything really useful to say. ]

[counteracts]

[As she speaks, his expression descends more and more into complete bafflement, though the fact that she could perfectly quote what he had just thought a moment ago seemed to give him a little bit of a shock.] Well, yeah. [He leans forward a bit, eyes wary.] Because I just thought it. You're telling me you were able to hear that?

[He can't even act like this is the strangest thing that's happened to him since he'd come to. He's stranded in a place where he doesn't understand full of people who don't seem to behave in a way he could anticipate when he should be on the path back to Mars right about now. Not to mention the weird jewelry he'd been retrofitted with (at least the other hardware he'd had injected into his body he'd agreed to) and a nagging feeling that there was something else he was missing...]

Listen. [His hands splay across his knees as he leans forward a bit, tone serious.] I've had nothing but unanswered questions for the last hour, so if you've got some, I want to hear them.

[sharpestsword]

[ So it was after all. That answers that question. Must have been a mistake. She could leave now, but he seems to still want to talk. Having no reason not to, she sits down next to him. Somebody had been there to help her when she was new. Though it's not something she'll do for just anyone. She can see this getting old real quick. She touches where her signet would be to demonstrate. ]

These things allow us to communicate with our thoughts.

[counteracts]

[Onboarding got old really fast. That's why Orga had gradually started delegating those duties to Eugene and Shino and others when they had started to take on more fresh-faced recruits into Tekkadan, after their return from Earth. So he certainly wouldn't fault her for the frustration of having to go through the efforts of getting someone caught up in information; he's simply grateful when she decides to sit rather than walk away, like the dozen or so other people he'd approached in the last half hour.]

Oh. [Well... it explains at least one thing, though whether it would be convenient or inconvenient in the long term was up for interpretation.] I see. I'll be more careful in the future.

[Without thinking he lifts a hand to the signet settled in the hollow of his throat. Well. He supposes it's not completely outside the realm of understanding that someone could be embedded with something that could give them powers outside that of a typical person. He's pretty familiar with that.]

I assume it means something, then? [He glances to her out of the corner of his eye, gesturing to where he assumed she had the same device at her own collarbone.] That we both have these things, I mean.

a

[fastpaced]

It's not supposed to be realistic. It's supposed to be fun!

[ the voice comes from a few feet below Orga, but it's not a child's voice - no, it belongs to a bizarre-looking furry critter with a big red scarf wrapped around his shoulders. He hardly has credits to spare on it, but Sonic has a soft spot for old-fashioned arcade games like this. It's anyone's guess as to why... ]

Hey, you're pretty good at this.

[counteracts]

Mm. Suppose you're right.

["Fun" hadn't really been a popular concept at the place he'd worked growing up. The closest thing they'd ever had to games had been simulators, which tended to lean towards realism over fun for apparent reasons.

Now.

Orga's not completely uninitiated to non-human creatures. There were definitely some people that he'd passed in the streets in the last day or so that he couldn't really place neatly into a box, and that had been just one other thing to slowly deal with—in addition to being in a completely different place, equipped with strange abilities he didn't really understand, and having almost no idea what was going on.

But still, when he looks over—and then way down (as Orga is over six feet tall...) toward the owner of the voice, he's more than a little thrown when he finds himself standing next to the blue... animal?

Listen. There weren't many animals on Mars. The poor soil made it nearly impossible to raise herds there, so the only animals around were unwanted stowaways that happened to make it all the way from Earth. Orga has no idea what the creature could be, but... well, at least he's friendly?

He tries to regain composure after a moment of clear surprise, clearing his throat in a noncommittal way.] Thanks. [Piloting mobile workers and staring at battle formations on screens for hours paid off in some way, he guesses. Seems sort of embarrassed, regardless. The game chimes loudly as the round ends, and he takes a half-step away, regarding his strange companion.]

Wanna give it a shot?

[fastpaced]

[ Sonic will give him a few points for that subdued reaction. He's had a lot of time to get used to the questions and the staring by just about everyone here; it was weird at first, considering how humans saw him pretty much every day back home, but he's come to accept it. (Although he has to wonder why they're apparently the norm and Mobians aren't. Cosmic coincidence?)

At the offer, Sonic looks a little sheepish. ]

Well, about that... These arcade booths aren't really meant for a guy like me. [ his ears hardly come up to the control panel. There is a stool to remedy situations like these, but Sonic gave it up about 5 minutes ago to a little girl having similar difficulties. ] Otherwise, you'd be on! Your high score would be toast, so maybe you're lucky.

[counteracts]

[Sonic, my friend, if you were the first thing Orga had seen after he'd arrived here, that reaction would've been a bit different. But you've caught him after nearly twelve hours of not understanding what the living fuck is going on, so he's a little more amenable to shit his brain would've thought utterly outlandish just a day ago.]

Oh. [Yeah, that was pretty obvious. For some reason the gesture of offering hadn't crossed paths with the logic of him only barely being able to see up to the arcade booth.]

Hm. [Now, if he'd known about Sonic's magnanimity with the stool, he might've changed his direction a little, but as it is, Orga sees this as a problem within his capacity to fix.] Hold on just a second.

[He stalks away a short distance to where he finds an employee, clearly labeled with the logo and pattern of the building. From a distance, the words area hard to make out, though Orga's body language isn't — he's in equal parts imposing and cajoling, one moment slipping a hardline insinuation and the next clapping the young man on the shoulder and laughing loudly at his flustered reaction. The young man scuttles off and Orga returns to where he'd been before, a wry smile on his face.]

My friend over there is going to get you something to help with that. [Orga's smile is wide and inviting. It didn't seem as though it would be the aforementioned stool, either; it's currently in use by the young girl, so the employee had run off into another direction to find something else.]

I want to see if you're bluffing or not.

[fastpaced]

[ he watches from his spot, crossing his arms and hoping it really is going to be "just a second" - he hates waiting. Unable to quite make out what Orga is saying or doing to the poor employee, Sonic tilts his head, frowning, and it hasn't disappeared by the time he comes back around. ]

You weren't giving that guy a hard time, were you? I like video games as much as the next hedgehog, but it's not worth hassling people over.

[ even though Orga is clearly(?) older than him, Sonic has an admonishing tone. Bullying poor retail workers around the holidays? Not acceptable, bro. ]

[counteracts]

Hard time? [Orga regards his blue companion with a blithe expression — whether his faint confusion at the accusation was genuine or feigned might be up for argument for an observer, but no, he sees where the guy's coming from.

It's not like he strong-armed the kid. He'd simply mentioned it was a bit of an oversight, with the variety in people that tended to visit such a place, and that a remedy to Sonic's problem would be very much appreciated. In so many words.

But it wasn't really something to joke around with. The young man's mien seems to take a definite shift within a single moment, becoming markedly less jovial and a little more serious.] Yeah, it's out of the way. A little extra effort. But, I know the kid's name, and I know his manager's name. [at this he gestures with a quick cant of the head to where a very severe-looking older woman stands a distance away,] Sure, I asked him to go a little out of his way, but I'm going to be sure to mention how helpful he was to her before I get out of here. I don't leave good effort unrewarded.

[He leans against the case of the arcade game, hands in his pockets and a sly smile slowly starting to reinforce itself across his face as he looks down to the hedgehog.] Seem fair?

[It made sense in his head, but... well, Orga learned most of his leadership lessons from the space mafia, so.]

tiptoes late SO EXTREMELY SORRY; c ... doesn't know your voice, orgaroo

[reckoner]

[ While unable to claim familiarity with every voice, or telepathic voice, among those in the coven, Gaelio has another reason to assume that which bursts into his mind, terse and frustrated, belongs to a newly thieved person: the content. Aided, too, by the brevity without any subsequent clarity. Though most needed a learning curve to keep from spilling into the minds of others, by now even the latest had managed. The timing works in that vein, and another -- one needn't have particularly strong observational skills to notice a pattern by now.

Yet another reason, too, to assume Qri's effectiveness despite her unknown location. But these are small details, or larger but in the immediate moment, of less consequence than another fresh face hapless in an alien's world's streets.

It isn't that Gaelio's a beacon of generosity and assistance, whatever the expectations of those in the coven. He does his part, but doesn't go out of his way, generally. But, there are a number of factors that have softened him over the last month. The mundane life within this city, an evolving truce, certain understandings -- an impending holiday and the veneer of a dream.

His mood's uncommonly light.

So, from his position on guard outside Anmung Tower, Gaelio tilts his head, timing a minute's passage. Then, he answers, directing his thoughts to the source. ]

Welcome to Shehui. Has anyone else answered?

[ ...his mood might be light, but if someone else has provided an explanation, he's not interested in tedious repetition. They can handle it.

If not, he waits with faint humor for the response. Doubtless this guy won't expect a voice in his head. They almost never do. ]

it's okay, he has no idea who you are

[counteracts]

[As the sixty seconds slowly draw past, Orga does get a few responses. None of them were particularly helpful, though. It's enough to make him realize that the thoughts in his own head weren't quite his own anymore, and that others could intrude whenever they wanted (a sobering enough thought, and one that might've floored him a lot more if he hadn't been wandering around an otherworldly city for over an hour). It's also enough to make him realize that the people responding to his question inside his head weren't terribly different from the ones outside - they were swift to inform him of manners and decorum before falling silent and, with his inexperience in how all of this actually works, Orga bites his metaphorical tongue and remains silent.

There was a short stretch of silence before another impresses itself into his mind. This one is... a little more inviting of explanation of the others, though by this point Orga's grown a little cautious.]

Yeah, though I can't say they were very forthcoming with answers.

[It's really strange, to smile and give a single sardonic laugh where he sat on the bench in the middle of the bustling Shehui street and to have it resonate across a telepathic field to someone a distance away. This... will take getting used to.]

You'd think if you were going crazy, the voices in your head would at least want to help out, yeah?

he knows your face, anyway...

[reckoner]

[ Emotion does not generally flow freely with transmitted thoughts, but it can. He's sloppier with that man (and to his gratification, did not slip alone), and had been moreso at the start. The learning curve a steep one, especially with relative disuse. There was enough in Gaelio's mind without inviting further, but the convenience of it and probable utility made education a necessity.

The point, here, that though he does not stand close enough to hear the sound of it, he feels the humor. A nice, wry thing. Yet, permits none of this own to carry over. Instead, dispassionate and ambiguous. ]

That would depend on the voice, I'd think. And the madness.

[ Fortunate in the former, before Qri, the steady thrum of Ein a known intensity, raw dedication to their end. Here, however... but permitting his mind to stray won't help with those answers. ]

As you can communicate like this, Qri took you. It will be hard to believe, but you'll believe it, because you haven't got a choice.

[ Plus, he assumes the shock of this city and the voices will help sell the truth. ]

too bad i can't say orga knows anything about you... lol

[counteracts]

[The tendency would be capricious with Orga, as he was occasionally wont to be—he'd taken great strives over the last few years to supplant a decent portion of his youthful brashness with more inclinations towards being thorough and well-thought out. It isn't to say such a transformation was complete or perfect, however. When you built your successes on one way of doing things, it was hard to completely overwrite, and those slightly impetuous decisions driven by little more than passion were certainly still a part of him.

Right now, at least, he's playing it mostly close to the chest. Because he doesn't have much of an idea of what he's dealing with.

He'd been joking; if he was to go mad, he thinks it would probably be down a different avenue than that one. But the disembodied voice accompanying his is oddly convincing, in a way.]

Fair point.

[He'll have to wait and see what this voice provides, then, to make that judgment.]

Given the last hour or so I've had, I'm just about ready to believe anything.

[There was a lot of weird shit between Mars and Earth, but nothing quite like this.]

Qri - [even through the mental link of thought, the word seems a little hesitant, as if he was unsure he was handling it correctly,] would you mind explaining that to me? That's what put me here? or, ah Us here?

i'm sorry for destroying your blissful ignorance orga.. it's better not to know

[reckoner]

What if I did mind?

[ He doesn't, really. Given the low crime rate (if purported), this particular job involves much more standing idle than the others. The question isn't breezy, but maybe enough inflection seeps through for it to read rhetorical, if not insincere.

Moving along, his tone shifts, matter-of-fact. ]

Qri, the elevated mage whose "existence is very vital to the sanctity of all universes." One of her servants ought to be giving you a letter to explain that, though it isn't much of an explanation. She's running out of energy, and if that happens, we're told every world might be endangered. So she expended enough energy to take us, grant us magic, and send us on cross-planetary quests to steal resources for her.

[ The long and short of it. ]

We haven't much more information than that. She generally doesn't communicate with us, but Genette, one of her servants, communicated her answers to a number of our questions about a month and a half back.

[ And at the close, Qri had spoken.

All of this being more than he tends to say, mentally or orally, unless that man's involved. A pause as he considers, then adds. ]

Theoretically, once she's glutted, she'll send us back. Work hard.

[ Oh -- ]

Though, she's missing at the moment.

alas...

[counteracts]

[The obvious answer to the rhetorical question was that there wasn't a whole hell of a lot he could do if that was the case; nothing more than he'd been able to do, trying to extract information from the citizens of this city in a way that had felt reminiscent of trying to draw blood from stone. With the other party in this conversation not even present, there wasn't even any room to strong-arm him, so...

He's fortunate, then, that he's more forthcoming with answers.

Orga needs only make himself comfortable, trying to open his mind for as much information as he can handle in one sitting. With his trajectory from upstart, de facto leader of a group of unruly kids for hire to boss of a mercenary company serving as military adviser of one of the main economic blocs of Earth, he's gotten better at such things, but... well, there's still a saturation point.

At first the only response Gaelio would receive is a drawn-out sigh.]

Alright. [Middle finger and thumb draw across his closed eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose. What a headache.] So we're glorified errand-runners for this only-somewhat-all-powerful magical woman who, despite her power, seems to have misplaced herself.

[It's not a vote of confidence for the situation he's suddenly been thrust into.]

And despite that, the deal is still on?

[Hmph.

Because he knows if, say, "that man" were to suddenly edge out of the deal that they had worked out recently, he wouldn't waste any time in cutting loose and going through efforts to recoup lost time and resources.]

What a mess.