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[chimericalclaw]

EXPIATION FLAVORED
⬬ the AI filled it out for him this time
⬬ saw something you weren't meant to see
⬬ the person he has to return to
⬬ the truth has to come to light
⬬ should have broken it a long time ago

GENERAL MEMERY
⬬ can't sleep, won't bother trying
⬬ well well well if it isn't the consequences of my own actions

OR check out this selection of memes I like!

OR whatever shenanigans you please!

Comments

Elsewhere

[chimericalclaw]

Post-Expiation with Dante

-much to discuss
-goodnight ♣
-gifts
-first outing ♠
-enduring
-returning home ♦
-talk to him ♦
-(dis)agreements ♥
-cleaning up together
-integration ♣
-returning
-lessons ♠
-research
-changed history
-trapped
-awake ♦
-alone ♦
-hosting ♦
-cold ♦ ♣
-more data ♥
-preparations ♠
-(lack of) progress
-reality ♦
-storm ♣
-stubborn
-absence ♦
-practice ♦
-house and home ♦
-constants ♦
-tedium ♦
-entry and exit ♦

⬬Zelda @ Insomnia
⬬Ayin @ First Impressions

expiation-flavored

[chimericalclaw]

Prompts that are more likely than not to involve Expiation concepts or development. Could potentially work for similar jamjar settings!

OKC

[chimericalclaw]

network profile

a̵̹͚̥̪̍͘ḷ̴̨̇t̵̘̭̺͎̀̐̉̒z̸̧̥̦͑̒͠ḙ̶̥̒c̸̛̮̭̒͐͜h̶̛̳́͊̾ą̴̓̌̅͋r̸̰͎̾̕i̶̱̒̈́͆ó̴̧̱̰̈́ṇ̶̈́̑y̷̹̽̈̾̈́x̷̛̫̳̔͋̎i̵̝͙̭̱̚ǘ̸͎̣̂s̵̯͐̇͠

@altius

37 / M / BI

Taken, but what does that matter when all of this is fake anyway? Luckily for you, I am a virtuoso in everything false, and I'll put on whatever performance you'd like. Do you need a shoulder to cry on or a guiding hand? A savior? A victim? Someone to save? I'll take on any role for you, as long as you can make it worth my while.

A word of warning: don't get attached. 🖤

CODING

[chimericalclaw]

[Ah, shit. ... Wait—]

So we've fallen to falsifying ages as well as photos and messages, have we?

deletion

[chimericalclaw]

[The Briorsean collapses to the floor of the dark, dusty warehouse, lifeless. Their prosthetic parts have disappeared, leaving nothing behind, as if simply erased from existence.

Momentarily surprised by the way the figure slumped out of his hands, Zekarion lets out a disappointed sigh, just barely audible. He'd meant to see if some combination of his magic might do the impossible-turned-possible—to see if he could restore a former Chosen to a lucid state the way Viktor had before his departure.

But is it a limit of his magic, or a mistake of his application? Shouldn't the power of three Spirits be enough, even if he has to restrict the scale? He hasn't had to test something like this in a while, but... perhaps it will be worth the effort.

He hasn't noticed that someone happened to be watching, whether through the slats of the boarded up windows or behind a stack of old pallets.]

new prisoner

[noblegarnet]

[Zekarion is not the first one to come across his ward, once he appears in this world.

Between memories, dreams, or this or that photo Altius might have received and shown to others, willingly or not, Ferran is probably recognizable enough to a few others. If not, the young man isn't hesitant to share his name, though he might end up finding that to be a bad decision.

His arrival could have been worse. He could still be unconscious. He could still be unaware. He is, however, obviously utterly exhausted: dark circles under his eyes and a vaguely cautious, confused look on his face as he wanders.

He also happens to be wearing a set of blood-soaked pajamas, as you do—and the black crack markings along his jaw set him apart further, perhaps reminiscent of people once corrupted within the simulation. The tablet held loosely in one hand has marked him for betrayal, but that's not news to him.]

It's not as bad as it looks, [he mutters when someone approaches.]

[laserguy]

[It's pretty alarming when he can tell that there's blood splattered all across the other teen's pajamas. That red filter that he always sees the world in still revealing the deep red spots that's caked into his clothes. And even if he wasn't walking around with blood stained clothes, the black mark that's fracturing along his face is more than worrying.

And he says that he's okay????? No.

Scott's dressed in his X-Man uniform for one reason or another, complete with visor, something something wanting to be ready for the day, and look it clearly was the right decision.]

There's not a single thing about you right now that looks okay. We need to get you to the clinic. [He presses one gloved hand against his shoulder as Scott looks over him.] Injured anywhere still? If you lie to me, I will kick your ass later.

[noblegarnet]

[Yeah... yeah, that's about the reaction he expected, and he lets out a fatigued sigh.]

I figured, [Ferran mutters, resigned to his undoubtedly haggard appearance. But if he just stays calm, maybe it'll help the other guy chill out too? Probably worth trying. He doesn't flinch or try to pull away when Scott puts a hand on his shoulder, regardless of which one he picks—the bloody looking one or the other. The stains seem to originate from the right one, along with his left side, but his posture is only slightly slumped rather than as if he's trying to accommodate for an injury.]

I mean it, really— [he tries to reassure the other teen, putting questions about that visor and uniform into the back of his mind for now. Showing up wherever here is has already been a lot; one thing at a time.] —long story, but I'm not actually hurt anymore. How far is the clinic, though...?

[He's not injured, but he is tired as hell. Why's it have to be so bright, anyway? It was like half til midnight fifteen minutes ago.]

[laserguy]

[His hand remains on the clean shoulder, eyes unseen behind that visor but clearly still focused, like he's trying to read the other teen and spot any lies that he may be giving him. If he's not actually injured, does that mean this blood belongs to someone else? Something else? Maybe he should be more cautious, but Scott isn't about to just abandon him when the other is still so clearly tired. Worn down.

Hell, maybe he just has an instant healing factor?? Like that one mutant he saw. But that doesn't explain the black crack that's running across his jaw, a mark that's impossible to ignore. It really reminds him of the corruption, but that doesn't feel entirely correct either.

Many questions run through Scott's mind, but first, clinic. He nudges Ferran to wrap an arm around his shoulders, before he starts leading the way. There's something unmistakably bossy about him--]

Not far, we'll get there. Do I need to keep an eye out for whatever it is that attacked you?

[noblegarnet]

[Ferran blinks with what mild surprise he's able to express, worn out as he is, but he lets Scott take his arm and maneuver him without any protest. His steps are slow but only slightly unsteady—not enough to worry he'll fall over, necessarily, but if Scott wants him to go anywhere any time soon, the support is a good idea.

Bossy is fine. Sometimes he likes bossy. Probably a better idea than letting him be in charge...

He opens his mouth to reply, but the only thing that leaves him for the first few seconds is an audible sigh.]

... no, that's nothing to worry about.

[His head still feels fuzzy, like it's full of solid fog, but he still manages to wonder how his "attackers" are doing. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to the surroundings as they make their way through the streets.]

[laserguy]

[It's always nice when people just go along with him without complaining. People should do that all the time, really. His ideas are always good.

Genuinely though, he's glad that the other teen isn't putting up a fight at all as he starts leading them to the clinic. Every so often, his eyes drift over to Ferran whenever he feels him stumble, hand tightening around his arm as if reassuring him that he has him.

Also, don't fall over!!

He really doesn't know what's going on with him though. His answer both worrying and reassuring in its own way. Good that he doesn't have to worry about any outside force, but what does it say about his current companion? Scott has to know more, learn more, especially if he's one of the people brought here.]

So, going to explain the black cracks on your face?

[Not to mention there's something familiar about him...]

proper role

[chimericalclaw]

[There comes a turning point.

A revelation, you could call it. That nothing they do here matters in any sort of way—an idea that's become fact in his mind now. Perhaps they've been definitively informed they're nothing more than copies, disconnected from their originals. Or perhaps it's become clear they've all been wasting time, that the clearest way out truly is nothing more than destruction. How funny.

His wide eyes are blank for a moment as he stands there in the wake of that realization—and then he throws back his head, and laughs. And laughs. The sound rises and falls, sharp into deep, like another new aspect snags his awareness each time, dragging another unwilling peal out of him.

As the last of them finally trails off, his shoulders drop like his strings have been cut.]

... I've been a fool.

[A crackle of black energy sparks across his shoulders.]

forced honesty

[chimericalclaw]

[It had to happen at some point. No more hiding. Not only honesty, but genuine truthfulness—or the control he has will crumble and he'll do who knows what kind of damage, ultimately leading to the same breaking down of his facade. ... that was the gist of it, the sword that hangs over his head now, awareness of the consequences sharp in the back of his mind as he tries to go about his usual business. But even feigning a smile has broken the things around him with a crack of snowy static.

He attempts to keep his interactions short, but that can only work for so long. The force that's brought on this compulsion won't allow him to sequester himself away until it's over, so he can be found with an expression on his face much different from the usual, somewhere on the spectrum of blank to resigned misery.]

Re: forced honesty

[theskyaccepts]

[It's unfortunate that it's a time like that Tsuna comes looking for him. He's got a few questions about his mail route.]

Mr. Altius, are you around? Everything okay?

[chimericalclaw]

[The usual polite smile he'd greet the young man with is entirely absent as he keeps himself busy, moving from task to task and business to business both mentally and physically, in part to avoid being... cornered. His affect is similarly flat, not the most pleased to be approached—but he has no real dislike for the boy himself, only his own circumstances.]

Did you need something?

[Short and to the point. The best way to handle this is to keep the conversations limited.]

[theskyaccepts]

Oh, uh, yeah. I had a few questions about some of my mail routes, but I can come back if you're busy.

[Granted, he won't dart off. There's a lingering feeling that he should probably stay.]

[chimericalclaw]

[There's a brief tension to his jaw as a thought comes to mind. Ugh—keeping it to himself for even that brief moment sends a flicker of something unpleasant down his spine.]

I'm rarely not busy, but go ahead. [He can handle a simple request as that, if only the boy makes it quick...]

self (with Echo)

[chimericalclaw]

[Map, check. Notepad, check. Promotional letters, check.

Making the most of the quiet time between their designated bimonthly disasters, Altius has set out with one of his most reliable employees, aiming to set up the postal system in Rumpitur much as he did in Aldrip. Detail-oriented as he is, he'd much rather be part of the process than leave it all to the others, and plus—it means he can put on the charm while introducing himself to more of the locals. A fair few of them already recognize him, and the fact that they allowed him to set up shop here at all tells him he's in their good graces, but he can always do more.

Thus he's in the Naga's village with Echo again, dictating his thoughts on the routes for her to write as he makes marks on the map. A while into their note-taking mission, he stops at a fork in the path, looking up from the sturdy parchment and moving it slightly towards her to display the options:]

What do you think, Miss Echo? Shall we head southeast or southwest from here?

[individualized]

[Echo was already used to writing everything down, so doing it for a job sounded simple enough to her. She was quite possibly taking notes in more detail than was really necessary, and was finishing up something about the fork existing in the first place.

She lifts her head from the notepad and stares unwaveringly at the junction with absolutely no change in expression. The context of the situation is about the only reason to believe she's thinking it over.]

Southwest.

[That's it, that's all she has to say about the decision.]

[chimericalclaw]

[A decision he almost immediately turns in agreement with, folding the map such that it's easier to handle while displaying their current trajectory.]

Wonderful.

[For all that he tends to offer his own reasoning and seeks the appropriate information in turn, the question wasn't one that required any particular justification. They're going to have to tackle all these paths at some point, anyway.

He steps along, tucking each prepared letter from his bag somewhere they'll be seen by the residents and marking them off with numbers on the map.]

It seems we've escaped the smell of fish for now, hm? Perhaps something to take into account while planning so none of the carriers get overwhelmed.

[An ocean and seafood guy Altius is not...]

[individualized]

[Echo turns her gaze back to the note pad.

2:36 PM
Mr. Altius commented on the lack of the fishy odor that is prevalent in other parts of the city.]

Yes, though it will be impossible to avoid completely. The tolerance level of each individual is also a factor to consider. Are you intending to have Chosen handle deliveries, or will you hire locals as well?

[chimericalclaw]

A mix of both, yes, especially given that none of us live here. [And the Naga seemed eager to kick the Chosen out, so it seems unlikely in the future.]

That is an important factor to bring up, just to make sure everyone is comfortable. Between the locals already being used to it, and the fact I've had fewer problems than I expected with my local employees in Aldrip, I'm confident the Naga have plenty to offer.

[Hmm. Not to mention...]

All the better to gain their trust and see what else any of them might remember.

memes

[chimericalclaw]

All-purpose meme starters. Meant for general jamjar settings or a shared modern world unless noted otherwise, but let me know if you have a more specific idea!

insomnia

[chimericalclaw]

[Insomnia is far from an unfamiliar ailment to Altius. Between the necessity of all-nighters and the number of things that haunt him, both of his own making and not, there are nights where sleep simply never comes, healing magic be damned.

On some of said nights, he even goes so far as to leave his dwelling entirely, wandering out to see what he might do in the quiet hours, whether that's picking up necessities or simply walking streets he hasn't yet familiarized himself yet—however unwise that might have been were he a man of less impressive stature (or power).

But on most of those nights he simply leaves his bed and goes to look for a drink or snack of some sort. Even having a guest or being a guest himself won't necessarily stop him from clinking around in the cupboards for a proper glass, though he does do a decent job of staying quiet about it.]

[or: write me your own starter!]

phantoms

[chimericalclaw]

[What if your crimes came back to haunt you? What if they came back to hunt you?

Someone or something you've wronged is after you now, eager for you to make reparations, and nothing is going to stop it—not injury, destruction nor death. Your victim can be only staved off momentarily through force, and the only real conversation they're interested in is your crimes and the harm you caused.

Admitting to these things will make them disappear back to where they belong and finally leave you be. Otherwise, they're determined to inflict the same fate upon you, whatever that might look like, whether physical injury or emotional trauma—and then they'll vanish, their revenge achieved. These are the only ways of being rid of your ghost.

Unless you hold out for a while? Surely they can't last forever?]

1 ⬬ [The clang of two swords against one reverberates as Altius struggles against a woman with short, dark hair, his rapier bending under the force of her two blades, forcing him to shift under the pressure. Despite her colorful costume in blues and purples, there's an intensely determined look on her face—the look of someone who fully believes in her cause and the danger of the one in front of her.

The man's teeth are bared as he apparently struggles. He can't reveal himself; it's already too much that he's come to using a sword he can barely excuse his expertise with. So his outfit and his efforts remain solidly mundane, and as a result, he loses the contest. The woman's superhuman strength knocks him backwards several feet, where he lands on roughly on his back. His sword remains gripped tightly in his hand, but she's already approaching again.]

2 ⬬ [Altius is not above retreating when needed.

Following one or a handful of clashes in which he's held back and thoroughly lost, he's decided that it may be more prudent to avoid the potential entirely.

His old strategy won't work. The phantom is only interested in him. So what does he do against an enemy who can equalize his strength to hers and perceive his every intention? For now, it's this: he slips into his portals unseen and escapes far enough that she'll have to take the time to travel.

Looking significantly worse for the wear, he leans against a wall and slides down to sit in an attempt to rest.]

3 ⬬ [Or, write me your own character's troubles!]