karteria - inbox

[belli]

Comments

roomie??? antics.

[redsoil]

[ aodh is set's rooftop roomie so he gets to deal with said god's frustrated huffing and puffing today as he ferries plants from his side to aodh's to spruce things up for him. sharing is caring, right buddy?? ]

[belli]

[ is the godling being generous of spirit or is he simply in a fussy mood?

resting on his side atop the parapet of the shared roof, aodh watches set move around the pots of plants, his cheek propped on the palm of his hand. ]

What has upset you, sandling?

[redsoil]

[ both!! when he gets fussy, he sheds leaves and petals all over. and there are so many plants he has adopted and worked on tending to that they have to go somewhere. ]

I am periodically reminded that there are few reliable souls in this place.

[belli]

Betrayed or disappointed?

[ casually, he flicks a finger, manipulating the wind to sweep his fallen leaves and petals into a neat pile. ]

( post-event ) @phainon

[khaslana]

I hope this message finds you well, Mister Aodh. It seems much has occurred in the past week or so. I suppose this is my way of checking in. Please do respond at your own leisure, though I do hope to receive some signs of life from you.

[ and, to lighten the overall tone of his message: ]

[belli]

how endearing of you to think of me, human.

it is fortuitous that you were not one of the many whom patho-gen took away.

[khaslana]

There you are. I was starting to believe that your silence may entail an absence made permanent.

You don't seem the type to be held captive so easily. [ regardless of (gestures to their absurd method of arrival.) ] I trust that you've been well throughout the previous month.

[belli]

why would they punish me when i have been so gracious with their varying requests?

i had an unexpectedly long slumber. it was interesting, to say the least.

text | un: valravn

[warminded]

Are you busy?

[belli]

no. is there something you need of me, exo?

[warminded]

I don't know.

Company.

[belli]

you are always free to come see me when you miss me.

ACTION.

[redsoil]

Aodh, would you mind being of use to me?

[ The audacity in which Set speaks to his companion is quite typical, with formality observed between them less frequently since coming to reside together. Since Set has encouraged a veritable jungle of greenery to grow and flourish atop their rooftop lodgings, decorated now with awnings and low, refurbished patio furniture for the dragon ( and god ) to languish comfortably upon. It is pleasant to have a powerful companion. Twice pleasing to have one who indulges him in his idiosyncrasies — since, what do they matter to as powerful an entity as Aodh?

Set pushes aside some of the hanging curtains that demarcate Aodh's own space, to peer inside and bat his lashes playfully at the beast. ]

There is a job fair going on, in Karteria. I want to advocate that the militia is a viable opportunity for these citizens. You have no need of your finances, apart from frivolities and pleasures, yes?

[ be his sugar daddy ]

[belli]

[ his kelesian rooftop pales comparably to the increasingly vibrant greenery that now makes up the one he shares with his godling in karteria.

aodh has never possessed much taste for plants, whether to consume or to look upon. he is an entity of destruction and chaos, an opposing force to such longstanding representation of life and stability. nonetheless, he does find that he has been spending more and more time in karteria in recent days, simply lounging on his chair as he listens to the sandling flit back and forth between his plants and his militia.

it is very much another one of those days.

as such, aodh is found reclining comfortably in his chair, head rested upon one arm whilst the other drapes over his eyes. he doesn't budge at the voice of his companion, waiting for him to utter his piece before he deigns to respond apathetically. ]

Is it only currency that you seek, sandling?

[redsoil]

For now. It will serve, as I pursue my greater goal.

[ His voice draws closer to Aodh, as he settles his weight along the arm of the dragon's chair and leans in with mischievous smile and crescent eyes, looking all-too smug. Purchasing power will only get him so far, if he can't acquire the means to outfit his militia against the threats simmering in the distance ( not even simmering, anymore; they are at the door, snatching Augmented from their beds, and it must be stopped ).

Set lingers there, thoughtful and curious as ever — the exact opposite of Aodh, who exists in such a state of confident apathy that he envies him. The god of war knows his own power, but there have always been other gods before him. Ones that cannot, in any way, relate to humans. Ones that are more indelible archetype than conscious effort. ]

Well, your assistance would always be appreciated. It might be much more involvement than you'd be willing to provide, however I would be an idiot not to ask of you — I do have concerns which are stirring me to prepare against a storm on the horizon. You remember last month, yes? Our fellows who vanished away and came back so thoroughly subdued?

[belli]

[ he is quiet for a steadfast moment, sensing the warmth of the godling's proximity to him.

it is true that aodh has no interest in the militia set is building, a pursuit vastly different from his own. nevertheless, it is also true that he has quite enjoyed watching its development and is rather taken with the prospect of it eventually culminating in potential violent chaos and warfare.

is it something he cares to invest in though? certainly, not without a price.

he lowers his arm, his face angling slightly to the side as he regards the sandling from where he perches so comfortably atop the arm of his lounge chair. ] I lack the amount of credits you seek to maintain your militia. [ outside of a few commissions for the valentia, he hasn't exactly bothered to earn numis. ] However, if you desire gold [ he manifests a gold coin between his fingers. ] or gemstones, [ next, several diamonds appear within the palm of his other hand. ] then it shan't be a challenge for me to provide. [ child's play, really. arguably, his powers could be put to better uses. ]

Yes, I am aware. They were taken away to be... [ what's the word for it? ] reconditioned. [ he doesn't feel one way or another about it though. ]

11/5 late night shenanigans pls be gentle mr aodh

[trounce]

[ simple, friendly touch doesn’t quite soothe the fraying nerves of wriothesley’s natural soul resting atop his own. not on the first night of the full moon after his first shift, at least. he finds himself yearning for things he usually keeps buried, urges he rarely entertains for more than a fleeting second. like the desire to shift and cut loose, to sink his teeth into a kind of hunger he can’t fully define—whether it’s meant to be a favorite dish that's meant to be gorged on or hunted down in the most literal sense. and then there’s a different craving altogether, something softer and more elusive. a longing for companionship he can dote on, and be doted on by in return. though what that looks like exactly remains a blur, tangled between two distinct but equally urgent wants of himself and his corruption that don’t always agree. ]

[ his soul’s instincts alone are one thing, but paired with the full moon’s pull, they become harder to ignore. ]

[ so, rather than spend the night pacing back and forth across his room at the valentia, wriothesley figures he can trust himself enough to wander. what’s a few hours spent walking off this kind of energy, anyway? even if the streets are mostly empty at this hour, he sticks to the main roads and wider paths, where the quiet presence of street lights and the occasional passerby still grant the illusion of being watched. most people give him space anyway, either out of instinct or their own nighttime routines. that’s fine by him. as long as he keeps himself in check, he’ll make it through this with his senses intact and no harm done. ]

no promises ♥

[belli]

[ with the sole exception of the curious slumber he fell into last month, aodh does not have a habit of sleeping.

he spends his nights wandering the streets of karteria and kelesis or exploring the wilderness of their outskirts, when he isn't simply lounging in his chair conversing with his godling or indulging in other late night activities behind closed doors. tonight is no different from any other night for him, as he leaves his perch atop the shared rooftop to venture down into the streets. he enjoys the silence the late hour brings and, as winter fast approaches, the crisp cool air adds a fledgling quality to it that pulls his gaze up past the starry horizons to the pitch darkness of space beyond — the closest thing he has to a home.

his attention is soon drawn away, however, by the presence of a wolf. deep crimson red hues shift towards the man walking his way from one end of the narrow alley. his lips curves into an impassive smile as he watches him with keen interest, before he closes the distance between them with a few long strides. ]

You should not be out here, emanating such a scent, canine.

[trounce]

[ it's not hard to notice the long, tan (thanks to the shadows), and handsome figure stalking his way over, given how empty the streets are this late. still, wriothesley isn't too perturbed when the stranger steps in close—regardless of their expression or how easily they tower over him. the first impression doesn’t exactly invite warmth, but wriothesley makes no move to meet it with swagger. instead, he responds with a presence that’s grounded, watchful, and a tone that fits the other’s cryptic and faintly condescending approach. ]

Oh? Why, is it remarkable enough to lure out someone who bites?

[ his head tips slightly, just outside the reach of a streetlight, revealing the glint of carnivora eyeshine. it’s not a show of threat so much as an unconscious tell—his natural soul bleeding through more freely than usual. ]

But if that’s your version of a kind warning, then I’ll take it.

let's just cw: everything

[trounce]

[ basileios is still in the middle of an emergency evacuation after word spread of a failing pillar. the only reason wriothesley had been drawn anywhere near the scene at all was on account of his recent trips to and from the augmented-run farm. and so, he did what any reasonably capable augmented would do, or at the very least answered a desperate call from a panicked city worker who needed someone better suited to take a closer look at the tower.

so—the state he’s in now, after that climb to the top, is largely his own fault. the only excuse he can offer himself is succumbing to the coercive influence of the tainted katalyth, namely in quantities far beyond anything most he'd run up with had previously encountered. there was enough of it to nearly stamp out his rational thought entirely, if not for a moment of quick thinking. unfortunately, that’s as much credit as he’s willing to give himself, considering he was ushered back down after what could only be described as a reckless and disastrous attempt to mitigate the damage he found up there.

now he’s left to lick his wounds, figuratively speaking, as a few kind strangers help settle him beside a makeshift patho-gen shelter before moving on. his overcoat is the only thing preserving any sense of modesty after fully shifting, and whatever protective equipment the engineers had managed to scrounge up is far too small to be of any use. still, even those experts reasoned that it would be better for his corroded flesh to breathe after he used the entirety of his shifted form to shave away as much of the jagged, corrupted overgrowth as he could manage. the radiation burns covering the length of his entire right side are miserable, but it’s only thanks to his carnivora soul that his body even attempts to heal at a slightly faster pace than most.

all that’s left is to endure the pain layered atop the lingering mental fog from prolonged exposure to the katalyth. an imprint would dull and soothe it, unquestionably, but he hesitates to call neuvillette all the way out here just to help him limp home. but even if he wanted to, the effort to even search up the other in the directory feels impossible. as the pain makes it hard to focus long enough to form a message, and so wriothesley finds himself staring blankly at the screen, concentrating on his breathing more instead of trying to fumble out a call on his syntrofos.

oh mr aodh won’t you save me ]

ding dong delivery to the fucking rooftop

[trounce]

✉ SENDING OUR THANKS AND WELL WISHES FOR THE NEW YEAR
► inside the red envelope rests an assortment of pristine seashells, sand dollars, and sea glass; also accompanied by other odd little curiosities—which are mostly old coins and strange mechanical parts. ► a second package also includes small samplings of fresh loose-leaf tea from the augmented-run farm, measured out and stored in a handful of vintage tea tins.
	MY DEAREST TETHER, FINDING A GIFT FOR YOU IS A CHALLENGE ALL ON ITS OWN, BUT PLEASE ACCEPT THIS TOKEN OF MY SINCEREST APPRECIATION ALL THE SAME. I AM GRATEFUL FOR YOUR HELP AND FOR YOUR KINDNESS WHEN IT MATTERS MOST, EVEN IF I SUSPECT THAT SORT OF PRAISE MIGHT GO STRAIGHT TO YOUR HEAD. JOKES ASIDE, I THINK THE TINS WOULD FIT RIGHT IN WITH THE SORT OF CURIOS YOU KEEP UP ON YOUR ROOF.

[belli]

[ a note shall manifest within wrio's room soon after this delivery has been received. ]

I accept your quaint offering, wolf.

text | un: valravn

[warminded]

I came to the realisation that I have not updated you on Gojo Satoru's current status.

He has returned, but has no memory of this place or anyone he has met here. Do not expect him to know you, should you encounter him.

[belli]

[ hm. ]

are you faring well with his return?

[warminded]

[Ah. Straight to the heart of the matter.]

I am faring as well as ever.

[Translation: Not great.]

As far as I can tell, there is no trace of the imprint between us.