What You Take With You part II: Reflections In The Fog

[unpocoloco]

Who: All those on the What You Take With You mission and everyone else (who OOCly wishes to join in)
What: An important artifact is brought back only to immedaitely activate. Further details are here.
When: November 10th
Where: Daybreak Campus and around Soliel
Warning: Warn in headers as appropriate

On November 10th the recovery team sent into the Outlands makes their return with the obsidian mirror. Thus far it hasn't seemed any different than any other obsidian mirror, nothing spectacular about it beyond its age and where it came from. But Daybreak was only called to retrieve it, not anything more. The spell is worked to open the path between the Outlands and Daybreak, allowing them back. But as this happens, the mists rise up as they often do when the two worlds intersect. The team might even see it ghosting over the mirror before catching their own reflections in it. A light flashes over its surface and in that instant, the mirror activates.

Just one look in any reflective surface throughout Soliel-- a mirror, a window, a bit still water-- and people will be struck with sudden dizziness, a feeling of being knocked back, and then darkness. You'll find, on waking, a dark and desolate landscape full of smoke and fog. It'll be hard to tell where one is going. You won't be alone. People all over the academy have been brought into this vision. You may run into them, but even more likely, you'll run into the spots of color that cut through the fog.

And dwelling with this color? Why it's you. But better. Or maybe, much, much worse. It seems the mirror has something to show you. But is that something a promise? Or a threat...? Learn its lesson and you may escape both the shadowy realm and a terrible fate in your future. What image will you leave on the world?

Comments

NPC Interaction

[unpocoloco]

[OOC: This is an optional interaction for those who joined the mission and manage to face down their mirror reflections. The interaction will be for a short period of time.]

OTA

[improbablenotimpossible]

A - “I trust that age doth not wither nor custom stale my infinite variety.”

As the fog roils around, one figure seem to be walking through it as though he was perfectly at home, his long legs letting him cross the smoky landscapes easily, his brown ulster coat fluttering in the wind as long, pale fingers reaches to light a pipe. His gray eyes darted around, bright and curious though his lips pursed slightly in concentration - quickly approaching anyone he finds, inquiring if they are in need of assistance. Despite the strangeness of the situation, 'Mr. Bell' seems quite confidant and nonchalant about the whole thing.

B - “Where there is no imagination there is no horror.” (CW: Stockholm Syndrome, abuse, etc could be mentioned, will warn more if situation arises)

While elsewhere in the mirror's dark landscape is another colorless figure that seem like he would blend in with the light of the moon, despite the dark black velvet cloak and suit that is about three centuries out of step. His listless, reddish eyes scanning around, as he held himself ramrod straight with the stiffness of a cat that is aware of a wolf nearby but is uncertain as to where it is - as well as the taut tension of the same cat that knows a mouse is also nearby.

C. "“Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent.”

[Aka wildcard prompt if you want the real one, or some Sherlock vs Sherlock nonsense]

B for OH BOY

[alreadyhuman]

Even though Sherlock's dressed weirdly now, Vivi still recognises him. But he looks...strange.

Still, Sherlock is Sherlock, no matter what, so Vivi is quick to approach.

(The mist, this fog - it makes him feel so uneasy. He doesn't know, or remember, why.)

"...Mr Bell?"

A

[unpocoloco]

He'd shifted back to something whole when they'd begun the crossing back onto Earth. Only, it would seem, they didn't quite make it there. He has no idea where he is now, fear in him that he might be the only one. The moment he finds a familiar face he runs to it.

"Arthur! Arthur!" He calls out, running (until his leg protests too much) to meet him. And then he stops, head tilting. "...What are you wearing?"

c ofc

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[Well, this wasn't what he expected, but...honestly, being lost in a strange foggy landscape...it was a bit like home.

Still, he wanders - and for a while, he sees no one, until -]

....Sherlock?

[...But...wait.

Were there....two of them...?]

....?

Grimm | OTA

[fireindreams]

A - Send the fire down

[In the fog, in the darkness, is simultaneously the past and future.

Grimm knows who he sees the moment they walk out of the color. A teenager wearing an old hoodie too big for him, tattered jeans and messy black hair. By the time that Grimm had met his predecessor, he had been lucky enough to find shoes that fit. And that is what this is.

Alderic Lavoie. Eyes that no longer glowed with the power of the Troupe Master but still touched by the long, long nightmare. A vampire with no memory of what he became nor has achieved. Forgotten, the Ritual complete. The child grown with love and memory.

And an envelope in hand, his own memories written down. Grimm passing on into history in his own way.

He knows what his reflection asks of him but in turn asks for some time. And so the reflection of what was and will be wanders. There may be some recognition in Alderic's eyes when he approaches others, there may not be. But he has a letter and some pictures.]

...excuse me? Can I ask you something?


B -The sun consumes the ground

[When the colors break, what comes next is an explosion of red and heat.

Flames dance wildly and unpredictably, a chaotic mess that forces people away least they get burned. Strangely there seems to be no actual source for these flames beyond the madness. It whips at those who come close, attacking anyone and everything even if there's nothing there for it to fight.

And a voice on the wind.]

Go...away...go away...


[ooc: Prompt A's Grimm is him post-ritual, meaning Alderic has lost his memory of Daybreak and his CR. He'll have vague knowledge of people, but if it has to do with the Grimm Troupe then he won't remember. As a warning, those who tag into Prompt B will be attacked on the spot.]

A

[spelleton]

...Certainly. [ He's nothing if not polite, even if he's not sure what all this darkness means yet. ] How can I be of service?

Okami Amaterasu | OTA

[fullthrottleammy]

A -The rising of the Sun

[The figure that emerges from the fog looks rather like Amaterasu, except... more. Her Divine Markings are more complicated and she practically glows with godly energy. She turns to whoever just discovered her and give a kind smile.]

Oh, hello. Would you like some company? It probably gets awful boring wandering this fog alone.

B -The emergence of the Furball

[Alternatively, you could encounter a white wolf running around without a care in the world. The moment she lays eyes on someone, a twinkle of mischief shines in her eyes. I hope you're prepared to be drenched, scorched, frozen, electrocuted, exploded, covered in ink, or any number of mostly harmless pranks.]

C -Okami!

[Wildcard! Go here for the real Ammy or general shenanigans.]

A

[hattersgonnahat]

[The fog was making Puella feel pretty uneasy to traverse. Though the last thing she would have guessed coming out of the fog was a literal sun goddess. The two and two don't exactly go together.] Pretty...

[She hurries closer to see her. The light was much better than walking through the fog in the dark, and it was much brighter than her own Radiance.]

Do you know how to get out?

Emizel | OTA

[trademark_skull]

[A - Best...Self?]

[The Son of Hugo, the Death King, meant Emizel had a long reputation to live up to. And a legacy that he would eventually have to inherit. But someday, he was going to get there, and a new rein of terror would have to begin. Maybe just after humanity got over the threat of Nightfall.]

[Sometimes it was an older form of Emizel, resembling a bit closer to his father. Other times he just took on a more twisted version of his daemon form and attacked the first other living thing he saw. There doesn't seem to be too much discretion on who or what he chooses to lash out at. Though they might get at least one warning shot first, if they want to at least try to run.]


[B - Diary of a Wimpy Daemon]

[On the other side of the fog void lied a very tiny reaper child - no older than five or six by human comparison - who was doing their best to hide from everything, while on the constant search to find home...or find someone. Maybe the child had only been there for a short while, but somehow, he felt as though he had been searching for hours. Days even.]

I can't...I can't do it. I just can't. [He collapses on the wasteland floor and just starts sobbing. Not even thinking that his outburst was going to drive danger towards him. He startles himself when he spots a figure approaching.]

N-no, stay back!! [Scrambled on the dusty ground to get back up. His wings were too small to carry him yet, but he tries flapping them anyway to gain speed, or altitude, whichever needed to escape from the stranger that probably came here to hunt him down.]

A

[arcadianvampire]

[The mists that swirled throughout this world were mysterious, and could dull the senses of the unwary. But "unwary" usually didn't describe daemons, much less Valvatorez, and the warning shot of powerful magic aimed at him wasn't unnoticed. In fact, he simply stood still as it exploded nearby, the force sending his cape billowing in the wind. He turned to face the source, slowly, faced with the more humanoid Emizel...

Taller, more imposing than the one he knew. More charismatic too; at least with his mouth shut. Truly, this was a daemon that took after his father... though his gravitas was pointedly different too. As was his favored method of sending a message; Hugo always did have more of a penchant for melee combat over magic. Not that he wasn't an accomplished caster as well.

Still, Valvatorez smiled at the shadow of his student. Whether it was one of pride or one of threat was hard to ascertain.]

Not bad. I've always appreciated a flair for the theatrical. But there are better ways of getting my attention, lad.

rover | ota

[synthsized]

a robot may not injure a human
[The fog is thick and heavy, and that's...well. It's certainly atmospheric. There's a figure in the distance, and it seems to be getting closer. It's not moving with any sort of purpose - it seems to just be wandering - and then its course changes and it starts getting closer.

Eventually, Rover appears through the fog, a concerned look on their face.]

Are you alright? It's not safe out here.

[They...might have learned this the hard way.

But they want to help. Protect and serve, that's the name of the game. They're someone who helps, they're someone who wants to help. They were given the gift of choice and they've decided that helping those that aren't as strong, aren't as durable, as them is what they were meant to do.

And they're happy with that.]

a robot must obey orders
Okay, what the fuck?

[Rover stands in the fog, looking around. This is...bizarre! It's strange! They don't like it very much! They especially don't like that they're face to face with themself, and theirself is looking at them like they're disappointed.]

It's okay. It's just me.

[Pbbt. What does that even mean?]

Like hell it's just you! This is some bullshit, you know, I'm not supposed to deal with this crazy magic nonsense.

[They will...stand there and bitch out their mirror unless somebody stops them.]

a robot must protect its own existence
[In the distance there seems to be a building - a little more than three stories high, looking a bit like a tower. But as you get closer to it, it seems to disappear. Shrinking, compressing, twisting down into the fog.

When you get to where it was, Rover is standing there, eyeing you blankly. It seems...tense.]

State your intent.

[Its voice is cold, harsh, and its eyes are unblinking. It seems prepared for confrontation, if the way its holding itself is any indication.]

wildcard;
[go nuts fam]

the Templar one

[deuteranope]

[Buildings mean people, usually -- not always, and he was usually grateful for that fact because it meant somewhere he could be alone -- but as he starts heading towards it and it stops being there, he has to wonder whether this means he's somehow managed to lose too much blood already and it's time to lay down and die. Fuck that, though, and he grits his teeth in a grimace and marches on...to be rewarded with a familiar face! Not the best circumstances, but Rover did have one of the better faces, in his professional opinion. Oh boy, he really needs to get this stupid bleeding arm taken care of. His thought process is even dumber than fucking usual.

The floaty feeling is luckily numbed pretty quickly, when Rover speaks. Or when...what he thought was Rover speaks, because that ain't the them that he's used to. It shouldn't be a shock, after his own mirror interaction, and maybe he can blame it on the injury and worn off adrenaline that he dumbly goes,]

Uhh... To come say hi?

[that wasn't even accurate, what]

Sinbad | OTA

[conquerorofwaves]

A

It's extremely hard to miss the teenager laying on his stomach in the smoke and fog of the wasteland - for he is large enough to comfortably hold a horse in the palm of his azure-blue hands, sprawling on the ground. blue-violet hair cascaded like waterfalls around his shoulders, framing the back-curving horns and his golden eyes - including the third one in the middle of his forehead. His face was still recognizable as a recent transfer student by the name of Sinbad despite all the changes.

Countless pieces of jewelry jingled with the slightest of movements as they glint in the dim light, as his lips curled into a smile. "O lost soul in the smoke and ash... pfthahaha!" The laughter bubbled from his throat. "Let's be real, you're not here for flowery speeches, you want something and I'm the sort of being who can provide it - within limits, of course. Now the question is, what do you want and how badly do you want it?"

[hattersgonnahat]

Woooaaah...He's...he's huge!! Puella was going to have to be careful. She was already kind of nervous from the surroundings but now she had to be extra worried about being crushed.

"Um...do you know where this is..?" It wasn't exactly a wish, a request, nothing. Just a simple question...

hieke | ota

[inflictwounds]

healing word;
[He stands out in the fog, what with the way his eyes glow in the darkness. It's not intentional, of course - and he'd hate to spook someone. Still, he's wandering, trying to find a way out.

He's not in any rush, though, and when he sees he's not alone he smiles. It's a strange look on Hieke's face - the nurse doesn't smile very often at all - but he seems at peace.]

Are you lost, too?

[He laughs, sheepish.]

This place is more confusing then you'd think, considering it's just fog.

toll the dead;
[Well, well, well. What have we here? A little mouse, lost in the fog.

Hieke crosses his arms over his chest, an unimpressed look on his face. After a moment, he smirks.]

You want out of here, don't you?

[Who wouldn't? This place is terrible.]

I can help you.

[Though whether or not you want that help is another thing entirely.]

wildcard;
[come @ me]

Toll, I'm terrible

[hattersgonnahat]

Hieke! [Finally, someone else she knew in this weird, dark place.] You know out?

[Yes, do tell.]

Ky Kiske | OTA

[bejustorbedead]

To lead is to follow

An older man strides into the mists, blond hair streaked with gray, a neatly prepared beard was squared off just below the neck, one hand holding onto an arming sword, and the other to a shield with a white back drop and red cross, matching the tabard draped over his shoulders.

"Ho there, pilgrim!" He calls out as he sheathes his sword, raising his now empty hand, showing an empty palm. "Are you also lost in this strange twilight?" Then his blue eyes closes, the crows feet crinkling around them, trying to smile reassuringly. "Mayhaps it would be prudent for us to travel together, if just for your own protection."

Ezekiel 25:17 as read by Samuel L. Jackson - cw: some body horror

the smell of blood and smoked flesh hits one before the figure even comes out of the haze, tattered wings dripping clotting blood, blond hair falling in a caked, tangle mass, half of his helmet seemed to have been cleaved off of hid and had seem to fuse into the rest of his face. At times, it seems like he's using his blood-drenched sword as a crutch, before straightening up, swinging the weapon with surprising ease. His visible eye glows a hellish red.

"Announce yourself, Sinner!" His voice crackles and rasps, giving the impression something inside his throat is tearing with each syllable. "State your name and allegiance!"

B

[shockingblue]

That horrific scent is all too familiar after going into the Outlands. It's one that immediately puts Gunvolt on guard, his weapon at the ready and the safety now off. Seems he's wandered into a more dangerous part of town. And that thought was immediately confirmed upon catching sight of the silhouette in the mists. His weight shifted to his back foot in surprise, once he caught sight of the face revealed by the half-sundered helm the person was wearing.

"Professor Kiske?!..."

...He didn't like this at all. That couldn't be Ky. That's not the professor he knew... and it certainly didn't sound like him. That was enough for his guard to go full up. That blood-caked blade definitely wasn't a showpiece, and Gunvolt wanted no part of seeing it up close. His grip tightened reflexively around his Dart Leader.

"...Gunvolt. Student of Daybreak Academy and field agent of QUILL. And just who's asking?"

ota, always cw: cursing

[deuteranope]

[ a - another one. ] (cw: blood)

[Man. First mission he goes on in what feels like ages, and of course something wild fucking happens. He really pretty sure this has absolutely nothing to do with him coming along, or the fact that he maybe strayed from the main objective a little to retrieve a souvenir from the Outlands, but it's an insult to injury at this point. When his finally feels like he can get up without his head splitting apart, Maverick pushing himself up onto his knees and looks around through squinted eyes. And feels himself go cold.

His eyes have landed on a little boy, same fluff of brushed out orange curls, same skinny little limbs, same too-pale complexion.]

This shit again? God, fucking… Hey! Ricky, it's me, you remember me?

[The younger version of himself shrinks away a little, blinking up through wide, almost glassy eyes...but eventually he nods, much to Maverick’s relief. Being a familiar face would make it a lot easier to get the kid to follow him around like a baby duck, the same way he used to follow Ramona around, back in the day.]

Good. Great, that's… Listen, we gotta --

[But he's cut off from whatever he was going to say, because when he reaches to put an arm on Ricky’s shoulder, there's a flash of fangs and the kid is latched onto him in a way that wasn't exactly expected, to say the least. Swearing loudly and feeling his chest tighten, Maverick tries wrenching his arm away. It didn't matter that the wound was opening more, he needed this thing off, he needed to get away.

Even as a child, Ricky is stronger than he is, thanks to vampiric strength and years of learning to utilize that strength, but eventually Maverick manages to get his foot between them. That Rex might be a weirdo, but he makes some damn fine boots made both to absorb impact and to propel him forth -- which he makes use of by smacking the kid right in the neck with his heel and its added magical force.

His arm is covered in blood, and he realizes that his rapidly thumping heart wasn't doing him any favors there, but for the time being the adrenaline is still good. It gets him to scramble back to his feet and get the fuck out of there. If only he had somewhere else to…go.]

[ b - baby boy, baby. ] (cw: blood)

[Ricky resists the urge to lick his lips clean, instead dragging himself up and spreading the mess further -- up, so it looks as if the blood might have been coming from his nose. Poor him, just a young boy wandering the misty area, injured and alone. Crying, of course. He'd gotten very good at crying in a way that was convincing. It was always an easy way to lure in prey, looking as he did.

That other version of him, weirdly human, had been meant to be a nice snack, but then he'd gone and worked up his appetite instead. Oh well. Someone else would come to “help”.]

[ c - caution to the fog. ]

[There’s a third Maverick, though this one doesn't seem intent on getting anywhere or doing anything in particular. He’s just keeping himself, humming, and conducting the smoke resting heavily around him so that they swirl into a little misty weasel. It zips around, making him laugh a little, but eventually he takes to looking around instead.]

Guess I don't need to wear it here, huh? [Speaking to the weasel, probably, since he glances over while tipping the brim of his beat up witch hat, pinned with ornamentation and draped with hanging lace.] No sun or nothing.

[When approached by someone he knows -- or rather, someone that knows Maverick -- this Maverick lights up and gives them an odd sort of salute in invitation. Even those he doesn't know get a wide, cheery…fangy grin.]

[ d - obligatory give me the d joke. ]

[This is just a wildcard prompt, plurk is goblinhood.]

a

[silksoul]

[ Hornet doesn't really know this person, and really, he should be able to fend for himself, but...well, it's not like she's working by herself, now. Her mothers had always valued community, camaraderie. She should at least attempt to do the same.

So Maverick stumbles out of the fog, bleeding, and is greeted by a horned, cloaked girl. ]

That arm will hinder you unless you treat it. Do you have bandages or cloth to slow the bleeding?

[ Excellent first greeting, A+ ]

ota

[spelleton]

a. heads, being kept ('best...?')

[ If you wander through the mist, you might see a young man in layered clothing with ever-shifting patterns, his hair braided and pulled back from his face. His face is hooded, and he carries a staff with a lantern on the end.

But he still sounds the same as Ekkehardt. Because, in a way, it is Ekkehardt; a pleasant dream that does not exist. (And if the shadow his hood casts looks a little like cracking, or like blood, then that's fine, isn't it?

Magic does such strange things.) ]

Hello, there. [ His voice is soft, concerned. ] Are you all right?

b. tails, being chased ('worst')

[ This version of Ekkehardt wears a mask, too, but it covers his face almost entirely, and is entirely blank. Instead of his usual neat reds and whites, he pulls layer upon layer of dark cloaks around him, like he's afraid of the world touching him.

He leans on a spear, or maybe a staff (likely both). He grips it like a lifeline. ]

Where is this? Where have you brought me?

[ His voice is harsh, frenetic, sharp. Every word a cutting, paranoid blade. ]

c. coins left unflipped

[ The real Ekkehardt is here, somewhere, but he is, at worst, mildly perturbed by the whole situation. If you've met his best or worst self (or both) he's certainly willing to engage in conversation, but he doesn't seem fazed otherwise. ]

B.

[nor_iron_bars]

Whoa, buddy.

[Jail holds up her hands, empty of weapons, and doesn't make any sudden movements. That sounds like Ekkehardt's voice, maybe, but she's never heard him sound like this. Mostly, the only people she knows who do sound like this have been running on way too many stimulants and way too little sleep.]

[This guy's said less than two sentences to her, and she already feels like he's going to start demanding to know if she's with the government or aliens or something.]

I do a lotta shit, sure, but this ain't on me. I'm a busy girl, can't be responsible for every weird thing that happens. [At least half of them are Rex, after all.]

OTA

[buddinghopes]

A - "Might as well have interesting stories for the dirt."
[The young woman who steps out of the fog isn't immediately recognizable at first glance, but a better look reveals it to be Lia--a bit older, a bit gentler. She's transformed, but her outfit is simpler, and the circlet and bracelets are definitely new additions. She strides over, brows furrowed in concern.]

Are you alright?

B - "There are forces outside of your control. Most of them don't care for you."
[This Lia, on the other hand is fairly recognizable at first glance... aside from the sharper look in her vividly crimson eyes. When she catches sight of someone approaching, she narrows her eyes.]

You. Where the hell is this?

C - "If people were considered as faceted as precious stones..."
[Wildcard. If you want the real Lia, this is where you can get her. She's more annoyed than anything about the situation, but she'll probably be more worried about other folks.]

b

[stavros]

[Kokoro steps back with a frown.]

What do you mean, where?

Jailbreak | OTA

[nor_iron_bars]

I. all the people i know aren't who they used to be

Well, shit.

[Jail is looking around curiously, resigned to the fact that Some Fuckery is happening now. She's not exactly thrilled about it, but she's taking it relatively well.]

[Sometimes you just get teleported to the endless void, it's whatever.]

[Thoughtfully, she reaches out to a plume of smoke, letting it dissipate as it runs through her fingers.]

Huh. Wonder if... [She trails off, hearing something behind her.]

[Say hello?]


II. better than i could have ever been

[Have you ever noticed how tone of voice and body language can make someone seem like a completely different person?]

Hi there. Are you doing all right?

[That's Jailbreak. It's obviously Jailbreak, there's no mistaking it, and yet...]

[She doesn't seem like her usual self.]

[Something about her expression is... gentler. Warmer. There's a degree of genuine concern in her voice that Jail might, possibly, feel- but normally wouldn't let people notice. She seems calmer, too, not lazy and unconcerned so much as just at peace.]

There's some pretty rough stuff out there, we should stick together.

[The observant might pick up on one other thing, too: normally, Jail is always poised to dodge an attack, braced to flee, no matter how casually she acts.]

[From the moment she stepped out of the fog, this woman has been braced to hold her ground. Because running doesn't work if you aren't willing to leave people behind.]


III. swear to god i ain't never gonna repent

[Where are you?]

[You've gone somewhere you shouldn't have. This is not a place to be.]

[No one is here.]

[No one but you.]

[It's so very, very quiet.]

[So why do you feel like you're being watched?]

III

[spelleton]

[ He's not particularly unnerved by all this; being watched isn't even a new sensation for him. But wandering around in the fog hasn't done anything to make him less annoyed, and so. ]

Something for you?

[ He's not addressing it in any particular direction, but he does know someone's there.

At least have the courtesy to come out where he can see you. ]

HIT ME (not literally pls)

[unlogic]

B:
[Stepping out of a splotch of reddish-brown is Desidera, but she looks a little different than normal. A bit older, for starters, and her hair is down rather than tied up, removing any possibility of her horns being camouflaged against her usual twintails. The horns are notably actually pointed, for those aware of how she's made sure that they're not. In addition to all of that, the marking normally seen on the upper half of her right arm? It's gone. Completely gone, with no sign that it had ever existed.

When she sees someone else wandering this place...] Ah! [...she hurries over.]

Hello!


W:
[There's one space in the distance, away from any others, where instead of any sort of color there is none at all, fading from the fog's already-dark tone to a black that refuses any sort of light. If anyone approaches it to try to enter into this black space, they can proceed far enough inside that the lightlessness reaches all around them, but they will be unable to reach the center as some unseen barrier prevents them from going further.

Should that barrier be reached, a voice will call out, in a tone that implies a yet-unspoken threat, but also conveys a sense of feeling threatened.]

Cosa vuole da me?


N:
[The real Desidera, presently unaware of her doppelgangers and having not yet encountered any others, is wandering this landscape as well. She's mostly observing so far, still trying to make heads or tails of what exactly is going on.]

A

[shockingblue]

[The mists have been frankly spooky so far. Too many familiar faces that have been quite emotionally draining, even scary. He's kept his weapon at the ready most of the time he's been in the mists, and reflexively, his grip tightens when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

He swung around, but didn't immediately raise his weapon as the figure emerged from the mists.

Immediately, he was glad that he didn't, but he practically did a double-take at her. He instantly could tell who it was, and yet the differences between this vision and the original were apparent immediately. He'd seen Desidera with her hair down before, in their room, but she never left the room without her twintails. ...And those horns...

...The sight didn't scare him; rather, it may have been the most disarming thing he's seen all day. But for once, he wasn't immediately worried about being ambushed or having to take care of a wayward child.]

...Desi? You... ...Hi?

[Okay, maybe he wasn't quite the most articulate at the moment. Hopefully she would forgive him that.]

[stavros]

[a]

[This Kokoro isn't carrying a bag full of holy water and weaponry. She's happily walking around, waving a hand in front of her face.]

There's a lot of fog, huh? It's nice here, though.

[b]

[The next Kokoro looks... much the same, actually, but she's shoving a cookie in her face and pointedly ignoring anything overtly supernatural.]

Not my problem.

[c]

[And if you're looking for the real Kokoro, she's armed and walking the area, looking for any sign of trouble.]

Some kind of daemonic invasion, no doubt.

A

[bolderfell]

Nice? ...If you say so, I guess.

Are you... okay.

Tobias...? | OTA

[hawkwardness]

A

[Somewhere in the mist, there's a boy, no older than fourteen, a young man dressed in plain, stunningly average clothes. It's not the outfit that matters. He has the look of a teen boy about to hit his growth spurt, he needs feeding up, he has dirty blonde hair and a wonderfully open face, tender hopeful eyes...]

I think I know the way out, if you want to follow me.

[Do you trust him?]

B

[The boy's not the only one wandering the fog, but he is the easiest to find. There's a bird, swooping through the air, sending the mist swirling with each beat of his wings. But he makes no sound... unless he thinks he's being followed. He can glare like no one else, given a place to land and confront his stalker.]

< You. Stop following me. Find your own way out. >

[Because he doesn't want to leave.]

C

[Wildcard, for finding the real Tobias or anything else you might want! Plurk is nazitra.]

A

[unpocoloco]

[The sudden presence makes him start. He spins fast before his mind even registers the voice and just how familiar it is. Extremely familiar. It's one of the first to greet him when he wakes these days.

He recognizes the boy. But he doesn't recognize the expression on his face.]

Tobias?

OTA -- Will match format

[subconmodo]

A.

The young man who steps out of the mists certainly looks like Avery, but there's something more youthful about him. Maybe it's the lack of dark circles under his eyes or the bright, cheerful, genuinely happy expression he wears. Or would wear, if he wasn't currently so concerned.

"Oh, thank goodness. I was beginning to think it was just me wandering around here!"


B.

Yellow eyes glare out from the mists, wide and wild and barely human. Those who dare come closer will find that they belong to a man -- or something shaped like one. Something shaped like Avery, but wrapped in dirtied, bloodied rags, hair matted, lips curled back to bare fangs that seem longer than normal.

He remains crouched, ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice.


C.

"Just to let you know, if you find any other 'me's out there, you're free to kill them if you want. I won't mind. Really."

This one looks wholly unconcerned with the situation at hand. Maybe he's your safest bet.


Wildcard

For all your other ideas.

A

[spelleton]

All right. He thinks he knows how this works. He thinks he's caught glimpses of himself, too, in the fog - people he feels a connection to but doesn't quite recognise.

So he's not surprised, per se. Not surprised as he could be, anyway. That doesn't mean this doesn't sort of throw him for a loop. It is incredibly jarring to hear Avery say 'thank goodness' with complete sincerity.

Still, that's no reason to not be polite.

"I'm surprised you haven't met anyone else yet. This place seems to be quite populated.

You are Avery Atchison, yes?"

He just...has to make sure.....

OTA

[ofexperience]

A - "You inspire me to be better!"
[The person who steps out of the fog is... wait, who the hell is this guy?

Well, whoever he is, he'll nod as he approaches.]

... Are you lost here as well?

B - "But a trainwreck is a trainwreck..."
[Elsewhere is the very recognizable form of V, but he's... oddly even more restrained than the version other people might be used to seeing. If he does notice anyone--it's honestly something questionable as to whether or not he does--he doesn't address anyone and keeps moving.]

C - "Nobody really knows the nuances of what you get up to in your spare time..."
[Wildcard. Get your real V right here!!]

look you knew this was happening okay (A)

[unlogic]

[Desidera's been wandering since she first found herself here. She's seen classmates and others from the academy here, except in a lot of cases, they were...different from what she had accepted to be normal for them, often very much so, and some in ways that made her want to avoid them completely. So, for the most part, she's not approached anyone, and has instead opted to observe and try to piece together what's going on from what she can see around her; she has a hunch, but wants to continue looking to be sure.

She almost moves to create some distance when she notices that she's being approached herself, but she stops when she realizes that the person approaching is familiar in a way she would not have expected.

Could this be the same person or is this some strange coincidence? There's one way to find out.]

...Vergil?

Yes, I...think I am.

[foolishjustice]

[Hope for the Best...]

[The Akechi you encounter is so different, you almost wouldn't recognize him...if not for those distinctive rusty red eyes. He's dressed in a gothic punk style, complete with makeup and colored streaks in hair that comes down to his shoulder blades in a mass of deliberately chaotic waves. Piercings glint on his face and when his hair is pulled behind his ears, and even the edges of tattoos are visible under his sleeves. But the biggest difference? He looks happy, with a mischievous smile that reaches his eyes and no sign of the nervousness or tiredness that constantly runs beneath the real Akechi's behavior.

Anyone who hears him speak will notice that even his accent is different. While the real Akechi speaks English with a clear but noticeable Japanese accent, this Akechi speaks English or French with a distinct British accent.]

[...Prepare for the Worst...]

[This Akechi...is more recognizable. He's hardly any different in appearance, save for the few piercings the real one has acquired being absent, but the look in his eyes is one of spite and a sort of simmering madness. He responds to being approached with a sneer, a look of undisguised disgust and hatred.]

What do you want?

[....Yeah, real friendly, this one.]

[...And Expect the Unexpected]

[This is the wildcard option, for running into the real one...with or without one of his hypothetical selves.]

unexpected

[buddinghopes]

[She's been a little irritated, wandering around here. Because really another scenario that led to people being trapped?

But still, she wanders, until she finds something that makes her come to a stop.]

... Akechi?

[... Is she seeing double? WHY ARE THERE TWO OF HIM]

Héctor | OTA

[unpocoloco]

A - "Anyway, Here's Wonderwall"

Music cuts through the fog, beckoning. It's a familiar playing style and a familiar voice.

"For this music is my language and the world is mi familia~ Pues la música es mi lengua y el mundo es mi familia~!"

A man sits back on an old sound speaker, professional-grade and obviously so. There's a guitar in his hands that shines in the light. But the man himself is no such state, feet bare, jeans worn through at the knees. He stops playing with the new arrival and smirks ruefully.

"You're not here for an autograph, are you? It's my day off."

B - "Probably Never Heard Of It"

There's a faint humming. It's not quite consistent, like whoever's making the noise isn't entirely sure of themself, having to pause and think. Or look around rather. There's a gasp then.

"Ah! Disculpe! Sorry, I'm looking for... well, actually, I think I'm lost in general. Could you help me?"

Running out from the fog is none other than Héctor. He's dressed in a nice vest, white sleeves rolled up, a guitar case on his back, his hair actually tidy for once despite the pencil tucked behind his ear. But the most noticeable thing about him is the life in his face.

C - "Bring Back The Singing Dogs!"

[Wildcard prompt.]

Zan | OTA

[aibolition]

A - Heart Of The Universe "Oy! Hey!" A voice cuts through the fog. It might be familiar, but only if one were really good with voices. There's no distortion, no high sneer to it. The voice is just a teenager's, open, even friendly. A figure cuts through the fog, waving. He's got bright orange hair, warm eyes, and a simple band shirt over jeans. "You need help? You look lost."

B - A Broken Wheel

"Get up."

He knows it's not Ichigo. It's obvious. He knows his soul, knows himself. He knows this is some sort of game and whatever's causing it means to taunt him. He'd have expected a true reflection, seeing himself grinning back. That's what made sense after all. He was the curse, the poison.

And that's what makes this that much more infuriating. He grasps Ichigo by the shirt, hauling him up off his feet. Ichigo barely flinches. Blood is smeared across his face and his eyes are still utterly defeated. Dead.

But not so dead Ichigo can't say, "Go on. Just get over with."

His fist pulls back and slams into Ichigo's face again, sending him flying just to crumple in a heap. He waits just a moment, then shrieks.

"GET UP! FIGHT ME!"

A

[taiyounoyou]

It's funny that Masaki looks lost... because she is. One minute she was on the campus, and the next she was alone in this darkness and fog without any sense of which way would lead her out again.

In the midst of all that, the boy's voice cuts through and she looks in his direction. "Yes, I--"

She's struck silent at the realization that there's a familiarity about him. The one that immediately presents itself with jarring clarity is the similarity to that hollow boy--but with color. He looks human--fully human, and she doesn't know what to say to that. All she can do is stare.

Underneath that surprise, there's another sense of something familiar, but tinged with warmth and sadness in equal measure that she can't rightly put her finger on.