// At This Point I Really Oughta Note It, SO: Headsup To All My Roleplay Partners! Because Of A Lot Of

// at this point i really oughta note it, SO: headsup to all my roleplay partners! because of a lot of irl shit happening and stressors including financial concerns and losing two pets in the span of a few months, my brain's been really struggling with processing time and getting in the headspace to Be here beyond JUST writing (so DMs and the like), so if i don't respond, that is why, and i sincerely apologize! I'm trying to get back into the swing of Actually answering people but if I don't or it takes a while, that's why!

swing with me

Zagreus burns into Elysium like a scorch mark. ━━ hot iron on soft tender grass, turning it dark before it turns itself back. nothing allowed to die, a rule he knows better than anyone. nothing allowed to die and stay dead.

He feels like a burning mark too, this time. Olympian boons buzz in his collarbone like heavy radiant things, and he feels sharp with a bloodlust not his own; one that scared him, sometimes, one that fills the muscle movements in his veins. Makes him move before he thinks to, makes him want to keep moving, makes him tireless & exhausted & cruel & something else entirely, the War God and the Swift God tumbled together in a unique kind of hell that he chose nigh entirely. ━ his breath hot enough that even here in the pleasantly cool; pleasantly warm air it turns to fog, and he's so dead-set on continuing after a predatory flick of eyes for warriors over shades that knew better than to meander over; or perhaps simply weren't more interested in him than they were of their eternities here; he almost doesn't notice the girl.

Almost. Zagreus is lucky, he'll realize a little later, that he's fast. the approach triggers something in his muscles that wants to lash out, thinks her fiend instead of friend, doesn't care to think of her at all, but he cages it quick; masks the blade of his spear shuddering in her direction as only him stabbing it into the earth, like holstering a weapon, even if it might come across as slightly irritated at the speed and violence of which he does so ━ but the spear stands like a pole, upright, and he forces himself to let go of it, just in time for her to greet him. ( maybe he looks a little off-guard at that, too )

the first thing that comes out of his mouth, still too quick for his liking ( give it a moment, turn off the engine ), is by no means a human language. it's something chthonic, the tongue he uses at home or in the depths of Chaos' realm, and he realizes that there is absolutely no chance that she's going to know what he said almost as quickly as he says it. Zagreus almost winces at himself, and forces himself to calm down. ━ she's one of the newer era, right…? she sounds it, anyway. take a moment, ground yourself, echo it back.

" Hi, " Zagreus can't help the surprise at the sincerity of the question; child-like. she seems familiar, too, or maybe not her; just whats in her. " I'm just passing through. Sorry if I'm distracting, I don't mean to interrupt- " he pauses, abruptly a little uncertain on the realization that he never really bothered to learn; or be taught; what exactly shades do in Elysium, before making a small open hand gesture to the groups of other spirits with a subtle unknowing nonchalance to it. " Well, whatever it is you all do here to pass the time outside of combat…? "

@quillheel clicked the ❤️ for a starter!

Despite the beauty of the Elysium Fields, many of the days there were the same. The souls within spent much time laughing and playing, even as Calliope focused on her flute. Sometimes she accompanied the dances, joining other musicians to create lovely music, but there was part of her that wondered what it might be like to have a bit more variety in day-to-day life.

She'd just been settling in for another day when this time, there was something different. A young man, likely a godling, simply based on the power he radiated, made his way through Elysium…..only to vanish.

But he reappeared the next day, only for the same thing to happen.

By the third day, Calliope had decided that, if he appeared again, she was going to go talk to him.

And sure enough, the next day, he appeared once more. The moment she saw him, Calliope hurried over, not wanting to miss him again.

"Hello!" she greeted him, gazing up at the being before her. He was tall, with messy hair and mismatched eyes, and he seemed…..familiar, somehow, though she couldn't put her finger on it.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyes bright and curious. After all, most people wanted to stay in Elysium when they got here, but he'd left twice, so far.

DARK IN HERE STARTERS

taken from the 2021 album by the mountain goats

PARISIAN ENCLAVE

’ let the devil take the rest. ’ ’ walls envelop all of us like a mother who protects her young. ’ ’ i go beneath the streets of the city with my brethren in the neverending shadow. ’

THE DESTRUCTION OF THE KOLA SUPERDEEP BOREHOLE TOWER

’ stick bright reflective tape to the collar of your shirt. ’ ’ mind your business, and you won’t get hurt. ’ ’ be true to the things you said you’d  be true to. ’ ’ always keep your objective in view. ’ ’ those who came to learn these lessons left no trace of their presence. ’ ’ show the world your true face. ’ ’ burn such fuel as you need to burn. ’ ’ keep a sense of wonder when you finally reach your goal. ’ ’ what will they say back home about you? ’

MOBILE

’ they threw him down into the water, but he did not drown. ’ ’ be free of your burden. ’ ’ i’m on a balcony waiting for the wind to throw me down. ’ ’ if you won’t keep me safe and warm, then send down the storm. ’ ’ why do you hold back your fury? ’ ’ don’t hold back your fury. ’

DARK IN HERE

’ steal away at sundown. ’ ’ check for signs of ambush. ’ ’ i’m tired of running, tired of never standing still. ’ ’ hear them riding up the hill? ’ ’ it’s high noon somewhere, but it’s dark in here. ’ ’ you, who thirst for action: i will give you some. ’ ’ when the smoke dies down, you can rest assured that we will know who kept their word. ’ ’ you stood so proud once. ’ ’ i can taste your fear. ’ ’ it’s dark as a coal mine filling up with gas. ’ ’ will you be ready when your moment comes? ’ ’ i live in the darkness. ’

LIZARD SUIT

’ take the trouble to pronounce the street names right; people like it when you show respect. ’ ’ it’s so hard to get noticed in this town. ’ ’ you’re almost invisible aboard the train. ’ ’ there’s so many people who i just can’t read. ’ ’ i have to trust that my compass stays true. ’ ’ i let my phobias control my habits, and i let my habits form the shapes of days. ’

WHEN A POWERFUL ANIMAL COMES

’ we move by night. ’ ’ we’ll follow the shoreline until we’ve run clean out of land. ’ ’ we’ve made mistakes. ’ ’ everyone spots their own mess when the dawn breaks. ’ ’ life is short, and life is hard, and life is sweet. ’ ’ they will never know what hit them. ’ ’ it gets pretty hard to concentrate. ’

TO THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN

’ i rode past you on the road again today. ’ ’ who awakes prepared to face such sights as these? ’ ’ god keep the hunter who shows mercy to his prey. ’ ’ as you approached, i could sense the threat. ’ ’ a stranger’s just a friend who hasn’t shared their secrets yet. ’ ’ songs bloom in the dark. ’ ’ i seek the gate of wisdom. ’ ’ get ready for the waterworks. ’ ’ one of us will tire, and one will rise and ride away. ’

THE NEW HYDRA COLLECTION

’ i’m hell bent on doing the work that you cowards won’t do. ’ ’ we’re weaving the future from bright new threads. ’ ’ i dream of the day when the calm waters break. ’ ’ the safe way isn’t the only way to go. ’ ’ it’s only a test run. ’ ’ the tension’s too delicious to bear. ’ ’ according to my projections, everybody’s going to run for their lives. ’ ’ wait until our time has come. ’

THE SLOW PARTS ON DEATH METAL ALBUMS

’ i’m jumping out of my skin. ’ ’ this tiny sector can’t contain me. ’ ’ i go where i’m not wanted. ’ ’ i’m trying to find the mask that fits me. ’ ’ let me dance until i die. ’ ’ let it begin with me. ’ ’ we’re never quite free. ’

BEFORE I GOT THERE

’ the relics are all in ruin. ’ ’ it’s illegible forever. ’ ’ it’s an oracle with no tongue. ’ ’ the bodies of the fallen are in a pit behind the altar. ’ ’ their faces were turned toward the sky that they would never see again. ’ ’ i have failed you. ’

ARGUING WITH THE GHOST OF PETER LAUGHNER ABOUT HIS CONEY ISLAND BABY REVIEW

’ will there be another way? ’ ’ you took the ancient spell with you wen you fell. ’ ’ i hurt too hard, too long, and i’ll die too young. ’ ’ may your passage be assured. ’ ’ you will always have been here once. ’

LET ME BATHE IN DEMONIC LIGHT

’ someday, the old flesh will give way to the new. ’ ’ find a functioning mirror inside, and slip right through. ’ ’ who’s coming with me? ’ ’ show me my one true face. ’ ’ i’m hopeless, but free. ’ ’ you’re lit up like a marquee shining over the freeway. ’ ’ where will my long trail end? ’ ’ there’s undying hunger deep in the bloodline. ’

@playedbetter // lyric starters; without mythologies by the weakerthans.

Maybe the scariest part of seeing Kim with a fever, hot-cold all the time and aching, was less about the fever itself; it was about seeing how that sickness pried back the composure on him like skinning a beetle of its shell, it was less the times he was asleep and more when he was awake; often irritated beneath a reluctance to engage at all and murmuring barely there mostly through the breath of wheezing, it was more about the times he murmured at all.

The Lieutenant's apartment is clean, and maybe it would've reminded you of the Pox if not for the fact you were allowed within it's walls where many weren't, and the various small details that filled itself in on it's own lived in qualities. Clean but imperfect, and unable to escape from the fact of the city you both lived in ━ Revachol whispering on the paint cracked window-sills as summer heat leaked in through them, on the smell of maybe something rotten. gasoline. vaguely something plantlike, like trees bending their leaves up to break up the noise.

There are exactly 11 trees along Kim's street. Maybe you would've noticed in the way here, or maybe not, since Kim invited Harry over after struggling; frustratingly inattentive; throughout the day on a case, and the first time Kim had handed over his place at the wheel of the Kineema so willingly since the beginning of it's service at the station ( it might've been the station's vehicle, one he was lucky to have been able to take with him when transferring over to station 41 after a major amount of string-pulling, ass kissing, and excuses about repairs, but in the end it was always Kim's baby ) to Harry. ━ so naturally, there were many other things to notice when one is entrusted with the golden ticket of a sick man almost begging him not to crash the damn thing than the amount of trees on Kim's street. But there are still 11 trees, and one way or another, you'd gotten home.

And in this home, Kim lays on his back on his couch, glasses removed and eyes covered with a cool wet cloth as a radio plays some random station quietly enough to be unintrusive but still filling a white noise ━ something classical, or at the very least, instrumental. the voices of the piece if you focused on it no more than a distant kind of cloud that wasps over hazily on compressed air waves ━ and occasionally he murmurs to himself, quiet and voice shot. this was the scary part, what he'd say. what it'd tell you. this was the scary part, to hear him through the softest electrical hum...

" si je pouvais, je ferais de toi une rivière déchaînée avec des rapides en colère alimentés en pluie, pour que tu puisses toujours serpenter et pouvoir toujours t'enfuir… " ━ breathe in. ( if i could, i would make you a raging river with angry rapids supplied with rain, so you could always meander, and forever be able to run away… )

sings to himself, rather, here. sings to you? the language hangs on his tongue, syllable after syllable.

" sans lutter… contre les mythes mal interprétés, contre la douleur… " ━ breathe out. ( without contending… with myths wrongly interpreted, with pain… )

he does, sing to you. the only person you can remember who would, regardless of intention. he breathes with the music, and with it comes over with the terror of an honesty so grandiose it becomes small again; marble-like; like an unfulfilled wish he offers out, downy feathered, anyways, because the sentiment matters more than whatever it is now. maybe he doesn't even realize he says it out loud to begin with, but he does, whispers in the gentle shuffle of the apartment's small spaces, composure a dream he hasn't woken into, rarely; rarely, a heart on his sleeve. ( like speaking in your sleep. like honesty when you don't realize it, laid back on the worn cushioning of a couch, allowing himself not to see, allowing himself to merely be, be there. to drive him home. trusting. trusting you. )

He is an ant in the maw of a whale. a god in the mouth of an even bigger god. organic servos fizzle and hum and burn out centuries of ice; and he is a drowsy thing, still, in the mouth of something much, much bigger than him.

Drowsy is not the right word. Too human of a concept. It is atrophy in the way rigor mortis sets into a body, the way blood congeals after death, the once solid structure becomes soft and hard in all the wrong places. pulpy and calcified and off, but these are still viscerally, undeniably human concepts. ( organic concepts, he should say, biological concepts. funny, how on closer inspection, he is as much of a patient as he is a broken thing. engineering to medical, engineering to medical. ) he feels as though something has gone ‘off’ inside of him. rotten and wrong and disconnected. He could never call it a pleasant feeling.

Like the metal rods of a slow heating system, fossilized in it’s own inactivity, his mind begins to warm up again. slow at first, strings of processes and code raveled out onto a screen hooked into the ship as he begins diagnostics automatically, and in this way, begins to shiver & shake his way awake. the praying mantis shivering out of it’s molt, of it’s coma. like running those diagnostics, being the mantis, and finding limbs have been lost in the instar; lost in the transitioning. swathes of him, unseen, unfelt; phantom, in a way. ━ he never expected to wake up to feel them again, though. he'd question if this was death, but something deep in his being; still, persistent after anything, after everything; says he cannot die. refuses to let him. refuses to think. Many parts of him refuse to think, now, but the stoic rods hum to life as his little body crackles on the table with ice, with slate, with a millennium of things caught inside, and rendered their own kind of history.

The moment he is capable of processing what exactly that fills the screen hooked up into the ship, awaking from under a mountain range of warnings and errors and critical failures, he decides he hates it. they can see the decision made and string of interweaving terrible emotions in a series of technological languages he can only pray they do not understand, and decides he hates that too. a fast river of words and numbers and symbols humming down into the console. But it's when Kirk steps into his narrow range of vision, most of his sight destroyed over time by ice in the lenses and his Overseers nowhere to be found, that the screen speeds, and the body shifts.

The movement is a very small one, the adjustment of uncooperative limbs barely a half inch, wires and icy fabric fibers caught in the joints that, once, might've had ornate decoration carved into the metal, but the monitor screams past at a rate it's very likely no one expected such a small, broken thing to be able to input at all ( he does not see Kirk. he sees the people who were there before they were. the originals, the creators, the ancients. something in him buzzes with a terror unprecedented. he cannot stop seeing him for them. he cannot stop seeing them. )

━ until he does. of course he does. there are no masks, no ornate bindings, the frame too wide and the hands too straight; these are not the same. these could never be the same. ( your makers are gone, erased entire. you know this. there is no manner of living, and there is no manner of death, that can make you stop knowing this. ) but for a moment they seemed so similar, like caught in dreams, like caught in…

a pop-up appears on the monitor, and before it can be read or accepted, it vanishes; accepting itself, permission granted. the lights of his eyes flicker dully, barely there, old golden face-paint gleaming in 4 little dots above them reflecting like tiny lights in the overhead glow of the ship. ( an ant in the maw of a whale, a god in the mouth of a bigger god ━ and you just jammed your fingers into it's gums, didn't you? how rude to not ask for permission to their language. your terror has no need for words in this land of things so much stronger than you are. )

" Ppppllease━ " the voice that comes is crackled and broken and borderline incoherent, pitiably desperate, the screen flashing with an ancient, symbolic language. the pronunciation of every word is off, wrong in some way, as though he was learning it as he spoke. he was, of course. ( a frightened part of him insists that it's rude not to answer your host. you are a guest. don't do anything foolish. you shouldn't be here, after all. ) ━ it gets a little better as he speaks, between the glitching of an ancient audio system, and the fried wiring that connects it. he's… mostly understandable, so long as he speaks slowly enough. fingers twitch uncontrollably against the countertop as he speaks, a buzzing lowly humming from his neck. " rererrepeat what you. said? said. repeat. pleasse. I could not know━uunderstand you, administsts-strator. "

@quillheel asked ;

when making first contact, the planet looked entirely uninhabited. the ruins of cities looming in the distance and above, dangerous flora & fauna mixed with non-organic assets like hydraulics and oxygen-supported jets, giant superstructures lurching into the skyline where even more abandoned ruins were kept. strange golden things lurked just out of sight, but a feeling felt by every living creature, as snow plummeted down into a settling ice-age it seemed. The terrain showed considerable, terrible amounts of flooding; great pressures wreaking havoc, but in this it was probably good that they'd landed as late as they had, as the snow held back that overwhelming pressure, at least most of the time.

it's no different when finding one of those superstructures - incredibly advanced semi-organic supercomputers powered half with water and half with a liquid that ate through anything that touched it without a trace left behind - cracked open like an egg from time and wear. the building slowly collapsing in on itself, and a little robotic doll found inside, barely 4ft tall, hooked up to the rest of the building by a large metal arm long-since frozen to the ground, and the robot entirely inactive. It, seemingly the prior user of the miles worth of tubing and wiring that made it difficult to know what the machine wasn't capable of more than it was back in its hay-day, where starving organisms that acted like cell clusters that grew too large raged war inside the internals of the building.

When bringing the android back to the ship for analysis, after god knows how long of trying to find something that cooperated with the alien modules it used innately, it's not hard to guess that no one was expecting him to wake up. // from five pebbles! i very rarely do asks like this so i hope this is okay-!! feel free to change anything if not or if u have any questions!!!!

It's on planets like these , where danger seems to lurk around every corner and there's always that innate feeling that you're somehow being watched , that Jim's more on guard than usual. Leading the landing party by a small margin - phaser at his side and ready to stun , just in case. It's unlike any planet they have ever encountered before. Large buildings stretch into the sky , looming above them. A reminder that there was once a society that lived on this planet - and they were advanced , by the looks of it. The snow fell down around them ( and he would've liked it if not for the eeriness of the silence that snowfall often carries with it ) and he turned to Spock , who didn't seem too pleased with the harsh chill in the air. Neither did Doctor McCoy , for that matter. He was handling it a bit better , but the cold wasn't doing them any favors.

As they approached the structure , there was an air of hesitance as they neared the figure. The Enterprise never had the best track record when it came to robots of any kind ―― but it's inactivity was enough to pique their curiosity. He beckons Doctor McCoy forward , gesturing towards it. ❛ And what do you want me to do about this , Jim ? I'm a doctor , not a mechanic. ❜ The pointed eyebrow raised seared into the side of the Captain's face , and he just chuckled. ❛ Isn't there some kind of scan you can do , Bones ? Anything ? ❜ From the Captain's other side piped up the Vulcan Science Officer , who had neared the Robot , still and cold to the touch , for further investigation. ❛ I do unfortunately believe , Captain , that the Doctor is correct in this circumstance. Medical tricorders are meant for organic life. ❜ The doctor scoffs.

❛ Unfortunately. Like it's that hard to agree with me once in a while. Jim , why didn't you bring Scotty down here instead of me ? Lord knows he's got enough time on the conn to command his own ship by now. ❜

After freeing the robot from the metal arm and getting him back up to the Starship , Jim did take Bones' advice. Engineering was their best bet - to see if they could get any information out of the thing. Records of what the planet was like before it's ice - age. If there was , indeed , a race that once called the planet home. What they were like - what the purpose of those structures were. He noted the scarcity of food , not at all helped by the snow that showed no signs of showing. A pit grew in his stomach as he thought of all of the ways a society so advanced could fall ; plague , war , famine . . He quickly shook it away , turning back to Chief Engineer as he spoke up. ❛ Aye , Captain , you're not gonna believe this - but we've got the wee lad up and runnin'. ❜

Curious gaze fell upon the android , and he took a moment. Waking up in a foreign environment surrounded by people you've never seen before couldn't possibly be easy. And he doesn't even know if it speaks Federation standard. Slowly , he smiled , straightening himself up. ❛ Good morning , ❜ He began softly , gently. ❛ Can you understand me ? ❜