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nascereanyone up for an all-out sparring session or two?
or even if you need lessons in kicking ass.
hit me up.
- noctis
or even if you need lessons in kicking ass.
hit me up.
- noctis
nascere
004 [Video]
Jul. 11th, 2017 10:47 pmlifetothefullest[Lance is broadcasting from his kitchen, although aside from the backdrop being pretty universal among apartments it's otherwise difficult to pick out anything distinguishing about the room; he doesn't spend a lot of time in the kitchen, so it hasn't been too customized yet. But that suits his purposes well, since it doesn't reveal much and isn't too distracting.
He might look a bit tired, but still bright-eyed and welcoming as he addresses the camera.]
Hello, everyone, and especially all the people who are new; I know this is probably still all really strange.
[He'd been new not all that long ago, after all, and despite having been here a few months now it's still strange.]
I wanted to take the opportunity, both because of new arrivals and because of what happened at the end of last month, to remind everyone that the Clinic isn't just for physical injuries and illnesses. Although I'm not always at the Clinic, I'm a psychologist and if anyone wants to talk you can always contact me through a direct message to set up a time to meet.
[And, like last time--two months ago, it's hard to believe--he decides it's worthwhile to explain what exactly he means, for people whose world's don't have counseling.]
For those of you unfamiliar with what a psychologist does, it's basically our job to listen to and help with any problems someone might be having mentally or emotionally. Sometimes just one session of talking is enough to help, and sometimes it takes more regular meetings, but it's always up to the individual whether they want to continue with counseling. Additionally, anything you say during a session is confidential.
[Because that's pretty important to mention. And okay, main announcement now out of the way, he has a few individual messages to send.]
( [Private to Brennan and Zack] )
( [Private to Henry] )
He might look a bit tired, but still bright-eyed and welcoming as he addresses the camera.]
Hello, everyone, and especially all the people who are new; I know this is probably still all really strange.
[He'd been new not all that long ago, after all, and despite having been here a few months now it's still strange.]
I wanted to take the opportunity, both because of new arrivals and because of what happened at the end of last month, to remind everyone that the Clinic isn't just for physical injuries and illnesses. Although I'm not always at the Clinic, I'm a psychologist and if anyone wants to talk you can always contact me through a direct message to set up a time to meet.
[And, like last time--two months ago, it's hard to believe--he decides it's worthwhile to explain what exactly he means, for people whose world's don't have counseling.]
For those of you unfamiliar with what a psychologist does, it's basically our job to listen to and help with any problems someone might be having mentally or emotionally. Sometimes just one session of talking is enough to help, and sometimes it takes more regular meetings, but it's always up to the individual whether they want to continue with counseling. Additionally, anything you say during a session is confidential.
[Because that's pretty important to mention. And okay, main announcement now out of the way, he has a few individual messages to send.]
( [Private to Brennan and Zack] )
( [Private to Henry] )
FIFTH SONG ♫ TEXT
Jul. 1st, 2017 08:26 pmhasitsthornsFinally bit the dust.
Guess it was only a matter of time. Kind of impressed I lasted as long as I did without getting offed.
Show of hands, who else has died in this place?
Does it always suck a metric fuckton or is that just me?
Guess it was only a matter of time. Kind of impressed I lasted as long as I did without getting offed.
Show of hands, who else has died in this place?
Does it always suck a metric fuckton or is that just me?
005 | Video & Action | 24th
Jun. 24th, 2017 12:04 pmunitas[ The camera flickers to life showing off the inside of the Speakeasy. It's mostly quiet at the moment, a few people drinking their sorrows away in silence, hiding away from their ghosts. The video swivels to show off eight unique paintings spaced equally apart, one of each god, lining the back wall. They're all painted with black ink, names scribbled above their heads, and on each forehead is a bright red X, or, in Love's case, right in the middle of their pink fluffy self.
And then she turns the video to herself. Her dark roots are more visible and her pallor is off but she appears pleased with herself. There's a smudge of black paint on her cheek. ]
Anyone up for a game of darts? [ She says it with mock cheer, a spit in the face or whatever god is trying to force her to feel what they want. Her expression sours for a single moment, words turning icy. ] And to the asshole who thinks it's cool to play with our loved ones: fuck you. May you lose someone you care for and never, ever be able to bring them back.
[ Her eyes begin to sting as she punctuates that last sentence, nose turning a few shades pink, and she quickly swallows it back, bringing a drink up to her mouth with her other hand. It'll be over soon but for now, it's pain. It's pain for the people she loves here and she won't be quiet about it. She lets her voice soften as she continues, though her scowl remains. ] It's open to all, obviously, and I'll make certain to do upkeep on them so you never have to miss their stupid, smug ass faces. Though, someone should sew up a curtain large enough to cover that wall when no one's playing; no one wants to see them all the time.
[ Don't you love how she doesn't ask? In any case, she ends the feed at that moment. If anyone wants her, she's available at the bar for action threads, tossing makeshift darts at Sorrow's face. ]
And then she turns the video to herself. Her dark roots are more visible and her pallor is off but she appears pleased with herself. There's a smudge of black paint on her cheek. ]
Anyone up for a game of darts? [ She says it with mock cheer, a spit in the face or whatever god is trying to force her to feel what they want. Her expression sours for a single moment, words turning icy. ] And to the asshole who thinks it's cool to play with our loved ones: fuck you. May you lose someone you care for and never, ever be able to bring them back.
[ Her eyes begin to sting as she punctuates that last sentence, nose turning a few shades pink, and she quickly swallows it back, bringing a drink up to her mouth with her other hand. It'll be over soon but for now, it's pain. It's pain for the people she loves here and she won't be quiet about it. She lets her voice soften as she continues, though her scowl remains. ] It's open to all, obviously, and I'll make certain to do upkeep on them so you never have to miss their stupid, smug ass faces. Though, someone should sew up a curtain large enough to cover that wall when no one's playing; no one wants to see them all the time.
[ Don't you love how she doesn't ask? In any case, she ends the feed at that moment. If anyone wants her, she's available at the bar for action threads, tossing makeshift darts at Sorrow's face. ]
prophesiedoneSo...relatives? How many do you have in Hadriel? I'm lucky to have two by the looks of it, but -
I didn't know either of them.
It's weird. I feel like I should be better prepared for a lot of things.
[This is Anakin Skywalker, he who fails at life repeatedly and yet claims, with dramatic intensity, that he is more than wise enough, more than powerful enough to be on the Jedi Council.]
It's weird. I feel like I should be better prepared for a lot of things.
[This is Anakin Skywalker, he who fails at life repeatedly and yet claims, with dramatic intensity, that he is more than wise enough, more than powerful enough to be on the Jedi Council.]
ushahin[The first thing that is seen when the camera turns on is one bright, beady, avian eye. Fetch has been watching this device for months, and while he may not understand entirely how it works, he's out of options right now. He stares and pecks at it for a moment, then grumbles out a throaty Cawww! For anyone who understands the language of the birds, it's basically a cry for help, for he's become very worried about his companion. He picks up the device in his claws and turns it around.
The view is of the house Ushahin and Shadow share, but it looks as though someone has completely wrecked it. Things are broken on the floor, flung all over the place, the shades are drawn, leaving the room in shadows, and there in the corner the half-man is curled up, his back against the wall with his knees in front of him. His voice is hoarse as though he's been talking for hours.]
Gone. All gone. I should have known. Nothing ever lasts. They leave me, all of them, no matter what. Yes, this is my fate. Of course. That's the pattern Calanthrag showed me.
[For anyone who ever wondered what Ushahin meant when he said he wasn't entirely sane, this is what he was referring to. Those moments that happen where he entirely breaks down, sinking into the madness that clouded his thoughts. Though it is hard to see in the gloom, there is a dark helm right next to Ushahin's figure. This is the Helm of Shadows, a mighty piece of magic that amplifies the powers of a psychic. He traces one of his long fingers over it.]
I can't stand it. Not any longer.
[Fetch seems to know something is coming, and for the first time in his life, he defies his friend. Flying at him, he tries to get him to stop this course of action, trying to claw and peck at him. But it is too late. Ushahin's mind is made up. He bats away the raven and places the helm on his head.]
They will all know what it feels like.
[Then, his powers amplified by the helm, he broadcasts all that he feels to the residents of Hadriel. It won't affect all of them, but it will reach quite a few. There's pain, madness, despair, fear, and everything else that the Dreamer has experienced over the past year of his long life. Losing his best friend had just been the tipping point. The experience won't last for long, only a minute at the most, but it is a minute of sheer agony. When he is finished, he wrenches the helm off, and tosses it to the side. His eyes close, and while he isn't asleep, his strength is spent. At least the madness in his mind has been quieted.]
The view is of the house Ushahin and Shadow share, but it looks as though someone has completely wrecked it. Things are broken on the floor, flung all over the place, the shades are drawn, leaving the room in shadows, and there in the corner the half-man is curled up, his back against the wall with his knees in front of him. His voice is hoarse as though he's been talking for hours.]
Gone. All gone. I should have known. Nothing ever lasts. They leave me, all of them, no matter what. Yes, this is my fate. Of course. That's the pattern Calanthrag showed me.
[For anyone who ever wondered what Ushahin meant when he said he wasn't entirely sane, this is what he was referring to. Those moments that happen where he entirely breaks down, sinking into the madness that clouded his thoughts. Though it is hard to see in the gloom, there is a dark helm right next to Ushahin's figure. This is the Helm of Shadows, a mighty piece of magic that amplifies the powers of a psychic. He traces one of his long fingers over it.]
I can't stand it. Not any longer.
[Fetch seems to know something is coming, and for the first time in his life, he defies his friend. Flying at him, he tries to get him to stop this course of action, trying to claw and peck at him. But it is too late. Ushahin's mind is made up. He bats away the raven and places the helm on his head.]
They will all know what it feels like.
[Then, his powers amplified by the helm, he broadcasts all that he feels to the residents of Hadriel. It won't affect all of them, but it will reach quite a few. There's pain, madness, despair, fear, and everything else that the Dreamer has experienced over the past year of his long life. Losing his best friend had just been the tipping point. The experience won't last for long, only a minute at the most, but it is a minute of sheer agony. When he is finished, he wrenches the helm off, and tosses it to the side. His eyes close, and while he isn't asleep, his strength is spent. At least the madness in his mind has been quieted.]