zauneyete | KENOS IC CONTACT

[ It's taken him about half of what passes for morning to get here this time, so even though Amos is getting increasingly familiar with the ticking clock that is being away from Highstorm, he knows he's got time.

There hadn't seemed to be any downsides to accruing two tiers' worth of discord at first — he could lean further into the Zenith, feel more at home with it — but once it had become clear to him that he might be spending more time in Springstar this month, actually. Once he'd first tested it, making damn well sure he knew the pathways to take. Once he'd started walking along Kowloon's streets, and he'd felt that unpleasant sensation, realized he needed to go back so soon—

Well. It was irritable as fuck.

But at least the sun wasn't a problem here, so, silver linings.

Emerging from one of the tunnels to Kowloon itself, Amos walks down one of its streets at a casual pace, looking around with eyes darkened with black sclera and feeling right at home despite being away from Highstorm. This is the closest thing he'll get to being back in Baltimore. Real Baltimore, with all of its criminal elements, except here it's handily all in one place rather than mixed awkwardly with regular society. There are no sloppily-applied coats of paint, no inkling of surprise crackdowns — it's unabashed, unashamed, honest, and maybe he should feel uneasy about how naturally he slides right into the environment, but it doesn't occur to him that he should feel uneasy, so he doesn't.

He comes up along Draumahol, leans against one of its walls, far enough away from its main entrance. He loosely crosses his arms over his chest as he looks upward at the rest of the city above him, thinking. Alright, so he should probably try to grid this. Divide the city up into searchable pieces, tackle as many as he can in a day, and eventually he'll find the shop Kathova had alluded to, and he can go from there. It's basic, but it's as solid of a plan as any—

Did he just see someone?

He lowers his gaze back to street level, pushing himself off from the wall, and just ends up... blinking, at first. That looks like Silco— Actually, considering where they are, it's almost certainly Silco.

Well, I'll be damned, he thinks, light and easy as he raises a hand up in a sort of wave. Either he looks like an idiot to someone he doesn't know, or, fancy seeing you here. ]

[ five days, Silco has been gone.

it's been five days since a panicked, frantic Communion was sent that summoned Kaeya to Highstorm; five days since they had come to the Tree with an unmistakable Shard. five days since it sank into the earth, slowly swallowed by the soft soil. five days since Silco had fallen at Vander's hand in the Markets. five days since he breathed his last strangled breath in his enemy's clutches.

the cocoon had formed along the Tree's base along its roots; Jinx and Kaeya could do nothing but watch as it slowly went to work rebuilding the man from the inside out around his Shard. it was so, so tedious a process when they could do nothing to speed it along, to affect it, when their only choice was to hover in wait and watch.

but finally... finally, those five agonizing days after death - there are signs of movement for the first time within that cocoon.

Jinx, seated in the grass beneath the Tree and close by her father's side, uncurls a little where she had been sitting with knees hugged loosely to her chest. it hasn't been a Good Time, and Lord knows poor Kaeya has done all he could in dealing with the fallout - but she has not taken this whole situation very well. (it isn't like he's doing the best either, is he?) but there is only one thing that will truly appease them, one thing that will make this even close to right again--

which becomes very evident as she sits up onto her knees, pressing one hand tentatively against the fleshy exterior of the cocoon's veiny surface. ]

--Silco?

[ the cracked hope in her voice is painful.

people don't come back from the dead. miracles don't happen. everyone who's ever left her that way have never returned. there are no second chances.

but there is something so terribly and infuriatingly ironic that this isn't the first time the dead have come back to life - and it was that man who put this one down to what should have been a final rest.

--it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter; she's sending a flighty look over her shoulder to where Kaeya lingers nearby as if questioning if he can see it, too. a sign of... life. a sign. a sign it's real. that he's going to come back.

please... come back. tell her he's really coming back. ]

[ Amos probably owes Silco after he retrieved his shard for him, didn't leave him trapped within his soul at the mercy of Ryad's denizens. Yes, they may technically be a sort of co-workers, and there's some kind of unspoken professional obligation there, but... still. He didn't actually have to.

That, and the part where Amos knows he's going to be coming back to Silco for his services one of these days. Not just yet — dying takes a fair bit out of you, turns out — but one day. Because he'd drowned in rage with barely a second thought this time, which means there's going to be more trial in his future. Hopefully less error.

So, he had reason to come back to Silco's outpost anyway.

That, and the job he's been given.

It's nothing personal. Sure, Amos might be encouraged to do it a little just because he has his own personal reservations about the man — they clearly have different priorities in life, even if they're both Zenites — but ultimately, it's just a job. He's been given work to do, and he'll get his own form of payment after. Virtually everyone in Kowloon would understand, and he'd be surprised if Silco wouldn't do the exact same thing to him if their roles were reversed.

It's a few days after the harmonization ceremony that he's picked up the eye to use to bug the outpost. Amos doesn't go for it right away; he takes a casual stroll up to Ryad, noting who's around at this particular time of day. Spreads his visits out at different times of day over the next week or so, a casual observer who never gets too close, does his best to go unseen. And when he thinks he's found a time of day he'll be able to slip into the outpost on his own, he goes for it.

Amos glances around, knowing that even if he's got the interior of the outpost all to himself at the moment, that can be disrupted at any time. Somewhere this eye won't be found... everywhere he looks just feels kinda obvious, though, and the clock's ticking.

He looks up.

Yes.

He makes his way over to the fluorescent light closest to Silco's desk, hanging from the ceiling. Angles himself just where he wants to be under it, and then turns off gravity's effects on him. It's been a while since he's been in zero g, but it's like a muscle memory — Amos floats up, right beside the light. He places a hand against the ceiling to steady himself, bringing himself to a stop right where he needs to be at the casing at the light's end. Holding the eye up to it to gauge the size, he pulls out a sharpened screwdriver from his pocket and stabs it into the casing, the force he's capable of now creating a puncture wound. From there he's got to work to make the hole just big enough to fit the eye through, a makeshift and utterly human drill, still on the clock...

Shit, are those footsteps? Amos doesn't have time to risk a glance over his shoulder. He pockets the screwdriver, taking the eye back out and working to force it into the hole...

It takes a bit of maneuvering before it settles right in, now filling the hole in the light's casing he'd made, looking out over much of the outpost's interior. Amos pushes himself off of the ceiling, turning gravity back on for him, get to the ground don't draw any attention to that light fixture whatsoever—

He's the picture of calm and poise as soon as his feet touch the ground, manoeuvring himself around Silco's desk like he owns the place. What're these books on the bookshelf? Maybe he'll take a look, ignoring any sounds of steps now — it's not like he's doing anything wrong, after all. ]

[ hey Silco!! it's late one night early in the second half of Takiltu, closing in on what is high moon (midnight) in Highstorm. where can one find their favorite little ~~rat~~ Zaunite...? ]

Mr. Silco,

As a brief note, I have moved out of Lady Yima's manor. Since it seems she (or Mr. Kathova?) has a fondness for giving me animals, the space was no longer suitable for their needs. Feel free to drop by if you wish, as I will give you a key to allow yourself in regardless. It is quite near the Tomes.

[ Also sent is the Communion equivalent of GPS directions for where his house is, since he's ever thorough ]

In addition, now that he is thoroughly trained, please do stop by to meet the third pet sometime. It is a practical matter, I assure you, as it is a creature from my realm rather than a much more docile (but more charming) cat. Should you let yourself in, he needs to know not to attack, in short.

Yours,
Sebastian Michaelis

[ Past the events of the Scorching Isles, Silco will receive... A very nice, handwritten letter! Which, if you prefer the actual easy to read text (fair), is here. ]

[ Also included is Sebastian's address, which is located near the Tomes in Highstorm. Silco in particular has an additional note simply saying that he's inviting Misa Amane, Set, Voryn Dagoth, Amos Burton, Emet-Selch, Liem Talbott, Akua Sahelian, Lottie Person, and Matsui Gou, but "who may tag along, I cannot guess." Should your character wish to attend (and bring a +1), that log is a mingle style one here! No pressure to tag it if you're busy, but just let me know whether your character attends or not if you can't swing it OOC! ]

[ Set arrives soon after breaking the finger of a street urchin attempting to harass him in the streets. A crime for a crime, in the neutral district of Kowloon — and the bold, brassy claim of his affiliation with the owner of the den of iniquity he arrives to visit. Dressed in a linen wrap, hair loose around his shoulders, even the god manages to look resplendent in his recovery.

He enters Draumahol, signaling to Gregór that it is him ( and does not loosen his guard, for even if at this time he is a welcome, invisible partner, the next time? Silco might recant and make life harder for him ). And it is to the office he goes, trailing his way up to rap his knuckles upon Silco's door — to mindfully wait, if he has business he is attending, before swanning in with the carelessness befitting him. The scent of Meridian's energy is scalding upon him, any exhaustion under his eyes hidden by fresh, bold makeup and — there is something different to him.

A complex thing, as he slips into the space and chirps brightly: ] I think we ought to start scheming our approach to the next Oracle, hm? You still owe me your aid, since we could not compromise you the last time.

[ hey silco! ]

[ Despite his time spent in Kowloon, Amos is not a frequent visitor to Draumahol. Hell, it's entirely possible this is his first time in it, the vices it offers not exactly his usual fare — even though he has indulged in one of its newest ones a couple of times.

Well. Maybe not indulged, but at least ingested. Really, that's at least one of the reasons Amos has turned up here; one of a handful of subjects he needs to talk about with a certain someone.

He knows who owns the place now, after all. And so he just walks on in — and, since it's early evening, gets blasted with loud sounds and bright lights, the start of a rave that he is actually not here for and is going to make this marginally more difficult.

Amos holds up a hand to shield his eyes from the flashing lights as he looks around the main floor, but who is he kidding? Silco is not going to be among that mass of bodies — and so it's completely unceremoniously that he resorts to communion, amiably placid as though he's at a tea shop in Highstorm, instead of... this. ]

Hey. You at your place? Figure we got some notes to compare.

[ Well. Turns out he hates this place.

Late one evening finds Gen slinking through the streets of Ryad, hands in pockets and head held high, expression held at a stoic neutral as he casts about at unfamiliar surroundings. Everything about his posture telegraphs confidence -- or at least, almost everything. Hidden within the pointy little pockets of his hood, his canine ears are gently canted back, and beneath the long drape of his coat, his tail holds close to his body. The sound of a loud scrape from off to the side has him looking over a little too quickly before he trains his gaze ahead once more with a click of the tongue.

As much as he's accustomed to keeping a straight face and playing casual, he knows he doesn't belong here. The very air tastes sharp, almost metallic with tension and bloodlust, and he can feel too many eyes on him, prickling at his skin. His instincts tell him to get the fuck out of here -- and that the only reason he's being left alone is thanks to the gold pin gleaming at his chest.

At least it's good to know that the day spent having to cooperate with those two obnoxious assholes (read: Sebastian and Makoto) was worth it. Gen breathes a quiet sigh to himself as he turns off a street and down another, adjusting the sit of his hood to ease some of the nervous energy swimming in his veins. Now that he's confirmed the badge's efficacy, he's technically finished what he set out to do for the evening, and considers returning back to the more familiar streets of upper Kowloon.

... until he spots a familiar figure just down the block, already glancing in his direction.

The dim lighting of this place makes it hard to tell if Silco's noticed or recognized him yet; quick mental math tells him that, either way, acting like he hasn't seen the other is a cowardly move that'll probably just put him on the back foot. So. ]

'course a guy like you would be hanging out in this place. [ Gen speaks up at a haughty deadpan. Though he doesn't speak loudly, this area of Ryad is quiet and his words carry. A cant of the head as he looks Silco over. ] 's it just your hobby? Looking like as much of a creep as you can?

[ It's 40% his usual teenage puffery, 40% a desire to be shitty for Gray's sake, and ... 20% nervous energy expressing itself as metaphorical raised hackles, like an animal baring its teeth. ]

[ — the point where Communion violently begins is born from the sense of intimate connection developed between two individuals.

It is very obviously a burning, bright thing from Set, whose mind scatters into the corners of those he has forged some sort of companionship with — for duty, for responsibility, for fun, for solemn vow. What arrives is the briefest sense of rising disorientation, woven through with a burst of wrath and grief so white-hot that it might char flesh from bone within seconds, shot through with rapture and the whiplash of love. It rises like a dying, murderous sun ( like Meridian ) — stifling and acute and suffocating — only to be tempered within seconds, by the cool, crisp wash of the dark sea ( like Zenith ), tempered and soothed with all edges laid flat once more.

The Communion plunges into quiet and calm, like a great, purring beast, and ends as abruptly as it began. ]

[ Silco the Oracle, and loses a hand right after. Set arrives to his office in Kowloon hot on the heels of this thread, several days following. He comes through the connection that the man has permitted him to have, the direct connection through the Cornerstone — his expression murderous, wild-eyed and feral with rage. ]

— Silco! [ He roars, teeth flashing bright and sharp. Fingers curled into claws, into murderous hooks with which he wants to rip someone to shreds. With which he wants to make someone suffer. It is ironic, that he goes to a Zenite for a Zenites crime. It is not ironic that he goes to Silco, because Silco will understand. Beyond the veil of fatherhood lies grief, grief that has transformed into wrath and injury so soul-deep that the last man who had hurt Set in such a way was the one he had torn from the throne of Egypt and confined in Duat.

Already, he is figuring out how to punish Minegishi Gen, to the extreme. ] SILCO!

[

Meridian's heat ( the desert's arid, burning heat — ) wicks off of him like a wildfire, he glows vaguely at the ends of his fingers and hair like he's ready to throw everything he has into this man's hands, provided he gets what he wants. There has never been a moment where he has not understood Silco, but right now? They are the same fucking animal, hateful and spitting venom. Above anyone else, it is Silco that he goes to. Silco is his comfort, because Silco will not try to fix it. He'll feed it. ]

HE DARED. HE DARED PUT HIS ABOVE MINE —!

[ He knows Jinx is gone. Her loss in the clutch of Savant feels like a loss of some vital part of him.

The world gave their children to them, and someone ( something ) dared take them away. ]

Edited 2023-09-20 00:34 (UTC)

[ It shouldn't have taken this long for him to make this move.

To be fair, it had been a bit of a lofty goal in the first place: infiltrate Silco's office and find the chance to snuff him out in an ambush. Turns out Silco is even more of a cautious, sneaky fucker than Gen had anticipated. Just figuring out the location of Silco's office had taken quite some time -- his ability to traverse the floors of Draumahol undetected hadn't granted him any magic invisibility, after all, and he'd had to move cautiously, sticking to the shadows and carefully avoiding being spotted as he ticked each room off a mental list. And even once he'd figured out the location of Silco's office, he'd then needed to get a better idea of Silco's schedule.

Just retrieving what Silco had taken from Gray wasn't the point, after all. He needed to make sure Silco also suffered, and ideally died. An eye for eye, as the saying goes. And while he's yet to fully prepare himself for the task, feeling like he's still missing a few crumbs of information that would really seal the deal -- has yet to establish the connection he'd need to meet Silco face to face and truly get to him to drop his guard -- that's fine, actually. He might as well make his move now, something tells him. (Set's Geas whispers at the back of his mind, stirring a manic bloodlust. Zenith must bleed. Might as well make it someone who he'd been meaning to kill in the first place.)

An evening finds Gen waiting patiently where he lurks within the floor of Silco's office, just one pointy canine ear poking up above the surface, near-invisible in the shadows of a corner, so he can listen carefully. He hears Silco enter, and he hears the creak of the man's weight sinking into a chair; hears the ruffle of paper afterward, the rustle of drawers opening and closing, other movements. How long should he wait? -- longer, probably. Long enough he can be certain Silco's really immersed himself in his work. But too long, and won't Silco leave? That last thought, combined with his innately impatient nature, is what has Gen moving probably a bit sooner than he should have. And so, before Silco can fully lose himself in his work

-- the faint rustle of movement from behind him, as long as a shadow flickering over him. Gen might have risen from the floor in complete silence, but his movements make a normal, human amount of noise, raising a normal, human amount of alarm. Perhaps just enough noise for Silco to catch on before the knife Gen wields finds its home in the side of Silco's throat, where Gen has aimed it. ]

[ Very suddenly, there’s a sense of Communion touching your character’s mind. However, it’s as if they connect with the mind of a shared Aspect, as they’re not able to block out the brief, but sharp memory that comes to them. ]

They’re a Shard-Bearer from a world where everything is long gone, destroyed hundreds of years ago. In a Highstorm garden, they carefully plant seeds in fertile soil and feel something like hope for the first time in their life.

[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]

[ AGGRESSIVELY TAPS ON HIS AQUARIUM GLASS ]

[ Or, after hearing Fane's address to everyone and how Silco in particular is mentioned, Quetzalcoatl can't help but feel a little guilty, even if indirectly. So, the people that had gotten dissipated were back. But Silco is sitting on a table in her modest Heliopolis room. She'd made him a little bed of Cempoalxóchitl, since even when she'd brought his Shard back, the idea of tucking him away in a drawer felt too cruel. He was at least safe here in her room, and if she was going to be out to her temple for a day, she'd usually bring Silco's Shard with her. It's the sort of kindness that he'd surely despise.

And for a while, she sits looking at it with her head in her hands thoughtfully. She considers maybe just giving it to Cyrus or Set, since they'd surely have fewer difficulties with how to handle him... But she hasn't decided yet. So, maybe it's to help her decide.

The familiar, always sunny warmth of Quetzalcoatl's mind reaches out to Silco's, but this time, he's a Shard and nothing else. Still, her presence is like an outstretched hand to help him up. ]

Ey, Silco?

[ She's a little curious at first, because she's never tried to speak to a Shard this way. She's not totally sure if it'll work! ]

You're here, yes?

[ Knock, knock goes Amos' metaphysical hand against the metaphysical door to Silco's mind, requesting entrance but like, politely.

And, immediately upon being granted access: ]

Those attacks in Springstar. That you?

[ set

just leaves this in silco's notebook. CURSES ARE REAL SHIT OK???? ]

you've been spotted by the $ MONEY GOO$E $

you cannot escape this goose, and i am cursing you eternally <3

[ Link's Communion explodes into the mind of every Zenite, like the opening of a window during a hurricane. It rushes in with an intense and primal sense of panic, a mixture of both fight and flight, and the horror of knowing that neither has worked. A certain death is imposing down on him. If you've died before, you'll likely recognize this potent cocktail of desperation that's suddenly flooding your mind. But unlike the flashing of one's life in the moment before the end, this moment is filled with purpose — unfocused and clumsy, but desperately bold and determined. The message is not conveyed in words, but in feelings and impressions, unbound by the limitations of language and becoming that much more distinct and impossible to misinterpret. ]

Get away from the Manor.

Get out of Highstorm if you can.

The Meridian —

[ ...and then, it's gone. Both the message and the roaring sensations that carry it halt abruptly, like the slamming of a door — but, even a slammed door makes a sharp noise as it shuts, sends a gust of wind as it moves on its hinges. This sudden stop doesn't come with anything, no friction, no echo, not even the intentionality of closing a Communion once a person has said what they meant to say. Just stillness. ]

[ because trying to type it out in the subject like i was like wow this got specific ]

[ Anyways. It's probably a surprise when someone reaches out to Silco through Communion, and likely even more of one when he finds it's not one that he's able to block. A fellow Harbinger is reaching out to him, after all. It's a roil of dark, fragrant smoke that smells of copal—earthy and piney—and it's a presence that Silco will likely become much more familiar with from now on. When he speaks, there's at least no mystery in who this is. ]

What's up, danger?

[ Did Silco just get a new nickname or is this a fluke? Who knows! ]

[ Nevermind everything Silco had said, let alone how long he had gone on for. Amos had only been half-listening when his voice entered his mind, the rest of him more focused on something else. Something very, very specific; a feeling, a presence.

Let their compatriots chew him out however they saw fit; that was their business. And Amos' was much more narrow in scope, both because he's already well aware that Silco is never going to change — and also because there's the chance he might.

And so, well after everyone has gotten what they've felt they needed to off their chests, in the dead of night, Amos requests his company.

And again, without any preamble, ] Did you see Yima?

[ But he isn't desperate for news on her welfare. He does not know of her state, and is simply convinced that she is still out there somewhere. He doesn't need more than that, confident that she will return, one way or another.

No — it's more a question for Silco, a curiosity he wants an answer on. If you did, did she impart anything on you, because he swears he can sense something. ]

[ Before he attempts Communion this time, Matt's personal meditative list of repressed topics grows by a few items: in addition to his feelings about Yima and the impressions gleaned from Silco, he adds "Meridians," "any sexual contact he's had since arriving here," and the phrase surprisingly compliant.

You're fucking welcome. ]

I'll keep this short. I know you think I was spying on you the other night. I wasn't, but you weren't amenable to hearing it then so I can't imagine you are now.

Unfortunately, a few of my friends seem to really like your place. And I'd like to be able to see them there with a minimum of drama and assault.

Can we make a deal?

Edited 2024-03-12 03:53 (UTC)

action, early Takiltu.

backdated to late Iqnu (October 30th), Tree of Life

action, a couple of weeks after Ryad round 1.

action; (time wise - anytime pre-event of your choosing!)

communion but like text because empathy sucks (also whenever)