i've received the strangest gift of a lot of unidentifiable currency scattered around my room--it appraises for a lot of value, so i'm now ... comfortably well-off in terms of money. this doesn't seem like your style and i haven't done anything to deserve it, and yet i feel like i have to ask since you're the only being i know who can create things. do you know anything about this?
I've no recollection of breaking into your room for the sake of creating anything, including currency. There's others from my star here who would be capable of similar acts, but I doubt they would have anything to do with this either.
Considering all the exploration you've organized, it seems more likely to be something one of them found, and left ominously for you.
Yeah, I didn't think you would. Figured I should be thorough enough to ask, though.
And yes, that seems like a likely possibility. [ Actually, he disagrees--he doesn't think any of his exploration teams had anything to do with this little 'prank'. But his other working theory (some other god or superior being?) sounds insane even in his own head, and he wants Emet-Selch's respect too much to suggest something so purely ridiculous. ]
[He hadn't even been thinking of it as a 'prank' so much as some poorly-communicated delivery of dubious goods.
It made more sense to him than 'a divinity decided to fill his room with old coins'. Or himself, in some fugue state.]
Failing myself and your entourage... I hope you have some other lead.
Still, in addition to all else we're made to suffer, if we're now to be struck by mysterious invasions of our limited privacy, at least it had the decency to leave behind something useful.
[He wouldn't like it either, though. What's the catch? Who did this and why?]
[And he'll return with voice... it was easier than typing with claws (though he still stubbornly did it), and it spared everyone the poor state of his feathers.]
I've nothing but time for you Elidibus. And yes, I've noticed he's joined us for our reunion.
Indeed. My concern is that his place in the timeline does not appear to be congruent with ours. To him, the star has only just been sundered; he remembers naught of the following 12,000 years.
This presents a number of concerns. I cannot decide if it would be better to keep the truth from him or not... to say nothing of the fact that this would mean he should be tempered currently, adding to the complications.
To say nothing of the idea that he will bring that knowledge back with him into the past...
[He isn't sure of Emet-Selch's stance on the way the world is, the way it will ever remain, but he is sure of one thing, left drifting in the Aetherial Sea with his thoughts as he was: it is fine the way it is.
It almost feels shameful to think, much less to confess to after all of their time spent tempered and utterly convinced these people were less than people because they weren't the same people they once were. He spends a moment just quietly breathing, considering his next choice of words.]
It would not be the first time I have kept necessary secrets from Lahabrea, or indeed, any of the Convocation. But that does not mean I would enjoy doing it. I know full well he will eventually pursue answers, and I would be fool to think he doesn't already know we might be withholding something from him.
[ Honestly, she should've reached out to him sooner than this to check in. But he's the only other aves she knows and trusts to be at least somewhat candid, so... ]
Emet-Selch, it's Mel. When you've a chance, could you give me a call back? There are a few things I'd like to pick your thoughts about.
[So formal... but it's polite, so who's he to complain? And Mel was one of those people he knew he should check in with- but gods, he is not having a great time with his corruption, and the less chance anyone has to actually see the mess he's in, the better.
Voice is perfect. He can always pretend to be idle and unaffected, though Mel also gets a return of something like politeness.]
Of course. Has a new misfortune arisen, or has some nuance shaded the problems we already know about?
[As he readily assumes that this is of course about something negative.]
Ah, you should've told me you were clairvoyant as well. I wouldn't have needed to bother you.
[ It's said in gentle jest, because... Well, he's got the right of it. Nothing good warrants a phone call these days, either, and the city's had its never-ending share of problems. It's not a difficult guess. ]
I was calling, first, to check in on you. [ And before that seems too vulnerable thing to ask, she follows it with: ] Because these changes have finally caught up with me, and I had a feeling I wasn't alone in that regard.
[That gets her a small laugh. It really didn't take much guessing that all news was bad news.
Even the checking in- it was a reminder that other people existed, potentially going through the same thing, and he didn't have to endure this process on his own, no matter how habit and instinct told him otherwise.]
I assume you've also grown more than a few feathers by now. I'm not acquainted with any other aves, so I've only myself to go on when it comes to progression. It's not exactly been pretty.
They're all over my arms now. Not overly thick yet but...
[ Well, it's only a matter of time. They're dark enough that they can't be hidden unless she wants to wear long sleeves and be terribly uncomfortable for her arms. And now it's summer. Ugh. ]
The legs came in this week, and that's— [ A problem. ] I could have mostly managed with the feathers. And the teeth. ...And the tail. But these?
i doubt you've requested visitors ever in your entire life
[ But anyway he's learned to speak Emet-Selch enough to take that as a 'yes'. So he'll turn up about twenty minutes later with a couple of parcels of takeout food in a bag over his shoulder and a pair of flower crowns held very carefully in his hands, kicking the door to 'knock' because his hands are full. He grins when his friend opens the door. ]
[True on all accounts, and he doesn't answer in favor of becoming at least vaguely presentable- enough to open the door, anyway.
At least he can walk these days, though he still didn't go out much. But Emet-Selch is in not quite as awful shape when he 'greets' Gojo with a pre-prepared frown (his resting expression). The food, the crowns- his eyes linger on them for a fraction too long to match the disinterested disapproval he's attempting to demonstrate. He does resist reaching for any of it, even for the sake of relieving Gojo's burden.
The name-drop has his expression shift into something more genuinely, yet performatively pained, as his whole demeanor droops, claws digging into the door as if to catch himself against it.]
I'd recently experienced a horrible chill, delivered directly down my spine. I suppose that meeting was the cause.
[One of his greatest fears: his friends meeting his other friends.]
[ Gojo laughs at that despairing complaint. Emet-Selch really does make schadenfreude remarkably easy and fun.
He holds out the two crowns, holding them very carefully with fingers splayed so that they won't crush each other. One of them is a crown of purple-red trumpet blossoms so dark as to be almost black, woven with little sprays of tiny white flowers in between, and the other crown is of five-petal blue flowers with white centers, accented with little sprays of smaller yellow flowers. ] The blue one is for Hythlodaeus. The purple one is for you.
[ Making flower crowns for Emet-Selch is just so ridiculous and brings Gojo such glee. Grumpy birb needs flowers. ]
[What... did this even mean? Was Mettaton the kitten? What did that have to do with the rest of it?
He stares at this inscrutable (oh it was very scrutable, he just didn't want to scrut it) message for at least a minute before thumbing back to reply.]
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Considering all the exploration you've organized, it seems more likely to be something one of them found, and left ominously for you.
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And yes, that seems like a likely possibility. [ Actually, he disagrees--he doesn't think any of his exploration teams had anything to do with this little 'prank'. But his other working theory (some other god or superior being?) sounds insane even in his own head, and he wants Emet-Selch's respect too much to suggest something so purely ridiculous. ]
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It made more sense to him than 'a divinity decided to fill his room with old coins'. Or himself, in some fugue state.]
Failing myself and your entourage... I hope you have some other lead.
Still, in addition to all else we're made to suffer, if we're now to be struck by mysterious invasions of our limited privacy, at least it had the decency to leave behind something useful.
[He wouldn't like it either, though. What's the catch? Who did this and why?]
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But it's hard to remain annoyed in the face of such value. Money is useful, after all.
How's your busy nap schedule holding up?
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voice
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I've nothing but time for you Elidibus. And yes, I've noticed he's joined us for our reunion.
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This presents a number of concerns. I cannot decide if it would be better to keep the truth from him or not... to say nothing of the fact that this would mean he should be tempered currently, adding to the complications.
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[At least he remembered the sundering. That would have been even more complicated to hide, and a more miserable fate to have to deliver.
There's another sigh over the Syntrofos. (Also a background clicking as his claws absently tap against the side of it.]
I would dislike keeping it from him. I'm similarly loathe to deliver the bad news that we failed, and failed after twelve-thousand years of effort.
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[He isn't sure of Emet-Selch's stance on the way the world is, the way it will ever remain, but he is sure of one thing, left drifting in the Aetherial Sea with his thoughts as he was: it is fine the way it is.
It almost feels shameful to think, much less to confess to after all of their time spent tempered and utterly convinced these people were less than people because they weren't the same people they once were. He spends a moment just quietly breathing, considering his next choice of words.]
It would not be the first time I have kept necessary secrets from Lahabrea, or indeed, any of the Convocation. But that does not mean I would enjoy doing it. I know full well he will eventually pursue answers, and I would be fool to think he doesn't already know we might be withholding something from him.
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voicemail.
Emet-Selch, it's Mel. When you've a chance, could you give me a call back? There are a few things I'd like to pick your thoughts about.
[ why does this sound so formal goodness ]
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Voice is perfect. He can always pretend to be idle and unaffected, though Mel also gets a return of something like politeness.]
Of course. Has a new misfortune arisen, or has some nuance shaded the problems we already know about?
[As he readily assumes that this is of course about something negative.]
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[ It's said in gentle jest, because... Well, he's got the right of it. Nothing good warrants a phone call these days, either, and the city's had its never-ending share of problems. It's not a difficult guess. ]
I was calling, first, to check in on you. [ And before that seems too vulnerable thing to ask, she follows it with: ] Because these changes have finally caught up with me, and I had a feeling I wasn't alone in that regard.
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Even the checking in- it was a reminder that other people existed, potentially going through the same thing, and he didn't have to endure this process on his own, no matter how habit and instinct told him otherwise.]
I assume you've also grown more than a few feathers by now. I'm not acquainted with any other aves, so I've only myself to go on when it comes to progression. It's not exactly been pretty.
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[ Well, it's only a matter of time. They're dark enough that they can't be hidden unless she wants to wear long sleeves and be terribly uncomfortable for her arms. And now it's summer. Ugh. ]
The legs came in this week, and that's— [ A problem. ] I could have mostly managed with the feathers. And the teeth. ...And the tail. But these?
[ Awful. ]
How are you faring? Where are your changes at?
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[Yes he's in.]
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[ But anyway he's learned to speak Emet-Selch enough to take that as a 'yes'. So he'll turn up about twenty minutes later with a couple of parcels of takeout food in a bag over his shoulder and a pair of flower crowns held very carefully in his hands, kicking the door to 'knock' because his hands are full. He grins when his friend opens the door. ]
I met Hythlodaeus. He's a sweetie.
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At least he can walk these days, though he still didn't go out much. But Emet-Selch is in not quite as awful shape when he 'greets' Gojo with a pre-prepared frown (his resting expression). The food, the crowns- his eyes linger on them for a fraction too long to match the disinterested disapproval he's attempting to demonstrate. He does resist reaching for any of it, even for the sake of relieving Gojo's burden.
The name-drop has his expression shift into something more genuinely, yet performatively pained, as his whole demeanor droops, claws digging into the door as if to catch himself against it.]
I'd recently experienced a horrible chill, delivered directly down my spine. I suppose that meeting was the cause.
[One of his greatest fears: his friends meeting his other friends.]
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He holds out the two crowns, holding them very carefully with fingers splayed so that they won't crush each other. One of them is a crown of purple-red trumpet blossoms so dark as to be almost black, woven with little sprays of tiny white flowers in between, and the other crown is of five-petal blue flowers with white centers, accented with little sprays of smaller yellow flowers. ] The blue one is for Hythlodaeus. The purple one is for you.
[ Making flower crowns for Emet-Selch is just so ridiculous and brings Gojo such glee. Grumpy birb needs flowers. ]
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text; un: METTATON (early july, b4 they visit kelesis)
[There is a video attached.]
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He stares at this inscrutable (oh it was very scrutable, he just didn't want to scrut it) message for at least a minute before thumbing back to reply.]
Why did you send me this
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