oo2 ✦ homeward

[vixenish]

Hello, Manhattan.

[ her voice is soft, and a little tired, the murmur failing to hide her displeasure at waking up ...

... wherever this horrible place is, other than, presumably, Manhattan. there's a clipped coolness to the way she projects into the murmur, a practically tangible sense of both stubborn refusal and defiant self-control.

little of her feelings, after all, escapes her besides these, a strange amusement and, bubbling beneath it, her faint frustration. ]

You can hear me, can't you? It's been so long. For you, perhaps, if not for me.

My name is Lortel. Lortel Kehelland. I've been here before, you see. I've been told I was gone for several months. To me, though... all I can remember is dreaming. A long, dark dream. Perhaps unsurprising, considering our gracious host, hm~?

There's much I'm sure I've missed. Should anyone care to tell a girl in greater detail what's happened these past two months, I'd be very grateful. [ her smile may be felt through the murmur, though its honesty is another matter. ]

For those of you who don't seem to have awoken down here with us, please check in with me. I'm sure you'll know who you are. If we've not yet met... then tell me, perhaps, what you think of our strange little corner of the world. What has it been like, for you? How have you been changed? [ an echo of a long ago question she once asked. ]

For those who are down here with me, there's something I'd like to share. I seem to have woken up with some strange mask. Not the ones all of us have been given. Rather, it seems to filter the air we're breathing, after testing it out myself. Given our ... conditions, I would, naturally, be willing to share this vital resource. I'll ask only a fair price in return, of course~.

[ I've missed you.

I was scared.

I didn't want to leave.

these things are not said, or shared. but for the briefest moment, she cannot bury an intense and longing melancholy. ]

Well. We'll see all each other again soon, I'm very sure.

Comments

[sorte]

Well, well. If it isn't my favorite girl.

[ Aventurine's words might be a little faint with all the disturbances in the murmur between them above ground versus under (I think it's messy anyway?? might be getting ooc timing wires cross potentially,) but he's his charming and amenable self more or less. ]

You're all the way down there, huh? Wonder if that's strange karma from us trying to snoop around last Blood Moon.

[vixenish]

Little old me? Flatterer. [ still, there's a fondness in her tone. ]

I do trust you took care of things in my absence? And what's this about a blood moon?

[opheliac]

Never heard or seen you before in my life.

[vixenish]

Oh, my! How lovely to meet you, then, stranger. [ TOTALLY UNFAZED ] I do hope we can get along.

[inverseye]

[ Quickly and without any consideration for the circumstances. ]

How much for the mask?

[vixenish]

No.

[ just as bluntly. ]

It isn't for sale, Saheon.

[longwillows]

[The bright pop of surprise and the warm light of excited cheer greet this reintroduction to the Murmur. The whipping of air like the fast, happy wagging of a tail. Or...tails.] Lortel!

To say I'm pleased you're back isn't exactly right, given the circumstances. But I'm glad to hear from you again!

[Her departure had been so sudden. And felt, deeply (though far more acutely by select others than by Kalmiya.)]

[vixenish]

Kalmiya? [ even across the murmur, she brightens perceptibly. ]

It's alright. Strange as it may sound, I'm ...

[ she pauses.

and she lets some of her glad relief pass through the murmur, not knowing how to find the words for such a sentiment. ]

... glad you're well. You are, aren't you?

[for_sake]

( her intense, longing melancholy catches his attention, too honest for him to ignore. that and, )

Wait, you vanished and came back without even knowing? Are you... okay?

( whatever 'okay' might mean when it's baseline is strange and unreliable. curiosity aside, he doubts he has information, but he would be remiss to not answer any of her questions after posing his own. the questions for strangers, then. )

Not a fan of the blood moon and blood sacrificing or the mutated... everything. Being a fish kind of sucks.

[vixenish]

Of course, I'm fine. All I did was dream.

[ of death, endlessly. but no one needs to know that. ]

A fish, hm? Are you a Merrow, too?

[dedicate]

Oh, it's been a while, Miss~

[ he remembers that voice as clear as day, and while he may not have known her well, it's only natural that he feels some relief at a citizen's apparent safety. ]

It's good to see you're alright. Seems like the others are already on top of catching you up though, huh?

[vixenish]

Agent Choi. [ she recalls, of course, the man who touched her shoulder at the ball. the ambitious one. ] So you were chosen after all.

I'd hear anything you think they've left out. Even just what you've been through.

[tequila_sunset]

Harry’s messages are a mess of stimuli. Physical impressions, feelings. A lot of feelings. Most pronounced: alarm, dread. The color red, swirling in a mass of dueling shapes and pigments. Now comes the entirely physical feeling of gripping with hands at his- not hair, its feathers, squirming tendrils- pulling in distress, eyes watering. His thoughts chitter in his skull like baby birds.

I don’t want to leave either.

INLAND EMPIRE - (She was right you simply blink and the world vanishes behind your eyes. Don't blink, hold it in your hands forever.)

INTERFACING - (No, the blinking is an inconsequential factor here. It’s an autonomous reflex to wet the surface of the eyes.)

INLAND EMPIRE - (But the fact remains there is power in seeing, in witnessing.)

The mess of feelings, that undulating mass of colors clear for a moment. It’s name is Empathy. It’s purple, a strange elongated phantom in the vague shape of a woman.

EMPATHY - (Right now you can only offer her understanding. It’s her choice to take it or leave it.)

“Welcome back. My name is Harry…I don't know you. I’m sorry. I'm so sorry that happened to you. That’s horrible.”

1/2

[vixenish]

[ what in the world is going on inside of this man's head? it's ... cacophonous. ]

[vixenish]

[ far be it from her, though, to fail to pay attention. her reply is somewhat delayed by her genuine attempt to try to understand all of that.

she largely fails, which is frustrating for someone as calculating as her.

still...

... he's kind, in a place such as this. that's not nothing, and by itself would have arrested her attention. somewhat surprised by it despite herself, she'll smile, a faint ripple of warmth in the murmur. ]

Aren't you sweet. I'm fine. Thank you, Harry. There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm back, after all.

[offseers]

You don't waste any time, do you?

[ unsurprising, of course. this is just how she is. he seems bemused by the whole thing. ]

[vixenish]

[ bright warmth answers him in the murmur. cheer, and the sweetness of a kiss. ]

Have I ever? There's a lot to do, you know.

... though, it does seem like it'll be a little longer before I can see you, and the others.

[sculptedash]

Woah woah woah woah- woah!

Hey girl!

You're not dead!

That's awesome.

[vixenish]

Ash!

[ Lortel can't help her genuine gladness to hear the other girl's voice. there's a brush there, too, something faint of embarrassed heat, because she remembers what happened the last time they saw one another. she doesn't comment on it. ]

I'm so relieved you're safe.

[dogmetaphors]

[They're complete strangers, but it doesn't stop him from responding anyway.]

...You said you were dreaming? You didn't return home?

[vixenish]

Correct. Which is strange, given I do feel as if I went home once before. Truly, it's odd... there's much I'd like to ask Sleep.

[hongtian]

A blood sacrifice, red moons, and more nightmarish dreamscapes. Some information about how this all began. That's what you've missed.

[ A small curl of smoke, in thought. ]

You've been missed.

1/2

[vixenish]

[ ... ]

Being missed ... what a strange feeling.

[ she's touched, more than she knows how to—or would want—to express. ]

[trashblaze]

[ Someone who vanished… but didn't get to return home? This knowledge is troubling to Caelus. This anxiousness leaks onto the Murmur.

But only for a split second. Knowing that she's one of those stuck down there, frightened, and likely much more anxious than he is, he kicks himself into gear and attempts a good, uplifting smile to reach out as comfort. Like a soothing pat on the head. ]

It looks like you've received the news coverage. Anyway, we're all doing our best up here. I'm sure we'll reach you soon!

[ The voice is reassured, because he's certainly not giving up until he reaches the people underground. ]

1/2

[vixenish]

[ ...





oh my, she thinks. ]

[vocalistyodels]

I'm sure the gossip already got to ya.

[He didn't think this was a voice he'd hear again, not after they'd been told she was gone a little while back.]

Wouldn't say much has changed, same ol' bullshit, different day. Though you did miss the fucking mess One made've things.

[vixenish]

[ the moment she hears his voice, she beams, not bothering to keep her gladness from the murmur. ]

It's good to see you, Cooper.

[ his rather colorful summation of the state of things wins a brief, sharp laugh. ] Same as ever, then. How reassuring.

I've been told about One. He sacrificed himself, didn't he?

[gimu]

[ it is new. it is, all of it, so new that for the duration of this person’s speech choso spends it covering his ears. when that doesn’t work, he claws at them, at his hair, at his scalp, at his temples, and finally at the mask, all with the intensity of a wild animal forced to wear a collar it never wanted.

but she has things to say worth listening to, so for all the indelible horror of his circumstances slowly settling on his bones, he still tries to take in her words.

Lortel, months gone, dreaming, masks. fright and fear and longing that he cannot help but to echo like a wordless call and response. a pack animal’s yearning. ]

Too much. I don’t want it. Why do I hear you?

[vixenish]

[ how bizarrely familiar this is. he's not the first to try to eject her from his mind, as if she herself has some kind of say in the matter. so she simply endures his clawing and scratching, his howling at the alien invasiveness of it all, with calm, utterly unfazed dispassion. ]

You must be new. This is the murmur. It's a mental network connecting every one of us, here in Manhattan. Through it, we share our thoughts and our feelings, whether we truly want to or not.

You've yet to figure out how you can disconnect from it, hm?