cultmirror | ➥ I. Week 1

➥ I. Week 1

[The tension from the Murmur is so intense, it's almost physical. The strain, the tightness of it, like barbed wire, stretching beyond its limits. It's vicious, in a way. In a way that it almost chokes; the feeling more similar to a heat, sucking everything dry, dry, dry.]

[And all the while, there's the noise. Not words, not a language, but a howling of sorts. As if a group of something (people, the ghosts of them) are sighing behind a thick, lead door that's been locked and sealed shut.]

[Greed clicks his teeth, and the roar dulls. But it never goes away, not entirely. More, it's muffled. Drowned out by a drumming that scritches, that scratches, for the more of it all.]

Nothing's free in this world or the next, is it? [The Sin slurs, tasting something on his tongue.] Fine, then. An equivalent exchange.

[He flicks out a finger, and the Murmur shudders. The pluck of it, turning from a sensation of cold steel to a humming, vibrant gold.]

Lookin' for anyone familiar with alchemy. Call it a favor. [A glimpse bleeds through. Of a stone, red and jagged. But if anyone's looking closely, they might be able to see something else on the surface: a bubbling of vacant faces and bodies, reaching out, reaching forward, as if they're trying to reclaim something that's already lost.]

[The Sin's joints crack, and the moment fades away. A snippet, shutting as fast as a quick-snapped fan.]

And in return? Well, I guess that depends on what you really want.

OOC Note | If hunger's the game, avarice is the name. Got a tether with Greed? Feel free to assume that they're getting some (or all, we don't judge here) of that want of his, trickling in. Think of it like a fever, or whatever you want it to feel like. The world's your oyster!

CW for the Image Link: Disobeyed souls, general body horror. ~~You can fit so many dead people in this former homunculus~~

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Ranni's reply is, at first, the chill distance of a dark moon. But as her attention fully turns toward the Murmur, her presence is at first insufferable, overbearing, the weight of something immense. A thousand eyes staring into a soul. A cold winter wind penetrating to the marrow. A planet about to collide with another.

Soon enough, Ranni reigns herself in, and her attention is little more than the burble of a forest stream in winter. ]

If it is alchemy thee seek,
I have an academic knowledge of the subject.

[ Ah, but the images his mind and spirit conjure up are ever so entertaining. Their tether is writhing with his emotion, the dry heat of it. ]

What is thy goal?
I hardly think thy aim
is to turn lead to gold.
An alchemy of souls, perhaps,
would be far better suited to thee.

[And like before, he meets it. Where hers is a crushing weight, his is suffocating. A tide of a different kind, pressing and pushing like lava, rolling into the open mouth of the deep, blue sea. Whatever reigning in he gives is little; his presence, more a steam, rising in the reaction.]

[A snp, and something unfurls. A sail, huffing with heat and smoke.] Ranni - [He trills her name - a serpent's admiration, rattling on the forks of his tongue.] - you really are full of surprises. Didn't take you for the alchemist sort.

[Though, that doesn't mean much. She's an unknown to him much like a lot of the people here. Still, his interest is obvious. The way it tugs at the Murmur more akin to a spider, plucking its web.]

[Greed swipes his hand across the surface of the bar, and a wet smear hisses under his fingers.] Oh, ho, ho - ! Got all that, did you? [The stretch of his grin bites at the air, clear and sharp.] And you could say that, but don't get the wrong idea. I'm not interested in transmuting new souls. Not if I can help it.

[And that's a bit of a giveaway, isn't it? Not new souls, but old ones. Ones that maybe, just maybe, he once had.]

[The Sin's tail flicks. One time, two times, three.] Need to figure out if there's some things I can get back, or if that's part of the deal with our friend here.

[ Strictly speaking, she is not an alchemist, but a scholar and a witch. But her education was extensive in the royal castle, and as such, she has a wide breadth of knowledge on most magical subjects.

From where she sits in her library, she absorbs the images and sensations coming through the Murmur, cataloging them all. From her own end, she sends very little. Just the chill touch of a snowflake landing on the brim of one's hat; a snowbound tree branch rustling. ]

Thee seekest to transmute thine own soul, I take it?
In search of what power was lost,
in the transition to this stagnant world?

[ That, at least, is her guess. If true, Greed is not the only thing that misses the power he had once. Ranni misses her magic the way a drowning woman misses air. ]

[At that though, the Sin lets out a wheezy laugh. Smog, ash, the faint flutter of brimstone - they ease from his jaws in a thin trail. Like a ribbon, tying itself between his teeth.]

[Greed prods a door open with his elbow.] Wouldn't say that. After all, I don't have a soul of my own. Not really. [The chill of her brushes past him, and he answers: not with his voice, but with a trill. The sound of it as soft as a windchime, tinkling in a breeze.] Getting ahead of myself again, though. Sorry about that.

[The bottle he finds isn't much. A little bit of whiskey, left when the world, this world, ended. He sinks his finger into the open-glass neck.]

Do you know what a homunculus is?

A small version of a humanoid;
a body born not in the usual way,
but of seed grown in an animal's womb,
quickened by alchemy and blood.

[ Well, that is only her understanding of it. For all she knows, the word homunculus could have a totally different meaning in a different universe.

Frankly, she has no idea how that applies to the current conversation, unless... Greed means to make one himself? Or could he himself be a homunculus? He certainly does not have the energy of a regular humanoid. ]

What seekest thou?

[The feeling on his side dips a bit; a calm as relaxing as smoke, hazing in the slow of an early morning.]

[Greed shrugs and the weight of his newfound wing tentatively shrinks back as he pulls it closed.] That's what I am. Though, there's nothing small about me. [A subtle hunger teases in his tone. It plays on the forks of his tongue like a game of spit-fire hopscotch - each flutter, as scathing as the last.]

[Dryly, the Sin swallows and whatever sensation he's sending through the Murmur hushes for moment. That is, until she asks the question. One, simple, short question and soon, what had merely been a flicker ignites again. The roar of it, so bright, so consuming, that he doesn't realize how far his claws have sunk into door's rotten-wood frame.]

[A second later, and the light goes out.] Now, that's a pretty bold question, huh? [Carefully, he pries his fingers loose, shaking a few, jagged splinters out from between his knuckles.] Everything. But that's not really what you're asking, is it?

I'm not saying this new body doesn't have some perks, but it would be a whole lot easier if I still had a few things. Need to know what I'm working with and what our good friend here decided take.

[ Ranni's intrigue manifests as a beam of moonlight on a snowlit field. She would not have guessed that Greed was himself a homunculus, but it does make a certain amount of sense. ]

Ah, thee wish to know thy missing pieces.
Is it so difficult for thee to know?

[ For Ranni, it was fairly easy to figure out what she was missing: her magic, and all facets of it. The magic in her connection to the moon, the magic embedded in her doll's form. All had been obvious enough. ]

Do thee suspect that Sleep has changed the nature of thy form?
Art thou no longer a homunculus?

[With a wry smile, he watches the dust and flecks of paint shoo out from the doorframe. No, part of him already knew. At the end of the day, there's always some sort of cost. Some sort of price tag and, ah. Isn't it a hefty, hefty secret.]

[Because he isn't supposed to be here. He isn't supposed to be anywhere.]

[Greed slides his thumb into the lip of his pants, thumbing out the hem's curve.] No, figured out that much at least. But there's only one way to make a homunculus where I'm from, and it kinda needs something specific. [And while nothing, no nothing, is impossible, existing with out it? It's unheard of.]

[A flash strikes through the Murmur (red and electric) before dying down to a shudder, and the Sin exhales through his teeth.] Couldn't tell ya. Was hoping someone here might know a thing or two. But even if they did, I can't promise it won't get a little messy.

[This is hunger the likes of which Kalmiya has only felt in both very recent and very distant memory. Many times as a loveless child, filled with aimless yearning for things she had no way of identifying. And a few times since arriving in this city, compelled by forces beyond herself, a want so profound that it seeps from the boundaries of the entities that have ruined this world.

She can't help but be curious. Especially with that hellish glimpse of what she can only figure is some kind of soul cage.

The rustling of a thick canopy. The curious rumble of some unknown creature in the darkness of the wildwood. Small bells, a wonder whimsical and somehow innocent despite the inherent threat of the wild from which they chime.

The lilt of her answering voice is playful.] Afraid the magical sciences have never been my area of expertise. Can't imagine what would happen if I tried to make a potion.

I respect alchemists, though! Nothing like a healing elixir after a long day of combat and cheap traps.

[The Sin stops dead when he feels it: a breeze that's not there at all. A jittering of bells, tolling like a door's opening announcement. It makes him toss a still look over his shoulder; the slits of his eyes, thinning to try to eat away at the bar's deep, receding shadows.]

[Then, his mouth breaks, and whatever thoughts he has get replaced by the peel of his jagged-wide grin.]

Sorry, lovely. Not sure what it is where you come from, but it isn't magic. [His mind, thankfully, does the explaining for him. Images flick through the Murmur at a quick pace: designs sketched into ground and cobblestone. A reaction of electricity, eating away at them like fire to a line of gunpowder. And the result of whatever was there before being pulled apart and reshaped into something completely new.]

Though, sounds like you know a little more than most. [Even blocks away, his voice shakes through their connection. Not violently, but softly; the sound as sunken as a big cat's satisfied purr. The former homunculus stretches his fingers down his thighs, easing some of his tension.] Know how to get yourself into a little bit of trouble, do you? Ha - ! Gotta say, you've got me interested.

So - [But ah, there's that grip of his again. That grip that seems to claw into the Murmur, that seems to scratch at it like a nail, skittering slowly on the other side of a closed-latched window.]

[Greed lashes his tongue over his lower lip.] - what's your name, sweetheart?

[The curious impulse to open that window is incredibly tempting. From Kalmiya's end, there is a sense of listening. Fascinated observation as someone watches the attempted ingress of that hungry reach, but has not yet decided whether to aid its entry.

She laughs, a peal of delight as clear as the curious bells.] You know, people keep telling me that things in their world aren't magic? And it's always something that would be considered magical in my world!

[That visual, for example, was a dead ringer for some of the feats she's seen from wizards who specialize in transmutation. Unfortunately, she doesn't have a lot of class overlap with her nerdier counterparts in spellcasting; maybe she would have more useful information on her world's alchemy if so.

Not that she needs it. It appears she has otherwise offered something of interest.] My name is Kalmiya. I'm great at getting into trouble, [a beat, a tease:] sweetheart.

[Ah, yet her laugh - it may be a simple thing, a little thing, but it's plenty in its own way. A bit of a taste, if only to momentarily satisfy his craving. From his end, it's almost like someone's kneaded a knot out of his back. One that's been trapped there for a century or two, only to gradually let loose.]

[Greed skates two of his teeth together and instinctually, he settles into the rough, beaten leather of a seat nudged up in one of the bar's dark corners.] There's a whole lot of worlds out there, right? Would only make sense everyone's got their own definitions of it. [Talking, he extends his legs, letting the heels of his boots scorch lines into the wood floor below.] Might be we're talking about the same thing.

[However, whatever sort of answers he was looking for don't matter. Especially when she's all but given him an invitation signed, sealed, and delivered.]

[The former homunculus motions one ankle over the other and from his side, the Murmur rumbles again. Perked, interested, and with no shame, no shame at all in what he wants.] I'm sure you do. [He traces out the pock-bleached armrest with his claw, tearing open a slit.] Kalmiya, Greed. It's a pleasure.

[With a turn of his wrist, he flicks out his nail.] I do like that attitude of yours. No point holding back, hmn? Though, depends on what kind of trouble you're talking about. [And what comes next is obvious. Teeth on skin, the twist and turn of his claws drifting and snaking down the bones of a bare back. Sin is nothing if not honest. And for him? Well.]

[Lying's never suited him, has it.]

[Greed rolls his head back.] But only if you're interested. I'm not good, lovely, but that doesn't mean I don't have some standards.

[Her curiosity is boundless. Though the full force of it has been momentarily redirected, a spark of it still lingers in the cinders of the original topic—this alchemy he spoke of. She's intrigued; albeit, not as much as by the quick, searing impressions of claws and teeth on bare skin that he offers as his intent. Perhaps they can revisit more academic topics after this negotiation.

Her amusement is a balm offered freely, both joyful and salacious in its sincerity, like the distant cackle of a playful fox.] It is a pleasure.

[Greed, huh? A bit on the nose, but she's not here to judge the naming conventions of an unfamiliar world.] I don't concern myself with good or bad in such absolutes. I know what's good for me. And that can be all kinds of trouble!

[The hot lash of hunger that strikes the Murmur in return dances on the thin line of excitement which separates desire from danger. Claws—her own claws, pretty and pink atop fingers with a fighter's grip—rend the flesh of a Host in the reflection cast by images of them clutching tight to strong shoulders and digging in to wanting hips. She grins; reaches out along the Murmur to trace the thread connecting them, the deliberate slide of an index finger along a prominent tendon in the neck. Exploratory—invitational. The exact kind of trouble he has on offer.] So I'd say I'm interested. Should I be asking for anything beyond mutual satisfaction?

[It doesn't matter to her one way or the other whether this conversation is for business or for recreation. But he mentioned exchanges and favors, and she's had far too many dealings with fey not to ask after a little clarification on that front.]

[No, everything else can wait for all he cares: the post of an apocalypse lurking outside his door. Sleep, and her demanding decree. Even his original reason for reaching out in the first place. None of it holds a candle to his hunger. A hunger he knows, a hunger that he's familiar with, and one that he's had long before she decided to drag him back from the nothingness from whence he came.]

[Which is why, perhaps, it isn't that alarming. Avarice, after all. Ah, is it always so, so starved.]

[Greed cocks his eyebrow, and a flood begins to trickle in from his side. A sensation of gold, wrapped in smooth, slick silk.] Funny, neither do I. Right, wrong. Good, bad. It's never mattered to me. [He lets his hand hang slack, leaving his finger to hover loosely over the edge of his seat. He takes his time feeling out everything she's giving him (pink-painted claws tearing someone apart, the trace of them mapping out the Murmur like a knife to his throat). Each hint of her, more promising than the last.]

[The former homunculus grins, straining his lips tight.] Beyond that? Whatever you want. Think that's a fair trade. [The forks of his tongue twitch behind his teeth, tickling them to the tune of a rattlesnake.] Just don't take me for something I'm not. Like I said, I may not be good, but I do make a point of being honest, sweetheart. Call it one of my rules.

[The last word seems to come in close. As if he's leaning forward, hissing into the shell of her ear. A second later, and he pulls their connection back.]

So, where should I find you?

[Incredulous delight glows hot at her end of the connection, an impish smile and the laughter of satisfied pixies.] Whatever I want? That's awfully generous; how do you know it'll be worth it?

[Because she'll make sure it's worth it, of course. Truthfully, there's nothing in particular she wants in return; she's generally a more benevolent force than other benefactors of her temperament. Always nice to be owed a favor, though. Almost as nice as being wanted, but not nearly as nice as being wanted like this. The whelm of it could stagger a more timid soul.

Thankfully, Kalmiya is no such thing. She basks in the spread of his desire like a cat in a sunbeam, appreciative not only of the attention but the conditions given—don't take me for something I'm not. Agreement hums along the line like a purr, resonant with understanding and the quiet expectation of reciprocation.] I suppose that depends on how far you're willing to walk. I spend a lot of time in the theater district. Or what's left of it, anyway.

I'm willing to meet elsewhere, though! For someone so honest.

[For a moment or two, his attention wanders. It slides across their connection like a barely running tap; its stream pouring slowly, pouring with a purpose, as if he's draggingly pulling down the handle if only to see how much he can get.]

[The Sin unwinds his ankles and as his heels settle into the floor, he finds himself staring at the coin pinched between his knuckles.] GAHAHAHA - ! Generous? Do you remember who you're talking to? The name's not just that, Kalmiya. [The points of his eyes trace out the letters gouged into the coin's metal surface, sketching lines through the Murmur like a hot-furnace poker, dragging through the sand.]

[Greed closes his hand, pocketing it as he peels himself out of his seat.] As for your other question, I guess we'll just have to see, won't we? [A tickle like silt brushes from his end to her - the feel of it as delicate as a cocktail's dusted finish.] Though, I think you and I already know the answer to that, hmn?

[Because she knows her worth, doesn't she? Her confidence, her ambition. The way she seems to soak everything in: it's what desire should be. What want and need should be and oh, oh, oh, is it all so sweet.]

[The former homunculus tentatively reaches behind him with one of his wings, sinking the hook of it into a bolted table nearby.] Ehh, been meaning to try a few things out, anyway. But you might have to tell me where that is. This place is a lot bigger than I'm used to.

[Not just a name, he says. Wound-tight desire, silk on gold, glimmering engravings on coins and a masterfully-mixed cocktail. She sorts them all together in her head, pieces of a picture not yet ready to assemble.

Fascinating. Those fragmented pieces are pinned up with alchemy for topics to discuss at a later time.

Warm amusement receives the gentle brush, thick appreciation savoring the bouquet of the drink on offer before partaking of it too eagerly. The tingle of that sensory delight persists even as she momentarily follows on to the logistical side of this exchange.] Same here, actually. There's so much stuff crammed onto this island! Here—

[There's the sensation of delicately untangling thread, the sound of shuffling papers, before an image comes across the Murmur.] A dear friend of mine provided this to our community of lost souls early on into this nightmare. A lot of them are damaged, but you can find maps like this around the transit areas—and sometimes the spots that were popular for travelers to visit.

If you can't read the language—English, it's called in this world—it'll be a little harder, but if you find signage you can at least match the letters up to what's on the map. And we've got some helpful English-readers around!

[The section of map labeled as the theater district lights with a soft pink glow; then, as if tracing it upon skin with the careful edge of a claw, she marks a bright purple X over a spot on the visual of the shared map. Excitement brightens the connection—warms it, sweetens it.] I can meet you around here, if you'd like. And then we can make certain that it's worth it!

[The Murmur twitches, then; the flick of it, leaving the tension between them all a'buzz like a snake, testing its rattle. There may be blocks between them sure enough, but her gentle brush, how she seems to savor every minute: it brings a low purr clawing up from his chest. The sound of it as wordless and billowing as char, cooking warm in a broiler.]

[Greed's already close to the door when he finds himself again.] Gunna guess that friend of yours is someone named Megumi. That right? [He splays his fingers, sliding the neck of a bottle between his knuckles.] Got a little from him when I first got here. Sounds like he's picked up a pretty impressive amount of information - [A short whistle trails his words, cutting itself short on the pricks of his teeth.]

[However, once she mentions English, the connection briefly changes; the little hiccup almost, almost, innocent.] English? [He asks, his toe already wheezing the barebone remains of the door wide open.] Not sure about that, sweetheart. Looks like plain, ol'Amestrian to me. [Which is a little interesting. As much as this place is different, as much as he's a stranger here, some things - they don't ever change, do they?]

[The former homunculus sidesteps, slinking through the space between the door and its weather-bitten frame.] Got it. Shouldn't take me too long. [In theory, anyway.]

[Greed spreads his wings and as the skin of them stretches, another twitter jumps through the Murmur. It's heavy, thick; the jangle of his chains as loud as loose-hanging shackles.]

[The Sin's smile edges from his end, cutting across the purple X like the sharp end of a pen.] Oh, I don't doubt you will. And I'll be sure to make good on my end of the bargain. [The points of his eyes squeeze thin and as he reaches for his mask, the Murmur goes taut again. Its strain like a string ready and waiting to be cut, cut, cut.]

[Greed wiggles his claw into one of the steel clasps holding the mask to his face.]

See you then, Kal.

[Faint amusement tickles the threads connecting them, carrying the mild spice of mischief along its weave.] Not Megumi. He's nice though, isn't he? I believe I'm featured in his little archive a few times!

[For two very, very different things. Fucking and fighting gods—same as she would be doing back home, more likely than not.

Amestrian passes by without comment, though not without note. The overlap in language found here really is a wonder; what convergence of worlds has to happen to result in one common language of vastly different origins? Curiosity, so bright, so bubbly, aerating her end of the connection with every new morsel of information. But she holds her tongue on the questions as she feels the strain of the Murmur and takes in the sharpness of Greed's promise. The impression of grasping claws returns to her in his words, in his intent.

Excitement answers in the tremble of the Murmur as he tugs it tight. Another laugh, both sultry and earnest.] I'll be waiting. Watch out for the Hosts along the way.

[Then the weight of her focus lifts. The thread between them drifts like spider's silk in the wind—faint and flowing freely, yet still anchored at her end, like her attention is just a tap away.

Ultimately she's not waiting to meet him outside the facade of the theatre, though she has done the him the courtesy of leaving a hint for whenever he does arrive: a trail of butterflies recently drawn in bright pink chalk, scattered on the sidewalk and along the walls of the building, sweeping towards the doors like a emphatic welcome.]

Couldn't tell ya. Didn't get a chance to get to know him too well, but he doesn't seem like a bad kid. [The connection of the Murmur may be waning, but the way he seems to take the whole city in: it's needly. Like the point of a dart leveled steadily on a target. A waft of thick air fumes at his face and as the Sin spreads his wings, he carefully begins to unhook his mask with the tip of his pinkie, causing its chain to loop lazily between his knuckles.]

Wouldn't worry too much, sweetheart. Might not have everything I used to, but this new body still has a few perks. [Ash skitters off the skin of his wings to meet her silk-spun thread like a dry breeze, thick with dust.] And it wouldn't be very fair of me if I left you empty-handed now, would it?

[With that, he severs the line; the quick swipe of his wrist, effectively leaving the mask dangling around his neck. As promised, it doesn't take him too long after that. What little action he's found along the way is minimal at best. And as he lands, what remains of it are speckles: a flake of soot on his claws, a swipe of something (oil, rust) sweeping his cheek.]

[The former homunculus pockets his hands. He doesn't even bother trying to hide the grin on his face as he traces out the butterflies chalked on both the building and sidewalk alike. They stand out like a calling card of sorts. A bright, colorful beacon, and she doesn't need her name thrown up in lights to let anyone, everyone, know just where they can find her.]

[Greed slides his heel over the toe of his other boot, peeling away a glob of blood. Pleased - that's what he is. And with a knowing kind of smile and his shoulders slouched just so, he languidly begins to slip through the front doors; his pace as lax as a street-smart cat that knows where to find its next meal.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

➥ I. Week 1

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

CW: Slightly NSFW if you squint

CW: also a smidge NSFW

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject