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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, <MOIRAE>. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 44.78.67.42

• Stocke uses <swordpacts> and <moirae> interchangeably; the former especially for Devil's Nest business. Any of his friends/fellow Nest employees probably have his number.

• He's careful to use randomized names on the network the rest of the time; watch out for that if you want your character to contact him about something he said! (~~Basically just come up with an excuse for them to recognize his writing and all is good~~.)

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_{[SHE DID start dabbling her feet in the cold water, thankfully-- as indignant as she is, soothing the burns is really the highest priority right now.]

[But she does yell after him-- and doesn't lower her volume even though he's slipping back into the room mid-sentence. Just makes direct eye contact and continues to shout through her cupped talons, straight at his ear.]}

S-O W-H-A-T?

_{[AS FOR HER FEET well, it's hard to tell when they're already a sooty-black color even under normal circumstances, but they're definitely pretty singed-looking. Some of the wispier feathers on her ankles are gone entirely.]}

Edited 2017-12-17 22:42 (UTC)

[Stocke, in contrast, lowers his voice back to a normal volume.] So I'd have been fine. I've killed far bigger. [Nevermind that all he was letting himself do was get hunted...] And even if he turned out to be more of a threat than I thought, he wouldn't be able to chase me into any walls.

[Singed is fine, feathers gone are fine, even blistering - all Stocke needs to know is that she's not outright charred, skin burned all the way through. It doesn't grow back from that, and it's not possible to treat without magic if it's wide enough that the edges can't touch. At least, not in Alistel.]

[But assuming she's not that badly off, he'll start to dig into the first aid kit, looking for bandages and antiseptic. (Other miracles of Ryslig: antiseptic.)]

_{[FORTUNATELY, the damage is nothing that can't be healed through normal means. If she'd been burned to the bone, she wouldn't be sassing him, she'd probably be screaming and biting anything that so much as looked at her. As it is, the best distraction from the general panic of being burned is to focus on how much of a dummy Stocke is.]}

I've killed bigger, too!

_{[... Hm. Maybe not, actually. Weirdly enough, God wasn't as much of a towering behemoth as you'd think... but symbolically, it counts!]}

But I still don't go picking stupid fights!

Weird... fuckin' instincts this week or not.

_{[Her own Prey drive had translated almost entirely into running. Somewhere down there was the desire to be chased, but her own natural paranoia amplified the other parts almost to the point that she had no interest in actually trying to tempt people.]}

[Stocke is an unfortunately stubborn bastard. He knows when he's not going to convince someone of something, though - he'll drop the subject.]

[But they're totally normal instincts, excuse you, he's been having fun! Most of the time. (He'll probably be pissed about thinking this later, when they're gone and he remembers that they're the Fog God's fault.)]

[Instead, he nods at Heather's feet.]

Any better? [Because he's found the antiseptic and bandages.]

_{[She gives him one last good glare, then looks down at her feet and huffs grudgingly.]}

Yeah, they're feeling better.

At least as long as I have them in the water.

They're gonna be a bitch to walk on for awhile...

[Stocke slants his head.] Tell me when you're ready to take them out.

[A bit drier:] ...I can give you a ride back to the Nest.

_{[She lifts them from the water gingerly, grimacing. Both at the pain and at the thought of needing to be carried all the way back to Djavulenstad.]

[BUT... there's really nothing else to be done about it. She can't fly without being able to land.]}

... Well, yeah.

You owe me one.

For thinking it was a good idea to take on the Final Boss of DOOM.

[Time for antiseptic it is! Sorry Mason, he'll try to get it over with as fast as possible.]

Final boss? [the shade remarks, absently, as he works on that and then the bandages - it kind of seems more like he's commenting to give Heather a distraction than anything.] - oh, like Greed. [He gets it.]

[...look, it's a reasonable conclusion to make. Greed's his boss, Greed is a demon, Mason is joking about how this demon was like Greed on steroids -]

_{[When the antiseptic makes contact with her feet, she jerks, squawks, and hisses, squinching her eyes shut and flattening her ears for a second.]

[But she's not going to pitch a fit over it-- better the burn of something that's going to actually help, than the burn of lingering fire.]

[It's a second or two before his words actually sink in, and she blinks at him in confusion, still sort of grimacing.]}

What?

No, not like Greed. Did you see that guy?

_{[Heather remember that time he didn't know what ice cream was? He's never played a video game in his life.]}

Well, no, but he's... like a final version of the boss...

[Stocke trails off, staring at her. That is the joke she was trying to make, right?]

[Silent incomprehension reverberates through the room.]

_{[She stares back, and there's a long moment where they both clearly have no idea what the other was talking about.]}

... Oh.

_{[Light bulb moment.]}

Uh.

Shit. They don't even have video games in this world...

[...is this going to be another ice cream moment? It is, isn't it?]

[On the other hand, the ice cream thing did turn out pretty well. Stocke warily prompts,] ...final bosses?

... Whoof.

Okay, so.

Where I come from, there are these-- virtual reality games you can play. Kind of like watching a cartoon, except you control the main character.

And usually you have to make the character fight evil dudes.

'Final boss' is like... the last evil dude you have to beat to win the game. So, usually the biggest and baddest.

[Okay, cartoon Stocke knows. If only because of Ryslig. On the other hand, a lot of Ryslig cartoons dance kind of delicately around the subject of monsters by now, so what Stocke comes up with is...]

So... like an evil spellcaster.

[Hm. That doesn't sound very impressive, or anything like the giant demon they just tangled with. Maybe he should pull from another example? He's definitely fought pretty big and bad things, like those giant spiders, but the biggest and baddest he can think of -]

Or a three-story tall amalgamation of stairs and the negative emotions of sacrificed people.

[Yeah, that seems more in the demon's ballpark. He's getting it!]

... Okay.

_{[THAT IS WEIRDLY SPECIFIC, STOCKE. But sure, she could buy that being a video game boss.]

[And she knows all about amalgamations forming from the negative emotions of sacrifices.]}

Yeah.

Something like that.

My point is, he was huge and mean-looking and you're like. The size of a pea.

[Stocke's tendrils flick up in a shrug.]

Most everything I've fought - besides soldiers - has been that big. Size doesn't mean anything.

[Well, okay, it does, most big things are a lot tougher. And he's exaggerating a little bit, though he's certainly killed (or destroyed, in the case of thaumachinery) enough things AM's size to spare.]

[But he's just not getting what's the big (ha) deal here.]

MY POINT _{[She repeats this for emphasis.]} is that those kinds of fights aren't something you should go getting into for fun!

And I'm one of the idiots who's like the first to throw a shotglass on the floor and rip my shirt off when someone makes an off-color comment in the Nest, so you know I'm not fucking around here!

_{[It's only partially true, actually, there are at least a few other Nesters who can usually rip their shirts off faster than she can. But details.]}

So I wasn't fighting him, [Stocke responds, placidly enough. He was being chased, big difference right there!]

[Is he gonna be stubborn about this? He's gonna be stubborn about this.]

[Still, by now the shade's tying off the last of the bandages. He checks the knot - not too loose, not too tight, shouldn't fall apart unless Mason's very deliberate about tugging on that end - and steps back, wiping his hands together.] Those feel fine?

[They won't stop Mason's burns from hurting, but at least they'll keep gunk out.]

Trying to make someone attack you is basically the same thing.

_{[BUT... she's tired of arguing. And yes, her feet do hurt.]

[Still, she flexes her toes with a grimace.]}

Yeah... I mean. As fine as they're gonna feel, I guess.

Long as they're not too tight.

[He shuts the first aid kit - for a moment considers putting it back where it came from, covering their traces as much as he's able. But that'd be a cruel trick to play, leaving it half-deplenished without any sort of indication; he'll leave it here for people to realize when they come back after the Hunt's fog.]

You ready to go? [If she answers in the affirmative, he's ducking under to pull her onto his back again.]

_{[She puffs sharply through her nostrils. God. Is it too much to hope that maybe the Nest will be slow when they walk in so as few people as possible witness her getting a piggyback ride that wasn't her own idea.]

[.... nope. The busiest hours in the Nest are in the middle of the night.]

[She'll never live this down.]}

Ugh... yeah. Let's go.

[Eventually Garrett made his way to Vandare. Where he found a burned down Devil's Nest. And found himself at a loss. That establishment had been there forever. Or, well, at least as long as Garrett had known Ryslig to exist. It was there before his first arrival, it was there when he had come back later, and now. Now it wasn't. And Garrett didn't like what was left in its place.

It was a while after all that before Garrett regained his bearings and headed back out of sight. He made his way to his last hideout. The clocktower was dusty--again--and would need to be completely redone--again--but that was all a story for another time.

But it was there, in relative safety, that Garrett got out his recently acquired device and made his first attempt to contact the one person he could rely on in this forsaken place. He was relieved to find that entering Stocke's address got him a connection.

He would be even more so once he got a reply.]

Been a while.

Where are you?

[Stocke's reaction to seeing someone he'd missed back for a second time - well, unsurprisingly, it doesn't spill out onto the network. That's just not the way Stocke's used to using it; it'd be writing shouting into a letter. You're writing. Doesn't matter if it's a private channel or not.]

[That doesn't mean he doesn't have one.]

[Maybe that's why it takes him a minute or so to respond. If rsDOS supported being able to see whether the other person was typing, Garrett would've been able to see the shade write something, pause, erase it, then write again.]

complicated
how far are you from bavan ?

You're telling me. Everything is always complicated here.

In Vandare.

worse
magic complicated

[...]

the old nest ?

[...]

i'll come to you
might take some time
i'm near the northern coast

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< blackhand >

<moirae> wheezes it only took me forever to tag

< blackhand >

<moirae>