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coruscated[ because some of us need to heal the void kh3 left us with and we're doing that via the medium of post-canon au shenanigans ]
coruscated
[ closed; prophet!edgeworth 'verse ]
Apr. 8th, 2018 11:46 pmhasfartogo[ as it turns out, defying fate, tearing up the pre-ordained plan for the end of the world, and forcibly re-railing the planet Earth back onto the path of continued existence leaves behind a hell of a clean-up job in its wake.
not the Earth so much; regardless of the swathe of apocalypse-related events and signs of the end times that swept over the globe over the year or so that it was on-track for destruction, in the end, it really wasn't anything that human beings weren't in some way used to dealing with. people picked right up where they left off and carried on, most of them none the wiser as to how close they'd come to oblivion.
not so in Heaven.
Castiel - newly reinstated as a fully-fledged Angel of the Lord, grace intact - returns to a Heavenly Host divided among itself. without a roadmap to follow, without any sign from their Father as to what they were supposed to do next, it seems most of his siblings feel... adrift. lost.
Castiel would be lying if he said that he wasn't one of them, for that matter, but at least he's had a little practice at existing in that state of being. disconcertingly, it seems that some of his siblings have caught on to that as well, and now they're looking to him (him!) for answers. he can't help but feel a little disturbed by the ones that seem to think that he ought to be their new leader.
not all of them feel that way, of course. there are plenty who feel the opposite. Raphael, as the last remaining archangel, assumes regency of Heaven as a matter of course, and has plenty of supporters. he is disconcertingly quiet on the matter of Earth's continued existence.
and then there are those who are not so quiet on the matter. rogue cells of angels, vanishing from Heaven without a trace. those who Castiel is certain would rather that the Apocalypse had not been derailed.
but of course, before he can investigate that burgeoning problem, a new prophet shows up out of the blue, and the consensus among the Host is that Castiel ought to be the one to watch over him. considering how difficult Miles Edgeworth is turning out to be, Cas is privately certain that some of the angels who weighed in on that decision did so because they thought it some kind of karma; or at the very least, because they found it funny.
he'd like to know when he became Heaven's go-to angel for dealing with difficult humans.
all that changes the moment he feels a piercing, ultra-sonic frequency vibrate through his grace. he knows it for what it is the instant he feels it - a prophet is threatened. danger. and at the same time, a burst of other frequencies with it, angels that he hasn't sensed since they hid themselves from Heaven--
Cas hadn't expected the two issues - the missing dissenting angels, and the prophet - to abruptly unite into one issue, but in hindsight, he wonders if perhaps he should have. after all, prophets of the Lord are a valuable resource.
or at least, he will wonder that, later, when he has time to think. right now, he's sweeping towards Miles Edgeworth's apartment as fast as his wings will carry him, praying that he will not be too late. ]
not the Earth so much; regardless of the swathe of apocalypse-related events and signs of the end times that swept over the globe over the year or so that it was on-track for destruction, in the end, it really wasn't anything that human beings weren't in some way used to dealing with. people picked right up where they left off and carried on, most of them none the wiser as to how close they'd come to oblivion.
not so in Heaven.
Castiel - newly reinstated as a fully-fledged Angel of the Lord, grace intact - returns to a Heavenly Host divided among itself. without a roadmap to follow, without any sign from their Father as to what they were supposed to do next, it seems most of his siblings feel... adrift. lost.
Castiel would be lying if he said that he wasn't one of them, for that matter, but at least he's had a little practice at existing in that state of being. disconcertingly, it seems that some of his siblings have caught on to that as well, and now they're looking to him (him!) for answers. he can't help but feel a little disturbed by the ones that seem to think that he ought to be their new leader.
not all of them feel that way, of course. there are plenty who feel the opposite. Raphael, as the last remaining archangel, assumes regency of Heaven as a matter of course, and has plenty of supporters. he is disconcertingly quiet on the matter of Earth's continued existence.
and then there are those who are not so quiet on the matter. rogue cells of angels, vanishing from Heaven without a trace. those who Castiel is certain would rather that the Apocalypse had not been derailed.
but of course, before he can investigate that burgeoning problem, a new prophet shows up out of the blue, and the consensus among the Host is that Castiel ought to be the one to watch over him. considering how difficult Miles Edgeworth is turning out to be, Cas is privately certain that some of the angels who weighed in on that decision did so because they thought it some kind of karma; or at the very least, because they found it funny.
he'd like to know when he became Heaven's go-to angel for dealing with difficult humans.
all that changes the moment he feels a piercing, ultra-sonic frequency vibrate through his grace. he knows it for what it is the instant he feels it - a prophet is threatened. danger. and at the same time, a burst of other frequencies with it, angels that he hasn't sensed since they hid themselves from Heaven--
Cas hadn't expected the two issues - the missing dissenting angels, and the prophet - to abruptly unite into one issue, but in hindsight, he wonders if perhaps he should have. after all, prophets of the Lord are a valuable resource.
or at least, he will wonder that, later, when he has time to think. right now, he's sweeping towards Miles Edgeworth's apartment as fast as his wings will carry him, praying that he will not be too late. ]
[log: messing with makoto's brain]
Aug. 12th, 2014 09:06 pmtimidtwin[Hello, Makoto, welcome to the Nowhere Islands. That's where you are right now. Why? Nobody can tell you, but you're here so you might as well make the most of it. In fact, you're standing on the outskirts of a small town once known as Tazmily Village. It's grown quite a bit from it's humble beginnings over three years ago - a time when there was no money, no Pigmask soldiers roaming around and nobody had the faintest idea what a 'Happy Box' was. Now? The buildings had grown, soldiers had intermingled with the people to enforce their new rules (everyone needed a Happy Box, don't you want to be happy?) and a new currency had been introduced known as DP or Dragon Power. There's even a frog driving around in a tiny red convertible.
If you look around you'll see a man in desert garb trying to rally the townspeople and keep them under the spell of his new merchandise. There's a new hotel, a bakery, an item bazaar and the mayor's huge hotel to be found as well.
There's also a large brown dog running straight towards you and he seems to be barking a lot, stopping as he gets close and wagging his tail. Luckily his owner isn't far behind but being a young boy, he hasn't quite caught up yet...]
If you look around you'll see a man in desert garb trying to rally the townspeople and keep them under the spell of his new merchandise. There's a new hotel, a bakery, an item bazaar and the mayor's huge hotel to be found as well.
There's also a large brown dog running straight towards you and he seems to be barking a lot, stopping as he gets close and wagging his tail. Luckily his owner isn't far behind but being a young boy, he hasn't quite caught up yet...]
[ open log: voice testing this dweeb ]
Jan. 28th, 2014 03:22 pmteammother[ SO FOR WHATEVER REASON your characters have found themselves in the charming seaside town of Iwatobi, though how and why they got here is another matter entirely. REGARDLESS, whether you arrived here intentionally via train or transport of your choice or else through some weird whim of the multiverse beyond your control, you might as well explore a little! even if it's only in an attempt to find a way out.
prompts for coming across this dork: ]
1: the shrine steps
[ there's not much up in this part of town apart from the shrine itself, situated at the top of a long, steep flight of stone stairs, and the houses that flank those stairs on either side. it's not uncommon for Makoto to hang around those stairs; his house is nearby, and it's an ideal place to wait for Haru (that is, on days when Makoto doesn't just bypass waiting entirely and has to go drag Haru out of the bath).
today's no different; he's sitting about halfway down the stairs, playing with a kitten that is literally smaller than his entire hand. hearing the sound of footsteps makes him pause and turn towards the newcomer, rising to his feet to get out of the way. ]
Ah, sorry.
2: the squid festival
[ you've wound up in Iwatobi during the height of summer, and lucky for you, the town's squid festival is in full swing this evening! lanterns and stalls span the streets that lie closest to the ocean, and along with selling all kinds of squid-related snacks and memorabilia, there are the usual draws of a festival; little pools full of goldfish or small turtles for people to try their hand at catching, vendors selling candy apples or masks, and various other food or game stalls.
the brightly-lit area of the festival is packed with people of all ages, many of them in yukata. Makoto here isn't one of them, and he seems content enough. in fact, he is currently (oddly enough, alone) watching wistfully as an excitable group of grade-school kids gather around one of the goldfish stalls, one kid trying their best to catch one as his friends cheer him on.
> approach? ]
3: free(!) spot/your choice!
[ no seriously Iwatobi is your oyster here. or maybe you'd rather ditch the Iwatobi setting altogether and throw something else at me, it's all good. go wild and make something up, bros :)b ]
prompts for coming across this dork: ]
1: the shrine steps
[ there's not much up in this part of town apart from the shrine itself, situated at the top of a long, steep flight of stone stairs, and the houses that flank those stairs on either side. it's not uncommon for Makoto to hang around those stairs; his house is nearby, and it's an ideal place to wait for Haru (that is, on days when Makoto doesn't just bypass waiting entirely and has to go drag Haru out of the bath).
today's no different; he's sitting about halfway down the stairs, playing with a kitten that is literally smaller than his entire hand. hearing the sound of footsteps makes him pause and turn towards the newcomer, rising to his feet to get out of the way. ]
Ah, sorry.
2: the squid festival
[ you've wound up in Iwatobi during the height of summer, and lucky for you, the town's squid festival is in full swing this evening! lanterns and stalls span the streets that lie closest to the ocean, and along with selling all kinds of squid-related snacks and memorabilia, there are the usual draws of a festival; little pools full of goldfish or small turtles for people to try their hand at catching, vendors selling candy apples or masks, and various other food or game stalls.
the brightly-lit area of the festival is packed with people of all ages, many of them in yukata. Makoto here isn't one of them, and he seems content enough. in fact, he is currently (oddly enough, alone) watching wistfully as an excitable group of grade-school kids gather around one of the goldfish stalls, one kid trying their best to catch one as his friends cheer him on.
> approach? ]
3: free(!) spot/your choice!
[ no seriously Iwatobi is your oyster here. or maybe you'd rather ditch the Iwatobi setting altogether and throw something else at me, it's all good. go wild and make something up, bros :)b ]
[ log: lotr; boromir + sam ]
Jan. 5th, 2014 09:12 pmdroppingeaves[ it had been more than a fortnight since they'd set out from Rivendell, and according to Gandalf and Strider the fellowship had begun to travel through a land by the name of Hollin. not that that meant much to Sam. truth be told, Sam was surprised that they hadn't yet reached their journey's end; the mountains up in front of them, that Gimli had spoken at length about, had seemed to him large enough to be the way into Mordor. yet here they were, and it seemed they still had a long way to go yet. Sam felt quite out of his reckoning.
in any case, end of the road or no, he was mighty glad to be in a place where the weather was more mild, and not so likely to freeze them all to death. it was a relief, too, to be somewhere where it was deemed safer to light a fire; Sam had half a mind, indeed more than half of a one, to use the opportunity to put his cooking gear, brought all the way from the Shire, to good use, and make something hot while they still had a chance to enjoy it.
of course, lighting a fire meant that the supply of firewood had to be kept replenished; it was lucky that Hollin seemed to have a great deal more trees about than the sort of places they'd been walking through so far. Sam had gamely volunteered to collect some himself (being a sort that was used to fetching and carrying, so to speak), and Boromir had joined him. Sam was still not entirely sure what to think of the Man; although his distrust of the Big People in general had been mellowed somewhat by the likes of Strider, Sam was still inclined to be distrustful of anything that was un-Shire-like. still, even he couldn't deny that Boromir had proved himself already to be a welcome companion on the road. ]
I don't suppose they have any tales of this Hollin land back where you come from, Mr. Boromir?
[ the words come out almost unbidden, as Sam stoops to collect another piece of wood. he's thinking of what Gandalf said about the Elves living here many years ago, and wondering what the land could have been like back when the fair folk still dwelled here. ]
in any case, end of the road or no, he was mighty glad to be in a place where the weather was more mild, and not so likely to freeze them all to death. it was a relief, too, to be somewhere where it was deemed safer to light a fire; Sam had half a mind, indeed more than half of a one, to use the opportunity to put his cooking gear, brought all the way from the Shire, to good use, and make something hot while they still had a chance to enjoy it.
of course, lighting a fire meant that the supply of firewood had to be kept replenished; it was lucky that Hollin seemed to have a great deal more trees about than the sort of places they'd been walking through so far. Sam had gamely volunteered to collect some himself (being a sort that was used to fetching and carrying, so to speak), and Boromir had joined him. Sam was still not entirely sure what to think of the Man; although his distrust of the Big People in general had been mellowed somewhat by the likes of Strider, Sam was still inclined to be distrustful of anything that was un-Shire-like. still, even he couldn't deny that Boromir had proved himself already to be a welcome companion on the road. ]
I don't suppose they have any tales of this Hollin land back where you come from, Mr. Boromir?
[ the words come out almost unbidden, as Sam stoops to collect another piece of wood. he's thinking of what Gandalf said about the Elves living here many years ago, and wondering what the land could have been like back when the fair folk still dwelled here. ]
ghostshippingly[ it is a well-known fact that any show that you enjoy watching is at least twice as enjoyable when you watch it with someone who enjoys it just as much as you do. that would be the reason as to why Pearl Fey, hair unbound from its pretzel knot and in casual clothes for once, is using her day off from training to come down to L.A. to spend her day with the man formerly known as the Demon Prosecutor.
as she rings the doorbell, she rocks back and forth in her sandals, the bag of healthy snack foods she brought along bouncing slightly against her side. truth be told, she's excited to see Mr. Edgeworth again; it's been a long time, and they've both been busy with their respective responsibilities lately. it'll be nice to catch up with something that they both enjoy, even if she wishes that Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick could have been here too. ]
as she rings the doorbell, she rocks back and forth in her sandals, the bag of healthy snack foods she brought along bouncing slightly against her side. truth be told, she's excited to see Mr. Edgeworth again; it's been a long time, and they've both been busy with their respective responsibilities lately. it'll be nice to catch up with something that they both enjoy, even if she wishes that Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick could have been here too. ]
rebuiltspring[ it's cold. freezing, in fact, to the point where it could be life-threatening to stay out in the open for too long without wrapping up warm against the bitter cold. Iria was a beautiful city, in its time, and there are still echoes of that beauty even now, among the rubble of shattered houses and theatres scattered among the tiles of the city's streets. the wind's chill cuts through any available opening, and sheets of ice hang suspended between the gaps of buildings, or coating the surfaces of bridges, windows, roofs. snow eddies around corners, and occasionally children use it to have snowball fights; there are still fleeting moments of merriment to be found even now.
Astor breathes on his hands and stamps his feet to warm them, loitering outside a museum. the fledgling ironbird perches on a ledge nearby, alternately watching him and keeping a lookout for anyone approaching, as if guarding him. nice of it to do that, Astor thinks. he's still not sure where the creature came from, or why it's so attached to him - he's never seen anything like it during his time spent as an envoy-cum-spy in Iria, or in any other system he's been shuttled off to, for that matter. but it already seems bizarrely affectionate towards him, and in a place like Iria's become - well, that's no small thing.
idly, he ponders what to do now; he can hear the sounds of a riot a few blocks away, probably over smokewater again, and frowns; no doubt the Ocular Guard will be there in a few minutes in an attempt to "keep the peace". Astor is not fond of the Ocular Guard. not that he's fond of the riots either, but the guard seem to care less about the well-being of Iria and its people and more about their own agenda, or so it seems to him from what little intel he managed to gather before the Winterstrike hit.
maybe he should make himself scarce. he was supposed to meet up with a contact from the Society later, anyway; it wouldn't hurt to get there early. ]
Astor breathes on his hands and stamps his feet to warm them, loitering outside a museum. the fledgling ironbird perches on a ledge nearby, alternately watching him and keeping a lookout for anyone approaching, as if guarding him. nice of it to do that, Astor thinks. he's still not sure where the creature came from, or why it's so attached to him - he's never seen anything like it during his time spent as an envoy-cum-spy in Iria, or in any other system he's been shuttled off to, for that matter. but it already seems bizarrely affectionate towards him, and in a place like Iria's become - well, that's no small thing.
idly, he ponders what to do now; he can hear the sounds of a riot a few blocks away, probably over smokewater again, and frowns; no doubt the Ocular Guard will be there in a few minutes in an attempt to "keep the peace". Astor is not fond of the Ocular Guard. not that he's fond of the riots either, but the guard seem to care less about the well-being of Iria and its people and more about their own agenda, or so it seems to him from what little intel he managed to gather before the Winterstrike hit.
maybe he should make himself scarce. he was supposed to meet up with a contact from the Society later, anyway; it wouldn't hurt to get there early. ]
coruscated[ she's got separated from the others.
she doesn't know how; she swears she was right behind Kyouko and Mami, she knows that Homura was right behind her, and Sayaka's hand was in hers as well. but London is dark, and labyrinthian, and even when you have lived in its streets all of your life it's still possible to get misplaced when you're running from devils.
or worse than devils.
it's okay, Madoka tries to tell herself, panting as she ducks down another dark alleyway. it's okay, it's going to be okay. she'll put as much distance between herself and the place where they were caught out as possible, then double back and make for the safe spot they're using this week. if she waits there, they're bound to find her sooner or later. and she can fight, anyway. not as well as Homura, who fights almost like a Black Ribbon duellist, in a way that scares even Madoka, or even as well as Mami and Kyouko, who are just as deadly whether they have their souls or not. but she knows how to defend herself. she'll be fine.
she struggles to hoist herself over a wall. drops down the other side and stumbles - and that's when she hears it.
-- why are you running, Madoka Kaname? --
she barely holds back a scream, turns with her ratwork derringer already in hand (stolen by Homura; she didn't ask where from, and even if she prefers her bow this is faster and speed is everything); shoots when she sees a flash of white against the grimy wall. turns and runs, faster this time, because it won't stay dead for long even by the standards of this city, and where there's one, there'll probably be--
another corner, and she's caught. she's never seen so many in one place. her hands shake, but her aim is true; they go down one after another. four bullets left.
"You know why I'm running!" she cries desperately.
three; two; one-- and then her gun is useless. she backs away, hands groping for arrows at her back that just aren't there.
Homura, Sayaka - someone, help me!
she can almost feel her soul being taken already, and for now she's too scared to question why she knows exactly what that would feel like. ]
she doesn't know how; she swears she was right behind Kyouko and Mami, she knows that Homura was right behind her, and Sayaka's hand was in hers as well. but London is dark, and labyrinthian, and even when you have lived in its streets all of your life it's still possible to get misplaced when you're running from devils.
or worse than devils.
it's okay, Madoka tries to tell herself, panting as she ducks down another dark alleyway. it's okay, it's going to be okay. she'll put as much distance between herself and the place where they were caught out as possible, then double back and make for the safe spot they're using this week. if she waits there, they're bound to find her sooner or later. and she can fight, anyway. not as well as Homura, who fights almost like a Black Ribbon duellist, in a way that scares even Madoka, or even as well as Mami and Kyouko, who are just as deadly whether they have their souls or not. but she knows how to defend herself. she'll be fine.
she struggles to hoist herself over a wall. drops down the other side and stumbles - and that's when she hears it.
-- why are you running, Madoka Kaname? --
she barely holds back a scream, turns with her ratwork derringer already in hand (stolen by Homura; she didn't ask where from, and even if she prefers her bow this is faster and speed is everything); shoots when she sees a flash of white against the grimy wall. turns and runs, faster this time, because it won't stay dead for long even by the standards of this city, and where there's one, there'll probably be--
another corner, and she's caught. she's never seen so many in one place. her hands shake, but her aim is true; they go down one after another. four bullets left.
"You know why I'm running!" she cries desperately.
three; two; one-- and then her gun is useless. she backs away, hands groping for arrows at her back that just aren't there.
Homura, Sayaka - someone, help me!
she can almost feel her soul being taken already, and for now she's too scared to question why she knows exactly what that would feel like. ]
keywholed[ another day, another of Twilight Town's perpetual sunsets. it's easing into autumn around the town now, but that isn't going to stop small kids being small kids, ie running around town with reckless abandon as much as their parents will let them. especially when the small children in question have Hayner-i'm-almost-five-now as a ringleader. and especially not when said ringleader has challenged his three friends to a race.
it's getting pretty late; the streets are almost empty of people now, market street and tram common winding down for closing time, and they should all probably think about heading home soon. but there's always time for one more race. especially when there's ice cream and pocket money at stake ("last one there buys the ice cream next time!").
so the four of them are busy racing along the quiet streets creating probably much more noise than they should be, Roxas about level with Olette and trying to catch up with Hayner, who's already managed to get ahead. perfectly normal evening. absolutely no chance of anything out of the ordinary happening. right? ]
it's getting pretty late; the streets are almost empty of people now, market street and tram common winding down for closing time, and they should all probably think about heading home soon. but there's always time for one more race. especially when there's ice cream and pocket money at stake ("last one there buys the ice cream next time!").
so the four of them are busy racing along the quiet streets creating probably much more noise than they should be, Roxas about level with Olette and trying to catch up with Hayner, who's already managed to get ahead. perfectly normal evening. absolutely no chance of anything out of the ordinary happening. right? ]
