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Darkseeker
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has it already been more than a year since we started this? :0) Avery | mood: is this even my house anymore- Bal truly hated the cold weather. Avery was curious as to why he didn't just go bother someone in the great states of the sunny coasts instead of Avery, who was living in an incredibly colder climate. They had approached Avery's house, them unlocking the door for Bal, who had rushed inside the building. The other man had somehow taken it upon himself to claim Avery's home, wandering around with the cups of coffee clutched tightly, severely inspecting every single nook and cranny that existed. Avery shut the door firmly and took off their coat in a fluid and practiced movement, hanging it on the coat hanger that was weighed down with other outerwear. They ruffled their bright hair and leaned against the wall, raising an eyebrow with an amused look towards Bal. At the same time, Avery felt slightly offended, the way Bal judged every inch of their home. It was a nice home, and it seemed better than the outdoors and the snow, especially for the shorter, warmer-climate type man. Avery was especially not used to any guests wandering their home, and definitely not a guest as critical as Bal was. The look in the other man's eyes was a sight to behold. It seemed Bal was finished stalking each room with a steely gaze, and by every room, Avery meant every single room. Bal had a mission, and Avery was merely in the way of that, it seemed. Something seemed to appear out of thin air, an extension of Bal;s body, helping to keep one of the coffee cups stable. Avery gaped with widened eyes, blinking multiple times to make sure they were seeing the right thing. Did Bal seriously just summon another limb? Another limb? Was it even a limb? "What did I get myself into," they muttered, rubbing their eyes tiredly. Bal didn't seem to notice, moving around the furniture Avery had meticulously placed. They didn't bother protesting about it, though. Could the day get any worse? Any weirder? Bal was in the process of shoving a lamp when he whirled on his heels and snapped towards Avery's general direction. It seemed he was needing a mirror, and wasn't asking very nicely. Avery stood up straighter and avoided looking at the tail. Usually they would have snarkily remarked about using basic manners, the word please and all that nonsense. Avery just didn't have the energy ti defy the other man any more. "Sure I'll grab it." They made a beeline for the hallway, taking it upon themself to push some of Bal's determination into their stride, doing so unconciously and without intent to do so. They carefully snatched up the mirror hanging on the wall, about the size of their middle, and wandered back towards Bal, holding the delicate thing carefully before offering it towards Bal's arms, attempting to take on a blank expression upon their features. |
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Neutral
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old rp is old
Baalatum | mood: shitshitshit please don't throw me out into the cold
Bal busied himself by rooting around for a pencil and hastily scrawling a sigil on each cup, as well as drawing a handful scattered across a patch of wall. He set each of his three coffee cups at a specific point around him, angled into something of a triangle. By the time he'd set up Avery's living room to his liking, they had returned with a mirror. He was actually surprised that they'd managed to obtain such a sizable piece. Most of his calls were done hastily and as a matter of convenience, so he often found himself relying upon small hand mirrors and the like. One notable incident last year had driven him to seek out the closest mirror, which turned out to be the wall of mirrors in the nearby public restroom. That situation had been...less than ideal. A handful of agitated customers and an overworked manager had cut his call short and earned him a lifetime ban from the restaurant. "This will suffice." He said with perhaps a hint of gratitude - or not, it was difficult to tell - as he took the mirror and propped it up against the wall. For a few seconds he stared unblinkingly at the mirror, mumbling a string of words which sounded vaguely like Latin, then he gave a quick slash of the hand as though tearing a curtain aside.
No sooner had he drawn his hand back then the coffee cups began to glow, lines of neon orange leaking from the sigils. The sigils on the wall reacted similarly, brightening from pinpricks to the strength of high intensity flashlights. His pupils dilated sharply but he refused to blink or look away as they shrank to feline looking slits. As he watched, readying himself to demand an explanation as to why nothing was working, the mirror flared to life in a chaotic burst of movement and energy. An electric hum filled the air, shooting up his spine and pulling at the hair on the back of his neck. The mirror looked like how one might picture the inside of a black hole: blackness and blind hunger and destruction.
But it was wrong. It felt wrong. It looked wrong. He faltered, deeply unsettled by the vision before him. Had he made a wrong connection somewhere? No, he knew each step by heart, and even if he'd slipped, it would still have linked him somewhere. This, this was nowhere.
Suddenly, the hollow sound of a voice cut through the chaos. "Hello? - there. I don't - come back."
Whoever was talking was clearly shouting to be heard, and yet it was still faint. Bal listened intently as flashes of neon crackled just under the surface of the mirror, a puzzling combination of alarm and annoyance on his face. His tail lashed his uncertainty as he pressed close to the mirror, studying it as though expecting it to start dishing out answers. He might not know what was going on, but he was sure that it was not good. Very definitely not good.
"Shit." He slammed a hand against the wall as if that might help get his message across, like he was just fixing a fussy television or radio, and he shouted back at the black chaos within the mirror, "I can't get through. Do you hear me? I can't get through. Tell Botis."
A horribly uncomfortable and unfamiliar sensation had a hold of him, and as he tried fruitlessly to communicate, it grew to surround him until he wanted nothing more than to make it stop. Desperately, with the early grip of panic driving his actions, he dashed a hand across the closest penciled sigil on the wall, smearing the mark and cutting the connection. He hadn't even realized that he was breathing heavily until the dense pressure of the wrong connection began to lift, allowing his head to clear. What was that? Defeated and confused beyond all measure, he slumped back, letting himself slide down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the traces of his pointless entry.
Up until now, Avery had been scarcely more than a thought, a minor step in achieving his goals. He had used them to obtain what he needed, but hadn't given them much thought, figuring that he'd be on his way soon enough. Now, however, he was at a loss. He had no idea what he was expected to do to complete his now immensely complicated duties, and Avery was the only thing standing between him and the freezing outdoors. His widening gaze slowly swiveled over to the pink haired individual who'd already shown him more generosity than he probably deserved. Mercy.
"You can have that." He offered flatly, indicating one of the previously glowing coffee cups with a lackluster wave of his tail. "Looks like you've lucked out, friend. Planes are fucked. Your soul's not going anywhere, and neither am I." |
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Darkseeker
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Avery | mood: bls wtf They watched unblinkingly as Bal began chanting in some other language. It sounded like Latin. It was the type of string of sounds that one would step back at and tell the speaker to, preferably, not curse them. Avery didn't doubt it was a curse. After all, this was Bal, who hated the cold, stole stranger's coffees and was an impatient grump. Then everything started... glowing? The sigils, the coffee cups, and Bal's eyes. They slitted, the light of everything else reflecting off of them in an eerie sort of sense. It was intriguing, a magnetic appearance that appealed to their interest. A sound filled the room. It didn't have a set source, but Avery had to guess it came from the mirror, which began swirling and twisting, like flames licking the thing, but they were dark, pitch black. Violently gorgeous. The sound echoed and rang, filled every crevice. It came from everywhere and nowhere. It rang in Avery's ears but they hardly noticed, watching bal carefully. He looked confused. Was something wrong? Had he messed up his little act? Was the motions wrong? The one where he had swept nothing - no, something - away and brought along this magnificent disaster. A voice cut through the sound, echoing everywhere again. It was hurting Avery's head. The words were faint, accompanied with a light buzzing sound. It was like when someone was yelling loudly across the field but the wind was going the wrong way, always the wrong way. When it would push the sound far, far away. Bal cursed and hit the wall. Something was wrong. Definitely wrong, as Bal smeared away the marking and slid to the floor. Avery had always seen the odd, tailed man as precise and determined. He never had shown even an inch of vulnerability since they had first met under the cold. But now, now the man was tired and defeated. The look of a golden man ruined. A concerned look crossed their face and they took a tentative step towards Bal. Their gazes met and Avery lightly raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question. Should they comfort him? Make him a warm drink? Bal had liked the warm coffees. He hadn't liked the cold. Bal offered one of the coffee cups, it's glow having faded after he had severed whatever connection he had had with the mirror and beyond that. He muttered something about both not going anywhere, not Avery's soul nor it's guide. Avery laughed tiredly. "Well, I don't like planes anyways." They inspected the other man as cautiously as one could, acting as if their gaze would somehow injure him. They were thinking about whether or not to offer Bal the guest room or the living room. Almost instantaneously they made up their mind. Who would want to stay in a room decorated with strange symbols and defeat. No, Bal could take the guest room. It wasn't as if anyone was living there. "Alright. Here's the deal bossman. You get to take the guest room to sleep in. You clean up after yourself, and you do not go and try to make a connection to hell or whatever without my consent. You help out when I need it, and I'll cook enough for two people." They glanced at the small man on the floor and could only see a little pouting child. "You can stay as long as you like. If you kill me, at least don't get caught because that'll be just pathetic, yeah?" |
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Spring Month: 2 
Day Weather: 
Flood
