R5: ghost hangout

[foundationmods]

[What's this? The fog of the miasma has pulled back, revealing a path down to the basement. None of the living seem to notice it though, only those who are dead are aware of it.

Down in the basement is a large furnished room. It doesn't seem as dusty as the rest of the house, and it actually seems lived in? Or...un-lived in, technically. But the lighting here works and there's plenty to do. Even if the ghosts might not need it, there's several beanbag chairs (brought in by one of the many groups of teenagers who have disappeared into the house), a large couch, and even a jacuzzi. Because even if you're in eternal pain, you can relax a bit, right?

If the ghosts look up, they'll see that the ceiling appears to be made of spider-patterned stained glass. Which is weird, considering that it should be floorboards and such. But the stained glass allows them to look up into all parts of the house and easily spy on the living. What they hear can be hit or miss, especially if the living are whispering, but seeing what they're up to should be easy enough.

Well. Might as well make the most of this space, right?]

Comments

[kaliedoscopes]

[ God that was all a fever dream at the end so the only pushback he has is to grumble and scowl. He really does fit those titles at times. It's not quite the same fit as all those masks: representing a variety of different animals and expressions, each beset with a shiny jewel given his taste. Literal trophy walls of all the faces he's stolen and tucked away beneath his cloak.

He can't quite tuck away the small shudder that shakes the cocoon though, but it's surely coincidental and has nothing to do with the hand to kaleidoscope contact. His tone is ruffled when he speaks, the tiniest bit of miasma on the ends. ]

There's a lot of despites, and I don't like sharing. [ A soft click of his tongue. ] Since you volunteered, you'll just have to show me then.

[noneforall]

You don't like sharing, you're not the keeper of a menagerie...

[There's a curl of self-satisfaction at the grumbling, all unadorned and popping like a single quick bubble in the midst of all the miasmas and mirages they've just flung at each other, but it's there all the same. Just like the faintest glimmer of unrepentant amusement as he finishes off his perusal of the memory, the web, and lays them out on the table with a flourish.

Hiding from him is always going to be a challenge in more than one way, especially from now on.

Distracted by the butterflies, he catches little else but movement out of the corner of his eye but what still holds true here is: he doesn't have to watch. Instead his head tilts into the timbre and flutter of voice, automatically reaching for the keys to the instrument.]

But I still owe you one. Or perhaps more? It doesn't matter. There's all kinds of fireworks in the world and out of it, and I'd say I've got a good grasp on most of them.

[kaliedoscopes]

Don't tell me that you're any different. [ Not that they were comparing but they are now, apparently. He's still off center despite the fact that he's begun to push back; even with the miasma his stubbornness can cut through the tide, at least temporarily. ]

Start with one date, or are you greedy too? [ With that particular instrument, with just a few steps forward to right himself, it's almost like he's dancing again. ]

[noneforall]

I can be generous when I feel like it, you know. I still can't say I've had much experience with zoos or taming creatures, though. Even now.

[This is a ridiculous argument given their respective skillsets that were literally on display twelve seconds ago and possibly also given all that Subete had thrown at the house as well as the MJBK on his metaphorical payroll, but that's not the important part. It's the principle of the thing, the not quite defined give-and-take of it and them, familiar and foreign at once under new management.

In some ways, the rhythms are still the same; in other ways they're transposed, slower and more off-the-cuff but easier to follow.]

I wouldn't call it greed to know exactly how far I can reach. And I would be careful with numbers: they're easy to see as absolutes, but they, too, are words in their own right.

[kaliedoscopes]

How could I forget the water familiar. [ Unsure if this is an argument against taming creatures or a nod to Subete being generous, but does anyone know what's going on here.

It likely says something about all of this™ that swirls and torrents of miasma can lend to moments of lucidity, but that's not something Hikage will spend any real thought on. Much the same goes for his reply too, because under the right conditions he can be terribly impulsive, so he really doesn't need the extra push here but the house provides anyway. ]

Isn't that the purpose of them? But I know, I've never forgotten that.

[noneforall]

Water is so much more versatile than most give it credit for, after all.

[It's a mystery as to what they're arguing anymore, but while Subete doesn't manage to scare up a laugh there's something of the cadence of it in his words anyway -- the memory of water is a satisfying one, reflecting on the ridiculous ways it's allowed him to slip under the radar, splash rings around Hikage and still others, and at some point, even those from the future.

But that's not the most important thing right now, in the cloudy aftermath of storms and the continued poisonous low light, the clarity of dusk before a long night.]

What, to be absolutes or easy roadsigns? Is that what you think? [there's something like a brief huff, but he goes on, not quite playful but somehow like a challenge] I am in the business of making numbers do what I want, though. Consider it a part of the job description.

[kaliedoscopes]

[ There's just a knowing "mmhmm" from him because it's not only Subete who came at him with a water attack, bug types may not be weak to water in theory, but in practice...

He shrugs it off, focusing on his steps which have finally found their center. The miasma will catch up to him in a second, but for now- ]

Neither and both, they're an easy way to define value. But I'll just repeat myself: you'll have to show me what you want then, that and fireworks. [ The words roll off his tongue easily, this is a challenge now. ]

[noneforall]

[There's the briefest spark in his eye at the response; to tell the truth, he really, really isn't in the business of elemental affinities nor anything of the sort, because at the end of the day the battles (the war) he fights are entirely too different in nature and scale and weight and worth to even begin to compare.

But something about it still gets his blood up, always has, or maybe it's just something in the miasma still agitating all his layers bleeding into each other and into everyone else's; he doesn't need a spur but he doesn't need a brake either, so forward he goes.]

The fireworks have always been a part of it -- you should know that by now.

[Spoken softly but without reserve, spreading his hands theatrically because that's apparently the mood now and into the sunset.]

Ah, but who am I to refuse a show? This house is the wrong stage entirely, but all that's left is to change that.

[kaliedoscopes]

[ He laughs, mostly mirthless but with a streak of darkness that's entirely his own, weight, emotion and all. So many colors have been bled from him today, but there's still some left.

What isn't left are questions even if he should have some, but forward, forward, forward, with his wings spread. ]

It's too small for you, for me, for the both of us. But destroying it shouldn't be all that hard now that we're backstage.

[noneforall]

[He lets that extra shot of darkness blaze through, like a shot of espresso -- extra dark, maybe? Or just an extra trail of butterflies, seen with a different set of eyes. Even Subete isn't sure how to describe his senses sometimes, especially under miasma spell, but:

It probably doesn't matter at this point, with all the wings and things and the way he's plain thrown off reservations along with life, the universe, and possibly everything. This really is a completely new perspective, so there's no sense in bothering to look at it from the ground, is there?]

Much too small, when all the world's a stage.

[It's quiet but there's a sheen to it, like a flicker of iridescence on the edge of a feather, his lip curling up in response. His fingers curl in, curl out, drawing small patterns in the air that don't quite resolve into words just yet.]

It would be easy, it should be easy, all that's needed is the key. We -- have a piece of it. That should be enough, from this side.

[kaliedoscopes]

[ From the sky he can read the thermals even if there's fog laced throughout, because for however powerful the miasma is and isn't, it's incapable of taking away or blurring this instinct even if it's a threat to the hivemind's existence. Like a butterfly drawn to a flower, he's been chasing that intoxicating scent of destruction at the cost of everything else. That's probably the entire point.

This close even with everything that's happened in the past 24 hours and then some, it makes him bristle; the curve on his own lips almost a crescent moon, half of his vision red instead of an even purple. ]

Oh? I prefer the spotlight to the background but I guess I can settle for that until we break this venue wide open. [ He doesn't need to say it again, Hikage really hates sharing and he really hates sharing with what turns out to be a literal babe still fussing and teething. (Perhaps this talk is edging into sharing itself but he either doesn't grasp it or doesn't want to). ]

[noneforall]

[It's hard to say if he was always chasing destruction for destruction's sake, or if in fact, like all the different layers of darkness they're basking in -- like all the different ones he's just borne witness to -- it was simply a web woven together of too may different threads (history, destiny, jealousy, reflection, vengeance, emptiness) and twisted beyond all shape or knowledge: here and now, though, they work out to one and the same.

At its core, the hivemind is simply a slow-motion gathering of all the most destructive elements in the house; so it's really no wonder that that they've found themselves and each other here.]

That's the price we pay for backstage access. But you won't have to wait for long, or at all. After all, waiting is a state of mind.

[Maybe this is a challenge in return. Or just wordplay again, because that's apparently what he does even in the deepest grips of miasma.]

[kaliedoscopes]

As long as I get a refund, eventually. [ The adjective is carelessly thrown on at the end, because this is all just a bit too raw for him not to be petulant. He doesn't mind being here, he chose to be here, but he's already set his eyes on a brighter, grander, show. ]

...time is just what you make of it. And there's other things to play with too. [ But he wouldn't be himself (even as he exists now) if he didn't pushback in some way, because while he's no stranger to waiting and patience, he also spent nearly a century waiting for the keys (shards) to his freedom to even exist in the first place. Luckily in this case, the board has already been set. ]

[noneforall]

A refund, hmm? I wouldn't hold my breath.

[It's, perhaps interestingly, not a denial -- nor is it truly of the miasma, this stinging slice of his own brand of cynicism despite where they are and all the ghosts they've contended with and continue to contend with between the two of them. There's a faint flatness to it, perhaps because he's been here longer, maybe because some part of him was always here.

Not waiting, not bound by this house, but bound by something else entirely and walking towards it with eyes wide open.]

But as you said, time -- is what we've traded for. [what they've traded themselves for, unspoken, but he also doesn't shy away from it] Ah, in some ways... I didn't think I'd be back here so soon.

[kaliedoscopes]

We'll see. [ Longer to Hikage is skewed in various directions. This box was much more crowded than his usual, and most of the company annoying buzzing insects. But—he doesn't have the capacity to think on it nor the desire, and neither is this a proclamation that something will happen any time soon. But it will eventually, that much he's sure of. ]

I traded that away a long time ago, but this place deserves secondhand quality. [ Part a dig at himself but also the truth. He reaches out, not to summon a butterfly but to play with some strands of miasma. ]

Hm. There's no real music to speak of here, either. [ If his inference is correct, but all the more pity anyway that he's not in the mood for that serenade regardless. ]