✧･ﾟ:* ROSEATE

✧･ﾟ:* Padparadscha

Townhouse 221, Cotes Ward App ♦️ Stats ♦️ Rules ♦️ Mun intro

🌹 Also known as "Padpa." (they/them) 🌹 A gemstone fighter with a Mohs scale hardness of 9, they're second only to Bort in strength, surpassing even Diamond. Currently nerfed to a flimsy 3. 🌹 Holds the world record for longest nap (231 years, 11 months, and 1 day). "Born" full of holes, they've been phasing in and out of a comatose state for their entire ~3,700-year-long life. 🌹 Friendly, if eccentric. Knows Things™. May or may not sell you to Satan for one corn chip 🌹 Letting loose a rock with no understanding of autonomy, let alone emotion, seems a bit risky... Oh well. Probably nothing to worry about :)

“Agh!” He did not expect one of them to come running towards him, but he didn’t have much time to worry when he felt slightly weightless and lands on the ground. He quickly stands up, and dusts himself off.

“Thank you! Thank you. What should I do? I only really have a stick I picked up or I have my phone.” Wilson looks at the two objects he has. “I’m not really much of a fighter but… here goes nothing.”

He throws his phone at the clone as hard as he can, though keeps alert in case there’s any retaliation. Hopefully it helps, it probably wouldn’t though.

Not wanting to give their clone the upper hand, it’s difficult for them to respond as a pearlescent sword flashes over their head, missing by an inch. The two engage in a rapid, almost dizzying flurry of strikes, until -- thud. The phone smacks the clone in the side of the head. Puzzled, they look towards Wilson for just a moment.

In a bright red streak, Padpa rushes forward, slicing the other gem in half at the waist. As they fall, their sword catches Padpa twice: first above the knee, then at the shoulder. Their left leg and right arm - the one holding their weapon - snap off with a loud crack. They collapse as well, but catch themselves before they can faceplant into the grass. Neither gem is fully incapacitated. Crimson shards litter the ground.

 “Maybe its juice?” he says, rather happily even though he knows its blood trailing down the windows, he can’t find himself to ruin his good mood. Or rather this good mood is enhanced by the blood seeping down the windows. 

He’s like that. 

 “Its nothing important. I bet it happens all the time.”

❝ Juice...? Shaped like hands? ❞

As someone who didn’t require food or drink to survive, it was difficult to make a real rebuttal, but something was definitely suspicious. Prying themselves away from the brightly flashing machine, Padpa moved to inspect the blood. Another invisible hand slammed against the glass, startling them, though they remained still. They stared into the blinding fog. An odd sensation crept into their body, far different from the weakness that overcomes them before they fall unconscious.

The mists had arrived so suddenly, and if the Sea of Clouds alone had taught her anything, it was that mist suddenly surging in from seemingly nowhere was not to be trusted, especially when it was avoiding certain areas. It almost meant something was lying in wait, ready to kill. Spear drawn and hackles raised, Selenie was ready for anything…

Or so she thought. But when an all-too-familiar chuckle echoed around her, she couldn’t believe it. Her heart pounded and her eyes widened in sheer horror as an all-too-familiar figure emerged from the shadows. Covered in midnight black scales and those bloodthirsty, crimson red eyes… 

It was him. The dragon who had ruined her. Yilbegan. 

“How?! I fucking killed you! I cut you to pieces! You’re dead!” 

Again, he chuckled. 

“Am I, though? Just because thou didst unleash thy full fury upon me does not mean I am truly dead… I shan’t ever truly perish, so long as thou drawest breath!” 

“SHUT YOUR GODSDAMNED TRAP, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I TOOK YOU DOWN BEFORE WITHOUT THE POWERS I HAVE NOW! I’LL CRUSH YOU AGAIN!” She screamed, before bringing her spear to bare, aetheric dragonflame enveloping her as she charged him. 

“Thou canst never banish mine shade!” He taunted, only earning a bloodlust-filled shriek from her as dragon and dragoon met in the air in vicious, aether-ridden aerial combat.

In a sense, they almost preferred the fog to the crowded unpredictability of the city proper. The isolation hardly bothered them, and the mists invigorated them, returning all of their former strength. Their weakness outside the fringes had planted a seed of bitter frustration in them. They’d traded one flaw for another, it seemed.

If they had to risk being shattered by whatever lurked within the fog, all for some normality, then, well... that was just fine.

Padpa hummed to themselves as they aimlessly wandered, blade propped on their shoulders, and then they heard signs of a rather horrific scuffle. When the mists parted and showed a woman locked in combat with a massive, winged thing, they froze in awe rather than fear.

The sound of combat catches Wilson’s attention. He’s been well lost in the mists. Hearing the echoes of a swordfight, he reasons that it can’t be anything that he knows -- and that means relative safety as far as he’s concerned. And the sound of fighting means that there’s someone nearby, someone that might know how to better navigate through the mists.

Wilson stumbles along and sees the two fighting. They move quickly, much too quickly, and they almost both look the same. Wilson shies away, afraid of getting involved, but his good nature gets the better of him.

“Who is who, and who should I help?”

A voice distracts them for a split second; as a fighter, they know better, and yet it gives their clone a chance to knock them off balance. Their crimson irises widen. Time seems to slow as they fall, and Padpa twists midair, aiming a hard kick into the other’s side that sends them skidding across the grass.

❝ Me, please. If you can keep up- ❞

Analysis data. Processing…

 “You shake.” the shaking is more pronounced than one who is actually a human, indiciating something close to a golem like structure. The ripples of movement is something that can’t be easily copied by other species no matter how far they do to copy it. 

 “Leave.” he commands to the horde, lightning flashing from underneath them, Though he recognizes this power is only available the more he stays inside the mist, and only there. A single flash that made one enemy into ashes and the horde leaves out of fear. 

 “Leave the fighting, to me. Though i suppose I am out, only for the sake of acquiring important materials.” yogurt.

Shake? Is that a taunt? Indignation swells in the gem’s mottled chest, mounting with their frustration towards their abnormal brittleness, a far cry from their pristine hardness of nine. Their mouth opens, readying a retort.

Lightning crashes all around them. The unbearable friction and heat in the air staggers them, and while they remain on their feet-- CRACK. Thin fissures tear up the entire length of their body, even one side of their face.

When life gives you lemons, you make exp grinding lemonade. Samuel is all smiles as he watches his own avatar become murdered, deleted by the ghosts that constantly haunt pacman everyday. Perhaps the ghosts of those he killed would be here as well! Oh what fun to have. It would be like everyone getting a second chance , with someone filling their coin slot. 

 “Oh don’t you worry. So long as someone presses a coin inside the slot…”

He does so

  Continue?   yes/no. 

                    YES. 

 “He can fight and have fun as long as he wants. Why not give it a go?”

In a way, this machine brings back hazy memories from the moon - of the giant gaps in their torso being filled with brand new, stable compounds, and the strange mechanisms that may restore their fellow gems from dust. Or do the opposite. They’re still not entirely sure whether these tiny beings behind the screen or alive or not.

❝ Hmm? I can control it? Well, maybe- ❞

A faint thump draws their attention towards the glass windows, now completely clouded by fog, and spattered with a substance matching the vivid hue of their hair.

The last thing they expected to encounter in the mist was themselves. Of course, new gems formed on the Shore of Nascency all the time; it was only a matter of time before a new Padparadscha, a better, less flawed Padparadscha replaced them. For over three millennia, they had so hoped for that outcome. But that isn't what stands in front of them now. It is quite literally them, torso full of crimson compounds in the exact same places - only they're wearing something acutely Lunarian.

❝ ... ❞

Not that there is further observation, Zeus [arc unit] sees more of the figure. Genderless, or rather inbetween , not important but will ask for preference later. Somewhat interesting to look at, if for the sense of trying to figure out, if there is a human base. But expression is also human, despite giving a eerie feeling to it.

“Smash… a odd phrase. My observation units are lacking in data.”

his movements were graceful, yet somewhat stiff. like a old machine.

 “Are you a human?”

his head snaps to the side, listening in to approaching footsteps.

“….”

something is coming.

They tilt their head, blinking, crystalline hair shifting across their cheeks. What an odd question, they thought - one which heightened their suspicions that the other gems had not made it into this strange location after all.

❝ Human? Ah, no, I- ❞

A tall man with a pitch-black dog walking by his side, big enough to reach his hip. Yes, he’ll be more than a boon in this state. So long as he keeps finding things to eat.

And this one…what a strange scent. Not human, but alive. Inexplicably alive. A homunculus perhaps? Yet there is no magic circuitry present…an organism all it’s own? How fascinating.

With a flap of his trench coat, a black hawk shoots forth, and Nrvnqsr closes one eye as it investigates higher.

“If it’s a mess you desire, that is what comes naturally to chaos such as I.”

“Are you familiar with this phenomena? You appear relaxed.”

So does he, for that matter. Hands in his coat pockets as he observes the small battalion upon a cloud.

Their smile remains, even when a bird inexplicably flies from the man’s coat. They’ve seen weirder, that this point, as someone who’s stood on the moon.

❝ Very. They grind gems like me to dust. Careful - they're quick.❞

Padpa gazes up at the cloud formation and adjusts their grip on their blade. Were the Lunarians here to retrieve them - forcibly - or break their flimsy alliance into little pieces? They never trusted them. They trusted Phos, and without Phos here...

Spotting the hawk, a sect of the Lunarians divert their attention to it, and prepare to fire. There are dozens of them. The largest peak of the sunspot contorts, suggesting the approach of something bigger. A cold smirk of defiance reaches Padpa’s face.

In truth his conception is also playing a big part in lunarian society in some alternate time line, but alas Zeus is not one for big thinking when what he wants is almost in his grasp. Marketing and opening hours of the day is made for those with wealth and power to grasp what they desire to say the least.

“And will you bar me as well, I have little time, answer in succession. Yes or no?” his hands, his power, though not even a tenth acquiered, still is power. It glows and crackles with electricity.

❝ ... Huh? ❞

The gem shakes their head to clear it, thick, solid strands of hair audibly ringing as they do. They compose themselves as if a switch has been flipped, shoulders drooping as if this is a simple inconvenience, rather than a genuinely intimidating situation. Would this one dissipate like clouds like the Lunarians did, if they were to hit him? They somehow doubt it.

❝ No. No to getting smashed to pieces, that is! Nooo thank you! ❞

“Pacman is….like this.’

To not know pacman seems like a cardinal sin, but he takes it all in good humor , his smile unending as he points at the screen where said pacman was eating away at tiny circles. A classic, even at this era.

Outside, the mist grows stronger, something bloody leaves handprints on the glass doors but he obliges, happily to ignore them for video games.

·“Its a tiny digital being, eating other tiny stuff and all these ghosts are trying to eat pacman.”

“The best thing about video games is that you can retry all you want if you keep feeding the machine coins.”

They listen intently, genuinely enthralled by the explanation and flashing lights before their eyes, and too distracted to notice the worsening state of the streets - let alone the handprints. They’ve heard of machines, and had seen them on the moon, but nothing like this. The screen flashes as colorfully as a gem might.

❝ OH! I see! ❞

They don’t see. They have no idea what’s going on. These concepts are completely foreign to them, but it certainly looks exciting! Padpa stands on their toes, nearly pressing their face against the screen to scrutinize the pixels behind it.

THEY were only supposed to come out on clear days. At least, that's what they were always told. Yet there it was, a sunspot branded into the mist, despite the bloody eclipse hanging over their head. How convenient, then, that this strange fog has restored their strength - and a less useless blade, at that.

The skies part, bringing rows of bow-wielding Lunarians standing atop towering clouds. They don't have time to question why or how they've come. A nearby presence pulls their crimson gaze over their shoulder. Ah, another one of those human things. How nice!

Chimeras, beasts, everything that plague Olympus lower levels. Zeus directs, redirects, creates lightning that turns all into ashes, the sound of thunder. It is numerous in this sector-

 “To think. I, Zeus am barred from purchasing due to these creatures.” 

The creatures are in the way. 

To the bakery. A thousand voices were in his ears, he suspects temporarily. Everything is heard.

But a theory, it seems none of the original inhabits are even aware of this mist.  

They wander the curving streets aimlessly as the fog rolls in, taking note of the the natives’ obliviousness. Or perhaps this is normal? They wouldn’t know. The gem sighs, propping their wooden sword on their shoulders. Their mouth opens, readying a complaint—

BOOM. A crash of thunder, and then half a dozen more. Vibrations tear through their now-fragile body, which threatens to crack, and they find themselves face to face with a massive pale being. A Lunarian? No, that can’t be...