{ * Not dead, taking care of my family. Ask my husband for more info. }
{ * Six month olds are very needy, after all! }
{ * Quick update: actually sheβs almost seven months. }
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{ * Not dead, taking care of my family. Ask my husband for more info. }
{ * Six month olds are very needy, after all! }
{ * Quick update: actually sheβs almost seven months. }

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{ * Not dead, taking care of my family. Ask my husband for more info. }
{ * Six month olds are very needy, after all! }
* { Hm. }
From Me To You
archaicgeistsβ:
* Chamomile is fine, thank you Dia..
[ As he enters..heβs once more surprised at the design choices.. itβs all rather sleek and stylish compared to most other spaces he remembers.. But it all also carries a ornate look, the stained glass windows immediately catch his eye.. Honestly the one reason alone he might of liked churches..
It all honestly made him partially want to remodel his own space..it felt..lived in and happy here even. How could he have missed sunlight so much until he saw it playing through the colored glass and interior?
Geist was at a loss for words for what he was feeling..but for once it wasnβt anger thankfully. He could trust Dia, he had claimed them as a founded brother more or less, Pathos too where ever their moreβ¦unpredictable half was. It felt wrong to ask considering their history together, both hated one another with a burning passion.
He was fine to let this train of though continue down memory lane when something else cleared the haze of his mind, making him stop near the seating area.]
* Waitβ¦
* You saidΒ βmy kidβ yes..?
* Dia since when did you have a child?
{ * Heβs humming to himself as he makes the tea, staying firmly out of Geistβs thoughts on the decor and the potential schrodingerβs state of... him. }
{ * nope. not gonna think about that. }
-
{ * Doesnβt take too long for the man to bring out a nice serving tray with tea. Itβs simple, just a couple cups, teapot and sugar bowl. If you want cream with chamomile go fuck yourself }
* β Iβve had one for a while now. Theyβre a Chara from my alternateβs original timeline. Theyβre at school right now and my h- boyfriend is in his own space so weβve got ample time to chat. β
{ * The man takes a seat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table with nonchalance. }
* β So, howβre you feeling? β
From Me To You
archaicgeistsβ:
[ As the shift of worlds happened, the vibrant hues of life and light faded in, leaving Geist very very surprised. It all looks so..comfortable and picturesque its damn near a shock to his system..
It takes him a moment or two to register what Dia has said, he feels like heβs part of some painting now.. but what feels like peace hits him for what might possibly be the first time in months. ]
* Iβdβ¦ Iβd like some tea honestly right about now.
* I didnβt think you would of lived in such a place..itβs magnificent honestly.
[ Part of him regrets not going out of the void more since his ungodly breakdowns have gotten worse.. the bleakness of the void seemed to only make things worse..
Leave it to Dia to break him out of his stupor in more than one way..]
{ * A subtle song dances on the air, humming through the leaves and the petals, singing their joyous cries of vibrant life. }
-
* β Thanks. I drew some inspiration from a few oil paintings and movies; my kid can name the species of each flower in the field and I just haphazardly threw them in for filler. So proud. β
{ * The man pushes the door open with little effort. It makes almost no sound until the handle clatters against the stone archway leading further into the cathedral. }
-
{ * Inside is not quite traditional to the exterior. There have been major modifications, mainly a second floor having been added and twisting spires on either side with spiral staircases that lead up. Further in is a modern living room area: a kitchen on the left separated by a granite island (with wood fire oven!), a central seating area in the middle (TV and game consoles of course) and a reading nook to the right (bookshelves galore.) The additions stop in the middle of the living room, clear view of a grand painted glass window shining in a myriad of pastel lights on the couches and hanging chandelier. }
{ * Can something be both humble and opulent? My interior decorating skills leave something to be desired but Iβm a damn good architect. }
-
{ * The man breathes a sigh of relief upon entering the threshold, walking down the hallway and into the living room as he unbuttons his signature black cloak and tosses it over the back of the couch. Underneath heβs wearing very mundane lounge wear: t-shirt and sweatpants, both the same color gray. }
* β Tea, right. Chamomile okay? β
{ * And heβs off to the kitchen. }

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Love is Survival
acuitasβ:
β’-)β’βββββΌ β½Β
β¦What?!
No, his eyes do not betray them! Right there, clear as day! The classic bunny ears, the go to of many a prankster!
ββββ β Oh! I have been had! How utterly dastardly of you! β he replies, lightly ribbing the other with an elbow.Β β And I thought I was the one would who have you! It seems fate has been cruel and unkind this day. How unfortunateβ¦ β
Still. Itβs mantle worthy. And itβs going straight up there inβ¦ well, whatever frame works with this kind of image, he thinks. Gilded would be too gaudy, but it would also highlight the stupidity of the entire situation. Yetβ¦
ββββ β Ah, wellβ you should have the honor of placing it where it needs to go, at the very least. It is your call, after all. β
{ * Considering the fact that getting a physical picture off a camera takes effort and tech, the man is going to pinch the screen and swipe something off the top with a paper rustling sound. God itβs good to be God. }
{ * With a straightening of the photo, he puts it in a nice shiny purple frame and places it delicately on the corner of the hearthβs mantle. There it will rest until the end. }
{ * End of what? End of time? End of a life? End of a love? Doesnβt matter. Whatever ends, that picture will outlive it by a day. }
* β Iβm not going to say my heart is cold and shriveled, but the warmth of the room does bring a smile to my face. β
Love is Survival
acuitasβ:
β’-)β’βββββΌ β½
Voice crack aside, it seems heβs given just the answer Lorin was looking for. His lips curl into a mirthful grin, which in turn crinkle the corners of his eyes a little. A part of him was preparing for disappointment, but lucky him! Thereβs none to be found this day. On to step two, then.
ββββ β Group, of course. I thought somethingβ¦ a bit more meaningful than a simple memento would suffice, β he replies, already on to move to get the camera application set up. Itβs a good thing heβs had some practice here and there before, or else heβd be looking to the other for help like an embarrassed child.
In fact, most of his test photographs have been scenery related. The ravines from the view of a window on the highest portion of the castle, the dull waters of Turtle Rock, and the still just as foreboding entrance of Skull Woods, just to name a few locations. Theyβre notβ¦ expertly taken, but theyβre not the blurry photos of a novice, either. Theyβre serviceable. Experimental.
Heβll wordlessly get himself into what he believes is a good positionβ slightly crouched down beside the other, just enough for his face to get into view, heads resting against each others. Using the front facing camera isβ¦ well, it has a bit of a wonky start, at first. It only takes a few seconds to get the hang of it, though. Once thatβs handled, heβll set the timer for five seconds and let it go.
Fiveβ¦ fourβ¦
ββββ β Smile for me, please. β
Threeβ¦ twoβ¦
Oβ β¦the bastard. Just before the timer reaches one, he presses his lips to DIaβs cheek and closes his eyes upon impact.
Heβs lucky it came out okay, or else the element of surprise was all for nought. Looking at the results as he stands up tells him just that.
β¦What a devilish grin heβs bearing.
ββββ β I think that came out just fine. What do you think? β
{ * B-blushu... }
{ * Give him a moment, he has to recover from that. }
* β That was... unexpected! But yea, it looks like it came out alri- β
{ * A pause. }
* β But whatβs thiiiissssss? β
{ * He jabs a finger at the screen. Right there, above Lorinβs head... two fingers, poking up from behind that mass of long hair. Bunny ears. }
{ * Shit-eating grin times two combob }
Love is Survival
acuitasβ:
β’-)β’βββββΌ β½Β
What does come to mind?
Heβs rightβ anything he could put down would certainly clash. Nothing of material value really jives with him at the moment, either. He has the thought of displaying his choker in a frame of some sort, but that would defeat the purpose of the gift, wouldnβt it?
Yes, he decides, it would. Therefore, heβll turn to his second option. Somethingβ¦ sentimental.
Without saying a word, heβll fish for the cellular device thatβs resting somewhere within the folds of his robes. It takes him a moment before he successfully retrieves it, and he lets out a little sound of triumph once he does. Heβll just unlock it, for now, as a question has yet to be answered before he can continue onward with this little idea. And itβs a very silly one, at that.
ββββ β Tell me, Diaβ are you comfortable with being photographed? β
{ * I forgot I donβt have a tail in this timeline }
-
{ * Heβs surprised at the option. Never would he have come to that conclusion. Then again, heβs not really one for taking selfies. }
* β I- uhhh... yeah, yeah thatβs fine? β
{ * Thereβs a reach into his robe to fish out a small mirror, combing his hair with his hand in a fussy manner. Self-conscious much? }
* β Is this a group photo or is it just me- β
Love is Survival
acuitasβ:
β’-)β’βββββΌ β½Β
Does this magic rely on the law of conservation of mass like his own magic ( or, whatβs left of itΒ )? Or does it buck the concept entirely, bringing forth new matter from absolutely nowhere?
Either way, he wonβt protest against literally any of this. Lorin will take thatβ¦ wand, he believes, and roll it around in the palms of his hands for a spell. Itβs lightweight, about as much as a normal stick one would find on the forest floor. And yet, it hums with incredible power.
As someone who knows exactly how to use an arcane focus, itβs simple. Heβll focus his previous visions into the wand, which in turn exacts his will on to the space before him, shaping reality to his specific designβ telling the Weave to rearrange itself to create a desired effect.
Rooms appear from thin air, and within them the expected appliances and furnishings. Cabinets, the wood fire stove, and a table for two in one ( the kitchen area he had forgot to mention ), and in the other everything needed for a modest washroom that meets his standards.
Another room is conjured, and within it is a bed far larger he probably needs, just absolutely stacked with quilts and thick blankets. More bookshelves adorn the walls here, including a little alcove just filled with books above the bed. An armchair is here is well, and next to that a small end table.
The living quarters are the last to get its much needed attention. Another armchair, this time right next to a fireplace made of misshapen stone. The aforementioned bookshelves. An old and slightly weathered rug thrown over the warped floorboards. Trinkets and nick-knacks line the walls, such as potted plants and wind chimes.
Essentially, heβs turned what looked like someoneβs attic into the spitting image of the fairy tale cottage tucked far beyond the reaches of man.
Itβs warm, inviting, and the smell of magic perfumes the air with something sweet. An actual place to call his own, for once.
β¦It dawns on him, now, heβs never actually had a place of his own, before. It strikes him as odd, yet comforting.
His own little sanctuary.
And with that, he motions to hand the wand off.
ββββ β β¦While I believe this is complete, why not add a touch of your own? It is only fair, considering I assume you will occupy this space with me from time to time. β
{ * A touch of my own..? }
-
{ * The man looks around the place. It took no effort to get this home up and running the way Lorin wanted, so heβs pretty pleased with himself. }
* β ..Hmm. Iβve no idea how I could claim this space. Iβm not particularly materialistic, otherwise Iβd place something on the mantle. Anything Iβd put in here would clash with the aesthetics. β
{ * He stands up, looking the room up and down before turning to Lorin and quirking a brow. }
* β If you had to pick some object to remember me by, what would come to mind? β
Love is Survival
acuitasβ:
β’-)β’βββββΌ β½
What point is there to designing a living space if youβre not going absolutely buckwild over the little things? Itβs a soulless endeavor without the mutual excitement, after all. It would probably just result in some minimalist nightmare otherwise. Thereβs nothing homey about stark white walls and grey furnitureβ where is the love in that? Trinkets and copious amounts of blankets and that stain on the coffee table you donβt recall the origin ofβ¦ right.
We know what weβre going for.
He sees the corkboard materialize right in front of his eyes, and something within him just sparks to life. Itβs like the dusty cogs in the designing section of his brain have been kicked into high gear, whirring and turning to life.
Is his joy over something this mundane ridiculous? Likely so. Is he in the mood to care? Absolutely not.
ββββ β All splendid ideas, β he replies, focusing his attention on the scrapbook for a hot second before returning it to the corkboard. β I believe three rooms should be sufficient. Living quarters, bedroom, washroom. Small, but not uncomfortably so. Andβ¦ β
And here is where he gestures to an unused section of the wall, where he imagines the fireplace should be.
ββββ β Bookshelf. Nearly floor to ceiling. Several of these, just along the wall. β Heβs just going to keep going. β The idea is for this space to look cluttered, but not to the point it feels as if you are being choked by the very space around you. Fabrics of different shades, textures, patternsβ¦ but the opposite of kitsch, of course. Think of this likeβ¦ a cottage you find in the middle of nowhere, expected to be abandoned. But lo! It is occupied and brimming with warmth, the kind that is most pleasant to stave off winterβs deadly kiss with. Do you understand where I am going with this? β
* β Hermit. Wise sagely old man with hanging potion herbs and a flowery tea pot. Magic tome storage. β
{ * Heβs conjured a tarot card of The Hermit and set it on the notebook, gluing itself to the page. }
* β Here. β
{ * The man reaches into the sleeve of his robe, taking out a white pointed stick. A wand, maybe? }
* β Illusion magic. Set your mind a-whirrinβ and Iβll make it reality. You just gotta think where everything goes and itβll appear there. β
[ CREATIVE MODE: ENABLED ]

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From Me To You
archaicgeistsβ:
* Maybe.. hopefully I didnβt burn them all in my wake to keep nosy people out.
[ A hand reaches up to cover the one placed on his shoulder and return the gentle squeeze.
Thereβs alot going on in his mind now, part of him wants to refuse what heβs learned..people should mind their own damned business, not bother him.. But another knows that isnβt right.. Heβs had no one kind to talk to, barely in text or otherwise.
Heβs gotten worse and the idea of..being well and truly alone scares him on a near visceral level. Hearing Dia offer a way to remove himself from..his current situation for a bit makes him smile somewhat.]
* I appreciate it Dia..I suppose I should get back into the habit of pestering you..and maybe others once more.
* ..And I would like to see your new abode, anything to get myself away from..myself for a bit.
* Iβm ready to depart whenever you are.
{ * You donβt even need to move. }
{ * Let me show you my world. }
-
{ * In the blink of an eye the scenery of Geistβs abode shifts, changes colors; sunlight drowns out the gloom and replaces the musty scent with a gentle breeze carrying wildflower pollen. The ground below is a cobblestone walkway overgrown with an array of pastel petals and cool greens. The pathway draws the eyes to a massive victorian-era stone cathedral, its dark oaken double doors looking impressive and worn. }
{ * The man breaks contact, walking up the road and steps to push open one of the doors. }
* β Iβve got some tea on the stove still. β
{ * A far cry from the din of the void, no? }
From Me To You
archaicgeistsβ:
* β¦ .I-
[ Dias words catch him off guard in quite possibly the worst way. He looks at the gun and door in turn..to him it all seemed natural to do, a way to keep certain types out that wanted to impose against his willβ¦
..But hearing it from someone he trusted put so simply, there was no real way to deny that Dia made one hell of a point.
He had pushed everyone away, not even his closest friendsβ¦Hell not even Umbra spoke to him anymore..Christ when was the last time he spoke to Ano, to Outsider, hell anyone that wasnβt considered a enemy of his?
The last person he had a lengthy chat was with fucking Eight of all fragments and they hated him.
The gun topples from his weak grip, the feeling of a pit slowly forming in his stomach the more he thought about it.]
* ..You know..I hate it when you make such crystalline sense Dia..It cuts me right to the core in ways I havenβt felt in years..
* But..But of course youβre right..I canβt even remember when I started driving everyone.. even the ones I loved away.
* ..Gods deliver me..do I even have anyone left or have they abandoned me?
[ its a sobering thought..but one that really would not surprise him now. Would they even still want to bother with him?]
{ * The man is silent for some time. }
* β ...I donβt think itβs too late to start mending bridges. I think they miss you, like I did. β
{ * Thereβs hesitation, but he reaches around Geist, resting his hand on the otherβs shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. }
* β Besides, even if it takes a while to get back on your incorporeal feet, Iβm simply a text or phone call away. I donβt have a lot going on right now besides another timeline Iβm maintaining, and youβre always welcome at my new place. β
{ * A pause. }
* β ..Oh right, I never showed you my new place, did I? β
{ * Itβs an attempt at getting Geist to step out of this frankly depressing atmosphere, but heβs not sure if itβll work. }
From Me To You
archaicgeistsβ:
* Possibly..itβs what lead to me being kidnapped by someone who thought I needed help for my mental and physical well being, even after I blatantly told him off.
* Heβs the reason for the new door and precautions.. So I might be losing what sanity I have left, doesnβt mean anyone can just burst into my home and say itβs for my own good.
[ He likely needs a lot more help than hes letting on, but this is Geist here.. Heβll admit he needs help when hell freezes over most likely. ]
* And as for the weapons project.. Youβve handled firearms before yes? I recently acquired this interesting item after nearly getting the rest of my face blown off with it.
[ He pulls out what looks like a ordinary pistol for Dia to examine. ]
* It fires off magical rounds strangely enough..and with the firepower it holds it does a good job of deterring idiots.
* So I did some research and decided to make something more, my style I suppose? Something far more powerful but since Iβm crafting it myself I can keep track of everything to ensure how high a quality it is as a end result.
* ..Honestly Iβm fairly pleased with the progress so far.
{ * The man looks at the weapon, disappointed. }
* β ...I see. β
{ * Sip. }
* β Geist, Iβll be honest with you. Why do you need this level of isolation? Doesnβt it get boring out here when youβre left to your own devices? I understand not enjoying certain peopleβs company, but to get to the point where every knock at the door is going to require THAT... β
{ * He gestures to the gun. }
* β ..This is clearly not a healthy environment for you to be in. β
{ * Thereβs just a sigh that escapes him. }
* β I say this out of concern, Geist. Iβm glad youβre finding things to do out here, but when they involve just pushing other people away... β
* β Iβve lived it. It hurts; inflicts wounds you canβt come back from. Unless... you want to live like this, in which case the thought is extremely saddening. β
From Me To You
archaicgeistsβ:
* Well thatβs a relief.. dying and the like seem to be a oddly growing trend these days..
* Itβs always good to see someone with some sanity still lurking about here in the void..
[ He closes the door and bolts it..Diaβd likely notice it looks new among the whole new door..again.
Geist sighs and comes to join him in the couch pit after a moment]
* As for me, well I got kidnapped forΒ βmy health and sanityβ..
* Someone asked me to kill them, I refused and they did it themselves, only to botch it somehow and now they blame me for their.. whatever life they now have.
* And I feel like Iβm losing what little sanity I have left..I havenβt started hallucinating thankfully.
[ He points to the door and elsewhere]
* Iβve been busy keeping myself distracted as of late with some projects, the doors been reinforced with metal so the next idiot to kick my door in should have a harder time.
* The other projectβs..more of a new interest Iβve taken up in weaponry. Iβm rather quite proud of how itβs coming along.
* β Reinforced doors, huh..? β
{ * He nods along, setting the phone in his lap. }
* β You seem to be in the business of keeping people at armβs length. Dβyou think your increasing mental instability might factor into that at all? β
{ * Pop. }
{ * The manβs got some kind of aluminum can in hand, idly taking a sip. }
* β Anyway. Tell me about this new project of yours. What kinda weapon is it? β
Love is Survival
acuitasβ:
β’-)β’βββββΌ β½Β
Now youβve got him brainstorming. So much so, in fact, he has to put down his cutleryβ lest he start idly tapping it against a plate as he thinks. Thatβd just be distracting.
At this point, Lorin isnβt phased by the sudden pull of useful objects from hammerspace. After all, he has a similar methodβ the objects just have to already exist on the plane he takes them from.
Itβs the mention of the corkboard, of all things, that makes him excitedly clasp his hands together. He had the idea of just fashioning together a sort of jewelry tree stand, but he knows it would get cluttered and messy looking.
It seems like someone has an eye for design. And the other someone is just loving it.
ββββ β Yes! Absolutelyβ I was thinking solid wood, by the by. Some upholstery is fine, of course. And how have we not mentioned a fireplace? Made of brick, perhaps of varying colors to make sure it does not look too uniform? The floor is already hardwood, it should blend in nicely. A painting could certainlyβ¦
And the corkboard, that couldβ¦ I havenβt the foggiest of where that could go, but I wish to run with it! β
Itβs rare for him to be going a mile a minute like this. The positive energy that wafts off from him is almost infectious.
ββββ β I cannot believe I am becoming so giddy over something as simple as this, but here we are, I suppose! β
{ * Heβs just fucking going to Town on that scratch paper. }
* β Iβm getting log cabin. Log cabin but like with fine antique woven rugs and throw blankets. Fireplace? Boom. We got it. Corkboard, corkboard, on the wall! β
{ * Without really thinking, heβs pointing at one of the bare walls and suddenly thereβs this hanging flat board made out of cork with little pins in it, vertical style. }
* β Oh god we canβt forget a bathroom, or the kitchenette. Is this a studio apartment or a condo? How many rooms you looking to expand upon? Is this minimalist or big, airy and lofty? β
{ * At some point a scrapbook materialized on the table containing all manner of textured and colored fabrics. }
* β Wood stove, nice ice chest, cupboards. Boom. S i n k. Shower or bath? Fuck it, letβs get both in there. β

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Desperate Mastermind Girl
acuitasβ:
β’-)β’ββββ π¬ π©Β
It dawns on her, now, how lonely sheβs been.Β
Not just here, within her prison. No, no.
Throughout her entire life, sheβs lacked any sort of companionship. No, Lorinβs strained efforts did not count.
She grew up, isolated, on the very same mountain range that would one day hold the key to this cell.
She hadβ¦ a father, this she knows. The details are hazy, but she does recall him holding her at an armβs length for reasons unknown to her. They were part of a tribe of mountain folk, their main export being reindeerβ from transport to milk and meat production, reindeer were everything to her tribe and the other tribes that populated the mountain. While each person had individual rights to the resources, it was essential for everyone to help with management of the herds.
They were isolated from the rest of civilization. Just them, the herds, and the bitter cold.
Tenacity, that was what she held within her. The drive, the determination to continue, to press onward, which was a requirement in order to survive on these mountains. A group of men told her as such when they came to her village one morning.
Everything past that is a blur. An angry, angry blur.
And now sheβs here, being spoken to like a person, given something freely instead of her just taking it.
β¦Quietus swallows the lump in her throat.
ββββ β β¦Why are you being so nice to me. β
{ * ... }
{ * Does she want the truth... or a lie? }
-
{ * The truth it is. }
-
{ * He lowers his arm, letting her hold onto her new device. For a minute, heβs unsure how to respond. }
* β ... β
{ * Will she understand?Β CAN she understand? }
* β ...Do you remember that scientist in the void? β
* β It took him many, many long years to get anything done. Years of staring at the same four walls. Years of waiting for a death that would never come. β
* β Iβd never wish that on anyone. Not even my worst enemy. Death is a mercy, true, but... β
* β ..But who else could understand? β
Love is Survival
acuitasβ:
β’-)β’βββββΌ β½Β
Simple is good. Sometimes, simple is all that one really needs, especially when the simple things are also the classics. Thereβs no judgement from the other end of the table; if anything, thereβs mild interest.
Youβre lucky heβs not the type to reach over and snag things like some uncouth barbarian. He has manners.
Manners that are currently being put into good use by choosing to swallow whatβs currently in his mouth before responding. β¦Just donβt tell him he has a piece of rice stuck to his cheek. Let him pretend heβs not making a fool of himself.
ββββ β β¦Rustic is what I was envisioning, yes. I believe I have a decent start with the armchair, but everything else needs work. I do know I like wood accents and warm palettes.
Ifβ¦ if that helps. β
{ * He scratches his chin. }
* β Alright, what do you think about a cream and burgundy color palette? Maybe throw in some purples and burnished bronze... β
* β You could do a hanging lamp with a shade made of tree branches, thatβs pretty rustic and fashionable. What kind of rustic were you thinking, normal upholstery or solid wood? β
{ * Heβs pulling out color palette cards out of his cloak, as well as a sketchpad. }
* β Mayhaps scenic paintings, places that hold meaning to you? Maybe even a large hanging corkboard jewelry rack for your accessories... β
{ * Really getting into this. Never thought Iβd like interior design but here we are I guess? }