“YOU ARE BRAVE, TO ENTER MY ABODE SO WILLINGLY.”

Decades to decades, centuries to centuries it had lived— and yet, your eyes would not know it. You would never guess all it has ever seen and all it will live to see. You knew nothing of the inkshed that marred its visage just the day before. The atrocities committed by its clutching cables were little more than fairytales. Even so, fairytales were all one could depend on by the time they’d appeared before the telephone.

A call could be made by opening up its face and dialing the number. A call could be listened to through the speaker that stayed tucked close to its right side. A call could be prolonged by speaking through the funnel attached below its eyes. But if someone attempted to talk to the phone itself, that was how it parsed out the nobodies from the potential candidates.

That seemed to be the case, as it announced its intention to record their face. They got the same twinge they always did in the presence of cameras, putting a hand to their shades to double check that their eyes were covered. It wasn't as if they were afraid of surveillance; nobody would care enough about them to be looking for them. But being seen always made them feel uneasy.

Apparently that discrepancy took priority over the question itself, which it had to be selectively ignoring at this rate. The telephone still appears to be sizing them up for a few more seconds, before it remembers its own personal space and crooks its spine back into its previous position. The speaker hooked to its side gives a restless putter— clearing its throat, as if it had just come upon an impossible revelation it found most crucial to share.

“Acht.” the object confirmed the input aloud.

And this, by a mile, was the most organically it had pronounced something thus far. A hiss of effort was still present. It was less accustomed to the specific language the name hailed from, but the era of origin wasn’t that far off. The name— no; the word felt familiar to it. The telephone knew what it meant, at least, and it meant something useful. Its inner machinery begins with a low whir again.

Acht was completely, utterly, hopelessly lost. They'd been riding this train so long, they'd lost track. All the scenery was new and unfamiliar, but it certainly wasn't the surface. If anything, they were going down from where they started. Should have figured I'd screw up running away, too.

They did have one clue, though. The little blue sea slug, he'd given them vague instructions on how to reach "the promised land": depart the train at the central station and ring the telephone, and receive more instructions there. It was the best lead they had to go on. Certainly better than sitting here riding in circles, at any rate.

Decades to decades, centuries to centuries it had lived— and yet, your eyes would not know it. You would never guess all it has ever seen and all it will live to see. You knew nothing of the inkshed that marred its visage just the day before. The atrocities committed by its clutching cables were little more than fairytales. Even so, fairytales were all one could depend on by the time they’d appeared before the telephone.

A call could be made by opening up its face and dialing the number. A call could be listened to through the speaker that stayed tucked close to its right side. A call could be prolonged by speaking through the funnel attached below its eyes. But if someone attempted to talk to the phone itself, that was how it parsed out the nobodies from the potential candidates.

DENIZENS OF THE DEEP, LISTEN UP! CEO of KAMABO. CO speaking. As the deep sea metro expands, it has come to my attention that many of you might have questions or concerns regarding to the future of Deep Sea Metro, or eventually, the Midnight Zone.

AS EVERY RESPONSIBLE CEO WOULD DO, THE SUGGESTION BOX FOR KAMABO CO. IS NOW OFFICIALLY PUT IN USE! Please utilize this new feature responsibly, and DO NOT SEND IN ANYTHING UNIMPORTANT! Call rate applies. We do not accept Cash.

If you have any trivial issues, please forward them to my associate @ask-cqmuku !

Rules for asking:

-BE CIVIL

-BE NORMAL

-FOLLOWS THE RULES OF THE DEEP SEA METRO OR YOU WILL BE PUT ONTO POTENTIAL CANDIDATES FOR... TESTING.

-This blogs opinion does not reflect OP'S

-Commander Tartar is shipped with Cq Muku, the ask blog mentioned above run by my gf! Please try to limit asking other ships. However you can feel free to ask smash or pass questions.

Roleplay Tags:

Ongoing Call: In character posts

Voice Message: OOC notes

some various character analysis questions based off of space &&. the bodies that inhabit it. feel free to edit as you see fit.

[ MERCURY ] is your muse good at communication ? can they hold a proper conversation, or are they always finding an excuse to avoid small talk ?

[ VENUS ] how does your muse handle love ? do they believe themself to be deserving of it, and how capable are they of loving others ?

[ EARTH ] how grounded is your muse ? are they logical and straightforward, or are do they always have their head in the clouds ?

[ MARS ] when your muse gets angry, how does it show ? do they know how to control it, or do they let it consume them ?

[ JUPITER ] how does your muse see morality ? what do the words good and evil mean to them ?

[ SATURN ] is your muse all work and no play ? do they let responsibility consume them, or do they allow themselves breaks from time to time ?

[ URANUS ] can your muse handle change ? do they accept it with open arms, or will they try anything they can to make sure things say the same ?

[ NEPTUNE ] does your muse dream frequently ? if they do, what kind of dreams (or nightmares) do they have ?

[ PLUTO ] what is your muse's relationship with individuality ? do they feel that they need permission to be themself ?

[ CERES ] does your muse take care of themself ? do they neglect their needs to put others first ?

[ PALLAS ] how perceptive is your muse ? can they pick up on things other people don't ?