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“I could act, but given what I’ve learned about you I don’t think it’d do very much.” She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one foot as she spoke. Supposedly this ghost could control time, which meant anything she did could easily be rewound or paused. She didn’t like this feeling that came with the lack of control over her situation. She was quite literally at this ghost’s mercy.
Perhaps this is what that other ghost had been talking about…
Clockwork chuckled soundlessly. “You’ve done your homework. I’d expect nothing less from you, Madeline. But the sentiment is appreciated nonetheless.”
Humor notwithstanding, the air between them was heavy and tense. He didn’t need his powers to sense her apprehension. The body language was guarded. Unsure and uncomfortable. She had every right to be, of course. Given her nature as a ghost hunter.
“In that case, you’ll also be aware that I’m not here to harm you. Or anyone else for that matter. I’m simply looking to get a more personal look at the timelines.”
So, heads up: This is going to be incredibly unclear. We do have a list of rules, but we don’t really know what a lot of them mean.
1) “To move through time, you must leave your body behind.“
(Does just being a Heartless count? Could any Heartless travel through time? Or do you specifically have to be an incorporeal ghostly one with literally no physical form whatsoever, like Ansem was? We don’t know.)
2) Once you’ve unlocked the power to move through time by giving away your body, you can then share that power with another you from another point in your own timeline, even if they still have their bodies.
(This is how Young Xehanort ended up with it. Ansem was the one who unlocked the power, then he gave it to his own younger self.)
3) “There must be a version of you waiting at the destination.“
(In other words, you can’t go to a place or a time that you’ve never been to/will never go to. Which is kind of disturbing because it means that Xehanort is right and the future is totally pre-written. There’s one absolute, unchangeable list of places you will go someday, and the implications of that are kind of staggering, but…okay.)
4) “Upon arrival, you can only move forward as per the laws of time.“
(This one is by far the vaguest. I think it’s either, “Once you’ve jumped through time, you can’t then jump again within the same trip” or “Once you’ve jumped through time, you can jump again, but only if you’re jumping forward. Not if you’re jumping back. Time doesn’t like that.” It really depends on what the phrase “as per the laws of time” is supposed to mean.)
5) You can only remain outside of your natural time for so long.
(This one isn’t directly stated, so it might not be precisely right, but Xigbar and Master Xehanort do both heavily imply it. “Our time is up, and we must return whence we came.”)
6) If you’ve traveled to the future, then once you’ve gone back to your natural place in the past, your memory of the future will be erased so as to preserve the timeline.
(But like Chain of Memories emphasized, memories always stay in your heart, even if you can’t consciously remember them. Young Xehanort says, “[Even though I’ll forget what’s happened], my appointed path is now etched in my heart, which will first lead me to seek the outside world.” He won’t be able to remember the future, but he’ll still sort of subconsciously make it happen.)
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That means that if you talk to me to establish that we want to ship our muses, or have a particular relationship or type of report between them, I am 1: totally okay with multiple threads of varying length and styles with you and 2: will probably jump around in the supposed ‘timeline’ of our muses relationships in order to keep things interesting/ make ask prompts work.
For example, we may be writing an intro thread with our muses, but if you wanna send me a thing for like… a first kiss that may happen months down the line (and shipping is what ur up for) go ahead and do it! The way I see it, separate points on a timeline are FUN to RP because then you can look back later and figure out how they connected/ try to work in little details that make them flow together.
Send “Smack!” To smack my muse’s bum… Hard. - @harmonyempire
Smack.
A moment passes before Clockwork decides to let himself process what just happened. Omniscience means little if he’s too distracted to pay attention, as he had been when Moria decided to invade his personal space. He tries to speak, only to find he needs to clear his throat before trying again. Breathing deeply to steady himself, he finds his words at last.
“Good to know you’re feeling better.” When they last spoke, Moria looked to be on the brink of disintegration. He supposed this playfulness was a sign of her renewed health. Still, he’s unusually flustered, and addresses Moria with his face hidden from view.
Send “Smack!” To smack my muse’s bum… Hard. - @betterthanclocks
There’s a yelp. Followed by darkening cheeks (and not just the ones on his face). Then a look of rage, mixed with embarrassment, along with many others only conveyed by swearing in ghostspeak.
There was a silence. Vast and jarring, that followed those words.
“And you've come to this decision by popular vote, I assume,” Clockwork responded mildly. Careful not to continue that thought as of yet. He knew he'd be interrupted.
The interjection came immediately. In the form of a shorter, stout observant with an oddly high-pitched voice.
“You've proven to be more of a liability than an asset, Clockwork.”
Others joined in. Converging around the time master in a circular formation. Their complaints coming from every angle and echoing off the auditorium's walls.
“Reckless.”
“Too involved.”
“Overstepping boundaries due to forming personal attachments!”
“Disregarding the safety of the time stream to produce more favorable outcomes!”
The cacophony escalated in volume. Disjointed fragments of their nagging. Their whining. Harping once again on things their feeble minds could never hope to understand. Explanations would serve no use to him. He simply held up a hand until the commotion simmered low enough for him to speak over it.
“Unanimous decision it is then.” Clockwork's tone was undisturbed. He paused, taking a moment to admire the craftsmanship of his staff. The heavy handle. Personalized 'C' shaped enclosure that housed an ever-ticking clock. Sharply pronged along the rim…
“You always were a hive mind of sorts. When was the last time any of you had an independent thought?”
“Enough jibes, Clockwork! Lyle, shall we commence?”
“Yes.”
The observant that issued his initial dismissal notice stepped down from a would-be throne. It sat atop numerous rows of seating in the auditorium. He donned a billowing black cloak with red lining, and he seemed to glide across the floor before stopping inches from Clockwork's face. His bulbous eye surveyed Clockwork like some kind of specimen under a microscope. Even in his most imposing form, the time master stood several inches shorter than the ghost he faced.
“So.” Lyle folded his arms. “Is there anything you’d like to say before your termination?”
Clockwork considered his words, speaking with a deliberate calmness when he finally chose the appropriate ones. “You know,” he began slowly. “It’s a little odd that the entire council is required to be present if I’m simply being fired.” His gaze swept the room. Many of the observants’ faces were apprehensive.
But not Lyle’s. His was unreadable. If he hadn’t blinked, he could be mistaken for a statue. ”But,” Clockwork went on. “I suppose you all never have been the best at making rational decisions.”
He knew what was coming. So when Lyle’s staff turned to a scythe and went in for a killing blow he didn’t even flinch. Clockwork’s left forearm deflected the strike. The weapon had been charged with temporal energy. So much so that the watches on his arm shattered before the blade had even made contact. “You were expecting I’d go quietly?” he asked in response to Lyle’s horrified expression. Ectoplasm, blue and vivid, oozed from the wound.
Clockwork swung his arm wide, displacing the observant and sending him flying into the opposite wall. The other ghost recovered immediately, and dove toward him with a snarl. Clockwork teleported behind the lead observant,the sharp end of his staff dug deep into the flesh of Lyle’s neck.
And so they went. Back and forth. Destroying the auditorium until only he and Lyle remained, and Clockwork emerged victorious.
“Believe me,” he said, staring blankly over Lyle's bleeding form. “I take no pleasure in doing this.”
He'd come to realize later. Much, much later. Just how wrong he'd been.
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All her research pointed to the fact that she should leave this ghost the hell alone. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to keep a wary eye on him, though.
Clockwork remained where he was, slowing time around he and the ghost hunter so they might have a minute to talk alone. It wasn’t often the time master stepped out of his tower, and he’d prefer the experience to be a peaceful one.
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