#animasphere

[  ACCESSING BIOME... JUNGLE.  ]

       THE GROUND ERUPTS, and rows of black spikes burst forth from the earth like teeth, obstructing her approach. they would not hinder her for long, but he shall entrust it unto her common sense that he does not take kindly to undue company. in other words: surely she could take the hint.

               ❝  that's close enough.  ❞ he admonishes calmly, angling toward her.

       while shadow is busied with keeping the other at bay, griffon lingers aside, uncharacteristically silenced by the stranger's arrival--- he can feel it; her sheer presence curdles the empty air. it grows heavier by the second, and in a rare moment of unease, he forgets his voice. his master, however, although understanding of the familiar's reservations, felt no such need to hold his tongue. perhaps that were careless of him, but he mustn't allow fear to impede his path forward, lest it destroy what remains of him.

                                               to be human, he thinks bitterly.

       his gaze flickers towards the ground before her--- an oddly uneven patch of stone embedded into the cavern floor--- and, curling his lip, V turns away.

but it was still a natural progression of his life. he continues his singing, half-ancient and half-human and nothing in between, the softness in his eyes genuine and with the few hints of what could be a smile as the tunes continue in the dimly lighted hallway. his voice stops when he hears something near.

     his gaze falls upon towards the sound, a curious expression in his features. another would have no choice but to look away but for some reason — unfathomable, inexplicable in every way he could understand, it almost feels like he’s waiting for someone. or maybe, he has gone through this before, meeting in the cold and in the dark. memory of a memory, his mind whispers in a language he’s intimate with but that still offers no answers. “Any louder and I’ll believe you are not lost.”

Therefore, putting all her concentration into handling them, aiding the city’s push toward reclaiming lands lost by collaboration with the Defence Group, had become far more hopeful a task. Their initial understanding of the Arturia Pendragon from another city, like all other ‘originals’ existent in an altered state. So it were her knightly garb and demonstrations when tested had proven successful in acquiring an anti-virus blade with which to cleave through the enemy where Excalibur could do naught. And that was the life she had chosen to lead here, in a city where need for a wandering Servant remained.

Of course it were that she would be far from the only who traversed the temporal divide — and perchance it were only a matter of time before the face of one known would follow suit (she had, in fact, been almost certain Shirou might dare to give chase). En route to the hotel after days of battle on the front line, Saber had re-entered the city, donning the blood of numberless CPNs slain — her reputation among the locals as a mercenary granted the luxury of roaming in such state without alarmed gawks.

The attire of the woman matched not her counterpart, the Chaldean emblem resting in its typical place, as the fiery look in her eye. Had she come on Chaldea’s behalf to retrieve their rogue? Suspicion of such would remain silent; if the former Director had no knowledge of what had transpired, then it would be opening a can of worms which could not be sealed afterward. The sword by her side, incapable of dematerialisation, vanished within Invisible Air’s sheath, and upon the mage, fixated a gaze stern, as if with expectation of a difficult ride.

You don't want to join these games okay trust me

“Is it because I don’t have much experience? I’d ask Tomoe for advice if she was here”.

sommiar replied to your post: ““It’s not clingy and invasive if I want to join in...”

I believe those games aren't available for everyone

            OLGA   looks... a little rough. She’d never say that to her face, of course, but the way she was looking at everything through bleary, squinty eyes reminded Rin of a kitten that couldn’t open its eyes fully yet. That certainly explains why she’s clinging to that cup of coffee like it’s her sole lifeline. Still... if it were really such a problem, she likely wouldn’t be out here. And she definitely wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of dressing properly for the occasion. 

            Rin’s voice is the picture of perfected pleasantry, practically brimming over with genuine satisfaction. After all, she and Fujimaru worked damn hard on all this.  ❛   Still... Those colors really suit you.   ❜

“ Hey there! Apologies for coming in unannounced, but I was in the neighborhood and thought about dropping in to see how things were going on my order. Should be under the name Django Foley. It’s for a wedding! ”

            The name flashed through her consciousness like a bolt of lightning, chin jerking upward slightly as the woman’s form takes shape. It was that split- few seconds of recognition that turns a nondescript silhouette in a crowd to a familiar sight, the sort of knowing that can’t be downplayed or un-known. Does she feel this same unbearable dread at Ophelia’s approach ?  Does she already know what fate befell Chaldea’s carefully-crafted A-Team ?  Does she know what they did ? 

            Ophelia’s former self would, without hesitation, keep her head down and keep walking. She would have balked at the thought of engaging a superior on the street, even if it were technically a former one. But here... She doesn’t think she has the luxury of avoidance, of standing still. And truth be told, OIga’s appearance here perplexes her too much to ignore. Does this confirm her suspicion that this is some sort of Purgatory ?  Or perhaps it confirms that this is a possibility granted by her eye in the throes of death, nothing more. … Truthfully, it confirms nothing. The only ‘fact’ she has is that Olga Marie has seen her too, and therefore to flee would be downright disrespectful. That, and the fact that she should keep matters close to her chest for now; as close as can be managed, for Olga’s sake and her own. 

     ❛   Olga Marie,   ❜  Ophelia speaks as if bracing herself, tone neither breezy nor clipped.  ❛   I’ve seen many surprising things in this place, but... To find you mere feet from my apartment still beggars belief.   ❜  How should she carry herself ?  Should she be more formal, more direct ?  She can already feel herself begin to sweat, and it’s all she can do to not broadcast her palpable dread.