#dullerhues

        “ whoa---! oh, sorry--- did i scare ya? ”

        ❝ I’m SORRY,                     the OLD Noctus can’t come to the PHONE right now... ❞

Perizia Project Subject list : In order to protect the identities and anonymity of the gifted mobians involved in the project each was assigned a subject name. Any data referring to a specific individual was listed under these names, in case a malicious force ( say, Eggman ) learned of the project. 

By request volunteers could be referred to by these codenames, or another alias, in person. Which meant that some of the researchers weren’t on first-name basis with the subjects. It was only Noctus and faculty overseer Professor Marx ( @dullerhues​ ) that were aware of all the true identities of the subjects.

Subject Daffodil      -  Persephone 

Subject Hades        -  Azriel 

Subject Wilde         -  Oscar

Subject Argent        -  Silver 

Subject Parola        -  Shadow 

Subject Byte           -  Lazuli

Subject Hotfoot       -  Ember

Subject Lux             -  Othello*

Send my character a ★ and I’ll bold everything they feel toward your character.

A letter from @dullerhues​​ reads:    || Othello || " ... Noctus, you're aware that as the God of Balance, I am two parts in a whole. You see prominently light because there has always been an overabundance of darkness in the world. Light and Dark can take on many other definitions. Should there be more good in the world than bad... you may see a side of me that harnesses the essence of despair. That doesn't mean I am evil. It just means for the sake of life, there must be a natural balance. I hope you will understand that... "

【 ☆ 】For the first time in days the sky beamed clear, radiating down, and warming the smooth stone of the courtyard. It was a community space, open to all living in the complex and their guests. Yet, more often than not, it was simply used by residents for errands or chores not otherwise suited for indoors. Which was currently the case as Noctus sat crouched upon one knee, his bicycle before him, after it’d carefully been set upside down with the wheels skyward.

                 The bicycle itself was a good few years old. Weathered, but well maintained, its polished sheen would have none guessing that it was the very same bike he’d ridden when the world had been split apart. He’d taken good care of it. Much like Noctus did in the current moment, carefully oiling down the chains with a special lubricant. A thankful perk of being an alchemist meant he’d only had to buy it once, reverse engineering it, and finding out the base composition to make his own. In the long run it had not only saved Noctus a fortune but also yielded a higher quality oil.

                 Wanting to avoid stains on his clothes the alchemist wore a green singlet, which hung loose, and baggy, over a comfortable pair of tracksuit pants. He admittedly felt a little exposed ( and daggy ) but ultimately it allowed him to work freely — which was always most important for Noctus when it came to tasks. With the lack of sleeves, however, the ‘bruising’ around his upper arm from Azriel’s threads was visible, having not yet faded after their latest attempt on his life. But... given the alchemist’s only company was Othello standing nearby Noctus didn’t mind much. He was long since used to the god watching him work.

                 Listening to Othello speak there’s something in their words that strikes Noctus as odd. Heavy, for the normally laid back god. Yet Noctus isn’t sure how else to place them beyond simply being.. out of place. Noctus slowly rotated the foot pedal of the bite with his hand, watching the chain, and catching any points between the links he may have missed. To those unfamiliar with the alchemist perhaps it would have seem he’d been so rude as to ignore a god. But, in truth, he’s reflecting. Considering...

                   ❝ I do. At least... I think I do. ❞ His voice is level and quiet.

                  He scrubs away lightly next at the bike gears, his movements, deliberate, as the alchemist was in most things.  ❝ Light.. Dark... Life... Death... The formula balances out, as it needs to when any one of those things is defined so inherently by its counterpart. That’s not a reflection on you personally.  You’d merely be the ‘cosmic force’ pulling things back into order, almost no differently than gravity. ❞ Noctus continued to finish the part he was oiling before gently dropping the greased cloth by his foot. With a look over his shoulder at Othello, Noctus’ gaze tried to read the god’s expression in that moment.

{ send a  ‘ ❤️ ’  for my muse to say something they love about yours - accepting } A letter from @dullerhues​ reads:   ❤️ ( Othello )

【 ☆ 】Bristles swept seamlessly through Othello’s quills as the brush rustled with each pass. Guided by Noctus’ gentle hands, it pulled the odd stray back into order. Perfection. Not that there’d been much the alchemist had needed to do beyond general tidying. Since it was almost as if Othello’s very state seemed to defy dirt, keeping a natural level of pristine that mortals such as Noctus could only ever dream of. It certainly made his ‘daily devotions’ far easier, though Noctus never minded them much.

                In truth he quite enjoyed pampering the god. When time allowed. 

                The alchemist’s head tilts some, listening listening to the sound of the brush beneath his hands. It’s soft, and it’s smooth, soothing in its quiet glide. He counts the number of strokes on each length of Othello’s quills, wanting to ensure they’re balanced and even. It’s a small detail, sure, one that most would consider unnecessary if they didn’t overlook it outright. Noctus knew however it was something the god noticed, and appreciated. At least... the alchemist wanted to think that Othello did...

                 But maybe he was overstating his own sense of worth in the god’s eyes.

                 ❝ You’re always quite... chill, aren’t you, Othello? ❞ Noctus questioned quietly, not wanting to disturb them too much while Othello read one of the alchemist’s books. ❝ Though maybe ‘laidback’ is more the word I’m going for. Well.. it does sound more appropriate to use to refer to a divine, for starters... ❞ Chuckling, he shook his head. The alchemist shuffled from his spot to perch atop the opposite arm of the sofa, starting with Othello’s other side. He was careful not to lose count as he continued speaking. It needed to be eighty-eight brushes exactly.

❝    you  wouldn’t  happen  to  be  familiar  with  this  forest   ,   would  you   ?   i  think  i  lost  the  trail  i was  on.    ❞