#h0ptimists

Upon dinging the fork against her mirror, the portal to the other world opened. She hesitated for a moment, taking a breath before stepping into it and falling through to the next world.

@h0ptimists (Cream)

Being back on Moebius was a relief. After the hell that was Zone Jail, Scourge cherished the freedom to do whatever he wanted all the more. And of course, he was using that freedom to raze and pillage any settlements he came across in the build-up to taking back Castle Acorn.

After destroying half the village he'd stumbled on, he was confident that his message had gotten across. Yeah, he was reminding the peasants that he was still their king, but more so he was making sure Miles and Alicia knew he was back. Ready to move on, Scourge paused when he noticed he was being watched by someone who wasn't cowering in fear. A small rabbit girl.

Scourge had no patience for children, generally. The last thing he needed was some snot-nosed brat whining at him that he burned down their house or ruined their parents' livelihood. But the girl seemed weirdly calm given the carnage he'd just brought about. Creepy.

“Well,

guess we’re

@h0ptimists​ said: “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly blend in.”

The illusion tilts it’s head at the rabbit, as if intrigued by her perception. Well, no point in keeping up the act if even a little girl could see through it. In a puff of purple smoke, Macaque appears on the bench and smiles sheepishly, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

Mephiles watches her silently over his shoulder, a scornful look in his eyes as she tries to find some sort of answer. In actuality, there is none—Mephiles knows himself to be right, knows the jurisdiction in taking back what was taken from you. Mortals would be at loss, perhaps motivated to venture on even half the conquest that he does. So why does he ask her? He has to wonder if the answer changes, from a perspective of someone whose world hasn’t sullied. Of course, the trauma is fresh, and she hasn’t thought that far ahead yet, has she?

No, she’s still grieving what she could have lost. And all the while, he is past it.

“ I am not to be told what I can and cannot take, not after what was ripped from me, “ he snarls, facing away from her as fists tense by his sides. “ If you cannot answer that you would be complicit with full confidence, then what do your convictions matter? “