#landsharkbite

Welcome to scenic Isola Radiale, Rosa!

You will be housed in YOUR PERSONAL HOUSING.

You'll retain everything you were given during your past stay.

“It’s a little surprising how quickly everything got set up. Barely had to do anything myself aside from show ‘em my papers and order them around.” Six crouches down, pulling out an ice box from under the bar. There hasn’t been time to get a proper bar running, but cold beer was cold beer. Between that and the food he’d bought just before Rosa arrived, things were going pretty good, or so thought Six. “Though the guys I hired were a little surprised I wanted to set up shop down here… but hey, it reminds me of home but better—the power isn’t shit, the water’s clean, and the neighbors don’t want to start shit, most of the time. Not much more I can ask for, really.”

He pulls out two bottles from the cooler, but his gaze is directed to the warehouse floor below them—sitting at the bar gives the two of them perfect view of the fight. A fight has just begun, with the sussurus of the crowd slowly rising with jeers and cheers as the fighters probe the other’s defenses.

the second they hear rosa’s footsteps approaching, mew pokes their head out from their blanket nest on the bed. she’s probably bringing food, they think, and that possibility is encouraging enough to make them rise and shake themselves more awake.

they’ve been here... how long? maybe a day or two? they’re not sure, given how much of it they’ve spent sleeping or zoned out. but they’re thankful mewtwo brought them to rosa. they don’t feel like flying around and having fun right now. it feels... wrong. like a storm cloud hanging over their head.

the door opens. oh, she did bring food.

Send ‘!!’ and I’ll write a para description of your muse from mine’s perspective -- @landsharkbite​ said:  ( !! )

Rosa’s like. Okay, imagine like, the tallest woman you’ve met and then add two feet on that. She’s got really long crazy walnut-colored hair like waves, and horns, and a tail, and yellow eyes, and an eyepatch, and a robot arm, and--no, I’m being serious. She’s like, everything cool you could picture to be ‘cool’ all in one person. It’s awesome.

I think if she wanted to, she could snap most people in half with one hand, but she’s nice, so she won’t do that. But I wouldn’t push her buttons either, you know?

...

If I’m being honest, looking at her is kinda like looking in a mirror. Not aesthetically, or anything on the surface. But she’s been through a lot, and that’s only on this island. She’s had people come and go, loved people, lost people. I have a feeling she doesn’t talk about home for the same reason I don’t. Actually, I don’t even think the place she came from is ‘home’ to her, too. And I know if she doesn’t have a reason to leave her house, she won’t.

I can feel the same kind of thing I feel when I think of the place. And I have a feeling both of us know that we don’t live long to see whatever tomorrow is back there.

...

I don’t know if she knows I know that. Or if we’re the same in that regard. She won’t talk about what bothers her, either. She’s an empathetic person, even if it’s not totally obvious.

It’s hard to keep anger refined, a fact that shows when someone like Nefarious is overcome by anger, strong and unintentionally evident. The scientist mutters as he slams the shop door behind him, words full of hatred directed at the trap of a metropolis he’s been forced to reside in. It seems like it takes twice as much as it gives, handing away mediocre shelter in exchange for happiness and power. It’s all too… humanizing. 

From his pocket, he retrieves a broken gear, an escapement mangled in an otherwise gorgeous pocket watch, having served its purpose yet forced to push onward. It’s an easy task to replace it, but not so easy to find a replacement, and after half a dozen shops Tropy feels his hope shrivel up. Even the little things that bring him joy are so far out of reach. His heart picks back up when he sees a woman off to the side with a metal-clad monstrosity consuming loose parts, and exactly what he’s looking for in a box at her feet. 

a door is shouldered open with relative ease, hollow footsteps ringing, and the flick of his ears pick it up. A WARZONE! he acts not on altruism, but curiosity and perhaps even a want to shed blood, as he approaches the noise. glorious and dangerous both, the heaviness of his heart beats wildly and VIOLENTLY within his ribcage. and then just as quickly as he moves, he stops. a beast rent on the floor, twitching in the last throes of life, and a woman standing above its body. fingers tap against the steel beam in his grip, swinging it to rest against his shoulder. ❝a pity. i was HOPING you'd leave something for me.❞

The novelty of the transformation has worn off, and Yuan is ready to be his regular size again. He can only see people’s faces properly if he flies, and that gets quite tiring with physical wings. Thankfully, he has a piece of the antidote with him.

He flutters into an alley -- ugh, the smell in here is awful. But it’s quiet and (probably) empty, so nobody will disturb him while he sits on an overturned cardboard box and pops the tiny candy in his mouth.

It has its intended effect, which is returning him to his normal height. But it also has the unforeseen effect of returning him to his normal weight, which the cardboard box immediately collapses under. He lets out a startled, completely undignified yelp as his bottom hits the ground and his head the back wall. Ow????