#moonscxrched

Did I spend too long on this? Yes. Is it hilarious? Also yes.

It’s Gin and Diane! Mending Gilnean/Forsaken relations through the power of FRIENDSHIP…!

Gin disappeared with no trace. (Accepting!)

Gin suddenly materializes in front of Diane with an absolutely flabbergasted took on her face. Where the hell was she? Doesn't matter, Diane is now hugging her and sobbing.

The first 5 Asks to send 💋 get a kiss

(Accepting!)

Gin - having panic drunk all of her whiskey (and all of Nixalegos whiskey) - is very intoxicated, and has been telling everyone how pretty they are for the past fifteen minutes. Repeatedly.

"Y're pretty," she slurred, making an attempt to boop Diane's nose and succeeding in leaning into the Forsaken woman. "Purdy," she repeated with a kiss to her cheek before pushing herself up...sort of.

Send my character a ► and a command. They must obey.

(Accepting! TW: disordered eating.)

Gin looked at the Forsaken woman pleading with her to eat something, to care for herself. Her features softened a hair.

"Diane..."

This woman shouldn't care about her. And Gin shouldn't care that she cared. But she...she did.

"Diane, ah promise 'm tryna eat. Th'dried meats an' fruits're fer when ah realize ah've no' eaten. Sure, they used ta be fer gettin' people t'shut up 'bout me no' eatin', bu' -" Gin trailed off, looking away for a moment before pulling the other woman into a brief hug. It was awkward, like Gin isn't used to showing affection to many people.

"...ate breakfast. More'n jus' coffee. Ate some eggs 'fore 'eadin' out." A chuckle left her, smiling softly - not her usual, cocky smirk, but an actual smile. "Two undead bein's bein' concerned 'bout m'eatin' 'abits wus no' on m'bingo card like...ever. Bu' 'm glad they are."

Send ‘!!’ and I’ll write a para description of your muse from mine’s perspective.

(Accepting!)

Another torn journal page, perhaps Gin should think about getting a better notebook...

Diane Marlowe. Perhaps one of the few people I'm taller than. And even then only barely. By all accounts we should be mortal enemies, but then again...I've never been much for rules.

I really want to play with her hair. It looks so fluffy and soft...I wonder if she'd let me braid it?

That woman is a saint for putting up with the rest of us. She certainly appears to be the sanest out of our little group. I've grown quite fond of her in our short time we've known each other.

(At the bottom of the page is a stick figure drawing of Diane.)

(TW: mention of past and present drug use and abuse, mental breakdowns)

Ragged breathing. The Voices hadn't been this loud in years, the runes effectively silencing them. Dor'lof's quick patch job had silenced them again for a few days, but then she took Nixalegos' advice to enter the Voidstorm...maybe it would calm the parasite down.

It did...sort of.

...the moment she'd set foot on Eredath, thousands of Voices had screamed in her head...

This time it was one singular Voice. The one muttering in the back of her mind while It was trapped...and It did seem calmer. Too calm.

It whispered to her. Taunting her back to her old habits she'd picked up in the days after the fall of Gilneas...

You remember, Vessel. The morphine helped to silence Us, yes. You could float blissfully away in your own misery...

"Shut up, shut up, shut UP...!" Her fist met rock with a sickening crunch. Broken again. The ren'dorei that had spearheaded this mission were dealing with similar side effects of the Void...she'd speak with them. No sense in bothering Dor'lof with this again...and Diane and Nixalegos were already doing too much for her. She needn't trouble them with this again.

She could do this on her own...

You can do this on your own, Vessel...you don't need them...you need Us...

Just. Us...

That’s what was happening. Her body was meant to be temporary, used up until the Void inside could break free. The runes were cracking as It tried to break out.

It had shared her screams of pain with the others. The look of horror on their face was not something she could push from her mind easily. Maybe she should leave again. They’d be safer without her near, no one could get hurt if she -

NO.

That was what It wanted. To keep her isolated. These people cared about her, she had to keep reminding herself that. Gin looked at the back of her right hand for a moment before pulling out a pen, writing letters on the back of it.

DS. DM. NF. KE.

They cared. She’d carve the initials into her hand if she had to in order to remind herself that, but THEY CARED. She had to keep trying, if only for them.