#spekiosus

the pen in emily's hand stops first. then her eyes flick from that paper she's scribbling away on to her hand then to guifang. EMILY KALDWIN'S BROWN EYES USED TO BE SUCH A LIGHTER BROWN , NOW THEY'RE NEARLY BLACK . the sleeves of her white undershirt are rolled up almost to her elbow━ normally she's wearing a jacket and gloves even. it's a day that's dedicated to being a little more free. WHICH IS IRONIC WHEN SHE'S SITTING INSIDE HER OFFICE . dunwall sunlight finding it's way through the windows. glinting off glass and metal.

emily almost wants to ask why the sudden curiosity. AN EMPRESS WHO HAS HAD MULTIPLE ATTEMPTS ON HER LIFE EVEN HAS A RIGHT AT GNAWING PARANOIA . nearly-black eyes just flick back downwards. there's that circle-like scar on her hand, more near pointer finger. or the longer and bumpier scar on her forearm, nestled between top and bottom.

ㅤㅤ. ݁₊ ⊹ .𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 ݁ ㅤ 「ㅤ@spekiosusㅤ」ㅤㅤpresented a perspective: ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⤷ㅤYou're safe now. You're here, you're safe, and I've got you. Just breathe.

How curious it is to hear those words.ㅤSafety had become a foreing language and for such,ㅤCrystal almost fails to recognize the meaning behind it.ㅤBreathing remains uneven,ㅤdespite every conscious attempt to steady it.ㅤThe rigidness of the shoulders,ㅤlungs stubbornly refusing to remember a rhythm they had once perfomed without a second thought.ㅤSomewhere behind the shades of lilac the irises,ㅤechoes continue to exist.ㅤGunfire and metallic filling te nostrils,ㅤbreaking glass and the shards that cut skin deep.ㅤThe wet sound of something no longer human dragging itself across concrete it is a memory that never cared that danger was over.ㅤSomething that simply arrives.ㅤAgain.ㅤAgain.ㅤAgain.ㅤWithout asking for permission.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤI know.ㅤIt's justㅤ...ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤA breath enclosed in the longitude of the throat,ㅤcatching halfway through the chest and inside the ribcage.ㅤA closure of irises,ㅤfalling butterfly lashes as the darkness behind them remain kinder than the one memory can offer.ㅤA fragile laugh escapes through the agape mouth,ㅤapologetic and almost embarassed.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤMy body hasn't realized it yet.ㅤIt believes we are still runinning.ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤ

Remaining where exactly she is,ㅤtired to continue pretending because for the first time in what feels like forever,ㅤsomeone has given permission not to.ㅤSlightly steadier comes one breath,ㅤthen another,ㅤthen another.ㅤThe certainty of hands that aren't trying to perform any threat on the femme.ㅤStay.ㅤCould be the request that never came.ㅤSmall.ㅤFor one moment,ㅤCrystal remembers how to breathe a little easier in the best company.

μ::|| meme: questions only sentence starters | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @spekiosus

It was something she had often wondered herself. The Isu were strange, they seemed like magic but they were not, more technologically advanced than magic, but when Kassandra had first come to know them, it felt magical to her. Perhaps it is only magic when it cannot be understood by science. Or at least by her limited scope at the time. A Staff that could render the bearer of it unkillable, but if their mind is not strong enough, could turn them into a monster. Kassandra had let revenge take her, and it rendered her mind too weak to fight off the power of the Staff.

And now look at her.

And then there was the oath, to protect humanity, to swear her life to stopping the Isu artifacts from harming humanity or being harnessed by mad men. Or even those who had meant well, like Barnabas. The oath that she still carried out, even if Aletheia had long since abandoned her as her chosen one. Maybe it was not quote oath either then.

μ::|| meme: questions only sentence starters | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @spekiosus

Kassandra's red eyes regarded the woman with curiosity. She sure was something, wasn't she? Another oddity in a realm full of strangeness. A hidden Empire. As if Kassandra wasn't the odd one out, an outsider in the truest sense. There was an ethereal quality about the woman before her, almost akin to the Isu, but the energy felt far different, and this woman wasn't quite so towering, standing shorter than Kassandra, herself. The cursed immortal folded her arms over her chest, contemplating the question proposed to her.

It was an odd question, even more so when pointed at the one person who didn't understand much about this place. She had only arrived a week or so back and there was still so much that she had to learn. Nothing seemed right here, and the one person she could count as an ally in this place, Emily, was off on some important business, something she could not attend.

GUIFANG, called @spekiosus, sent a missive:

❛ they tell you “there is nothing to fear but fear itself,” but you have seen yourself in the mirror. ❜

──── Shitty Horoscopes Part 1 / accepting

His head turned, regarding her from his peripheral vision. Anything else, particularly direct eye contact in that moment, felt as though it might be too much. Like he might unintentionally give away something that he couldn't truly stand to lose -- or that was only his own suspicious mind, whispering warnings when the path ahead seemed too clear of shadows, thorns, or obstacles. Even if it were, there was a... strangeness about her that raised the small hairs on the nape of his neck.

A faint click disturbed the silence, one of the lenses of his mask rotating accordingly so that his vision might be sharpened. Yet she remained exactly as she appeared: a stranger, lovely to look upon, yes, but no clear enemy or ally.

"...you know a bit about this, they, you're referring to?" He inquired, not really expecting a response. Certainly not for free, he'd imagine. Although he couldn't place where exactly he was, there was a... disturbing familiarity to the black pillars and leaden gray sky around them.

It wasn't quite fear that he was feeling yet, but it might become such a thing eventually, if no recourse presented itself.

Finally, he surrendered and turned himself to face her properly. There was no way forward in this not-quite Void. Not without asking, he supposed. "Are you a spirit, or another god of this place?"

GUIFANG, called @spekiosus, sent a missive:

❛ please practice blinking as others can be unsettled by your inhuman ability to maintain an unbreakable stare during casual conversation. ❜

──── Shitty Horoscopes Part 1 / accepting

"That sounds like a them problem." He rejoins with an almost borderline cheerfulness at odds with the situation, raising his glass in a toast to the sweet-faced woman who'd spoken. Taking a sip of the deep red liquid inside, Corvo felt his nose wrinkle for a second as subtler flavors were briefly lost under the wave of tannins that initially overtook his palate. After a slightly careful swallow, he added, "As I remember it, some may have said the same about you. But your gaze stretches further than mine."

And with good reason. But he wasn't out to measure himself against someone of her caliber. Not currently, at least. Still, it was impressive that this place called Mythag had managed to lure one such as herself.

"Do you teach here as well?" That a good bit of the staff were actually Awakeners had been a surprise, once he'd wrapped his head around the concept of the institution itself. Now, however, could be time for useful conversation. "Or are you here for something else?"

ㅤㅤ. ݁₊ ⊹ .𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 ݁ ㅤ 「ㅤ@spekiosusㅤ」ㅤㅤpresented a perspective: ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⤷ㅤ“i think most people would like to believe they're good. i'm not sure it's always that simple.”

𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄,ㅤ𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃,ㅤbeyond the conversation itself;ㅤbeyond the room,ㅤthe present and the past.ㅤThe answer itself left behind years ago,ㅤburied in battlefields that no longer exist in this era they are living in.ㅤThere's denial in the features of the femme,ㅤsome kind of recognition among many other things.ㅤIt rarely is.ㅤComfortable enough that neither of them feels compelled to fill the silence that settles immediately.

The corners of plush tiers lift,ㅤthey seem to be touched by a distant memory remembered by the fragments of what's here now.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤI think most people want to believe they are justified.ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤFingertips smooth an invisible crease from the sleeve,ㅤa small habit.ㅤOne she never notices herself doing.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤGoodness is not that easy to decipher,ㅤit asks things of us.ㅤFor restraint when anger would be easier.ㅤFor compassion when resentment feels deserved.ㅤAnd the worst of it all is forgiveness when pride insists otherwise.ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤMaybe from wise experience comes those words as eyesight lowers for only a heartbeat that becomes the brigding pause between one and another.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤWe've seen it.ㅤPeople that call themselves heroes while leaving entire cities in ruins.ㅤI've met monsters who protected children without expecting anyone to remember their names.ㅤI don't think goodness is something a person is.ㅤRather,ㅤit's something a person willingly chooses.ㅤAgain,ㅤagain and again.ㅤEvery single day,ㅤperhaps.ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤThe wind stirs as the world carries on without the concern for philosophy.ㅤSomewhere distant,ㅤthe laughter blurs in the brilliant lights of the sunlight and a bird takes flight.ㅤ

The attention of the femme remains with the thought spoken outloud.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤIt's complicated.ㅤJust as this world is.ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤA faint breath is exhaled,ㅤalmost a laugh and almost apology from an exotic flower as her is.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤPeople are rarely one thing for very long.ㅤWe are capable of remarkable kindness and cruelty all the same.ㅤSometimes even within the same hour.ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤAnd there is no necessity for a judge on that,ㅤthat's the understanding earned through living long enough to know that morality seldom survives untouched by the tendrils of circumstance.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤPeople are not born good or evil.ㅤThey are simply given countless opportunities to become either.ㅤAnd if they are fortunate enough,ㅤthey have as many opportunities to choose different afterward.ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤ

GUIFANG, called @spekiosus, sent a missive:

What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

──── Richard Siken | War of the Foxes / accepting

"They believe in ghosts over in Pandyssia, too?" Candlelight flickers as he speaks, casting peculiar shadows across his face as he adjusts the length of the wick in his lantern. By Tower standards it would be considered a relic - thick domed glass and heavy brass frame above a belly of plain oil. Not whale oil, since the stuff was too volatile to carry in such a manner. Too close to the flame, and one good stumble or trip would blow up half a house or more at least.

But on this evening in the Month of Darkness, Corvo appreciates this warm light for what it is; along with the heat it gives off.

"No," He corrects himself, "of course they do. You mentioned it before." He was fairly certain that she had, at one point. Somewhere in the midst of becoming a feature of the Tower to most, something to be gazed upon and whispered about, not entirely different from how he'd begun in Emperor Euhorn's service.

No, that wasn't right either. To Euhorn, he'd been a gift. An exchange to show loyalty, support, political favor. The woman who stood partly in shadow nearby had been given as a slave. Still was a slave ─── although Emily had apparently decided not to consider some ramifications of keeping Guifang at her side.

Putting the thoughts which came from that topic aside, Corvo glanced at Guifang thoughtfully. She'd taken to wandering the Tower at times, occasionally scaring the staff on accident or on purpose when it seemed to please her ─── but in these past few years he'd yet to see her try and fulfill the role she'd been given on arrival in Dunwall. The curved blades remained, somewhere, but she'd not drawn them for violence.

Perhaps that was why he felt a little softer towards her, in this moment. It was late, and judging by the pressure in the air, it was likely to storm before long.

A perfect time to talk of ghosts, when they each might as well have been one if not for the lantern dusting their cheeks with some amount of color.

"There was a game we played as children, back in Serkonos." Lifting up the lantern, Corvo tipped his head at Guifang ─── an unspoken invitation to come along on a walk through this older part of the Tower. "We'd recite ghost stories from memory, to see who would be scared first. Also to suss out spirits who lingered past their time in our midst, since they'd give themselves away while the tale was told. Care to try?"