#tabardalon

Unsure what else to do, they decided to explore their living space. It seemed similar enough to some of the manors they had seen in Ishgard, or at least a grotesque parody of them. Not that Fray had seen the inside of many manors. As they rounded the corner, they saw a tall figure, seemingly similarly exploring the space. 

Alfred finally puts his finger on it. This entire place feels like a dollhouse. The clean and carefully-aligned furniture of the house where he’d woken up unnerved him, and the quaint forest with its woodland inhabitants made it worse. And the trains, traveling so quickly and smoothly! Empty trains, spotless and gleaming like steel.

Even this new place that he finds himself in, with its glaring red sun and rat-infested streets, is missing the dirt and fetid stink of something lived-in. It makes him want to break things, just to see what’ll happen. If he closes his eyes and dreams, will everything return to how it was? If he dies, will he come back again? (and again and again and again)

Every hunter knows of the Hunter’s Dream. This is not that dream, but it could still be a dream, the dollhouse of some Great One. Or a nightmare -- a jail, then -- if the rumors of the hunters’ sin were true. (Alfred knows he has sinned. Perhaps this is what he deserves. But for one burning, glorious moment, his life had been as perfect as the curve of a knife, honed to a single purpose.)

Decor :: What kind of home do they keep? Are there any defining details?

As a child, she stayed in the Azelhart manse, her family’s luxurious home. I don’t imagine she was able to tailor her room to her liking too much, especially since she left it at quite a young age. Afterwards, Primrose lived a lot of her life either traveling, or staying places where she had little opportunity to make her lodging her own.

Because of that, making her house ‘her own’ isn’t something that she often does, but… I think she would like to put objects and decorations that remind her of her childhood home and of those dear to her… in a subtle way, of course.

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Touch :: How do they handle contact? Is their personal bubble big?

[sex work tw, abuse tw]

For years, Primrose had to work in the Sunshade tavern for Helgenish-- in part as a stage dancer, and on the other, as a sex worker. She also suffered his abuse throughout, and all of this while needing to keep him and the customers happy. It doesn’t need to be said that she learned to handle contact quite well, as she wouldn’t have survived otherwise.

Though in actuality, her personal bubble isn’t so big. If she can avoid letting someone in, emotionally and physically, she will… it’s simply that the skills she practiced for years have given her the ability to ignore what she feels and handle these situations well. If anything, I would say the years of abuse have made her personal bubble smaller-- suffering disgrace and betrayal made her reluctant to let anyone into her space.

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Vice :: What bad habits do they have? Is there something they would be ashamed of?

I think that Primrose, if by herself, can take pleasure in things like a kid would, a sort of child-like wonder– probably a result of her shortened childhood as well as the responsibilities thrust upon her ever since she was born, as the heir of the Azelhart family. It might surprise others to see her react in such a way, and she’d be embarrassed about it!

✔ -

HEROS. ALL MIGHT. all of them are scum in his eyes, especially after the detainment of all for one. shigaraki is the kind of person who can hold a grudge for YEARS unless it’s too boring or not memorable at all. usually he settles things with violence and will still hold that grudge after.

❣ -

👻 : Does your muse believe in an afterlife? What do they think it’s like?

For humans? Perhaps. For androids, it all depends whether they have a soul or not, something 9S has never quite been able to be sure of. He would like there to be an afterlife, at least for certain loved ones who he feels deserve it… but at the same time, he doubts that YoRHa deserve a second chance like that. As far as he is concerned, they don’t qualify as lives or deaths.

Regardless of his pessimism regarding the matter, though, his strong attachment to people and to the culture of humans means he can’t completely let the concept go. He has been seen trying to put fallen friends to rest with human mourning rituals, in an imitation of a human funeral, however hesitant and tentative the process. If anything, he believes in such things enough to deny himself the right. Afterlife seems like the right of those who lived worthy lives, and something of peace, to 9S. For someone like him, it’s a distant dream.

🔗 : What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these?

9S is very lonely, and very sociable. He can sometimes attach to people very easily – for not having had many close relationships at all, yet intimately needing company. At the same time, though, it takes a lot to truly gain his trust. Even for those he considers closest, he is always wary with them, always holding back… and following the fall of everything he knew and relied on, his distrustfulness is compounded.

Despite needing to socialise and form relationships to be happy, he tends to self-punish by isolating himself. Too aware of the world’s opinion of him, he thinks the relationships he desires are impossible for him, and all that he has only remind him of what he can’t have. In the end, 9S can attach himself quickly… while assuming the other party cares nothing for him. He can seem distant – but mainly as if he is trying to push others away.

Above all, he is afraid of getting attached again. All those who get close to him are hurt, and all those who get close to him betray him. He is fated to never truly become close to anyone, or so he believes. More than anything, 9S’s circumstances prevent him from getting close to anyone… an unfortunate truth that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. For as long as 9S doesn’t believe he deserves or can receive meaningful company, he’ll self-sabotage his relationships.

“Leave me alone.” “Forget about me.” “I don’t care.” In reality, he means the opposite – but after being hurt, there is no way for 9S to form bonds quickly, with his whole heart, the way he used to.

🎭 : How does your muse handle their emotions? Do they bottle them up or pour them out as soon as they start to feel?

9S is very easy to read. An emotional person, more expressive than most YoRHa units, you’ll know when he is upset, when he is happy, when he is angry. Especially when he is angry. Pouring out emotions, after all, doesn’t exactly mean they’re released as they truly are – especially when YoRHa is concerned. For YoRHa units, ‘love’ is most closely felt as the reaction they have when they ‘kill’. Joy is equal to hate. Protection and destruction layer over one another, almost indistinguishable. For any YoRHa unit, emotions, regardless of how they are expressed, are difficult and complicated by their programming. 9S is no exception.

    This was them: short, stammering, hot under the collar.

    This was you: cross, taller than that, and ready to empty the contents of your lungs for a sigh.

    “You have electricity.”

    “Yes.”

    “And industry.”

    “Some.”

    “Presumably, a whole wild of animals that could kill you if they so much as looked at you past the barrier.”

    “Well...”

    “And not a single one of you operates a blacksmith.”

    “...” They were tugging at their sleeves, but silent. You looked on, though you might be gobsmacked.

    “My suggestion,” you said to them, “Is for you to tell your mayor that Stark Resilient is moving in. And I’m gonna need a plot of land. Run off, now.” You waved them away and they hurried on, the rest of the moment held by you pinching the bridge of your nose.

    Some town. If it weren’t for the barrier and crystal castle, you figure all these townspeople would be little more than fresh meat for the wolves. Ever the go-getter, eh, Tony Stark?

    (Or people-pleaser, but that’s beside the point.)

     You turn your head, seeing someone else about that must’ve heard your little, shall we say, tirade. You would’ve ignored the fact were they not almost pauldron-for-pauldron a knight in shining armor. Literally. Was that silver?

    “Doing my part,” you said. “If I’m going to be stuck here, I need somewhere to do work. Someone’s gotta stoke a smithy’s fire.” As long as your suit’s out of commission, you don’t have much of a choice.

    Now... you just needed to remember how to handle an anvil.

She is new here, yes, but even still there are things that stand out in the monochrome tundra—like armor, for example. A full set, metal, making the towering figure seem even bigger and look more like a wall than the damned murals in the chateau.

The back of Sasume’s mind starts to buzz, rears up and remains just shy of turning into a deafening roar as she barely keeps herself from reaching for her sword. Her own sword.

Fuck, she just can’t catch a break, can she?

Her lips twist into a barely restrained snarl, nostrils flaring as keeps her one eye on his, muscles already itching and heart readying to panic. She can’t very well harm him, not with his armor never-mind his size, but he only has one arm and he’s bound to be slow with all the goddamned metal—

    The village of Eidolon is smaller than the castle of glass it’s ran around would lead to believe. There’s pieces missing, as though by design, not unlike a puzzle whose corners are filled and the rest left to go. Interesting, sure, but not complete. It leaves the lingering taste of an experiment. Maybe it’ll be finished. Maybe it won’t. Which of them comes true appears to be left in the hands of those who’ve never known this place in their lives until a few days ago. It’s also small enough that certain figures do not go unnoticed for very long. In short—

    —should a man of stone go a-walking, well, you wouldn’t stop yourself from watching.

    You were scribbling down something entirely unrelated to the proposition when it happened, some such details banal on this and that in the name of a Mayor of whom you haven’t so much as met in person, a train of thought which was interrupted rather immediately when you glanced up, gears grinding down to a screeching halt. Yes, a man of stone. It had to have been the oddest—least to the eyes—in a town made by the odd.

    And, of course, first instinct was to take the odd by its teeth. (Or tongue, as is your preference.)

    “I haven’t seen a knight in full suit before,” you said, which was a lie by omission. “Are you guarding the barrier?”

    You asked the question because for how threatening the wastes were, the rest of town (by which you meant the natives) seemed not concerned in the slightest as long as the barrier held. It was apparently keeping Eidolon safe and yet so far you’ve not met a single soul occupied with guarding the damn thing. If they looked like this, then, those natives might’ve had a point after all.

    “Isn’t that armor hard to move around in with the cold? Must be manageable here, but out there…” You allude to it with a noncommittal gesture. Frankly, you’re just interested in whatever he has to say.