AWAKENING

[cordibus]

Who: Everyone
When: Midnight, June 6th
Where: Green Valley Orchids
What: It is time.

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

The subway stop near the orchards was not the type of place that most people liked to be when darkness fell. The orchards near the school were set up almost like a public park, which wasn’t so bad in and of itself, but it’s also the area where over half of the murders happened before the curfew was first put in place. It was a place people didn't go unless absolutely necessary and most had started taking alternate routes to avoid the stop. As one of the first subway stations built in the city, its architecture didn't really mesh with those that came after it. It had jagged corners where the smell of wet earth lingered, making it unpleasant even for those brave enough to continue to use it, and there had even been talk of closing it permanently once routes and nearby stations had been revamped to be better able to take care of the traffic.

Due to this, it only has the bare-bones of a shelter, fallen into disrepair as the curfew was enforced city-wide, and a couple of night guards, (probably already asleep due to the lack of activity they’re expecting), so characters arriving there will be mostly unnoticed. For a place that had such a bad history, most people rightfully avoid it.

For most of them it will be their first meeting with each other. There will be a bit of time to talk before their phones display a zero. Plenty of time to talk about what they suspect and what might just happen...and that horrible vision they had shared. Then there’s that countdown on their phones...ticking away the last few minutes.

ZERO UNTIL MIDNIGHT

The lights go out when the countdown ends. The lack of sound is, for lack of better word, worrying. Very soon, only the light of the phones serves as makeshift flashlights for the small group. But soon, even as words get displayed, a deep male voice echoes, which could be much more worrying.

FINALLY! Ahahahahah! Ahhh, damn does it feel nice to be able to speak and not
just write. Hey lambs, are you all ready?

Considering the choice of words, that might be Luci.

It's time. Can you feel your heartbeats increasing? Your mind about to explode? Questions swirling in your mind? Just make sure you don't go alone. Groups are
best, go all together and you'll never find the answers.

The voice laughs again.

Not that you have much of a choice at this point! Have fun, give them hell, and tell
them I sent you! I'll be taking care of that pesky guard problem for you.
...Let's go for a night stroll."

Communication ends just as abruptly as it started. No time to back down now, as the door where the guards are staying is quickly locked on its own before the subway system itself appears to be taken over by a virus that flashes on every available screen. With a click, the locked doors to the outside are swung open.

A voice in your mind warns you this might be the biggest mistake you'll be making in your entire life...and yet your heart feels like it's going to burst from your body from the joy you feel...

AWAKENING

It begins with a scream nearby. The same noise that they heard during the vision. The trees begin to turn grey as the sounds of hundred of creatures moving can be heard from all sides. The application opens, displaying them all in real time.

The group is surrounded.

By all logic, they should be running, but their legs feel bolted to the ground. They can't move.

The creatures begin to get closer. The trees start to rot nearby.

Breathing begins to increase. The sound of voices and memories quickly flashing before their eyes that might cause some to clutch at their head...exactly the same thing that the man had been doing back in the vision. If they look down at their hands, they will see them fading, see-through.

Yet for them, something is different. Just as the creatures are about to attack, they stop. A vision of the Velvet Room flashes before the eyes of those gathered as the two attendants silently nod. Then a return to reality as a light of color pierces the night from their hearts. A single voice can be heard, drowning out anything they might be hearing.

The time is now. I am thou, thou art I! Your mind is trapped, but I can set your soul free! My other self, will you die, or fight back?

Accept me for who I am! Forge this contract by letting go of your fears! Revolt against this world, and TEAR OUT YOUR HEART!

It laughs and fades, as time quickly returns to this world. There's only a few seconds to react before it all goes to hell. A faded hand to reach into your chest.

The choice is yours. Death...or Awakening.

THE BATTLE IN APPLE GROVE

It’s a feeling unlike they have ever felt. Never have their bodies been so alive. Their minds fill with lost memories, their bodies adapting into tools to defeat the creatures before them.

Defeat...destroy...unlock the skills of your heart and show them what it means
to cross you."

The voice is encouraging, almost. To those with navigator skills, the voice speaks up once more as well.

Lead them into battle. Hone their skills into true annihilation!"

It’s time to reclaim the night.

[OOC: For the purpose of this battle, the shadows all have 1HP and are strong against nothing. That means any attack will be able to kill them, weapons and guns included. For this log only, CHARACTERS WILL NOT BE ABLE TO COMBINE SPELLS, as knowledge of this will be unlocked later on. There are about a HUNDRED shadows to be defeated, so there are as many needed for your characters to enjoy killing off. You are free to NPC them and to create situations and close calls.

An OOC PLANNING POST can be used to ask questions or to form teams.]

Comments

[transient_specter]

I

Gen is there with Ciro, Asher, and the family Asher's brought along. He's got a knife stuck in his belt, and a bottle of homemade pepper spray in his pocket. He looks wary, but everyone here's been through the same thing, right? There's no other reason for them to be here.

Still, he searches the crowd for anyone else he recognizes. It's hard to tell from the app, after all.

II

The memories come flooding back. They pour into his head, and they

don't

stop.

But as the group finds itself surrounded, as he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, as everything starts going even further to hell, he reaches into himself and pulls. There's a light, and his clothes shift, becoming more anachronistic and yet...

And yet the material is familiar, even if the style isn't. There's no time for fashion right now, because he feels the weight of his weapon in his hand as the great winged wolf appears near him. He can feel the power coursing through him.

And he sees the monsters - like Ganma but so much different - and lifts his weapon to fire, taking down any that look like they're getting too close to someone.

There's no time for thinking. He has to fight. He has to survive. He has people he wants to go see, and work he has to do.

II

[draculabackwards]

[It is so strange to realize now that the humanity that had deemed him monster had been the same one he'd lived side by side with in the city. He does not know what to do with this contradiction in his life, but right now, there is fighting that must be done.

He certainly can't immediately discount all the people he's met here. People who have appeared to gone through the same traumatic change. Especially those Alucard specifically knows.]

Gen! [Alucard uses his broadsword to stab at a Shadow trying to flank Gen from behind.]

[lovelledup]

A. Pre-awakening, open

Why are they here? In some odd way, he knew he had to come, and he still feels that. But as he stands around waiting, the more it sinks in just how bad an idea this might be. How are they supposed to do anything against those monsters? Or the firemen, if they show up? What are they even supposed to be doing? All they were told was that they could "know more" but he's not sure what that means.

He takes off his backpack, setting it beside him and then slumping again a wall.

"What are we doing?"

B. Battle time, Gutermuth team

One moment he's surrounded by monsters and certain he's going to die. The next moment, he's tearing out his heart, an unconscious motion, and if he could think about it, he would be just as sure of that killing him as the monsters, but he can't think. There are too many thoughts in his head, two different lives overlapping one another, and the monsters still getting closer.

There's no time to think. There's only time to fight. Rather than the couple of gardening tools he'd grabbed as makeshift weapons, he finds himself holding other things in his hands that are unfamiliar, but seem much more effective, not that he knows exactly how he's supposed to use them. But as a monster leaps at him, it seems that thankfully a wild swing with the weapons in his hands is enough for a successful strike.

[ooc: Will match formatting. Plotting post here. If you want to join our fighting team, give it a poke.]

B

[dendranthema]

It's not the voice speaking to him that does it, or tearing out his own heart. It's the sudden flood of memories rushing into his head, the accompanying sense that there's no point in attempting to endure, the overwhelming feeling that everything has been lost since long ago and is even more lost here: these are what sends Casimir (Kaltz?...) to his hands and knees, fighting sudden tears. It's uncharacteristic of him, and yet it feels so very, very natural.

While he attempts to regain his bearings, his appearance changes. First different clothing, then a crystal sword and an elaborate gun appear. And then his ears stretch into points. Black horns and a long, thin, shiny black tail materialize.

A monster appears behind Asher, and his hand shoots out - and the monster is frozen in ice. He shouldn't know how to do that - no, he should be more powerful than that. Why is he even weaker now? Stranger than that is the crocodile-headed man who appears for a moment when he casts the spell.

Ciro/Chikusa - ota

[kokuyoyo]

A - Before Things Go To Shit

To say he feels uneasy would be an understatement. And yet, at the same time...

All he can think about is "Chikusa", utterly deadened in response to the threat of bleeding out to death, calm and uncaring as he had dragged himself onto clumsy legs and reached for his weapon....

Right now, the only weapons he has are a baseball bat he got from a suspiciously reliable pawn shop and a molotov cocktail. With those alone, he might stand out, but with this crew? Maybe not. It's impossible to miss him by height, however, six foot at only fifteen, and he's actively looking for anyone that he might even faintly remember from school even if in passing. When he sees someone from his perch near his brother and the Gutermuth family, he starts in surprise.

"You too?!" Seriously, what the hell is with this group and its social connections?

B - Things Are Going To Shit

In that moment, Ciro is going to die. It's almost something he's positive of, the molotov in his hand seeming so inefficient now that he's face to face with it all. It clutters from his hand, along with the bat, and his breath starts to quicken, his heart goes harder. He's going to die. A glance at his hands, not melting but fading, and- and-

In that moment, Chikusa knows he won't. It's something he's certain of, even with his mind cracking apart and his heart breaking his ribcage. While he might not have weapons, not yet.... He can't die here.

Mukuro still needs him. Somewhere, he must need him.

It hurts to dig his fading fingers into his chest, his teeth clacking together so hard surely he must have chipped something, but he doesn't care. All that matters is that dying is not on the table for him, no matter how much he might want it on some level, and he ignores the drool that slips from his mouth onto the grass. Just... need to find it....

And there it is. And tearing it out is such a relief, so blissfully good, that he almost doesn't notice the black and white coat slithering into place around his body or the off-center hat on his head. Honestly, the only reasons he notices the weapons forming in his hands is because he recognizes that trident head and oh how much it feels like his heart is being torn out again... There's no time for that for long, however. A shadow falls over him, and that's when he glances back to realize an enormous snake with spiked scales has risen out of what was once his shadow. It jerks into action, wrapping in a loose circle around his body- barely enough room to set his feet apart- and he watches dully as it rears back as if preparing to strike... But it doesn't.

Behind its coils, he's as safe as he can be.... So long as he does what's being told to him in hissed whispers in his own head.

Where he looks, the snake and its matching golden eyes follows, and he points sharply to the benefit of whoever is looking over at him. When he calls, it's not with his voice, but something that ripples through the other person's mind.

Over there! It's flanking!

Sure enough, one of the shadows is trying to get another person who's taking care of one of its kin. Better get a move on.

C - Shit Is Handled

Throughout the entire fight, Ciro sends out orders to whoever is nearest not him but his brother- making sure that Gen is never flanked or caught by surprise. Occasionally, when that's not a problem, he calls out observations in other places for people to follow, all with that same telepathic link.

After a bit, however, to whoever has helped him once already...

I need you to herd that shadow to the tree with the broken branches.

Ciro, in the meanwhile, is hefting up his crossbow in preparation for steady aim. Looks like he wants to test something out....

B

[umbral_idol]

B

"All right, leave it to me, Snakey!" Elizabeth shouts, pushing her spear to block the flanker even as she moves into a proper position to actually help properly.

At the very least, she doesn't seem particularly bothered by the telepathy, and almost acts like that kind of thing's normal.

Elizabeth Bathory -- ota

[umbral_idol]

I: Final Countdown Meetup

Isabella was always rather uncomfortable inside subway stations, and the whole proximity to murder sites did not make anything better. If she knows you, she's probably huddling nearby, and sometimes trying to hide behind you. For people she doesn't know, well...

She approaches quite a few of them, quite clearly preparing to say something, only to back off after a few seconds and hide behind someone she knows. And then after a little while, she... tries again...

II: Awakening

They were going to die. They were going to die and there was nothing they could do, they were going to get eaten--

Are you... trying to eat me...?!"

Even if they wanted to fight, they were trapped--

"I'll never lose again. You'll never lock me up, and I don't need redemption."

They needed to fight, but there was no real hope--

"Why don't you try being an idol? They're like the nobles of the modern world!"

Even if they fought, they were just going to die--

"Not saying I'll survive, but I WILL take you with me."

--That's right. It's too early for that. Even if it's a pointless struggle--

"...enjoy the short time you have until the very end. Struggle, grieve, and then forget it all and sing."

The memories were coming faster and faster. That's right, she was a serial killer, of a scale that she was said to be a demon--

"The things I've done, well... I can't exactly work 'em off."

In a lot of ways she was grateful for this world. She could forget that. She knew that she couldn't but here, she was able to live a normal life but--

She speaks out, her words matching a memory from the past:

"I'm done playing that stupid game."

A hand reaches into her chest, and pulls, bringing her heart out. Still, this isn't quite enough for her. There's no climactic moment to it at all! ...So she just had to make one herself, that's how it worked, right?

"Now, let's begin the bloodbath."

With that, she tears her nails into her heart, spilling blood onto her skin. At that moment, her entire body turns pitch-black, with jagged yellow lines criss-crossing across her sillhouette as horns grow out of her head, a tail bursts out of her tailbone, and black demonic wings erupt out of her back... And just as quickly as it happened, it's over, and her clothing is now some horrific fusion of tron and gothiloli fashion, black and flourescent pink mixing together with her additional body parts as a spear appears in her hand, which she quickly swings out at the oncoming shadows in a sweeping manner, pushing several of them back enough to buy some time... to pose dramatically.

"Servant Lancer, Elizabeth Bathory has returned! Everyone's been waiting for this moment, right? ♥"

I

[lovelledup]

[Asher is sort of huddling himself, slumped against one wall of the station, waiting for... he doesn't even know what, at this point. He has family and friends with him, so it's better than being alone, but at the moment, he's much more nervous than anything else. Still, he recognises someone as she comes close, his eyes widening.]

Isabella?

[She's not someone he's particularly close to, and he wouldn't have even begun to think about wondering whether she was among the people who got sucked into this, but they're in the same grade. He sees her enough at school, but seeing her here is a thorough surprise.]

[connivingbird]

T-minus 3 and counting...

First meetup was in the library where he handed out a few masks and lighters to those that asked, always being wary of someone peeking in who don't look as haunted as he felt. There was something odd about the world around him, something strange about the quality of the light, the feel of the cooled air on his skin, the murmuring voices and the pounding of his heart. Ariel rubbed at that spot, frowning at the feeling of skin against skin and shrugged.

He knew that whatever happens tonight, he wasn't going to feel normal again. The 'Ankh' with its alien thoughts was going to change him even if he survived.

As time winded down, he stood up and headed for the location on the app. Standing there with his family and the others he took a deep breath just as if he was heading on stage. His heart was pounding but it seemed wrong somehow. He rubbed at his chest and waited.

T-minus 1 and...
800 years or so. How many memories were stored in something that old? They came in a rushing sound of coins hitting coins, flooding in alien and long and forgotten, but they weren't that alien. They were familiar - the scent of fire and the rush of the wind and the muted colors of the sky reaching above and the feel of humanity in all of their greedy souls. He gasped for air, his hands reaching for something, that last fleeting pull...

It was a heart at first, beating but then it shifted, changed.

A Medal red as blood.

The cracked center pulled tightly together by strands of gold and silver.

The crack still pulsing with a barely tamable flame.

A challenge cry of a hawk, wings of flame pulling out from his back shifting to that of a peacock's tail and pulled out more to become a strange birdlike creature that shifted, changed and bent over him, becoming him. It was him and it wasn't, and Ankh's grin grew as a few strange feathers drifted around him.

Oi! Create a circle to face them, healers close to the center, fighters on the edge. Those with ranged weapons, thin them out without setting us on fire!

And take off
It was and wasn't like directing Eiji against Greeed and their Yummies. Ankh would shout out orders, or rather, think out orders, directing those that he could to plug up what holes he saw and to help sending support to the other Navigators. And that was what he was too, one of the directors of those that were fighting, even though he kept close to the humans that he was calling family a few minutes - hours? - ago. The monster standing near him looked almost like and not like one of his own Yummies, but it seemed far too aware to be like one, though he didn't pay it as much attention as he did the shadows swarming around them.

One came too close, using a moment of distraction to get within biting distance. Ankh grabbed it with his heavily armored and clawed hand, snarling a little as it tried to do him some damage. Nice try was the thought even though he knew that this form was fragile, human. He still had layers of leather and steel around him, molded into an exotic form that echoed his natural body even if it wasn't the same.

He turned the clawing, hissing shadow over as if he couldn't understand what fuckery he was seeing - and maybe that was because his one eye was covered by an array of gilded feathers - and then grabbed it between both armored hands and pulled. There was a wet noise as it was torn apart, and he tossed the pieces aside with dainty flicks of his talons before going back to battle.

t-minus 1

[eyeofcute]

"Healers?!" Cagliostro's just barely remembered how her staff works, but once her Persona is fully formed and she isn't going absolutely insane with adrenaline, she falls back. She has the long-range advantage. "Right, right, healers. You, voice in my head--" She can't quite recognize that voice, but-- well, 'voice in my head' works.

She turns around to survey the fighting. Fuck being short, this is difficult to make sense of when you're trying to fight smart. "Can you see any clear opening?"

Jaune Arc/John (various prompts, pick your poison)

[sociallyarcward]

1. The Final Countdown...- OTA
John had calmed down a little from his postings on the app. He was still shaken, still angry, and still very much afraid. But what choice did he have? He arrived without much fanfare, knowing the faces of at least two people to look for, however as he steps out to join the growing group he notices a few faces that are familiar: many from school but certainly a number of patrons from the cafe as well. John can hardly believe it, but why else would they be here if not for the app? He lingers on the edge of the crowd, not sure if he’s supposed to speak up or not.

2. Awakening -- OTA
This was a terrible idea.

The screams are one thing, but he can’t run. He can’t move and that somehow frightens him more than the approaching danger. He shudders and as a tree starts to droop near his left his brain feels like it explodes. He lets out a cry as vision after vision plays before him: a sword held up by a man who talks of a long line of Hunstmen that came before him. That same sword, and a shield, in his hands as he swings to block and strike against a monster bear-like creature. It’s called an Ursa. Then he’s flying off a cliff and crashing into a tree where he meets a girl with fire-red hair, Pyrrha Nikos. They team up, joining two others, and they battle more of those creatures, grimm...they’re all creatures of grimm. He stands on a stage with them as he’s pronounced the leader of team JNPR. The Vytal Festival is approaching, but first there’s a dance. He’s in an arena, facing other huntsmen and huntresses. Then he’s in the stands, watching Pyrrha...as she tears apart a girl with her semblance. A robot girl? He doesn’t know cause suddenly Pyrrha is in front of him and kissing him. She shoves him in a locker, he’s shoved in lockers a lot as he remembers Cardin, but this is different. He’s handed Pyrrha’s circlet...she’s gone now. But he fights on, so many battles, but most of them against the creatures made from darkness. Ren and Nora, the other two members of JNPR always with him...his friends. The last memory he has is sitting in a room with those two...recovering after a long journey.

His hands flicker but he’s having trouble processing all of this. Is he back in that room now? The room from his dreams? What is even happening? He feels like he is being torn apart. He hears laughter...but it’s nearly drowned out by the sound of his own heart. Tear it out? Can he…?

Before he can think too much on it, he acts. He screams and shoves his hand into his own chest. His own scream gets louder and he almost pulls back, but he’s committed now and his hands tighten around the beating organ. He pulls and nearly collapses, his vision going white.

But then it’s over and John is changed. He doesn’t just see it, he can feel it. It’s...it’s a rush like he’s never felt as both energy and memories flood him, like waves coming in from every direction. He doesn’t notice the shadow of a mounted knight rising behind him--but the armor that snaps into place over his body is in a similar design. He closes his fist around the hilt of a familiar sword, while a shield materializes onto his back, hiding a rifle as well. The weight is familiar, though the design is a little off from his memories, but that’s hardly important. He’s armed and he knows what to do.

3. Knights to the Field - Eligors Only
Jaune doesn’t exactly plan it, it just kind of happens. He’s thrown back by the blow from one of the creatures, his shield coming in handy for such close quarters combat. He feels a presence at his back, but it’s different from these creatures. He slashes out with his sword, chopping the shadow in half, before looking over his shoulder. Given the number of fighters, they have a bit of a breather. His eyes light up when he notices who it is, “Hey! Wanna take these guys together?”

He smirks, still running on the high of ripping out his own heart. Who knew that could actually feel...good? “Where’s the other Eligor, huh?” It isn’t quite team JNPR...but in this case he feels like it’s as close as he’s going to get.

4. Free For All Battle -- OTA
Despite his own battle experience, he isn’t exactly the best fighter from his team. He’ll need all the help he can get, but he’s more than willing to help others on the field as well. Despite having a gun at his back, he doesn’t make much use of it--preferring instead to use the sword in his hand and the shield in his other.

4!

[torching]

"John, five o'clock!"

Guess who's swooping right in to alert you of an oncoming shadow? Mako is. Except before Jaune can get to it, Mako uses Agi and burns the shadow into ashes. He's clearly getting tired, not used to battle like this but he's still fighting. he's going to keep going, despite the memories that burn his conscience.

He turns briefly to face Jaune, still braced for an oncoming group of shadows ready to strike them--

"How're you holding up?"

[dendranthema]

1. Pre-Awakening

For the most part, Casimir is staying near his sons and their friends. There are enough people here and enough potential approaching danger that he doesn't want to leave their sides. But there are a handful of others here that he'd recognize through the gloom if he was approached.

2. Battle

[See prompt B here.]

1. let's traumatize poor Casimir

[tellmeimbeautiful]

Finally, there is the location, the location that has been marked on the map. Everything is dark, so dark, and Morgan regrets having come here alone. But strength in numbers would have meant weakness in admitting... sins... sins that were spelled out in that horrible app.

I'm not a murderer.

Then, suddenly, a sound rips through the night. A scream. And, eyes finally accustomed to the darkness, Morgan sees creatures coming out of the shadows, inky monsters that multiply all around.

There is only one thing to do, like that person had advised earlier, run.

The creatures suddenly develop features -is it reality? a vision? a memory?- twisted features, pointy ears and fangs, bat-like wings, demonic eyes... Rosiel-sama! To your right! Heeding the warning, Morgan jumps out of the way, a heel catching in the grass, falling...

Scrambling back up... a... hand? extended? Rosiel-sama, Alexiel and her legions are closing in on us. A hand clad in black leather... the sleeve of a military uniform... a high collar... a very familiar face... a dear face... and a name... a name?

No, Morgan is alone, alone with the dark beasts and none of this is real. Or maybe not, there a little further, is Casimir.

"CASIMIR!"

The sight of a beloved brother is enough to propel Morgan forward.

"CASIMIR!"

Yuuto Kidou | OTA

[kouteipenguin]

So... anyone want some water?

[Ever since he arrived, Michi stays huddled off to the side. He alters between talking a lot and being absolutely silent, head frequently weaving around to try to see glimpses of something coming after them. The slightest sound is enough to make him jump. He's clearly scared out of his mind, but nonetheless, he is determined that he'll be here.]

It's just a few minutes left now... oh, no. I forgot. I was going to leave a note so they'd know what happened... just in case...

[He sinks down to the ground, perched on the balls of his feet. He pulls his backpack off his back, pulls out every water bottle he could find in the house. Which, given that he does track, turned out to be a decent amount. Some were fished back out of the recycling box in the kitchen, but who is going to care about that?]

Anyway, there's water. If anyone wants water. It's here if no one does, too. I couldn't think of anything else.


The most insane thing he's ever done

[The command rings solidly in his mind, silent but as deafening as a cannon, echoing over and over in increasing volume. It feels like color strips away from the world, draining into his chest. Tear out your heart, the voice demands. The glow increases. Time decreases. There's a ringing sound in his ears.

Tear out your heart.

He can't feel his hand against his chest, but he can feel his heartbeat against his hand, racing so fast that it burns. All at once, the sound stops and his hand is around his heart, feeling it pulse in his fingers. The whole world ends in that crash of cold shock that numbs his whole body to everything else but the

pure

mindshattering

agony.

Michi falls to his knees, head tilted up, throat raw and he can't hear it. He curls up onto the ground, arching his back to try to ball up and clutch at his chest. The terrifying stillness doesn't change. Michi was right. This was suicide. And he would never be coming back.

Through the deafening silence, there's nothing to drown out knowledge - the tall figure in a purple suit... that was Kageyama. It was absurd to think there could ever be a time when Kidou didn't know all that man had done. That magazine in his hands as he ran through the orphanage wasn't a mystery; it was the one bond he had left to a man he couldn't remember the face of. Teikoku, Raimon, his father, Zeus, Aliea Academy - Haruna. Soccer. Control. In one euphoric rush, he can hear who he is as if announced on the field:

Genius game maker Kidou Yuuto.

With a deep thump in his chest, the pain runs back out to his extremities, chased away by a searing warmth that leaves his whole body vibrating with power. He hadn't realized that at some point his eyes were closed until he opens them again to find his vision restricted. As it should be. He rises up to one knee, feeling his cape slide around his shoulders. Kidou doesn't question either of these things; they're simply facts in his world. How he's always been.

He would question the sniper rifle in his hand, but there's no time. He straightens to his feet, instinctively hooking his foot onto the soccer ball in front of him, and stands tall and defiant against the horrors that would hurt this world. Terror and rage no longer are at war inside of him, but twine together into a single line of cold determination, honing his mind into a sharp weapon.

His shadow stretches out... and out... and out... and rises out of the ground as two shadowy people carrying a platform-style litter - complete with stylized penguin wings folded at its sides - atop which a penguin head attached to a cloak silently floats. Kidou freezes as he sees it, the dark joy that filled him freezing into a shot of icy dread. He mutters something, half of a thought that didn't quite stay quiet-]

...with a brilliant commander on your side, the battle is won before it even starts...

[The world isn't prone to wait for anyone to get their mind in gear. The monsters aren't pausing anymore, but start oozing forward again with deadly purpose. Kidou only realizes too late that they're not stalling anymore while he is, and has only enough time to stare in horror at claws inches away from him.

He'll react, but probably not in time to avoid getting clawed. Maybe someone should step in here.]

Reclaim the night

[With his second weapon being something his feet can wield, it seems so easy to maneuver the field and mix what he's doing. The soccer ball doesn't have much effective range. But the sniper rifle does. And he's so used to not seeing his immediate surroundings that it's little hindrance to keep the scope to his face most of the time. He can feel through the ground if something nears him. He can feel the air pressure change and hear it. He's got enough time to react.

But Kidou's not looking for targets as much as he's looking for opportunities - people who need to be streamlined. Things that other fighters don't notice. Ways he can be useful. His mind snaps out an order the moment he notices - that person's taken out one, but there's three more that moved into attack position behind them. No time to turn around. But he can order them to dodge-]

Move two feet your left!

[With one shot from his rifle, one of the shadows is gone.]

Take them out!

[I'll match your formatting. If you want anything else, just ask for a prompt or reply with another one!]

water!

[torching]

Thanks.

[ don't mind mako, just coming on in to grab a bottle of water. he looks pretty concerned for what's about to come, whatever it may be...the water will help with his dry throat, at least. ]

Good thinking on your part.

Erica / Erika Furudo

[withoutred]

1. countdown.
[ Erica can be found crouched near the door to the orchards during the remaining countdown, next to her heavy backpack full of... basically anything she could think of, with an antique scythe awkwardly propped against the wall next to her.

... She thought it looked cool, okay, don't judge. And something about it just called to her.

More importantly, however, she appears to be having one last silent meltdown before everything kicks off- arms clutching her sides, blinking back tears, the works. It seems the reality of the situation has finally sunk in. Everything lead to this, one way or another.

She was going to die down here. ]

2. birth of the new witch.
[ The last moments of Erica's life weren't spent gracefully, to be sure. She'd managed to throw herself backwards before the terror made her freeze completely, desperately trying to get away from here, away from those things, from the crushing weight of something taking over her mind. ]

H-help me! Someone, please-

[ She chokes on the plea, gasping for breath as the pain grows worse. More of those hallucinations - no, memories - flood her awareness, as the dots finally connect into one grand design. She's not from here. She's not this Piece. None of this is real.

Her hands are gray and fading. But as her vision dims, all she can see is ethereal petals dripping from her chest, drowning out everything - it feels too familiar, and it's the last straw that sets her free.

Something shatters, almost like glass. She clutches her heart.

Erika screams.

What comes next is a blur. She's on her feet again, tearing a bloody scythe - a real one, unlike the shitty fake from before - from her chest, and launching herself at the first Shadow she sees in a shrieking frenzy. Hope you brought earmuffs. ]

3. wildcard
[ Aaaand the usual "if the above doesn't work, punch me for more situations", so on and so forth. I'll also match formatting! I just default to brackets on my own, oops. ]

3 - all hail erika the most graceful of butterlies (post oku-thread wipeout as discussed)

[anovelidea]

[ Who knows how long Erika has been lying there since she catapulted her way through a horde of monsters. The world still rings in the silence after her screaming, the occasional shout or guttural roaring sounds from allies and enemies alike, and the tapping of what sounds like wooden heels on concrete.

The shadow looms over her before anything else does. Slowly, spreading like ink in water, a smile spreads. She knows this girl - the her that was, yes, but Her - it is not her Bernkastel. But this child is close, and that is enough. ]

A wonderful show, Child. I loved the part where you wiped out under the weight of your own stupidity. Tell me, are you a corpse yet?

Christopher Noro (Koujirou Genda) l OTA

[beastfang]

Walk the Tracks (A)

Christopher wasn't exactly certain how he managed to make it with time to spare considering the circular route and ducking particularly spiteful cops patrolling near and after curfew. This reason and the fact that this particular line was normally avoided by most, even during the day, has him blinking up from his phone and at the other occupying the very barren subway car.

"Well at least I know now I'm not the only one that went against common sense."


In the Underground (B)
The decay and overly damp dirt was the first sign this was the last stop as he walked into the station. There's only a slight grimace at the smell before he hops off the platform and heads over to whoever may be standing around. The gray hiking backpack he had borrowed from his father gently placed down on the floor by his feet as he attempts a small smile that's likely more grimace then anything considering where they are at.

"Do you think the ones meeting up outside the station have all gathered?"

Because he was not certain if the few people he knew from the app would be there or here if plans had changed.


Marching Orders (C)[Awakening]

There's a steady mantra in the back of his mind telling him to turn back and leave, even if it meant walking on the tracks out of the station. Anything but following the others outside with nothing but cellphones and the occasional flashlight to light the way into the trees. Yet something feels like anticipation before a match skittering across his nerves as the scream is first heard and everything starts to gray out and rot as what seems like liquid darkness rushes out.

So they were going to die.

Then that voice and something is guiding his hand and there's just pain as blunt finger nails of his own hand dig into his chest as if trying to claw something out and there's blood now even as he can't focus.

He was ready for anything to be shot at him, his stance was solid and he would endure because that was what a goalkeeper did.

And everything seemed to stop for one moment as the weight and warmth in his head registered and that was his heart and it was somehow still beating in the palm of his hand. All before there's just memories and the discordant feeling as two lives try to mesh and meld. Christopher Noro who seemed to let things float by him, Koujirou Genda who was Teikoku's Goalkeeper driven to keep going and through this all his shadow grows in the flash of light that happened the moment his hand had ripped his heart out. Elongating and shaping into something not human and not fully any one creature either.

Black as the shadows and compact with red eyes, for a moment he thinks of Beast Fang until he sees the six wings that had once adorned the back of Zeus' Aphrodi and the clearly serpent like tail thrashing in green and red scales. The sight of this being that seemed to darkly chuckle in his mind had distracted him from the gauntlets in his school colors now on his hands and the black, blood red, and bronze uniform that is so familiar but with an odd blood red symbol on the left side of his chest.

Defeat...destroy...

The words echo in his mind along side a new/old memory that suddenly gains new meaning in this situation as he slides away from a lunging shadow and catches it in armored covered hands before the pointed ends puncture it enough that it suddenly fades away.

"Victory at all costs. Losing is unsightly."

In this moment losing was not allowed and it should have worried Genda how easily it was to slip back into such to not think about what he was doing and what all of this meant.


A Helping Fist (D)

Despite not being at all trained or even mentally prepared to do so. Genda has endured and attempted to adopt from blocking soccer balls to punching and slapping away creatures. His form is far more defensive then aggressive but that doesn't stop him from doing so, even moving in to take the brunt of a surprise attack for someone. On rare occasions the inky black creature taking the role of his physical shadow would solidify for a brief moment as an enemy in Genda's line of sight suddenly goes up in flames or ends up being slashed apart by the creature's claws.

Those moments seem to cause Genda to frown, though considering he default expression seems to be frown few likely notice the difference.


Medicine for the Soul (E)

Despite trying his best to help decrease the number of things attacking all of them, something instinctively makes Genda remain back from the thicker knots of creatures. Eyes scanning the others and trying to pinpoint any injuries before someone with said injury takes a small moment to breathe or step back from the fight. Only to have an odd sensation as their injuries knit together as if they hadn't happened. Genda doesn't stay long after it happens and instead moves on to the next injured or follows directions from whatever navigator manages to catch his attention to direct him.

Someone may also notice that during his little quest to keep people healed the kid is not really watching his own self as much and may end up in a bind or two that someone would have to get him out of.


WILDCARD

((Will match prose or brackets. Hit me with anything that strikes your fancy.))

Medicine for the Soul

[catchthishand]

[ The more Okuyasu fights, the less he has to think about if he's really Okuyasu or if he's Romulus.

It's easier to move through the trees, from patch of shadowy stands to patch of shadowy stands. For every one he takes down, two more seem to take it's place- no matter whether they were taken down by his own fists or by the claws or fangs or teeth of his oddly changed Stand.

He can feel his own wounds occasionally patch themselves up, usually with a glimpse of someone else's Stand out of the corner of his eye- but this is the first time he'd seen someone go and heal him when they were about to get jumped themselves ]

Hey! Move!

[ He's bolting forward, and, between one footstep and the next, his shadow flickers and changes into a wolf, bright wings splayed wide as a beam of light flies from the wolf to the healer, and then it vanishes, fading back into the shadows.

When the light hits Genda, it would make him feel more agile, like he can duck out from oncoming blows better ]

Haruka Sorazawa (Lenka Utsugi) (OTA)

[probablynoteren]

1. Finale Features: Zero Dialogue Whatsoever

[It's dark and damp inside the subway station, and perhaps a little too loud, with so many people arriving continuously in an hour or so. The crowd trying to hush itself sounds like the quietest thrum of bees, or the fridge running, or dozens of very frightened students and productive(?) members of society wondering where exactly to stash their weapons now that reality is hitting back.

If you want to get away from the masses and the seething anxiety a little, though, there's plenty of smaller nooks and crannies even with the falling down state of the subway. Haruka's retreated to one of these since arriving, after breaking more traffic laws than he's likely broken in his 15 years of existence, and his scooter is leaning next to him -- along with a couple bags of fertilizer, what looks like some lab equipment, a decent pile of molotov cocktails, and other sundry things that look more like he's opening a small gardening research facility than getting armed.

He's quiet and still enough that it's possible to trip over him or his(?) belongings, and it's easy to mistake him for being either calm or half-asleep until you notice the white-knuckled grip he has on the gardening shears at his disposal. It might not be entirely wise to startle him at this stage.]

2. God, Eat Your Heart Out

[It's exhilaration, and horror, and somehow terribly familiar (fighting thousands of feet from the earth, knowing that he's courting death with every step, but dancing to the tune of his blade anyway), even the scream that starts it all and shreds at his insides because he's heard too much of it today. Last week. Two weeks ago, two years ago, all his life.

A shiver rips through him as their enemies -- things, they're things that feed on everything that lives, and yet don't eat, something in him whispers in outrage -- increase in number and much as he wants to charge and scatter them his feet won't move. His thoughts are sluggish: Haruka Sorazawa is not someone who knows how to deal with mortal danger, Haruka Sorazawa can fight but not this, none of this, Haruka Sorazawa isn't needed here. This isn't his battlefield, but something in him knows exactly how this rush of adrenaline works: the flash of blades, the stunning roar of gunfire, how steady his hands need to be to hold something covered in blood, how his own insides look against the ground--

Accept me for who I am! Forge this contract by letting go of your fears!

He's always, always been afraid. Speak softly. Move like a mouse. Don't let them find you. Live like a shadow, pass like a candle in the night, unable to do anything, unable to help anyone, unable even to save those important to you. He doesn't know what this fear is. But--

TEAR OUT YOUR HEART!

He's come this far, and Utsugi Lenka doesn't fear anything when it comes to protecting those who need him. He can't. His hand is already sinking into his chest nearly before the command is finished, not obedience but acceptance: do anything to survive, even if it doesn't seem like survival. Give of yourself everything, and when you have nothing left, trust that those who come after will walk the path that you have laid out. Tearing his heart from his chest is nothing: in fact, it feels a little too right, like the hollowing out after a well-fought battle inversed -- the battle is just beginning.

(Utsugi Lenka had nothing. Haruka Sorazawa has nothing. They both have things to protect, in this moment, and that's enough to keep walking; to run, because following at their heels is a yawning darkness, all the things that they have lost and the things that they will never have. It crystallizes, unseen, into a vast and bloodstained suit of armor -- limbs empty, containing nothing but a voracious presence, lined with teeth -- wreathed in a stranglehold by what looks like the twisted trunk of a tree, barren of leaves. A knight without a mount, moving only under the power of the tree inhabiting it, charred roots pulling furrows across the ground like giant, grasping hands.)

... Someone is screaming, and gradually the raw feeling in Lenka's throat tells him it's himself. There are blades in his hands and an emptiness in his thoughts, and he doesn't remember moving at all; but he's rushed forward without bothering to wait for further voice instructions. He's going to annihilate these creatures, Shadows, Aragami, it doesn't matter.]

Never again... I won't let you... ever again, I'll destroy every last one of you!

[It doesn't even matter if someone is already fighting them, or if what's in his way is friend or foe -- anything that interferes with battle will be moved, and anything else that moves will stop moving. Fighting for him is, at the moment, terrifying and necessary in its simplicity.]

3. Wildcard

[As always, let's talk shop if you want to do something different or more specific, I'm flexible and we have a lot of Shadows to catch! Let's go! ☆]

1. Finale (Since we already have Eligor teamup thread planned)

[sociallyarcward]

[John had been hanging away from the bulk of the crowd as well. It's weird, he's obviously talked to many of these people online, but there's something different about meeting them in person. It could be that and it could also just be the circumstances of the meeting itself. John approaches Haruka when he spots him across the way. He doesn't have nearly the number of supplies, preferring to stick to an easier load--though the backpack on his shoulder looks pretty full.

He stops, a few feet away still.]

Hey, Haruka. I have something for you.

Ryann Goodenough (Cagliostro) OTA

[eyeofcute]

AWAKENING; LET'S KEEP THIS SHORT.

[For Cagliostro, Awakening feels natural.

Actually, scratch that. It feels like shit. It feels like the world crashing down all at once, and death finally staring you down in the face. It feels like dropping down into the gates of Hell without time to catch your breath. But Cagliostro has centuries of memories that hit her, all at once, like a long book that she's reading, but it's real-- it's the most visceral cinematic she's ever watched, but compared to most, she has time to rest. In the middle of these memories is a century of pure, unending solitude, and when she sees the door break open, setting her free--

--finally-- she is free--

Cagliostro's hands grip around her heart, and really, she isn't afraid of death anymore.

There's not much else to say. The memories of her life in Eddan take a complete backseat. When she draws out a black staff from her chest, and a cute outfit replaces her dreadful school uniform, she steps up to the battle as if she's never left it. This is natural for her, after all.]

The Super-Cute Genius Alchemist is back, and I'm not going to die here. Not again! ARS MAGNA!

[...In her zest, she might attack you by accident. Does she even recognize you? Oops. Might wanna run from Cagliostro.]

AFTERCARE; RIGHT THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN

--Ack... gh...

[Any Navigators nearby might pick up a distressing signal. Cagliostro's Persona has taken massive damage, both from Shadows and self-inflicted, due to her rampage. This, coupled with Cagliostro's already frail body, add up to a terrible outcome.

When the last Shadow has fallen, Cagliostro also falls-- face-flat, with her Persona giving a sharp cry before melting into thin air.

Uh...

Well, shit. Help?]

B - Cags p l s

[anovelidea]

It's in her wanderings looking for survivors that she nearly trips over........

She forgot.

The halo chimes in through one of her Pieces - taught her snuff films, very smart, worth the time it spent to speak to her - and all of those hers she acts through have her same values, or at least parts of them. This child was worth her weight in existence. Too bad even She didn't remember the name. Ah well, the girl is worthy of being saved. Normally her magic could repair this, but this world has siphoned it from her fingertips, oh dear, how to fix this...

- Ah, she knows.

Featherine does not kneel. Simply steps in through the piles of shredded Shadows and spilled blood to be looming over the almost-corpse, and the hand not holding her Halberd points down. Dantalion, was it? She knows how her powers work - break into the most horrible pieces, repair it in whatever way she desires. The name for the spell is different here, she doesn't know it, but it doesn't matter. A hole through the world leaks up from her shadow, kept contained only by a never-ending mobius loop of pages, and Featherine's ageless mind slams on the command Fix It.

Dantalion obeys. The pages wrap around the child's body, peel off writ ink and bloodstains, memories of wounds she never received, and left behind is Nothing. Exhausting, something too easy now tires immensely, perhaps she's getting old.

H A H A H A

When Cagliostro is healed enough to actually wake up, she looks up to a swirling torrent of glowing pages and a pleased (if a bit condescending) smile. "Congratulations on living, Child of Man. Take it as a gift, so you may go and celebrate your victory."

[draculabackwards]

Awakening

"Tear out your heart!"

[The command echoes straight to his soul and even though he is afraid, he has to follow this path to the bitterest of ends.

The pain is excruciating, resulting in a scream far higher than he could ever attempted with his own speaking voice. But there it is. A winged wolf. A transformation. His eyes resuming their natural golden color and himself transforming back into that person, that dhampir he'd been before all his memories had been taken.

He is shaken as everything hits him at once. His Persona looks at him for direction, waiting patiently for him to recover. Alucard does, feeling everything snap back into place. There is so much he wants to articulate about what's going on but the only thing that makes sense is to tilt back his head and howl, not unlike the winged wolf joining him at his side.]


And now, for fighting!

[Alucard is more than a little peeved that all of his really good tricks and spells have been taken. At the very least, he's got his good clothes back, a broadsword, a brace of throwing daggers and a winged wolf.

He is more used to taking on armies by himself, but that's probably not wise to do here. He assumes there's so much confusion going on that no one would suspect his lack of humanity. So he seeks out others to fight alongside them. Would that happen to be you?]

[seasonsofdeath]

You're not using your Persona very much yet, the polite, oddly calm voice of 'Akira' says in Alucard's head. If he looks, the boy is being held above the battlefield by a skeleton with coffins for wings, quietly shifting through a screen being projected in front of him. He doesn't sound annoyed, just curious. Do you not know how?

[anovelidea]

- THE RED TRUTH -

The voice has been talking in her head for what feels like an eternity, a her she doesn't want to be (an insignificant fragment of a Whole) and for a week she has been on auto-pilot. Even admist the horde of those preparing for a fight they hallucinated - she does not move. She does not react. A statue in the shape of a person - or a marrionette without a puppeteer - the Winchester moves on reflex to attack what is Unknown, but Isabelle herself is no longer Isabelle.

'Accept me for who I am', it says.

But who is 'I'?

And someone else that no one sees wraps arms gently around her shoulders, a face that's hers but a smile that isn't. In front of her eyes the illusion morphs to a girl in black - stern gray eyes, red red hair like spilled blood, and more than Bern, more than Tohya, this girl understood. A question comes from two places - herself as a dying voice and the memory of a girl around her and the memory of the girl in front of her, radiant with strength as she walks to her fated future.

"Are you Featherine? Or is Featherine you?

She will die. It's sad. She actually liked this one - and from beyond the opening, there's the Her she was supposed to be, the her that she is - an elaborate piece of makeup in the form of a body, that only this girl has ever seen through, and the Her that is talking doesn't look at Ange.

It looks at Isabelle.

"Well... what could you be talking about?"

Ah, now she gets it. The girl probably got it, too - she was always very wise when she wasn't angry. The answer to the joke presented:

Why did you need to ask in the first place?



( A - A Gameboard In Action )

As mayhem unfolds around her, Isabelle freezes, the gun held up in defense of those around her lowers. Why should she? She forgot herself, forgot how insignificant they were - no, she always knew. But acting that way was Improper, so she didn't. A black disk appears, floating around her head, and that's it. Memories don't come back, there's no screaming or pain. She was once One and now she is Many.

She Understands again.

The heart is removed with one hand. The gun in the other transforms into what seems to be a halberd - but it's too strange. The outfit is nothing but flowing fabrics and ringing bells, the hollow steps of geta, a shrine maiden's ritual robes but it still feels somehow too somber.

The monster that rolls up from her shadow is something worse - a scroll winding around in roiling shivers as if it's entrails, and in the middle is this mass of Nothing. From all sides it is black, abyss, a void in space, the edges swaying outwards in thin trails like cat tails, oozing from the bottom and onto the floor like spilled ink. While Featherine herself stands pristine and calm, the Thing behind her reeks of bloodlust and primal fears - the worst nightmare given form.

One monster comes too close, and the scroll wraps around it, compresses, crushes it to shreds, blood and guts and B L A C K leak out from the edges - the pages that touched it shred themselves from the whole, but the scroll repairs itself to a perfect chain after. All that remains is a memory of gore impressed upon it, but even that dissolves into smoke and illusion.

The rest of the monsters back away.

She doesn't move. Yes, she does enjoy her time with those who are similar, but even these things are too insignificant. Primal thoughts and memories in tiny bodies, not even worth the time it takes to remove them. Why did she co--ah, yes, Isabelle. A body that ceased to be Hers, became its own. The scroll rolls past her eyes and memories of it come up to the surface - abandoned by her family, disposed of by her husband, hated by her daughter, wanted to make up for all of it somehow.

Poor thing. Now she never will.

"Leave."

And the shadows flee, choosing to take their fight to something weaker. And Featherine remains, hoping for something stronger.



( B - A Gameboard Folded )

One of the final monsters scrabbles by, seeking escape from the hell it got itself stuck in. A halberd swings past - the blade is more like a hoe for tilling earth than a halberd - but it swings smoothly, one clean strike, and entrails and gore follow in its wake. Featherine herself moves serenely, as if floating, a harbinger of death, and the smile on her face is nothing but amusement.

So that was the purpose of that silly application. To try and rile our souls into the forms they should be. Everyone can take a deep breath, panic over the monsters, over what just happened to them, but Featherine turns after the last one is executed. There is something more important to remember here.

The vision didn't end here.

"You would all do well to leave before those fireman arrive here. We will most likely be their next targets."

There, warning, that's all she feels the need to give, and the monster wearing the face of your teacher turns to leave. Just as simply done.

B

[truthkills]

"Damn, what a shocking development that would be!" Warnings don't seem to have much effect on a man who generally ignores them all. Especially not when he still feels great after that fight.

[seasonsofdeath]

Pre-Awakening

Akira is more than likely the youngest person to arrive, which makes him stand out quite a bit- there are only one or two either primary cycle aged children, after all, and he seems... remarkably calm. He probably just doesn't understand what's happening, right?

Still, even he is a little nervous, and very quiet, watching everyone else as they gather while periodically looking down at his phone. "Are those things going to show up again...?" he asks.

Awakening

TEAR OUT YOUR HEART!

Akira's eyes are brimming with tears as they're all surrounded, the panic of everyone else getting to him as much as anything. Maybe he shouldn't have come, maybe he should have listened and stayed home but- but...

Something about this is... wrong. But familiar. But also very wrong.

The boy screams as he pulls his heart from his chest, but once his Persona appears it suddenly stops, and Pharos blinks at the scene around him.

He reaches up, touching the wet drops on his face in confusion. He remembers now... he's had these once before. Tears, aren't they? But this is different. It was for a different reason before now-- though maybe that's something he should worry about later.

Pharos turns to look at his Persona - Ronove, a skeletal being with a staff, wings made of coffins, and a very odd hat- and looks more puzzled than anything. "...I shouldn't have a Persona," he says simply.

(He is completely ignoring the Shadows.)

Navigation

It takes a little bit for Pharos to actually get on track and doing his job, considering he really shouldn't be able to fight Shadows being one himself and all. Also he shouldn't at all, and his clothes have changed for some reason. He's back in the black and white striped pajamas he always wore, sandals on his feet, but now there are translucent wings attached to the back of his outfit that seem to serve no purpose at all.

Ronove picks up the boy, holding him above the battlefield as he shifts through the navigation, taking in the information. What are you doing? he asks in the middle of battle, if someone looks like they're very lost with how to use their new powers.

Navigation -- because we're both ignorant of persona so this should be fun 8Db

[sociallyarcward]

Jaune's still adjusting. He's fought monsters before, but not like this. Although he has to admit, even he's a little surprised by the similarities here. He's pretty sure that aside from the flesh melting these Shadows aren't too different from the Grimm of Vale. He's used a sword before, though this one isn't exactly like the one in his memories. It doesn't seem to be a problem though, the sword feeling somehow more familiar than even the Arc family relic he used to wield.

More importantly though, he doesn't seem to be relying on any of his persona's magical abilities--relying on pure slashes and strikes of the physical nature. Just as he cuts down another of them he stumbles a bit when he hears the voice in his head. "Huh? What do you mean?" It's a moment of calm, though he can see other Shadows quickly approaching.

OTA

[truthkills]

[Pre-Awakening]
Oh, no, having to show up at a place of ill repute and hang around for a bit. Whatever will Kiran do? He doesn't look too concerned. He's got a duffel bag full of junk that might be repurposed as a weapon, and while they wait, he's sat himself down on the ground so he can clean his blunderbuss. He's still wearing his trademark leather jacket, Hawaiian print shirt, and torn up jeans rolled up to mid-calf because even now, he's going to be a fashion plate.

It really doesn't look like the weapon's going to do much good, unless somehow "much good" involves blowing Kiran's hand off...if it even fires at all. The eagle-eyed among them might realize that he's looking up "how to clean a gun" videos on his phone, and he's scowling at them and muttering something like "move your hand out the way, jackass," and "no, no, it doesn't come apart like that..."

[Awakening]
Kiriya screams. Everything's just rushing back at him, and maybe having everything slam back into his head wouldn't be so bad if he didn't remember dying, didn't remember getting hit with Kuroto's final attack, didn't remember Emu showing up far too late, didn't remember his body dissolving into nothingness...

...his body's going to dissolve into nothingness again if he's not careful, and he's going to fight this time, he might doubt whether or not he needs to come back, but dammit, he can't stop when there's truth to be found...

...time to tear out his heart.

[FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT]
Now that Kiriya's back to himself and has gotten over that whole remembering dying thing, he's running around in a motorcycle racing suit with the odd fashion choice of a neon fanny pack belted around his waist. He's not sure where the weapons he's got now came from, but if he's bludgeoning Shadows with a bicycle tire, he's bludgeoning Shadows with a bicycle tire.

Besides, he's got his Persona there--some kind of yellow humanoid robot locked in a motorcycle configuration, with an armored figure in neon pink riding it. The motocycle has eyes. The rider does not. Kiriya's just not going to think about that for a while.

Not when there are things to do.

"'Sup, mind if we play through?" And he's there roundhouse kicking a Shadow away from someone, looking elated to be here. Just because this is is crazy doesn't mean he can't have fun.

FAITO

[transient_specter]

Makoto doesn't look nearly as enthusiastic, but he does step aside when Kiriya plays through. Part of him remembers the weird shop owner, but since he's back to himself, maybe this guy is, too.

So instead he scoops up a shadow with the inside part of his scythe's blade and flicks it at him. "Heads up!"

jirou sakuma | ota

[forsteri]

1 - THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
[Despite his prediction that Mako wouldn't let him go here willingly (he'd been expecting to need to sneak out), he had ended up arriving here with his brother. Now he stands slightly apart from him, hands in his pockets. He hadn't brought a whole lot -- a backpack with some water and a length of rope, and a small extendable knife in his pocket. He's not sure what he's planning to do with any of this. It just seemed to him that people bring rope to operations like this. Don't they?

Yoshio's silent, eyeballing the others half-nervously. He feels very small. They're marching to their deaths, aren't they? And yet some part of him is pushing him foward. Perhaps it has something to do with that thing in the dream, but...

For now, Yoshio stays where he is. He's half hoping to find someone he knows.]

2 - AWAKENING
[Screaming.

There's screaming nearby. And then colour leeches out of the trees at the same time as there's suddenly shuffling around them. He knows the noise without needing to think about it. That sound is those monsters, isn't it?

Everything slows down. His head hurts. He can hear the creatures around them, and his pulse in his ears, and yet Yoshio can't move. Only -- he's not sure that he's Yoshio anymore. It feels wrong to think of himself that way. No, 'Yoshio' is a name reserved for someone not him. He doesn't know who he is -- or rather, what he should call himself. "Yoshio Koutarou." "Sakuma Jirou." Neither of them make sense, until one starts to make more sense than the other one. Distantly, he's aware that this is exactly what he was afraid of might happen, and yet... he isn't certain that he's actually bothered.

At least, not until the flood of images in his head, and the pain of it, are impossible to ignore. People he knows, places. The feel of the short grass and solid earth of a soccer field under his feet. The cavernous interior of Teikoku Gakuen. Kageyama's oppressive presence. Doumen, Jimon, Narukami. Genda.

Kidou.

The scent of a hospital wing he spent too much time in. Pain before it, pain so bad he couldn't keep standing. Slow recovery. The feeling of a crutch's handle under his palm, leaning his weight heavily on it. The look on Kidou's face when he'd reassured him. A swell of anger at seeing Fudou again and at the expression his presence put on Kidou's face. His disappointment at being left in Japan during FFI, and his pride that Kidou hadn't been. Now he understands where that memory came from, and where it fits in. Why he had it.

Sakuma understands all of it, and suddenly he is, indeed, more Sakuma than Yoshio, more than he's ever been anything else in his life. And then that voice in his ear again. Time screeches to a full stop. He's fading, his body less than opaque, but somehow he knows what do to. "I am thou, thou art I."

The trees are rotting around them. The fear evaporates. Or perhaps is just hidden again. Sakuma doesn't even need to be told what to do, though the voice tells him anyway. That voice... he's known it, hasn't he? It's part of him. It's unfamiliar, and yet he's certain he's heard it before.

His hand is at his chest before he knows what he's doing. Sakuma can feel it -- something he's not supposed to feel at all. His blood on his hands, his heartbeat hummingbird-fast in his grip.

Yoshio -- Sakuma -- takes a breath in, and then rips his heart from his chest.

All of the memories fill in. If the flashes before were drips, this is a full bucket of icy water thrown at him.

He's dying, but he's not dead. He's flatlining. He's still alive. Somehow, his heart is still inside him where it belongs. There's a weapon in his hands that he's never seen in his life, and yet he knows exactly what to do with it. The monsters are still there. But he's got his own monster now, too.]

3 - THE BATTLE IN APPLE GROVE
[Sakuma isn't necessarily a violent person. But he's come this far. He's not dying. There are people he knows he has to see.

"Show them what it means to cross you."

Any Shadow that approaches him is cut down without hesitation. He came here with Mako, and so he sticks with him for awhile. But he can be found alone, too, moving fast. Penguins are stronger in a group -- if he finds someone he feels needs it, he won't hesitate to help out. If he's too far away, he'll swap from the trident to the bow.

A soccer ball requires good aim, and Yoshio always had an all right eye, too. You'd think he'd be worse at it, considering one of his eyes is covered constantly. But the arrows, tipped not with a simple point but rather an elaborate penguin-shaped arrowhead with mechanically-expanding wings, never miss their target. Neither Yoshio Koutarou nor Sakuma Jirou had ever shot a bow before, but his body knows exactly what it's doing. More than once he finds himself shooting a Shadow that managed to sneak up behind a fellow Awakened. Sometimes it's him, that requires the assistance. But even when he takes a hit, Sakuma is never stalled for long.

Kidou is here. And Genda. He needs to find them.]

3!

[torching]

[ like sakuma, mako has his fair share of memories flooding back to him, too.

jinora becoming an airbending master. mako standing with the others, a proud smile on his face--bolin, the name of his younger brother. tenzin. asami.

korra.

korra, the woman who'd stolen his heart, bound to a wheelchair. the fallen avatar, wounded from a battle that almost took her life.

mako, the firebender who lost his parents at the age of eight; grew up raising bolin in the streets; took odd jobs to make money for their survival; the firebender who'd forgotten what it meant to care for others and live selflessly until he met the avatar.

he's fighting beside sakuma, who should be his younger brother, holding his axe at his side but more focused on guiding sakuma and the others to victory. "lead them into battle. hone their skills into true annihilation!" ]

I'm making them weaker, Yoshio; finish them off! There's more coming behind us!

[catchthishand]

A - the calm before the storm

[ Rommy is scanning the crowd, one hand on his brother's shoulder so they don't get separated.

Some of the faces are familiar, but most of them are new, and it's only adding to the tension. With all the weapons he can see, all the supplies and the preparations- Rommy is beginning to realize that he's in over his head, with just his brother and his nerf crossbow. ]

That asshole'd better show.

[ It's the worst idea, but fuck it, it's the only one they have ]

II - kicking ass and taking names

[ Rommy's head hurts.

Rommy's head hurts and Okuyasu's heart is racing, and it's too much, there's too much hitting him all at once-

He's a younger twin, always in step with his brother- he's a younger brother, an anchor holding him back. His mother is dead, is alive. His father is fine! His father is a monster!

Keicho died to save his life.

But Lonán is standing next to him, clutching his head in pain.

His heart is racing in his chest, and it feels like it's about to burst, like it's slamming against his ribs, like it wants out, like it's breaking out, like he needs to get it out-

With trembling hands, Okuyasu scrambles at the pressure at his chest, knowing that it needs to get out, to be free-

And then his hand is slipping through his clothing, through skin and muscle and bone and it's there, in his hand, and it's pure relief to grab it in his hand, squeezing tightly to stop the frantic beating, rip it out and crush it in his hand-

Silence, for a second, longer, and then the world resumes, screams echoing around him as Okuyasu stands, wearing bright silver and blue armor molding itself around his body, as a wolf curls itself around his legs, a snake headed tail striking the air.

He has no idea what's going on, no idea who he is- but what he does know is the steady strength of a Stand at his back and enemies in front of him. ]

Let's kick their ass!

[ Something echos through his voice, lacing it with power and weight. Immediately, Okuyasu feels lighter, faster- and he lunges towards the nearest attacking Stand, gauntleted fist swinging ]

♥
[ Wildcard- come up with your own ideas or hit me up on the planning post. ]

II

[transient_specter]

[And there's 92 - no, Gen - no, Makoto running in and slicing through the shadows nearby with a scythe. One gets too close to Rommy, and Makoto heads in, a bipedal wolf erupting from him, its tail snaking around and spitting a purple orb of energy, slamming into it and exploding it into smoke.]

Watch your back!

OTAs all around!

[1in_perfection]

Un: Preparation
The library is empty and yawning, and it even swallows the sounds of Michelle’s footsteps from where she makes the rounds and moves among the shelves. It’s not so bad of a place to wait for the end of something. Better than a subway, at least in her own opinion; books are something she knows and draws comfort in.

And the stacks are easy to disappear into, with the threadbare faculty finishing up. But for once, Michelle doesn’t spend much time reading the books themselves. Instead, she has her phone in her hand. Sending messages out, and scanning the aisles and gaps between books to see if there’s a familiar glow, echoing what’s on her own screen.

Deux: Half Awake
This… this doesn’t belong in the waking world.

But it doesn’t matter how often Michelle repeats that thought to herself. It doesn’t dispel the things in front of her. It doesn’t make their claws any less sharp. The practice sword she brought feels dull and heavy in her hand, less than useless. The same is true for her thoughts, with how they slow to a dull crawl.

Tear-

There’s a rush of something in her head; images, colors, and a voice echoing around and drowning out her thoughts.

TeAr oUt-

She brings a hand up to her chest. There’s something glowing against the shirt of her uniform, a faint light. Her fingers curl against it, and she swears her pulse is flatlining for a second-

TEAR OUT YOUR HEART!

Her fingers curl, and everything freezes for an instant. Ice coats the ground around her… but doesn’t spread much further. And Michelle stands in the center of it. Chest still glowing. Undecided.

And feeling less certain that’s her true name.

Trois: Battle
She knows this. It’s ingrained in her memory, her muscles and bones. Dodging shadowy talons in one breath, returning with a stab and slash in the next. There’s a permanent touch of frost on her breath right now, and her lips are set in a grim and determined line. She knows every step of fighting these things, and doesn’t even need to think about it.

Against that, what’s a little mental bruising from a sudden influx of information?

The outfit she wears in new, however. She’s never had that much leather on her person before, but it doesn’t slow her down. That’s what’s important. The gun at her side is different, too; heavier than an Evoker, even if the shape is the same.

And… for once, she doesn’t NEED it, in order to call down the ice. Mitsuru continues to rain it down, perhaps more heedless than one should be when there’s so many others in the field. There may be some stray ice darting towards unintended targets, or a few more slippery spots on the ground. And she doesn’t seem ready to stop anytime soon.

Battle

[kouteipenguin]

[From his reluctant vantage point on his persona, the entire field is in his sight. He can see where everyone is, and how everyone is. Kidou's made a promise to himself that he'll only let it carry him just long enough to read the whole field. Then he'll rejoin for real. He has to.

But had he not been up here, he wouldn't see the array of ice pelting down indiscriminately. His eyebrows knit until their edges vanish under his goggles as he sees one of those shards come alarmingly close to someone else. That ice can kill these monsters, but should it hit someone, what would happen? Long, penguin-shaped wings outstretched, the flying platform he and the two litterbearers are riding on dips down closer to the battle, but not close enough to be in range of either shadows or the relentless hail of death.

She'll hear a crisp order snapped in her mind-]

Don't be reckless! Aim if you can!

[blackdogdown]

(1)

Gabe truck pulls in a little later then most of the other groups. There'd been a few delays, mostly arguing over where to get food, and a minor kerfuffle getting the industrial grade chemical vat strapped to the back of his beat up old truck.

It'd been a pleasant bunch of distractions really, but now that they were all here, there was nothing to do but sit and wait in foreboding.

Or well, that's what anybody with a death wish to do. Gabe? He was doing stretches. If worst came to worse, he could do what he did best, run.

(3)

The memories had hit like a truck the moment he'd torn out his heart. Griffith. Casca. His friends. The Band of the Hawk. All precious, all stolen away like they'd never even mattered. Like Gut's would be better toothless and hobbled without his anger. His very reason to live, his mission for revenge, all stolen like some worthless bauble.

It was sickening and he had only himself to blame, but that wasnt important right now.

What was important was the sword in his hand (could hardly be called a sword, more of a great iron club), familiar armor against his skin and a familiar dark wolflike shape gnashing its teeth and beating wings(?) behind him. The words of violence are familiar and for once, he lets it consume him.

He blocks it all out, his memories, his life here, the horrifying sense of loss, leaving nothing but a desire to kill.

[ooc: guts is going a little berserk (ba-dum-tsh) at the moment and will indescrimatly attack ally or foe without intervention. so pls talk him out of it. or knock him out. ]

3

[transient_specter]

Makoto's seen this before, the indiscriminate lashing out, the lack of clarity of who is friend and who is foe. He's fought the others so many times now that it's almost routine, and he ducks under the club that swings at him.

He circles around and lashes out with a kick, trying to unbalance Guts so he can get him at a better angle. Makoto's not small, but this guy's got over half a foot on him. If he has to take him down, he will.

[foxhands]

Pre-awakening

[There's too many people here. An empty station, dark and decrepit, full of people - many of which he's seen around school, if not elsewhere....he's never been much of a people person, and blending into a crowd felt easier when the crowd didn't consist entirely of wary strangers waiting for The End or something. Should he have been more prepared? How much more prepared could someone be, for an event they know nothing about? Still, he fidgets, torn between staying where he is and backing himself into a nearby corner, where he can watch everybody from a nice safe not-quite-distance.

Natsume rummages in his pockets, remembers he doesn't have any candy on him, and decides instead to stare at everybody around him. Familiar faces? Interesting equipment? Total strangers? All perfectly good reasons for him to be curious. And it's better than focusing on whatever might happen next, for the moment.]

fight fight fight fightfighithfighfitfhgf

[It feels like everything's slowed down somehow; time's stopped, there's a frozen nightmare all around him, his sister's missing, the voice in his head is drowning out everything like an oncoming tidal wave, and he finds himself ripping his own heart out without ever having noticed reaching in.

There's a rush of - of something, of everything, the centuries of isolation, the months of friendship and food and song, the wonderful exhilarating feeling of slicing through enemies on a battlefield, of a little fox yapping in a voice that would be heart-wrenchingly nostalgic if he hadn't literally just crushed his heart in his hand--he has a sword. He is a sword, an uchigatana standing on a battlefield, surrounded by enemies and people he must protect. His duty. His purpose.

He unsheathes his blade and slashes at the nearest shadows, only too happy to lose himself in the simple joy of battle.]

fightfightfight

[truthkills]

[The flashy individual wearing the motorcycle racing suit and fanny pack fashion disaster is racing around the battlefield partially because he can't stay still, and partially because he wants to check on a few people here and there. This kid's one of them.]

You alright there?

Sion Astal (Solange Aster) | OTA + CLOSED

[sunderings]

A) OTA: A KING RISES.

[ Where all else descends into pandemonium, Sion Astal is an epicenter of calm: he does not join in the hysteria of the newly Awakened, nor is he panicked by the frenzy of their assailants, he simply stands—an imperturbable, immovable force—as a bulwark against the dark, for this is his duty, his edict as the Hero King who would give both life and limb not only for the people of his country which lied realms away from here, but--...

For all those who he had laughed with and reached out to; for those who had smiled with him, even reluctantly, as they humored him, participating in the events which would shape lives not gone (no, he could never think it to be gone, his existence as 'Solange Aster'), but only receded in the here and now where a far more ungentle existence is necessary: ]

Fall back to me! [ —he calls out to anyone who looks to be outnumbered, wounded, or fatigued, voice rising above the din of combat, fluting and resonant of experience, for this is far from the first battlefield with monsters the Hero King has walked. On his arm, there is a striking weapon, the cannon produced from the breastplate of his Persona locked and loaded in a precise economy of motion.

Such a thing is by far from the arms which Sion is accustomed to—he hails from a time of steel and wrought iron; of blade, bow and arrow, magic, and calvary—and yet his aim is steadfast and true, the aether cannon surging to life with a sound which can only be described as the hum of harnessed energy and its release (a flare of light) as the weapon fires, felling a shadow in one hit alone. ]

I will cover you! [ —this time, when he speaks, his lips do not move, and spoken word does not form. Instead, his voice is a neural communication, telepathy, a connection which had perhaps been forged in the instant when the Navigator's eyes (lambent and gold as the sun, streaking an after-image in the dark) interlocked with your own. ]

Do not be afraid.


B) CLOSED: ROSIEL (A KING FALLS ON HIS ASS.)

[ He is knocked off of his feet.

While his aether cannon is a formidable weapon, it is slow to reload, too bulky to be of any great advantage when in close-quartered combat, and with Sion's eyes turned toward a sea of Combatants (their heart soul colors beautiful, glimmering like stars in the dark—how he would not allow for any one of them to be snuffed out), he'd neglected to mind himself, leaving himself open to an attack which sees him thoroughly dismantled, limbs sprawled across the ground.

Persona!, he wishes to call out, but his voice is gone from him, the mass of Shadow—a serpentine thing, slithering and grotesque—coiling back, making to deliver another crushing physical blow which could prove disastrous for anyone, but moreso for a Navigator who--...

Is defiant, still, struggling to push himself up, the light which limns from his skin glowing all the more fiercely now that the hour has grown dire, white as snow hair falling about his face as he rises to his feet seemingly only to embrace the attack as it comes...? ]

A.

[draculabackwards]

[Alucard, with his Awakened memories, is easy to spot on the field, looking like a prince from another time, wielding a broadsword and not quite utilizing the Persona newly ripped from his chest.

Perhaps because he hears the voice and is drawn to the eyes of Sol, of his friend that he knows momentary panic. Sol has to know, surely knows that with the way he looks now, he is not really human at all.

It may be why then, distracted, that he is set upon by a pack of Shadows that knock him off his feet. He might have all his memories but he does not have the numerous powers that he'd been used to having. So there's a very real danger that Alucard's first fight might be his last.]

Sol, ajuta-ma! [He screams this and despite the Romanian, the meaning is quite clear: Sol, help me!]

takamoto minashi (eikichi mishina) | OTA

[bossed]

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

Takamoto wanted to ignore it all. He didn't want to believe that the visions he was shown were anything more than a fever dream. But he didn't have a fever, and he wasn't the only one who had the exact same vision. There was only so much he could suspend his disbelief for, and this finally broke him. But if he needed that extra push, that extra reason for him to leap out into the darkness of the night, it was Haruka.

Haruka hadn't replied to a text he'd sent him not long after he came out of that abstract haze that had enveloped him. Maybe under different circumstances, he wouldn't have minded, but this was wholly different. He knew his best friend fairly well, he liked to think, so he had good reason to believe that he would end up in the subways. It was what primarily drove Takamoto out of the house in a rush, grabbing only a few supplies in his haste: a flashlight, one bottle of water and his phone. Unprepared as he might have been, it didn't stop him from getting there in a flurry of rushed footsteps and half-taken breaths.

What he didn't expect was to see a congregation of people already there. Takamoto's eyes swept over the faces of people he didn't recognize, desperately trying to find his friend. It was only after more than moment's investigation that he realized that all of these people had to be using the app. There was little other explanation for them to all have collected there together. With a marked uncertainty, Takamoto attempted to draw a little attention his way, "H-hey...!"

Problem was, Takamoto was not the most social person, nor was he the most confident. His voice was practically a wavering whisper in comparison to the voices of everyone else. But he couldn't let anxiety keep him down, right? Someone would hear him! "Hey! Has anyone seen Haruka??"

AWAKENING

I am thou, thou art I!

It was funny, really. For those final moments in his own headspace, those words spoken to him, too far away from his ears and yet too firmly seated in his mind, sounded so familiar. But Takamoto didn't want them. Why couldn't things have stayed the same? Sure, he was a lonely kid, with only one real friend to speak of, but at least he knew his place in the world.

Or at least, he thought he did.

As much as he ran away from those feelings, there was nowhere left to turn in his own mind. It wasn't right. There was something wrong with this world and he couldn't sit by and accept it any longer. As he watched the dripping darkness seep into every last corner, as he heard that unfamiliar voice speak those familiar words in his head, as he felt every inch of his body lock up, Takamoto knew that this was it. He had to make a choice.

It was a no-brainer.

His hand moved, swift and deft, sinking into that space in his chest that ached to be released. The rest came quickly, a second nature guiding his movements into something that shouldn't have felt as easy as it did. His heart tore free, and with it, the imposing figure of Beleth, this unfamiliar Persona, materialized.

Takamoto Minashi took his leave. Now there was only Eikichi Mishina.

"Hah!"

A surge of memories flooded in his mind, breaking their chains and reclaiming their rightful place within his mind. Broken pieces of emotion and instincts collided together, reforming into a clear image of someone all too familiar with facing his true self, with his darkness, a boy fiercely determined in everything he did. It hurt, really, to be in possession of those painful, difficult memories and everything they carried with them, but there wasn't time to dwell on it. Those creatures were congregating, creeping closer and closer to Eikichi and those nearby.

Well, he wouldn't let them get an inch further.

"C'mon, baby! Let's dance!!" Eikichi called out, swiping his hand across the open air as if orchestrating a grand symphony. And with that grandiose gesture, his Persona (new, unfamiliar, definitely not any Persona he'd ever taken on before) acted, a mighty spear slicing across the darkness.

WILDCARD

[ ooc: come at me bro! either pre-awakening setting or post, throw your own prompts my way if mine aren't doin it for you! o/ feel free to either PM this account, hit me up on discord or PP my plurk (heartsigh) if you wanna plot something out! ]

Final Countdown

[draculabackwards]

Adrian turned to look at the younger student. He looked very fearful and with good reason. Everyone's nerves were strung like Sol's violin strings: too tight and they'd snap.

"I'm afraid I don't know a Haruka offhand. What does your friend look like?"

Sayo Yasuda | Gaap

[tragedyinabottle]

a. mysteries within mysteries.

[Sayo had come simply to examine what was going on from afar, but in the still darkness even her lithe form wasn't enough to save her from the chaos currently consuming the world around her. So she cowered near a bush, herself barely visible until someone comes upon her. She wasn't a fight, she couldn't defend herself so she hid, it was all she could.

One may hear her whimpering if they are close enough.]

b. The one and true Golden Witch

[As she hid, she could hear the darkness filling with sounds of unknown terror and battles beyond her comprehension. But as she hid, her fear gave way to a trembling in her heart that shocked her entire body, radiating from the core of her being, her soul perhaps one would say. As it did, memories began to resurface, the name Sayo Yasuda, her horrible accident at the age of less then one, her own cursed blood, it all came back at once causing her to grip her chest in pain, there was only one way to end this, so she reached far into her being and pulled out her own heart. It hurt, but no more then anything she had experienced in the life shown to her in her original memories.

Her heart in hand, a shadowy form of a woman in fine clothing appeared before her. "So, your finally awake. I welcome you back my mistress, but I have a single question for you before we go "Are you Sayo Yasuda, is that your real name? Can you accept the awful things committed against you and by you?"

There was nothing she could do to resist, she simply nodded yes and found herself clothed in a familiar dress that wormed its way around her form and brought back memories of "Him." the one bright spot in a sea of madness and death. and in the end, all she could do was speak aloud one little word.

"Gaap!"

from somewhere dancing lights of holy energy rained down upon the area upon the malformed bodies of the invading force.

C. the ultimate sacrifice

Those who were hurt could be healed, those who were wounded could die. Light and dark, sanity and madness. All such thoughts invaded her psyche in equal parts, until she found an outlet for them.

She found that she could sacrifice herself for the greater good, so she could offer her worthless life to something greater then herself.

"you're wounded let me help."

So she called upon the shadowy queen she had seen earlier, periced her own heart once more and collapsed upon the spells completion. She wasn't dead, but those around her would feel much better then they had before, their wounds healed and psyches calmed. As she lay on the ground, the girl known as Sayo Yasuda was smirking.

C

[mutesician]

Louis has quite a few cuts all over him, and one of his wings is hanging at an odd angle. His own healing abilities aren't as impressive, but right now he's also searching for other people to heal. However, the sudden burst of energy that washes over him makes him feel much better-until he notices the girl lying on the ground. He immediately hurries over to her, his expression as concerned as a swan's can be. He's not a real medic, though, so all he can really do is check to see if she's still conscious to any degree.

[mutesician]

Awkaening

[Louis can't actually say it, but the look he gives the application as it displays the attacking monsters has a very sarcastic feel to it. However, he doesn't have that much time to give it the "wow, really" look before all his memories start coming back. Slowly...things are starting to piece together. The wings...his height...his father. His fame. The voice speaks, and he responds.

His hand is already shifting as he reaches into his chest, and when it emerges...a swan is standing there, his wings gleaming with a set of blades running down them. A trumpet hangs from his neck, and he is now wearing an appropriately sized suit.

Behind him, a figure like a man with a camel head stands, dressed in a similar suit. A pair of black wings are spread out behind it, and if you squint, you can see what appears to be a long procession of people connected to its back, receding into the distance. He raises the trumpet to his beak and plays a single, powerful note.]

Battle

[Louis is gliding over the battlefield, looking out for whoever seems overwhelmed. Whenever that happens, he'll land near them, using his wings to create space if necessary. Since it's not really convenient to write in this form, he simply uses his actions, lashing out with his bladed wings and even his beak to knock shadows away. If given enough space, he pauses to lift his trumpet, playing songs that seem to enhance the abilities of those nearby. The presence at his back follows, its shadowy procession always trailing behind, somehow not bumping into anything.]

battle

[foxhands]

[Nakigitsune was built for battle, but fighting alone in a free-for-all like this is something he's never really had much experience with. Cut down one shadow and two more are already moving in - and without the fox he now remembers once accompanied him, there's nobody to offer help or direction. It's when he feels himself start to tire that the swan suddenly appears, playing an instrument that - in his current confusion - he doesn't entirely recognize.

The songs help, though. He feels himself gain strength again, raising his blade to cut down more of the shadows surrounding them before - like an afterthought - attempting to hit one with a light spell from his shadowy new birdsona. Victory! He should probably thank the swan, right? This might be a battlefield, but normally the fox would have shouted out some thanks or something, he's pretty sure. But there is no fox, and while he remembers being reasonably good at this when he was Natsume, he isn't Natsume anymore...]

......You're good.