week 7

[airlockedmods]

[For the first time in several weeks there is no new memorial in the garden. No new body in the morgue, no bloody mess for the roombas to clean. Choromatsu is still in need of time to heal and constant vigilance but he's alive. They're all alive for once on a Sunday and, even with the terrible realizations their returning memories may bring, there's a sense of hope for the first time in a long time.

There is no new floor this week.

Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday



[ooc: Don't forget to to turn in your activity for week 6, submit your memory regains and put in your threads for the Benefactors!]

Comments

[misanthropicprinciple]

Oh. Cool. ...Wait, aren't those the heroes you were fighting?

[myocordial]

Yes, that's right.

...Apparently, I am one.

[He sounds simultaneously baffled and kind of amused.]

[misanthropicprinciple]

...Congratulations? I'm not sure what the proper acknowledgement is for, you know, apparently joining the enemy's side. It looks like you get fun toys, at least.

[misanthropicprinciple]

[Junpei doesn't even knock, he just peeks in at the open door to see whether or not Choromatsu's awake, and even then, doesn't come in. He just nods a little.]

Hey, Sketch.

[He slides a hanger with a green plaid outfit onto the inside doorknob.]

Figured this was yours.

[myocordial]

Hm. I'm not sure what to think myself yet. But I think that... "enemy" probably hasn't been the right word for some time. A lot has changed. Still, I didn't exactly expect...

[Teaming up against a greater strength is one thing. Actually becoming a Rider himself is, uh... something else.]

...Well, it's a lot to think about.

[misanthropicprinciple]

...I know the feeling.

[Heart's not the only one working memories out on paper today.]

Still consider yourself an enemy to humanity?

[myocordial]

...No. Not anymore. There's no longer any reason to.

I lost.

[misanthropicprinciple]

[Ah.

After a moment, Junpei puts a hand on Heart's arm.]

I'm sorry to hear that. Really.

[myocordial]

...It is as it is. I've already had a week to accept the reality of it.

[Which uh. Well. It wasn't a fun week.]

When you fight for something, you have to acknowledge the possibility that you might not win. No matter how hard you fight, there's no guarantees of anything. I simply have to live with this loss now.

...That is, in part, why I wanted to make this list.

[scourgingstars]

Don't call me that. And for the record, I doubt anyone else ever bothered to note whether what I was wearing was archaic or not.

[scourgingstars]

[Again, Ardyn didn't answer right away. He looked back to the table under the pretense of rereading the flowchart, but it wasn't hard to tell he was seeing something much farther away at the moment.]

[He was just so cavalier about the idea of working with someone who, in another world, had basically put him through hell and back. Shooting him on the spot seemed the more justifiable option, and yet-]

...It's funny--you almost remind me of someone.

[misanthropicprinciple]

Hopefully someone less crap than the impression I have of most of the people on your planet.

[misanthropicprinciple]

Ardyn, dude. Ardyn, no. Everyone's always taking note of what important people wear. It's a thing. There are entire magazines about it. Have you never read a magazine?

[scourgingstars]

I'm the worst my planet has to offer in more recent days, so take that as you like.

[he is entirely correct]

But that said...perhaps they're a little better than you suspect.

[misanthropicprinciple]

I'm less sorry that you lost than I'm sorry... for what you lost.

[He remembers what Heart was fighting for. Whom he was fighting for. He sighs, looking at the papers again, then points to the one number on the second sheet.]

Why's this one off by itself?

[scourgingstars]

Of course I have. But that's not what I mean.

I don't think a single person in Niflheim even once thought to question why their chancellor was wearing Lucian colors, much less something centuries out of date.

In other words, the rest of you are the first anyone's bothered to criticize what I'm wearing.

[misanthropicprinciple]

...So who is it?

[misanthropicprinciple]

Oh, pfft. That's because we're shitheads and aren't afraid of you. That's all.

[myocordial]

...There were 108 Roidmudes made by my creator. One, 000... [He points it out on the first paper.] ...was made by his ex-partner. 109 total. Those are all the Roidudes that should have ever existed.

[His attention shifts to the second sheet as well.]

And yet in my most recent memory, there was another. One I don't recognize. 5886... Even that number doesn't fit.

I'm trying to figure out exactly who or what he was.

[scourgingstars]

I doubt you'll think it a compliment, coming from me of all people.

[scourgingstars]

Yes, I'm well aware you're all idiots with no sense of self-preservation.

Speaking of doing stupid things that might get you killed, you never did tell me what you were doing up there.

[misanthropicprinciple]

I did compare you to a murderous kidnapping psychopath a few weeks ago.

[misanthropicprinciple]

Oh. Uhhhh.

...

........

I was taping a puzzle to the ceiling.

[scourgingstars]

...

[yeah funny you mention because someone has absolutely no right to be angry about that]

I was only thinking that you reminded me of Noctis, for just a second or two.

[scourgingstars]

You...do realize that only raises more questions.