~ Tнє Pαяα∂σχ Hσυѕє ~ now back to regularly scheduled chaos

Sandalphon couldn't resist letting out a snort. "Hmph. What nonsense. This world belongs to the people who call it home, not one singular figure. Any who believe otherwise, and try to forcibly bring them all to heel with only themselves on top will only end up dethroned, one way or another."

He spoke with certitude, backed by first hand experience in how occurrences like this usually played out, whether the force behind them was one person or many. Eventually, no matter how much they managed to conquer, nor for how long, someone or something would lead to their downfall.

Exactly what happened to the Astrals, and later Beelzebub.

Keeping his gaze on the road ahead, one corner of the Primarch's mouth subtly lifted, hinting that he also found something amusing about Azula's declaration. "Hmm. Quite audacious of you to say something like that in front of others you barely know. Never know who you may be informing of events that they might now need to keep an eye out for in their current time, and if need be, intervene."

If this 'Firelord' was present in the modern day, or near future, and he indeed did try to subjugate the Skydoms against their will, then the Supreme Primarch would not hesitate to step in.

Hearing one of the vines ahead of them stirring, Sandalphon instantly tensed. His eyes quickly found the source of the noise, narrowing in anticipation of what it might attempt to do.

However, on the short list of things he expected to happen, none of them were for the bulbs on the dark limb to start spouting fire. Plant-like monsters were one thing, but never had he seen normal...ish greenery perform such feats.

Looking on in disbelief, "What in the skies...?"

Asami | Living room | Lark Sησω

"United States," repeated Asami, thinking about this for a moment. "That is 10,144 kilometers away from Japan." She tilted her head at the small child, watching her with a sort of detached curiosity. "Your assumption that I am 'nice' is correct, but the logic you used to arrive at that conclusion is faulty. There are many life forms who would return your 'nice' with aggression or lethal hostility. I surmise that your prefrontal cortex is not fully developed yet, rendering you incapable of fully logical thought."

She turned to Steve. "That is true for an immature human, correct?"

Steve's brow knitted together, not fully comprehending how the three or rather four of them were communicating. Mabel's wave in the corner of his eye told him that they weren't alone as they thought they were. When the ball rolled into Asami's park, what came out of her mouth reminded the teen why he failed chemistry in the first place. The brunette's position remained the same although perplexed at the question asked of him. If he ever got home maybe he'd make an effort of asking Nancy all this fancy nerd talk. "Maybe? I mean - well, all things considered she's-" He was caught off guard when Mabel bumped his elbow. The teen himself had been the opposite of nice, sure, but even asami agreed somewhere along the lines the assumption of being nice could get Mabel hurt. "Okay, fine, sorry for being doctor buzzkill over here." Steve sarcastically remarked, an echo of a smile at the corner of his lips.
Viewing Mabel nothing more than an immature brat had not come to mind - all kids were brats, he used to be a kid. Steve began to doubt that the creature in front of him had any shred of humanity left in her body. If anything it sounded like a genuine question. His hesitation had drawn out for long enough, now replacing the so called hostility he displayed mere moments ago.

L | Job Swap Room | strider

Walking was difficult when your feet were completely numb and you kept stumbling over them. He hadn’t lied, exactly, but he hadn’t been perfectly truthful, either, and he suspected Orpheus had figured that much out on his own. That, and the fact that the cold was making him want to curl up and stop moving. The snow looked so soft...it was probably like a pillow, he imagined, and for a moment he almost stopped and let himself just fall into it, but then he snapped himself back, gritting his teeth against the urge. If they lost each other, now, then they probably wouldn’t find each other again, even with the bandana.
But it was just so cold.
No, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t give up. If he died here, though the chances of him coming back were high, the chances of him not coming back were not negligible and he wasn’t going to let that happen.
His whole body felt like ice, chilled to the bone and stabbing deeper. He kept tripping as he tried to keep up, even though the pace should have been easy for him, and he considered asking for a break, but he knew that that would make matters even worse, in the end. No, better to keep fighting forward, better to die trying at the very least. The door. The door was the one thing he had to focus on, the door was the one thing that meant they weren’t just supposed to die here. It felt like drowning, and he had to fight for every sharp breath he took. He wondered briefly what Orpheus was thinking now - was he in better shape? - the shoes probably helped, as much as L hated to admit it.
It was getting worse, and L could barely see Orpheus at all now. The red of the bandana clutched between his pale fingers was the only thing he could focus on, now, and the snow swirling around him like his own private hurricane made even that difficult to see. The snow flew on his eyes and forced him to narrow them, and he shielded them with his other hand, then forced himself to keep going, keep going, just keep going. Orpheus knew where he was going, he had to know. Right?
He wondered whether Orpheus was still trying to make it even. He couldn’t imagine how much strength that belief would have to take...how much determination would be needed to keep struggling towards that goal. Did he believe Orpheus could do it?
No. If he were being completely honest with himself...he didn’t believe anyone could do it. Not even the man who was determined to try,
One wrong step. A hole in the ground, maybe, or maybe the ground wasn’t to blame at all, maybe it was the fact that L’s feet were numb and his brain was slowing down, too slow to catch himself as he went down. He let go of the bandana instinctively as he fell, the only thought in his mind screaming that he couldn’t drag Orpheus down, with him. He hit the ground with a muffled thump, and he didn’t move, didn’t fight the snow as it threatened to swallow him whole. Where was he? Was this still the House? Or was this his own world now? He tried to get himself to struggle, to fight, but his brain seemed disconnected from his body, the messages not coming through like they were supposed to.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He couldn’t hear the music over the wind. He couldn’t see Orpheus anymore, and he was alone, and that was okay because it was so warm here and he was safe and it was better to sleep now then to fight, anyway. When had he last slept? He didn’t rememeber. Watari would probably have told him to go to bed.
It was that thought more than anything else that made his eyes slip closed.

“Golden,” Nico sighed softly, his eyes widening to take in the slight glow the pewter cast around Kelsier. He almost smiled, though he tried to hide it. The blood loss had definitely taken a toll on his mental capacity for the moment, and it was harder to keep his reputation in place when his mind was struggling to focus on anything but Kelsier. Did he need his reputation now? Did he need to avoid smiling at something like the way Kelsier’s aura flared out around from him.
His brow creased and the smile faded and quietly just “Really? You… should pay more attention then.” He could feel the fear and pain and yes, death, seeping out of him even now. He wasn’t good at controlling it, especially when his energy was so focused on other things, like staying alive and awake and not bleeding out. “Doesn’t make me a bad person even if it’s true,” he protested quietly, craning his neck to look up at Kelsier.
He was trying to remember the crew members Kelsier had told him about, but it was difficult. Even if he managed to remember names, he was never going to meet these people, so remembering faces… that was out of the question. Unless Kelsier had pictures, and Nico highly doubted that Kelsier’s world had figured out how photography worked yet. He wanted to remember them. He wanted to know about Kelsier’s world and the people he knew and the friends he made and what they chose to do with their time. He wanted to hear about Kelsier’s revolution, he wanted to stay awake long enough to listen.
It hurt. It still hurt, but the pain was numbing itself to a dull ache and the black creeping in at the edges of Nico’s vision wasn’t going away.
“Please do,” he murmured quietly, blinking once to try to clear his sight. It didn’t work. “I want…” whatever he had been about to say trailed off as he tried to process the sudden comfort he seemed to feel, like there really wasn’t anything to be afraid of. Like he was safe here, somehow.
“There are similar powers in my world,” he murmured softly, “But I think. I think they’re rarer than they are in your world…” his eyes slid closed for just a moment before he forced them back open.
“I can show you… I can show you what the sword can really do, now…” his protests were weak as the warm safe feeling seemed to spread over him like a blanket. There was something about the suppression of his fear that made it easier to just give in to the darkness. He blinked up at Kelsier once, then twice, thoughts swirling in his head before his eyes drifted close and he fell limp.

Kelsier | Boss Battle Room | strider

Kelsier smiled as he extinguished the pewter, no doubt cutting off the golden glow Nico saw, as well. He could tell the blood loss was making it hard for Nico to think, and he could tell that it was making it hard for the kid to control his expressions. He didn’t like that - if Nico was going to let his guard down, then he should have a say in it. It shouldn’t be the House once again forcing his hand. It should never be the a House making the calls.
He laughed lightly at that. Truth be told, he hadn’t connected the feeling of death to Nico, before, but he did realize it was there, not that the House had called attention to it. So what? He wasn’t afraid of death, and he certainly wasn’t afraid of Nico. Maybe he hadn’t realized it before because it seemed so strange to connect Nico with death, when the kid was so very alive.
“I know.” He said quietly, looking down at Nico. “I know it doesn’t.”
He would have been happy to tell Nico all about his crew, all about the things they did and the way they lived and the world they lived in. There were more than enough stories, after all, heists that had gone wrong and ones that hadn’t. He couldn’t offer pictures, maybe, but he could give descriptions and he could give tales, and maybe that would be enough. He wanted to tell Nico all about it, but he knew that now wasn’t the time. Now, Nico needed to rest. And if the House was willing to let him fall asleep without slipping onto death, then perhaps there would be another time, soon.
He kept Soothing Nico, and now that he had the boy’s permission, he didn’t even feel bad about it. It would be easier for him to fall asleep if he wasn’t afraid. At the same time, the Mistborn gently Rioted the feelings of safety and security, and he smiled down at Nico, letting the quiet slip in place of the words. He was good at this. He could do this. Finally, he wasn’t trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing here, because he knew. He knew that this was the right move.
“Mistborn are pretty rare.” He said softly. But he didn’t follow that thought through. He watched as the boy’s eyes closed, then opened, and he kept Soothing and Rioting at the same time, trying to keep his touch gentle and careful.
He didn’t have to stop Nico again. He didn’t have to do anything but watch as the boy slipped into sleep, and he smiled, watching him for one moment, two, three….
“You’re a damn good kid, you know that?” He murmured. Then he slipped his arms under him and straightened up, Nico cradled carefully in his arms, his head resting on the Mistborn’s chest. He walked towards the door, paused at the threshold...then stepped out without looking back.

L | Living Room | strider

L could have told him that that wasn’t how it worked. That dying at all was something to avoid at all costs, that coming back wasn’t guaranteed based on how many times you’d already died...all of it. But he didn’t. He didn’t know what Orpheus was thinking, and even if he did, he couldn’t have formulated a coherent response just then. All he could do was vaguely hold on to the feeling of being alive, half his mind shut off while the other half fought to stay active. He kept thinking he must be back home, because who else would be carrying him?
Wait...was he being carried?
He felt trapped between awake and asleep, like part of him was trying to die and the other part refused. Die? He wasn’t dying. He was curled up in bed. That was why it was so warm, warm…
Warm.
L opened his eyes and blinked, slowly, against the light. Heat flooded over his skin like lava over ice, enveloping him completely, and he had to fight his brain to be able to think clearly enough to understand where he was. The first thing he managed to focus on was his feet. They were wrapped up. Shirt. White shirt. Warm, soft…
Wake up He ordered himself silently. He couldn’t let his mind keep wandering like that. He was forgetting something, something incredibly important, he-
Orpheus.
Orpheus.
“Orpheus.” He said out loud, and sat up with a small gasp. Snow fell from his hair as he turned his head, searching, and then his dark eyes found the other man, slumped against the couch, missing his shirt - oh, that made sense - but alive. Still alive.
L struggled up, wincing as he put weight on his feet. That was going to hurt for a while, he thought sourly, but it was the least of his worried at the moment. He limped his way closer to Orpheus, close enough to look him over and check to make sure he was still breathing, his heart still beating determinedly.
“Orpheus?” He murmured, searching his face. He still felt foggy and out of his, but he couldn’t rest until he knew the other man was all right.
He had saved L’s life.
That thought came out of nowhere, but L couldn’t dismiss it once it was there. He would have died in that room, could easily be dead right now, if Orpheus hadn’t done what he did. It would have been so easy to leave once L had fallen...he was piecing it together slowly, figuring out what must have happened, even though his memory was playing tricks on him, trying to convince him he had blinked out and gone home. He hadn’t, of course. The war,, comfortable feeling he was trying to figure out had been him nearly freezing to death. It was so obvious now.
He was still shivering, he realized, but he didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t in any danger now, probably...or maybe he was, but if he was, then Orpheus was, too.
“Orpheus, can you hear me?” He almost begged. “Please, answer me.”

L | Living Room | strider

L breathed out as Orpheus opened his eyes, proving his was still alive. He, too, felt like his brain wasn’t really working, his thoughts crashing into each other like raindrops, making entirely new thoughts as they did. Bigger thoughts? It felt rather like...what did it feel like? He couldn’t quite think of a comparison. Which didn’t matter, he told himself firmly, what mattered was making sure Orpheus was okay.
He was still trembling violently, still trying to stop his teeth from chattering. He felt chilled to the bone, which was probably a good thing, since he wasn’t feeling that terrible warm, sleepy feeling anymore. That had felt good, but actually been bad. He understood that now.
They had very, very nearly died in there. He knew that. So why was it so hard to wrap his head around just how close they had come? Maybe because that was a very large thing, and he was currently having trouble processing even small things, like what he was doing currently and...and other things.
Focus.
“Yes.” He breathed when Orpheus finally spoke. His voice sounded odd to his own ears - less rough than Orpheus’ - but...off. Maybe it was the fact that he was still shivering like his life depended on it.
He focused on Orpheus as best he could, trying to concentrate enough to tell how badly the other man was injured. Not injured. There was another word for this situation, but L couldn’t bring it to mind.
Not important.
“You carried me.” It wasn’t a question. It was a realization. “After I fell. You must have carried me.”
Why did that surprise him? What did it mean? Orpheus hadn’t left him to die alone…that meant something important, and L couldn’t force his mind to work well enough to understand what it was. He frowned, trying to think, then glanced down at his feet, which were...painful...but functional. “No, I shouldn’t.” He agreed vaguely, but he didn’t stop. Thoughts were having trouble connecting to actions, it seemed.
“Are you…?” He shook his head, frustrated. This whole foggy head thing was very annoying. He didn’t like it. Thinking was something he was known for, something he was quite good at, and he didn’t like that part of him being stolen so easily.
“Yes.” He repeated. It seemed important to communicate this to the other man. “I apologize for scaring you.” He met Orpheus’ eyes, his own expression serious. “That was not my intention. And…” and what, L? Something else, something important.
He shook his head.
Oh.
“Thank you.”

“Sit down.” That seemed important. When people got hurt, when bad things happened, they weren’t supposed to keep using the body part that was hurt. And if Λ’s feet were anything like Orpheus’ fingers, they hurt. Which meant no standing, and it meant the shirt needed to be wrapped more tightly around them so they would be warmer. Orpheus frowned, trying to find a way to communicate that. His voice hurt. That was unusual, his voice never hurt, it wasn’t supposed to hurt. And he couldn’t stop shivering, like making his way back into consciousness had reminded his body that he was cold and he needed to warm up right away. Goosebumps coated his arms, but he tried not to pay attention.
“Yes,” he murmured his voice soft as he tried to keep his gaze locked on Λ. He had to be alright, because Orpheus had gotten him out of that room in time, right? He had to be.
The air in the living room felt unpleasantly warm – it burned Orpheus’ bare skin, particularly his fingertips. If he’d known better he might have started looking for signs of frostbite, but he didn’t know any better. He’d never even been in the snow before. How was he supposed to know what any of the dangers may be, especially when his mind tried to go from A to B and somehow ended up at Purple?
“I couldn’t leave you to die.” Was that a confession or something normal? It was hard to tell anymore, had he ever… had he ever considered what was normal? No, he decided, he didn’t care what was normal. And if not wanting someone to die wasn’t normal, then Orpheus found he didn’t want to be normal.
He looked up at Λ, his frown deepening as another harsh shiver ran its course through his body. He was still shivering pretty consistently, but the harsher ones were still hard to bear. His teeth knocked together and he observed distantly that it felt weird. He didn’t think he’d ever been that cold before.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” Orpheus managed, finding it easier to focus if he latched onto Λ’s words. Those words had meaning, they were important. “The House owes us both one.” It had been a nice room, with the riddles and the music, and… and there had been something he’d wanted to ask Λ. He couldn’t remember what. He wanted to play to try to clear his mind, but his lyre wasn’t in reach and his fingers hurt too much anyway. If those didn’t heal when he got back… he stared at them for several long seconds as though that would make any difference.
“Huh?” At first, Orpheus wasn’t sure he had heard right. “Why…?” he trailed off, peering at Λ with an odd look in his eyes. “You would have died.” Like the explanation was exactly that simple. For Orpheus, perhaps it was.

Nico’s gaze rested on Kelsier’s dagger for a long moment, following its trajectory as Kelsier put it away. He wasn’t afraid of it, he realized. He wasn’t afraid Kelsier was going to use it against him, he wasn’t even afraid Kelsier was thinking about it. That was a new one. While Nico was usually grateful when others had weapons because it meant they could easily defend themselves, it often put him on edge. Weapons could very easily be turned on the least well-liked in a room, and Nico was used to holding that title. Maybe not in the House, but it was hard to erase the things he was used to in his world, especially when those things kept him alive.
“Out of curiosity,” Nico murmured under his breath, letting his gaze drift up to meet Kelsier’s, “Are you Soothing me right now?” There was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. He needed to know if what he was feeling, the trust and safety, and hell, awareness, was his or whether it was being manipulated by Kelsier. Nico wouldn’t have blamed him, he just… needed to know. He needed to know where he stood, so he could start figuring out the more complicated parts of their relationship that still needed… well, work to understand.
“A life for a life seems more my style than it does yours,” Nico commented wryly, then shook his head. “And it doesn’t even sound a whole lot like me.” He wasn’t going to push if Kelsier didn’t want to share his real reasons. He sighed, glancing at the ground, where his sword now lay. He grabbed it without getting much further up, carefully sliding it into his sheath on the off chance it wouldn’t blink home with him.
“I got hurt because of a decision that I made.” His brows raised and he shook his head slightly and “You’re stubborn and I’m stubborn, so we’re clearly not going to agree on one person to blame it on, so let’s leave it alone for now.” He almost forced a smile but thought better of it last section. He wasn’t going to try to placate Kelsier with false smiles. If he smiled in front of Kelsier, it was going to be a real one. One Kelsier deserved, one he knew meant something. Because that was how Nico could show Kelsier he trusted him. That was how he wanted to move forward for now.
“It still hurts,” he murmured after a moment, frowning as he tried to assess the wound. “But I’m alive. And I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t stopped the bleeding.” His face drained of color suddenly and he stared at Kelsier for just a moment too long. When he spoke, his voice was horrified and near inaudible. “Did I ruin your cape-thing?”

“Frostbite?” Orpheus repeated, the word heavily accented like he had never heard it before. Perhaps because it didn’t exist in his language, there was no direct translation, so he heard it in Japanese. “What’s ‘frostbite’?” He seemed confused, but not concerned, yet. Maybe because he didn’t know he was supposed to be concerned. Was he? It was hard to tell, and Orpheus was tired and he wasn’t sure if learning new words was usually this difficult or not.
He pondered the word for several long moments, losing track of what Λ was saying. It was so hard to focus on his own thoughts, and though what Λ said was grounding, it was still difficult to pay attention to.
“Well yes, nobody forced me,” Orpheus’ brow creased as he considered that, trying to figure out why or how anyone would force him to save someone else’s life when there was an easier way out. “But… but then I’d be here and you’d be dead, and that’s…” the words weren’t coming. The words that usually flowed so easily when he needed to summon them for a song, or even to say how he felt or what he meant. He was good with words. He twisted words to mean what he wanted them to mean. His lyrics could calm the seas and make stones weep. And he still couldn’t find the word he needed here. “Mean,” he decided on eventually, frowning because it wasn’t quite right. “Bad,” he tried again, but he had the distinct feeling that was even further from what he had meant.
Orpheus let his gaze fall to Λ’s feet, frowning as he tried to remove the shirt. The shirt was there for a reason. He needed to keep it there, because otherwise… otherwise it would hurt worse than Orpheus’ fingers hurt.
“Good,” he managed as Λ finally sat down, the smile that almost broke across his face immediately erased by a shudder that raced down his spine. It had taken him long enough, but Orpheus knew his own thought process wasn’t that much faster. Then again, it probably hadn’t been that long anyway. What was time? How did they measure it here when their worlds were all different? Why… was he thinking about time?
“People save each other’s lives because… because it’s right,” he protested quietly. “Besides,” he added, voice quietly, “I want to think that you’re my friend, and I would have been sad if you died because you…. You’re nice and you’ve helped me, and…” his mind wasn’t stringing his thoughts together properly. His verbal filter was all but gone.
“You’re warm,” he decided on eventually, in part because that seemed like the best thing to be right about now. Quietly, he lifted a hand up to his own racing heart, surprised to feel heat radiating from his own skin. “And I’m warm.” His eyes lit up as an idea occurred to him. “If… if I produce heat, and you produce heat, we can produce twice as much when we’re closer together, right?”

Asami | Living room | strider Lark Sησω

Asami watched Steve and Mabel interact, interested by the difference in their personalities. The small one wasn't suspicious of her in the slightest, and seemed very interested in being friendly, but the bigger one seemed much more cautious, even if he wasn't behaving as frightened as he had when he first appeared.

She tilted her head at Steve, zeroing in on him in response to his odd choice of words.

"'Doctor Buzzkill'?" she repeated back to him. "Doctor. Buzz. Kill. A doctor who kills - 'buzz' does not fit here. Please explain your usage of these terms."

And Mint blinked into the living room with hot chocolate and blanks and probably magic, so she could help L and Orpheus and save them from the CRUEL and UNUSUAL torture they were being put through.