[Kenoma] Discussion

[lachtara]

( 🟣 - Emet, 🔵 - Ciel )

Good Evening.

There are some within our ranks who we have not had the pleasure of meeting. I am Emet-Selch. Ciel and I serve as tacticians and teachers to the Kenoma.

I function as acting counsel for devising strategies. Additionally, some of you may find yourself in possession of new magical abilities that you did not have before. I am available to assist you with honing your newfound magical skills. To those of you who find yourself injured, I can provide my magic to heal your wounds so that you may be hale and whole once more.

[ He sighs. My, is this a mouthful. ]

My name is Ciel. I am versed in martial arts and am proficient with most types of weaponry. There are various means of developing melee combat prowess across Achamoth, but if you would like personalized instructions at any level, please contact me and we’ll arrange for a schedule. I can also perform magical healing along with Father Paul.

Unfortunately, We do not have much time for pleasantries. The Pleroma will soon be at our doorstep. Their goal is to retrieve their allies who remain captive inside our walls, and our goal is to lure them deep within the Citadel where we may enact our own plans. You will be provided assignments once it is closer to the promised hour. Prepare in your own way meanwhile; The Citadel is host to all manners of weaponry and the army's training grounds.

[ It’s kept a little vague and unspecific. Though they do intend to give adequate information, there is also no question that they have had traitors in their midst as of late. Everything will be doled out with due caution. Although, there will be a silent message sent to each person asking them to respond with some information of their abilities. ]

We are at war, bloodshed is inevitable. We will be attacked soon, and we must defend our keep. Consider this communion address a formal hub for discussion and organization of the battle to come. We will begin with information sharing of the Pleroma: knowing their names, appearances, and capabilities will better prepare us in dealing with them in combat. Aions may develop new abilities at any time, however; intel from the mission in Venera and Godsblood may very well be outdated by now, so do not assume anything we go over in this address as the extent of what they can do. Anything you may have witnessed at the shrines can be helpful, including other newcomers you may have met that did not return to Achamoth..

To the third wave of newly awoken Aions, it is regrettable that we cannot welcome you better, you’ve unfortunately arrived at a tumultuous time on Horos. If this is all too much for any reason, that’s fine. Contact me privately, and we can at least arrange for you to be somewhere safe during this. To those used to wielding great power, please get some practice in and verify your new limits. Becoming an Aion may have weakened you, do not let that catch you off-guard on the battlefield.

To those who are new, introduce yourselves and ask any questions you have. We will answer your questions as best we can, and I encourage our fellow Kenoma to chime in where they may. Do try to keep your questions interesting enough to be worth reading.

Comments

[regressor]

[She hadn't been positive when she'd called out to him, needing to just make a judgement in the moment, but once he stops and gives her a better look at him... Havoc is sure. She's spent most of her life needing to be able to guess the ages of others as part of a passive awareness of her obeisance, and he... is definitely still a teenager. Even if he does have a hardened, deadened edge to his expression that ironically wouldn't look too foreign on a Contractor.

It's close to how she'd look... If she weren't bothering to put on this act, as of yet uncomfortable with operating openly in her natural state. Maybe how she'd still sort of look, despite her efforts, if she hadn't spent five recent years as a Regressor, providing herself with fresh examples of emotion and guilt to draw upon.]

Ah...

[She affects a bit of hesitance, as if, upon seeing how standoffish he looked, she was reconsidering calling out to him, but-]

I was looking for the training grounds...

[He looked like someone who trained, so she changes her answer to hopefully potentially fit, awkwardly adjusting her weak, three-fingered hold on her bag.]

Could you point me in the right direction... ?

[epiprocta]

[ For better or for worse, Gen's answer comes promptly: ]

You're looking for the training grounds?

[ And accompanied by a raised brow and narrowed eyes, too, his voice thick with doubt. Gen doesn't even bother trying to mask his skepticism, because -- well, look at her. She's short, scrawny, practically just skin and bones; she looks like a stiff breeze would knock her right off her feet. And while he knows people here are capable of all sorts of weird magic bullshit, it's hard resisting the urge to make a snap judgment based on first impressions.

... well, whatever. Maybe she's taking whatever's in that bag to someone on the training grounds. Or maybe she just wants to watch.

There's a pointed pause where Gen's thought process is on clear display, broadcast in the thin press of his lips, before he finally gives a short huff. ]

Fine. I'm headed that way anyway, so. [ He gives a jerk of the head to indicate she should follow, but otherwise simply resumes walking down the path. And, as if she needed any more indication that he's not about to slow down his pace for her, he adds brusquely, ] Keep up.

[regressor]

[Is she looking for the training grounds... ? She nods, though she does put a bit of a sheepish look, as if very aware of how it must look, for a woman who looked like her to be asking such a thing.]

They said we might have to be in a fight soon, so...

[Was that explanation enough? He certainly didn't seem to have a friendly attitude, but... Attitude didn't matter to her much at all. It certainly wouldn't do anything to affect whether his blood would be useful for paying off her obeisance, either. So though he regards her somewhat coldly, perhaps suspiciously...

She just stands there for inspection, adjusting the bundle in her arm until-]

Oh--

[As if sure she had misheard him, and he'd actually rejected her request, she belatedly falls in behind him, hurrying a bit to catch up and then keep up with his stride, the bag in her broken fingered hand dangling a bit dangerously.]

Thank you, Mi-

["Mister" wasn't quite right for a man younger than her, even if she was hardly elderly, so-]

Can I ask your name... ? I'm Carmine...

[epiprocta]

Minegishi.

[ He barely lets her finish before responding bluntly. And no 'nice to meet you,' either.

Gen only glances over his shoulder to look her over once more before keeping his gaze trained ahead once more. Some people might warrant more caution from him, an unwillingness to show his back, but he can't bring himself to be too wary in front of someone who looks so ... well.

... pitiful. ]

You already get into a fight or something?

[ He doesn't bother looking at her as he tosses out that question, though the fact that he's noted her splinted fingers suggests he's at least marginally observant. His tone of voice is kept flat and brusque; a clear sign that he's not asking out of any concern for her. ]

Didn't think a lot of newcomers were brave enough to start shit right off the bat.

[regressor]

[Minegishi.

If she took issue with the bluntness or lack of politeness, there is no indication from her. She only follows, walking as fast as it seemed she could to keep up with the longer-limbed, more healthy youth. (Not that she was old, despite how exhaustion and poor physical condition seem to have aged her.)]

Are you Japanese... ? Maybe we're from the same...

[It was a concept that she never would have considered sensible before, but here... Her question is paused by the attention brought to her splinted fingers, which by all accounts she supposedly could have had healed with "magic" by now... But they were still serving a purpose.]/

Ah... I wouldn't call it a fight so much as an... interrogation?

[She intentionally avoids mentioning that the wound had been so meaningful to her that it had followed her from her world to this one, even through "rebirth" in a new body that looked exactly like hers had.]

I didn't actually have the information they wanted, though, so this is all they did...

[Isn't that lucky?, she seems to imply. (And technically... yes, that would be lucky, wouldn't it. Especially if your interrogator was a Contractor.)]

[epiprocta]

[ ... which Pleroma is sadistic enough to start randomly breaking newcomers' fingers? Some other fucked-up newcomer? Gen's expression crinkles with distaste at the thought and he gives a quiet huff, though he doesn't pursue the matter any further for the moment.

Not when something else she's said has caught his attention. ]

The fuck kind of name is 'Carmine' for someone Japanese.

[ Is she another half like Ciel?

But regardless of that grumpy question, she's certainly caught his attention with that observation of hers. Gen's footsteps don't slow much, his long-legged gait maintaining its inconsiderate pace and forcing her to hurry to keep up with him lest he leave her behind. Though -- he does sneak another glance at her before looking away, digging his hand through his pocket. ]

... where're you from. In Japan.

[ And there's the slightest, softer edge to his voice when he voices that question. Delinquent or not, he's still a teenager who longs for familiar elements of his home from time to time, and knowing that 'Carmine' is a fellow compatriot is evidently enough to earn the tiniest shred of sympathy from him. ]

[regressor]

[It's a legitimate question. For a moment, she just looks at him (or, mostly the back of his head) as if in confusion... but belatedly, she seems to catch up, her voice apologetic, like she's realized what has happened and feels a bit sorry to have given him the wrong impression.]

Oh... I'm sorry, I was going to say "maybe we're from the same world..."

[But she had trailed off at a misleading time, and potentially endangered that promising hint of what might have been softening.]

I'm actually from Romania...

[And if he was as young as she thought, high school age, perhaps, she doubted he'd know much about the eastern European country, so, seemingly hopeful that it might at least be a consolation of sorts, something still of partial familiarity...]

But I've... I've been to Japan before. For work. Tokyo mostly, but... Kobe, too, and Ise, once...

[The latter for a peace summit assassination that had gone rather well, actually, it had been one of her earlier, more reputation cementing jobs, but. In helpful attempt at mirroring-]

Where are you from... ?

[epiprocta]

[ Gen does give a soft huff at the admission that she's not actually Japanese, but he's placated easily enough. Given the broad range of strange places that people here seem to hail from, simply hearing that someone is familiar with his homeland is enough to keep him from bristling any further.

Romania. That's in Europe, right? (Abel had also been from Europe, he remembers. He tries not to think about it.) ]

... just around Honshu, huh.

[ Tokyo, Kobe, Ise. All names he's familiar with, of course, though he's never even been close to them. Gen withdraws a cigarette from his pocket and parks it between his lips; it renders his next words a touch muffled as he continues: ]

'm from near Oita, further west. Further than Kobe, not on the main island. Kyushu.

[ Out in the countryside. His hometown's quiet, sleepy streets are a far cry from the bustle of the Japan that she must be used to. And while that alone isn't a subject he's particularly excited to talk about -- just the fact that she might know what he's talking about offers him some peace of mind. Even speaking around that cigarette, Gen sounds closer to his age than when he'd first spoken to her, dropping some of that surly edge to his voice as he adds, ]

There's other people here from Tokyo. Haven't heard of anyone from around Romania, though, so you might be on your own.

[regressor]

[Even though she hadn't specialized in undercover work... Havoc still knew quite a lot of details that would help her, if she'd chosen to undertake it. It was just practical, after all, to have more information available, and the rational mind of a Contractor was skilled at storing and retrieving information that was useful. She'd considered a freelance job in Fukuoka, once, and in the process she'd familiarized herself with some basics. Enough to say,]

Oita is famous for... hot springs, right?

[She files the information away, that there are people hailing from Tokyo-- or at least, a version of Tokyo, here in this world. If Hell's Gate existed in those worlds, she did not know... though it could be worth finding out.

If she were a Regressor... She'd tell him not to shorten his life with tar, and she'd probably mean it. As it was, she puts the little smile into the corners of her mouth, mimicking a hint of concern, but... it will come out a bit insincere, she thinks, so she changes it to-]

I guess they don't have a smoking age in Horos, huh... ?

[If she was alone... all the better.]

[epiprocta]

[ That merits a tiny crumb of surprise, manifesting in a pause as he digs through his pockets for his lighter; he certainly hadn't expected his description to merit any recognition. ]

Yeah, for some towns. [ Then he moves on, trying to sound like he doesn't care. ] I wasn't from any of those tourist traps.

[ His hometown was out in the sticks, where nothing had ever happened.

He's found his lighter by now, and the metal clinks as he flips the lid open. It's just too bad his first attempt to light a flame is promptly squelched by a breeze, and Gen frowns as he tries again. ]

Dunno. I pass for an adult anyway, and the people here'd get in line if you asked to beat them to a pulp -- you think anyone's gonna say no to me buying some smokes?

[ The weather's just too windy for him to manage this one-handed, and Gen sighs around his cigarette. Then he turns without ceremony to loom in close over Havoc, holding his lighter out for her to take. He knows he's probably putting her on the spot here if she was planning on giving him shit about his smoking, but that's part of the intent. His gaze fixes firmly on her to gauge her reactions as he deadpans: ]

Gimme a light, would you.

[regressor]

[Did he care? Did he not? The Contractor she'd once been wouldn't know at all. Now, the memories and experiences of a Regressor are still fresh enough that Havoc almost thinks that she could guess. But it wasn't worthwhile to bother just yet, when she could just hum, nodding a bit thoughtfully.]

I always did think that people who lived in those places might not be the fondest of it... Imagine just trying to go to the grocery store and having to fight through a bus tour...

[Things that would happen in a world like they came from, right? Somewhere far from this strange one, something more familiar. Maybe she would guess...

When he looks her in the eyes, speaking harshly and dismissively, intentionally throwing the thing she'd insinuated lightly might be inappropriate down between them (or rather, in his hand)... Havoc ("Carmine") doesn't flinch or back down. In fact, it might just be the slightest bit off, how easily she accepts the somewhat intimidating look of a man who, even with just one arm, looked fully capable of beating her to a pulp.

But after a long, silent moment...]

Mmmm. Hold on.

[Carefully, she sets down her heavy bag and the bundle of fabric in her hands, straightening back up to gently take the lighter from his hand, slightly awkward around the two splinted fingers. Too smooth with the motion to not be experienced with it, she flicks the flame back to life and cups it protectively in a half-curled hand to protect it from the wind, offering it up for the end of his cigarette.]

I guess lung cancer isn't a problem if we're all just shards now...

[epiprocta]

[ Gen isn't blind to how he comes across to most people, especially now that he's down a limb and looking more worn than usual. His height, his posture, his tone of voice -- back home he'd calibrated everything to be off-putting and intimidating to most people, and those habits still hold strong. So when 'Carmine' barely bats an eye before acquiescing to his (frankly highly bullshit) demand ... he knows.

She's not just some normal woman, is she.

Maybe she can feel her skin prickling from the sharp stare that fixes on her for a moment. Then Gen ducks his head to dip the tip of his cigarette into the lighter's little ember, taking a puff so the flame will catch; once smokes begins to creep from the tip, he reaches forth to flip the lighter's lid back on, then takes it from her hand. ]

Something else'll kill me before cancer does. [ No 'thanks,' of course. And while Gen does bend down while he's already hunched over to fetch the heavy bag from where she'd put it down, it's not so he can carry it for her. His gratitude towards her extends exactly as far as handing it back to her so she can go back to hauling it around herself, after which Gen apparently considers them even, since he turns to begin walking once more. At least he keeps his pace slower for a few steps so she can catch up before he resumes his brisk, long-legged pace.

The cigarette's ember burns bright as he takes a long drag, and Gen holds it in his lungs for a moment, savoring the astringent bite, before letting the smoke plume from his lungs. Then he voices his next thought -- a demand, rather than a question. ]

So what's your deal, then.

[ His tone of voice implies, 'I know you have one. Don't bullshit me.' ]

[regressor]

[This woman understood this simple movement, from the sharp, over-saturated span of years when she had been neither Havoc nor Carmine nor any of the other code names she'd accumulated and then shed. In the back alleys and cheap motel rooms in that Romanian city she'd hidden from the eyes of those who recognized her from her past, she had learned well how to pour drinks for the already intoxicated, how to light men's cigarettes, how to do a lot of things. None of it bothered her, because she'd been alive to do it and capable of feeling anything she wanted to about it.]

I don't know... I heard it's really hard to actually die here...

[So it's smooth, despite the crooked fingers, holding it until the the light catches and he takes it back.

He actually did fool her with that move- interesting. Without complaint, she takes the bag back despite the obvious bit of struggle she has with it, she falls back in line behind him... and she thinks, hm. This one might not be worth it, if he was this suspicious but also this perceptive. She'd be gone by now if there weren't so few young people among the aions here in the Citadel.

But that's not the case, and when he asks... she looks at him (the side of his head), blinking a moment as if to ask "my deal?" before,]

... Here with the Kenoma? I do have powers, if that's what you're worried about.

[As if he was surely just concerned that a woman who looked like she did couldn't hold her own.]