[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 Aions may develop new abilities at any time, however; intel from the mission in Venera and Godsblood may very well be outdated by now, so do not assume anything we go over in this address as the extent of what they can do.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

Introduction Activities

[lachtara]

(In-person meetings/tours etc? Here, you can post logs to show new people around, interact with them, or do training if you want. Let’s have fun before we send you to die.)

for Havoc

[sterngaze]

[Liem is nothing if not punctual, so he arrives in the dining hall towards the end of the breakfast rush and fetches himself some tea to keep himself caffeinated while he waits for the new face to arrive. Considering his own absence during the entirety of the shrines’ activity, he hasn’t seen the face of even a single new arrival yet, but he’s confident in his ability to recognize Carmine based just off of his familiarity with the Citadel’s other inhabitants. If he sees someone new, there’ll be a good chance that it’s her.

He finds a seat near the middle of the room but with a view of the exits, perching with his back to the table and sipping his drink as he surveys people’s comings and goings. The noise in the space lessens as most of the breakfast crowd filters out, and it’s easier to keep tabs on the individuals that remain, for which his overstressed nerves are grateful. He waits until he sees what he’s looking for—a woman he doesn’t recognize—and raises his free hand in a small wave.]

[regressor]

[When Liem makes his entrance... Havoc is already in the dining hall, her diminutive form hidden behind the large retainer who has escorted her there and stands ready to wait on her. ... That's nice, actually, in theory- she has yet to confirm whether the man can be trusted, yet... or rather, how much he could be trusted, but. That will come, much like she hopes a return to more proper physical condition.

And that starts with a balanced diet complete with a boosted volume of protein and carbohydrates. By the time she's mostly finished mechanically eating her meal it's approaching mid-morning, so she dismisses the retainer and tries to remember how "Carmine" would act. Warmer... softer... guiltier...

Oh. Someone is waving at her. And if she were a Regressor...

She puts down her spoon to smile a bit awkwardly and wave back with a thin hand sporting two splinted fingers.]

[sterngaze]

[As soon as she looks his way, Liem knows that he’s spotted the right person. “Carmine” is a very fitting name, given the shock of bright red hair she’s sporting. He gets up from his seat, tea still held carefully in one hand, and makes his way across the hall toward her.]

Miss Carmine, hello. I’m Liem Talbott. [He waits fractionally before proceeding, to ensure this isn’t somehow a completely different red-headed stranger. In the absence of a denial or unexpectedly bewildered expression, he adds,] It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.

[He notes her attenuated condition without comment, though his eyes linger for a moment on the splinted fingers. Did she run into trouble with the Pleroma, before being brought here? That must have been harrowing.]

May I sit?

[regressor]

Oh-

[The possibility had existed that this was the man she was to meet, "Liem Talbott", but she puts on a slightly surprised look than she'd planned before the smile comes back. Hopefully it looked convincing... the muscles moved the same way as when she'd been a Regressor.]

I'm so sorry I didn't notice sooner-- Please, have a seat, Mister Talbott, I'm almost done eating...

[She moves to draw a chair next to her out for him, but she seems to struggle with the heavy piece of dark furniture, not just because of her rather atrophied looking arms but also... well, the broken fingers aren't doing much to help. She gets it half out, though, gesturing a bit helplessly for him to take it.]

Isn't this nice... ? The food, I mean...

[Surely she doesn't mean... The whole. War thing.]

[sterngaze]

[Liem is quick to reach for the chair that she begins to pull out, setting a hand on its back and simultaneously placing his full tea mug down on the table. Despite the tiredness about his eyes, his movements seem steady enough, even if his reactions are slightly slower than usual. He’s had plenty of practice operating on less-than-ideal amounts of sleep.]

Please, don’t trouble yourself.

[Pulling the chair out the rest of the way, he sits down with his body angled towards her, his hands sliding again around the warm ceramic of his mug. From her introduction, he remembers her mentioning something about destructive powers, but he has to imagine that they must be magical in nature. Certainly she doesn’t seem capable of posing any kind of physical threat with her body alone.]

I’m glad you’ve found the food to your liking. It is quite nice, yes.

[Not that he ever manages to summon any enthusiasm for eating, regardless of how well-prepared his food is, but objectively he knows the cooking done for the Regent’s own people is some of the best available. For now, he’ll settle for the fragrant black tea currently keeping him upright.]

Everything in the Citadel is also available for your use, should you desire it, which includes the kitchens. I’ve done a lot of cooking for myself, and sometimes engaging in the familiar is worth the extra effort.

[regressor]

[With another little apology she relinquishes the chair for him to handle and instead sinks back into hers, a malnourished heap of tired bones in the shape of a woman.

No, her powers must not be based at all on her physical capabilities.]

Mmm, it’s better than I’ve had in a long time… I might get a little plump.

[Maybe that’s a joke. It’s hard to tell, accompanied by a careful lift of her bowl to compensate for the somewhat clumsy movement of her broken spoon hand as she polishes off the last of what seemed to be a healthy sort of oatmeal.]

Are you a good cook, Mister Talbott… ?

[She moves the muscles in her face to make the small smile come back.]

A woman I knew in my world told me that men who could cook well can’t be trusted…

[A pause- waiting for laughter?]

But I think she was just joking.

[sterngaze]

[As Liem talks to Carmine, sipping at his tea and waiting for her to finish her breakfast, he can’t help but pay a little closer attention to her, drawn in by something about her demeanour. It seems painted-on somehow, the movements of her body and face just slightly out-of-tune with the quiet rhythm of her pulse, and with the scent that wafts his way when she moves.

It doesn’t necessarily need to mean anything; she’s probably tired and ill-at-ease and trying not to show it. But he files the information away nonetheless.]

By some people’s reckoning, [he allows, to answer her question. He’s rarely had occasion to appreciate the things he makes, but he’s received compliments on his cooking a time or two before.

When she pauses, he fills the brief silence with a raise of an eyebrow.]

Then the next time I cook something, perhaps I’ll ask for your opinion. Just to be sure.

[regressor]

[She moves clumsily, carefully spooning polite little bites of oatmeal into her mouth with her broken fingers held awkwardly stiff and splinted away from the handle of the utensil. It works, though, she's almost done... and there's quite a few empty plates at her place at the table.

His answer is one that might deserve a laugh. She tries to remember how she'd laughed at Hei, in that grimy safehouse... but it's a bit difficult to make that more convincing. She'll practice it more first.

Instead, she moves her shoulders as if she was amused, a silent chuckle.]

What do you like to cook... ? I'll trade you, of course... to be fair, but I'm much better at baking than cooking.

[Better at taking orders and following directions than being creative or inventive... ? Something like that.]

I'd love to be shown the kitchens as part of the tour, if you don't mind... That, and any other place here you think is worth knowing.

[sterngaze]

[The collection of dishes on the table makes Liem wonder what kind of situation Carmine came from, to be so cruelly undernourished. It's difficult even at the best of times for him to put on any weight, but there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her appetite. Perhaps she was ill in her last life, or imprisoned, or simply living through a famine. Hopefully the Citadel will prove a kinder home than whatever place she knew before.]

I usually bake, these days. Pies were very popular where I lived before, and they keep well besides.

[He prefers to cook foods that won't need to be eaten as soon as they're done, considering that he rarely has the desire or the ability to eat any significant portion of what he ends up making. Sipping again at his tea, he shifts to lean shortly back in his seat, considering her question.]

There's a library, if you've an interest in learning more about the Regent and their endeavours. I can show you the training facilities as well; group training is held there most days, but the equipment is available at other times as well.

But given our current location, it certainly makes sense to start with the kitchens regardless.

[regressor]

Pies...

[In a strange way... Havoc was grateful for the time she'd spent as a Regressor, even if it had left her body in this state. Her act was far more convincing with five years of emotion-tinted memories to draw from... even if, looking back on them now, it is more like viewing a movie about a different woman entirely, rather than being able to connect to it as herself. The brain of a Contractor simply did not understand why she had felt that way or done those things...

But it can recreate the movement of the muscles, the tone of voice. Mostly.]

I do miss cheese pies...

[If that kind of thing was popular with the people here, she could always use it to ingratiate herself... But, first things first. She finishes off her oatmeal and sets the bowl down atop a cleaned plate, beginning to slowly stack the dishes with her unbroken hand in preparation for taking them back to the kitchens, their first stop. Sensible choice. Supposedly there were servants here, but it wouldn't do to act as if she were callous or used to such things...]

A library sounds nice... and training grounds...

[She hums quietly, as if unsure, as she stops collecting dishes to look at her own hands, her thin arms.]

... I suppose if this is a war... I'll need to get back in shape, won't I?

[As if that was a somewhat sad, but understandably necessary thing.]

[sterngaze]

[Liem finishes off the last of his tea as Carmine begins laboriously to stack her gathered dishes. Without any other obvious signs of injury aside from her fingers, he attributes her painstaking pace to her attenuated condition, and wonders how long it will take for her to recover her energy. After all, she’s right; although the Regent’s aions are more than simple soldiers, she’ll need to improve her physical condition to serve competently.]

Your wellness is a priority, [he confirms.] If you have health needs beyond food, rest, and exercise, I can show you to the infirmary as well.

[There is a slight note of distaste in his voice as he makes this offer; although he mostly masks his discomfort, this is not a place he relishes going. Nonetheless, if Carmine has some ongoing condition that is contributing to her poor health, he would be remiss not to account for it in his role as guide.]

There are also a couple of other aions here who might be able to heal your fingers with magic, if you meet them in person. Emet-Selch is one. Father Paul is another.

[Taking one last long sip, he finishes the remainder of his tea and gestures at her collection of dishes.]

I can carry those, if you’re ready to go.

[regressor]

[... The infirmary.

It's something to seize upon, even though she depicts something in his voice that could be anything from dislike to simply absent-mindedness. It is difficult to tell, on occasion, even with her recent memories to draw upon... So for now, she simply files that possibility away in the back of her mind, along with a million other scenarios and facts that she has picked up on since she woke up in a cave of crystal. It could be useful. Most things could be.]

Emet-Selch... Father Paul...

[So she stacks the last of the dishes, murmuring the names beneath her breath as if memorizing them... and he offers to take them (her aim), which means she smiles again, the tug of muscles in the corner of her lips that does seem a little rusty... but capable of warmth. Capable.]

Ah... Thank you. Yes, I'm ready.

[She carefully, if not slightly awkwardly, scoots out from her chair, slowly easing to her feet. If there was an infirmary...]

... About the infirmary.

[She looks around the room, at the very... She would describe it as something that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi or fantasy movie. It was almost the same for this man, with his pointed ears and somewhat unnaturally pale skin. Still, it was worth the attempt-]

I used to need blood transfusions...

[She looks at his face for any signs of recognition, if he was familiar with the concept.]

Someone told me that the crystal shards in us are... us now... So am I still going to need those? Do they even have them here... ?

for Gen

[regressor]

[One of the first things that Havoc had set out to do, as she begun to get settled in her new "home"... was to start identifying how to pay her obeisance, something that would inevitably need to happen considering they were supposedly in the midst of a war and in danger of an invasion attempt. Ideally... she'd take them from the orphanage. They were much softer targets, they could be coerced or threatened into silence... but the Regent, for all their supposed rule over a city of debauchery and loose mortals... apparently did not allow harm to come to children under their care.

It was going to be a problem.

So she had to look to the aions. She's standing in a courtyard, quiet and unassuming, holding a pile of what might be clothing or sheets in one thin arm, a hand with two splinted fingers awkwardly gripping a bag... and has been, for some time. But when someone walks by who looks like they might suit her needs...]

Ah, excuse me...

[She makes an effort to look slightly lost, a little confused, moving the muscles on her face to mimic the way she remembered herself moving as a Regressor. "Harmless".]

Have you been here long... ? I'm a little lost...

[epiprocta]

[ When some stranger catches him on his way to the training grounds, his kneejerk reaction is to ignore it and continue on his way. He doesn't owe anyone his time after all, and he's hardly been in a sociable mood. But, well ...

Maybe it's because he doesn't recognize this woman -- who can be pinpointed as a newly-minted Kenoma Aion quickly enough with a brief squint of True Sight -- and it piques his curiosity. Or maybe it's because she looks so pathetic that he has to assume dealing with her will be effortless and easy. Or maybe it's because he's just been that fucking tired lately and thus willing to procrastinate on his training a bit, but. For whatever reason, he finds himself stopping to look to Havoc. ]

... yeah, I've been here a while.

[ The impression he gives off isn't a particularly pleasant one. His tone of voice is a brusque deadpan, his expression trained into a hardened stare. But if one can see past the dark shadows under his eyes, it's not hard to guess that he's still a teenager -- the line of his jaw, the rounder edge to his cheekbones, and the texture of his skin are all lacking in the distinct sharpness and weathering that comes with age.

Even if he carries himself with all the grace of a seasoned thug, fixing Havoc with a flat stare. ]

What're you looking for, lady.

[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.