adroiter: (005.)

i already hate this

[personal profile] adroiter 2021-07-23 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)
hey, my favorite babe! 💕
i know we got off on the wrong foot and all, yknow, with the stabbin and everything…
but how about we give things a fresh start! second time’s the charm, right? 🥰
seeker: (22.)

[personal profile] seeker 2022-07-06 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
Hey...
So I did something a little impulsive.


[a moment passes.]

Very impulsive.
seeker: (108.)

making up hzd lore for [redacted]

[personal profile] seeker 2023-03-11 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
ENCLOSURE υ - MEMORIAL GROVE


Tenakth Lowlands were beautiful and lush when you were flying overhead. Walking or riding in them was something altogether different, and the both of them are in a state by the time they push their way into yet another densely packed cospe of trees and winding undergrowth, guaranteed to make even sure-footed travelers lose their balance. Aloy’s not seen this part of the Lowland jungle, and GAIA’s periodic updates had begun to go spotty the deeper into it that they went.

Besides that, she’s gotten them woefully lost and had been too stubborn to admit it, and Zero had given her an earful about being a know-it-all before going quiet, as if in defiance, which in turn made Aloy terse and sullen. This was supposed to be their first little foray out together since the baby, and it had already taken forever and a day to get her out here to begin with, the journey plagued with incidents like this due largely to her pride. As they travel, she stops being annoyed at Zero and more annoyed at herself. She’d had to call in every favor she had under the sun to make Zero feel secure enough to leave their child alone in the first place. Luckily, she’d gathered a number of them even while she’d been at home. Even Sylens is involved — having conspired some way of keeping Mother's Embrace free of anything but the most docile of machines for about a ten mile perimeter until she and Zero returned from their sabbatical. He does not tell her how he manages this, and she doesn't ask, ignoring the prickle of discomfort at seeing him talk over it with Beta later, their voices lowered.

She's finding that she's gained a lot in having a family, more than she had dreamed, but there were parts of her adventures that she missed, and had felt the loss acutely in her time building them a home. So, some of those instincts, honed after years of training, they don't come as easily after more than a year of… of just being normal. Doing normal things. That's how they'd gotten lost, she reasons. She had to admit it to herself now: she’s way off her game. She'd been sure the clearing she’d been looking for to camp in had been around here, and she’d wanted enough distance between them and a Tenakth settlement to properly surprise her with the gift she'd been working on for ages, in secret and with very little feedback.

This part of the jungle is so unfamiliar though, that for a moment she forgets they're in the lowlands at all. The first thing she’s aware of before she even notices the faint magenta haze that seems to surround the area, is that the temperature goes from oppressively humid to cool. That would have to be from the massive, interwoven network of tree branches that arc overhead, obscuring most of the sun’s rays and allowing her to see only patches of darkening blue sky between their laced roots. The earth under her feet is a little damp, soft without giving way to mud and cold water, and she glances down to see veiny lines of lichen and moss pushing up through dark brown earth. It almost seems to glow.

She kneels to take a closer look. There were flowers growing there, powder pink, magenta, electric blue, and almost too small for her to see right away, dotting this network of mossy veins like starbursts. The air smells… wonderful. She has no idea of what kind of flower could be making it, but there’s… life everywhere. More than she’s expecting, even. Besides whatever massive tree was responsible for this nature-made enclosure (trees? a network, she thinks? she’d had an astounding amount of time to read about these subjects during her. well. maternity leave), she can see hanging vines in the distance, a burst of tropical flowers here, the drooping and enormous leaf of a pitcher plant hanging overhead there. Birds with feathers every color of the rainbow. From one winding vine, bellflowers in virginal shades of white and pale pink bob their heads. She can hear the trickle of a stream a few meters ahead, and she’s certain the distant roar of a waterfall as well.

“Incredible… this haze, and that smell. Pollen, I’m guessing?”

Whatever disappointment and frustration that had overtaken her during their convoluted travel is quickly replaced by awe. The wonder on her face is almost childlike as she looks around, trying to take all of it in. “…What is this place? GAIA?”

A garbled, sputtering message follows: ”Apologies — loy. You’re — beyond — current range.”

“Beyond your range?”

”—Areas - are being built — facilitating introduction — propagation - ARTEMIS…”

“GAIA?” She spares a glance to Zero over her shoulder for a moment, concerned. “Hey, GAIA, can you hear me?”

Aloy taps on her Focus, then removes it altogether, frowning at the strange color emanating from it. She'd never seen that light before, on any machine or Old World detritus. It's a vivid pink, and the light pulses in time like a heartbeat. More urgently, she repeats herself: “GAIA. Come in.”

A few tense seconds pass. Eventually, GAIA’s voice returns after a burst of fuzzy static from both her Focus and Zero’s own. “I apologize, Aloy.” If a machine could sound sheepish, GAIA’s certainly sounding close to it. “You’ll return to proper — range once you pass through your current location. — Environment is safe. — an offshoot of earlier - proposed design by ARTEMIS - DEMETER. This is the reason for any overgrowth you see. - area’s original purpose was for the — propagation of new animal and plant species, much like - Cauldrons. — Repurposing design for further — evolutionary — development. - normal Focus range will be implemented when - area is completed.”

“So, a biological Cauldron? That would explain the megaflora. And it’s safe? We’ll be fine if we wait out the evening here?”

”Area - is meant to reintroduce - to Earth’s ecosystem without danger. You and Zero will be safe.”

“Okay.” Aloy breathes out slowly, and then with more assurance repeats: “Okay.” Finally she turns to Zero again, her expression sheepish and apologetic. “Shadows are getting long. This is as good of a place as any to stay ‘til morning. And GAIA says it’s safe. She’s been working a lot since we’ve been gone.”

She’s working her way up to apologizing.
forgetta: (pic#16505194)

calling this au how suletta got her groove back

[personal profile] forgetta 2023-07-12 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
[attached is a video.]

Miss Rose, I hope that you're having a wonderful day! If not I hope that this will cheer you up. Ehe, it's cute, isn't it? It's like she's dancing!
Is the hotel suite OK? I didn't have the time to check in yesterday. Our staff is very good, but I usually take a look myself for special circumstances like this. Please accept my apologies.
Oh, do you prefer Zero? I'm sorry. I wasn't sure. 「(゚ペ) Is it confusing to have a stage name?
Thank you again for agreeing to the performance on such short notice. The children will be so excited! Please let me know if I can help with any other arrangements for your stay. *(*´∀`*)☆
seeker: (84.)

[personal profile] seeker 2023-10-26 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
In the starless dark of night they travel quickly, creating stark and exaggerated silhouettes as they pass briefly through the orange sodium glow of streetlights. She remembers most of this in fragmented pieces: being led in the rain until the little town turned to dirt roads. Mud that caked in the creases of her jeans. A woman grasping her numb fingers, then yanking with a grip like iron, her palm as pale and cold as new frost. The rain grew more aggressive, became needlelike and freezing, though this cold was nothing compared to the cold that made Allison tremble like there was no blood in her veins. The stranger is of little comfort: when Allison falters, she tugs her with sharp finality, refusing to let her stop. Was something after them? No. They were looking for someone. For something, and it was close enough that the hairs on the back of Allison's neck stood at attention.

Or had that been a few evenings before?

When they'd arrived at the graveyard was when her memory began to go fuzzy, become tattered at the corners. Indistinct. She knows they must have dug up the coffin, because in the morning (?) after her nails had hardened dirt under them, gray muck that crumbled easily beneath the pressure of her fingertips, and her shirt was streaked with mud. She remembers being handed the crowbar, the metal so cold that it almost stuck to her hands. She remembers the eyes of that thing opening, as bright and as unnatural as the sodium lamps they'd traveled beneath. The whistle of air behind her ear as the woman drove something sharp into the heart of the creature, and the horrible noise afterward, high and agonizing enough to make her ears pop, as if she were in the pressurized cabin of a jet.

She remembers thinking: good.

After this, she remembers very little at all. Pain most often, which ruled her, a pain like dying. Being cold all the time, feeling empty. Feeling hungry. She thought she should go home, though she could not remember where that was in her current state, because the only place she did know was this old and poorly lit house, where all the furniture was covered in white sheets that reminded her of funeral shrouds. Funny: she could remember those, little snippets of fact and memory, but any attempt at grasping a more substantial thought brought with it more pain, a feeling like hands digging into her skull and pulling it apart. She existed in this state for hours? Days? Weeks, perhaps, the only constant beyond the hunger, pain and confusion being the woman, who would sometimes sit beside her in unsettling quiet, or leave in the night, only to return late in the evening, sometimes dragging something heavy behind her.

In the days before, Allison had refused whatever this was, had been repulsed, but when the woman shakes her awake tonight, her throat is so dry that she can't force out much of anything but a dull death-rattle. She's tired and thirsty, she wants to say. She wants to be left alone. When she tries to push back, she is struck by the sight of what she begins to realize, in a slow-growing dread, is her own hand. Her skin, desiccated,, bruised gray and bone white, the veins beneath her near translucent skin blue-black. It trembles in the moonlight like an old woman's.

Allison lets it fall to her side. Even this slight movement takes incredible effort on her part. When had she ever been this weak? This cold and frail? Had something happened? She tries to ask the woman this, though again the sounds crackle and die in her throat.