sheep_game | hello (heart)gamers. im here w some special guest stars

WHO: all who dare enter angie's literal mind palace. it's OPEN HOUSE! no invites needed!
WHERE: in front of miku's salad (and yours)
WHEN: evening 73.

[ in the middle of running a perfectly innocuous miniquest, Angel Devil falls down.
His clothes have twisted away into bone-white rags, leaving a body covered over with only thick swathes of red fur, and downy feathers. His long tail is curled into a tense arc, banded fur standing on end.

The air wavers like he’s a heat mirage, not a man. He’s boiling away with absolutely stupid amounts of arcane power… and, most frighteningly, he does not seem in control of the fact that it is there and being brought to bear. It’s impossible to get any closer to him.

When he speaks, it’s quite timid. ]

Oh.
Oops.
...Thought I had... a little more time.

[ (and in a blinding flash of light, there is the sound of something breaking.) ]

~KRRSHHK~

[any observers will see, strangely see-through and superimposed on the scene, some kind of vast tree, illusionary roots twisting over and around to frame a door. the door itself is wrought of opaque stained glass in blacks and whites and greys; a stylized rendition of Angie in that strangely ragged, feathered form, curled in on himself, eyes closed. Angie himself is nowhere to be seen. ]

instead, a shadow . . . steps into view from behind the door. for a moment it looks like nothing so much as a second genome – then it turns, gaining features and definition with the movement. The monkey tail separates into three plumes; a ponytail unfurls into wings that lift up from the sides of the head.

Teleute(?) is here, dressed in her customary black, but there is colour in her skin, and her hair and eyes are blue. she’s frowning.]

. . . well. This is the least I can do before I go, in exchange for the safe harbor.

[she lifts her head, nodding to any observers, and gestures at the door.]

You’ll want to head in there now if you don’t wish to lose your flockmate, I think. Even the false-death of this place won’t be much help to him, if his soul is left to finish pulling itself apart.

My sisters and I can maintain the way into and out of it for you, but we were not made to knit such wounds by ourselves. Have a care.

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[His nerves make him nervous. But he reaches out for the egg and carefully lifts it gently into his arms in a sort of hug. Is he doing this right... is this how he should do it?]

[ how long would cres stick with doing this, for the curious. the doll doesn't seem to be reacting as if he's doing it wrong. ]

Edited 2024-04-19 18:11 (UTC)

[ He still stand there for quite a while in silence, before-]

Is...this right?

[He doesn't know how to deal with small things like this.]

Am I warming it properly...?

[ the lil doll finally admits, ]
"I... don't know either...
Raising things... sure is hard..."

Edited 2024-04-19 19:29 (UTC)

[ the egg starts glowing even brighter--
and in Cres's arms, turns into a new mask.

Gained MASK OF PERSEVERANCE. ]

[ =O ]

I do not think this is how eggs are supposed to work.

[But he takes the mask. Experimentally, he'll remove the one he is wearing to look outside of the new one.]

[ you don the MASK OF PERSEVERANCE.
after removing the mask of hope, all the exhaustion you've been through today comes into your mind again more clearly... but with a deep breath, you also feel much more in tune with what you're realistically capable of. and you find...

you can do this. you can handle this. you know it. in your life, you've been through far worse than just some weird labyrinth. with a certainty that goes beyond just hoping you do...

you fuckin' got this, cres. ]

Edited (bgm) 2024-04-19 20:08 (UTC)

[ He's figgin' got this!!

Now where...? He looks down at the little guy from before.]

Do you happen to know where I can find Révérence-san?

"Maybe... back on the stage?"

[ he steps back to the door, welcome to leading him there, but does pause... ]

"...Make sure he doesn't hurt it, okay?"

[he blinks, a little confused for a moment.]

Do you mean the masks...? Would he have reason to?

"...yeah. He can be... really mean. Especially to us stagehands."

How terrible. The stage crew is just as important as anyone else. I shall knock some sense into him.

In the meantime, have you considered dressing like a sheep? He seems to like those.

"R-- really?!"

[ BEFUDDLED ]

"Then... I need to go tell everyone right away so we can work on sheep costumes...! Do you think you can find your way back?"

[He waves him off.]

No need to worry. I can find my way back just fine. Please take care. I hope your costumes come along.

"I know everyone will do their best...!"

[ and with that, the black mage is gone. crescendo is alone, free to find his way back to the stage on his own time. ]

[He'll make his way there promptly. He might as well do what he came for! Unless something captures his attention along the way or seems off, to the stage he will go!]

[ this isn't crescendo's first rodeo, navigating the guts of a performance hall~

the back wall of the stage is a mural of a demonic, four-armed god facing down with a melancholy goddess of light. a closed coffin sits in the middle of their skirmish. to be clear the coffin isn't part of the mural it's just literally there.

the closed curtains are in front of you. the low murmur of the crown, beyond.
...they look just like the ones Révérence had described, as wanting to see in a Rose-Bluebell collab theare; a vivid lush red, with midnight blue panels for accents. the ropes are threaded with glittering gold.

there are subtle patterns in the velvet. two kinds of flowers, and twining vines. ]

Edited 2024-04-19 20:46 (UTC)

[The way he wants to make it blue with red accents instead so badly. Sighs. Carefully, he cracks the curtains to peak onto the stage.]

[ You take a look beyond the curtains.

It's a full house out there! Every single seat is occupied by strange objects that look a bit like a nautilus, that you instinctively recognize as-- caskets? beds? places of rest and preservation for dead souls. There's uh. There's dead guys in there.

They are all waiting for the hosts to put on a good show. ]

[ Uhhh.... disturbing. This is a strange reality and maybe it is at the height of rudeness to step onto a stage where he hasn't been invited, but... time to step out onto the stage and peer around for the star.]

[ totally empty out here . . . . ]

[ abruptly,
all goes quiet.
the curtain rises.
with a flip of a switch,
a spotlight turns on to shine down on the stage.
the voice of the narrator intones,
"Dance to the requiem, for all eternity."

and with that, the show begins. ]

[ the coffin opens.
an awfully tall, angie-shaped silhouette wearing a black dog mask strides from it, right into the spotlight. it makes the darkness that he's composed of glimmer, as if made of the dark of a starry night.
he starts reciting.
as he goes on, the stagehands, in their new sheep costumes, bustle around in the gloom, dragging the right props to the right places; two moons, red and blue, hanging above a tall and foreboding castle going into the farground, glass mannequins standing in for the cast, the fainting bed for the dead princess,
the wicked sword to be worn at the knight's hip. ]

"Our first show, tonight,
Is the pathetic, bloody, woeful tale...
Of a man who lent all his hopes,
All his dreams,
To the promise of a tomorrow... that never came.

I present, folks,
For one night only,
"The Tragedy of Garland of Terra,"
as you've never! Seen it! Before!"

Edited (formatting) 2024-04-19 22:09 (UTC)

[ . . . It would be such poor etiquette to move out onto the stage and interrupt. At the same time... he thinks he needs to help him. Somehow.

For the moment, he remains quiet and opts to simply watch a little longer.]

hello (heart)gamers. im here w some special guest stars

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