ic inbox (kenos)

[gravings]

I will definitely put something here this time

Comments

communion; mid to late october

[gravings]

[ One week after the stint with the tree and the spores and the sacrificial memories........

A lot of things happen at once. First off, Gray's shard starts to feel warm. Second off, she begins to see visions of Lord El-Melloi II being uncharacteristically warm and nice to her, which is highly distressing. Third off, she begins to feel emotions which aren't her own even when she's on her own, and she has a distinct feeling she knows whose emotions they are.

"Try speaking to them, Lady. I believe in you," Lord El-Melloi II says, smiling nicely, which spikes Gray's anxiety. But she takes his advice nevertheless.

She reaches out to both Mordred and Eustace despite knowing full well that letting them interact might spell disaster. It'll be better if they're all on the same page... she thinks. ]

Mordred... Mr. Eustace. Have either of you felt, um, strange lately?

[ Vague...... ]

[lockedon]

[ being stuck in a group chat with mordred.....truly his worst nightmare

Thankfully Gray's the one sending out this communion, else he never would have picked up. But if she has a good reason for lumping all three of them into one (metaphysical) space, then he's willing to humor her.

Especially after how the past week or so has gone, his usually restrained emotions more prone to agitation and restlessness than usual. ]

Gray.

[ He doesn't acknowledge Mordred for the time being. ]

Is there something specific you're referring to?

[ He has a guess but he wants to hear it out of her mouth first. (Or Mordred's, if she wants to blab away like she usually does.) ]

communion;

[epiprocta]

[ Hello, Gray! You're about to receive a not at all alarming message!

Which is to say, there's a sudden nudge at her shard, like a finger jabbing into her side. Gen doesn't even wait for her to respond before simply dumping a low statement in her lap: ]

If I don't get back in touch with you within a few hours, tell Eustace and look into a bar in Psychagogia called Vive. A guy named Turek. S'related to that shard shit.

[ It's accompanied by a brief flash of a mental image: a blue-skinned, orcish man with pale eyes and a stern look on his face.

Then the connection cuts abruptly. Lovely! ]

[gravings]

[ ?????

Gen's statement is brief, but Gray's alarm increases dramatically with every sentence. If only she could be surprised that she's being given such a message; she can only be surprised that this seems to keep happening (even if it's only been twice). ]

Gen—

[ And then she's hung up on. She rattles in place like a jar of bees for a moment, thinking about what she should do, before deciding to skip a couple steps and go straight to "look into a bar in Psychagogia"...

If Gen gets in touch with her before then, then all the better. But he technically didn't tell her to stay away, so he can't be mad at her if she just so happens to be in the area. ]

bleeds my way into your inbox; communion

[lockedon]

Gray. Are you busy?

[ hi, guess who ]

[gravings]

[ her favorite furry... (sorry gen) ]

Mr. Eustace! No, I'm not busy. Did you need something?

communion ; a few days after returning from the scorching isles

[epiprocta]

[ Why can't Gray get more communions from nice people who will give her cute interactions ........

Instead, one day around noon finds her getting the mental equivalent of a nudge from Gen. At least this one doesn't feel as hurried or insistent as last time, more of a hand patting at her shoulder than an elbow digging into her side. And when she decides to answer it, Gen speaks promptly, not to offer a 'hey' or a 'how are you doing,' but instead: ]

I got a job. You should tag along. [ He's a shithead so of course he doesn't ask her for her help. No, instead, he's just, like, declaring that she should accompany him. Horrible. ] You're not busy, right.

[gravings]

[ Gray's metaphysical ears perk up at the word "job" like she's hearing it from her deadbeat son. Immediately, she feels a glimmer of hope for his progression toward becoming a responsible adult, though she feels a second later that she is probably wrong about that.

Her first impulse is to agree right away, especially because her tagging along means she'll be able to make sure he's safe, but she pauses as she considers her schedule. ]

I want to come, but right now I'm not in the city... Um, when is your job? I'll make sure to be there.

[ The authorities that be can wait, probably. ]

alenroux

[uproared]

[ Even for someone disinterested in the state of this world at large, some things are impossible not to notice, like the clear signs of a recent occupation. For once, she isn't looking for a fight (though if one finds her, so be it) but rather, information. She isn't here to help one side or hinder another; of the two options, she knows it's Zenith who can give her what she wants, rather than just restoring the status quo... but before she commits, Mordred intends to make sure it's to the winning side.

With a (swiped) piece of fruit in hand, she sits atop a fence and takes stock of an outpost near the cornerstone, assessing the comings and goings of soldiers and civilians with a deceptively casual air. When she's done eating, she hops down, yawns, stretches, then idly tosses the remaining apple core at the back of someone's head, already walking off before they can get mad at her about it. ]

[gravings]

[ Gray has been busy in recent days, pretty much all thanks to the occupation of Alenroux. Last month, she spent weeks scouting the island in solitude, and so became well-acquainted with it. It's a little strange now to see the place swell with incoming soldiers, turning the idyllic landscape into a trail of people like ants infesting the plans.

Less dramatically, she isn't used to people littering in the area either, much less directly into her head. Gray's hood saves her from the worst of the apple's offense, but she turns reflexively to see who threw it. What she sees is the familiar blonde back of a head...

Gray quickly trots after the person, apple forgotten. Sometimes Kenos plays strange tricks, drags up unexpected memories, so a shadow of disbelief stalls her reaction, but there's still a candlelit hope in Gray as she catches up to the person's side and peeks over to see if it's that same-but-not-quite-same face. ]

Mordred?

GRAYS BORTHDAY

[salvageable]

[ This isn't very characteristic of him, he'll admit, but circumstances have found him carefully placing an entire cake in the center of his dining table. He takes a step back to look at his store-bought handiwork for a moment, thoughts drifting to the way Eustace had confided and spoken to him about this specific birthday in particular before aggressively shaking the thought from his head. This is supposed to be a happy occasion, and after a week spent holed up in his room and depression napping, he figures enough is enough.

It's not like he's especially close with Gray, but she's been living here now and they've both been dealt a significant loss. A birthday celebration might just be the thing they both need, even if he has no idea how many candles to stick on her cake and just ended up placing five of them for some reason. She is clearly older than five.

Anyway, he turns and makes his way to the bedroom she's occupying, Raisin sticking close to his heels and drooling the entire way there. Once at her door, Dokja knocks a couple of times to announce his presence. ]

Gray? Could you come out here for a moment?

[gravings]

[ Gray has been doing a bit of depression napping herself, broken up only by depression cleaning, depression animal care, and depression killing-monsters-in-Alenroux. So actually she's still been a bit busy. Still, it's been easy to lose track of time, which is why she's completely unsuspecting when Dokja knocks on her door.

He doesn't ask much of her (if at all), so she blinks and moves promptly to answer the door once she's made sure her hood is secure. She peers up at Dokja with a hint of confusion. ]

Mr. Dokja?

tree of life ; around gray's birthday

[epiprocta]

[ It's not like he actually expects to find Eustace here, at the Tree of Life. Things are never that easy or neat, and he's sure that if the solution were so simple, then someone else would have gotten there first -- it'd be a sorry fucking state of affairs if he were the one to figure this out.

But still. He has to check. Just in case.

It's with that thought in mind that one afternoon finds Gen slinking around the Tree of Life, keeping an eye out for any sign of movement or anything that seems off. -- which he sure finds, though not in the form he was hoping for. ]

... Gray? [ It takes him a moment of squinting to confirm it's her. Which feels ridiculous, since he's well-accustomed to what she looks like, her silhouette, her posture? But something feels off. Gen gives a cant of the head as he looks her over once more before approaching. ] What're you doing here.

[gravings]

[ He'll find Gray sitting in the dirt, clumps of it still stuck to her clothing. A dull ache sits on her drawn expression, and for a moment it seems like she doesn't hear him. A couple clear streaks cut through the dirt down her cheeks — and though her gray hair is dusted brown, a small, barely-there streak of blonde peeks from the hang of her hood.

Gray's shoulders hiccup quietly for a couple seconds longer before she slowly wipes her face with the back of her wrist. She sniffs before moving to stand, dirt raining from her cloak in chunks. Her voice is a bit hoarse from misuse, like she's just woken up (because she has). ]

... I don't know. I came here without realizing it... I saw some things from my world... and then I woke up in the dirt.

[ She should probably be a little more discombobulated, but it isn't so different from being possessed. The loss of time, the sudden waterfall of emotions. Processing it all comes later; for now it sits tight and compressed in her heart. She finally turns to look at Gen, trying but failing to keep a distant hurt from hooding her gaze. ]

Why are you here?

june tdm, action

[lockedon]

[ Sometimes you vanish from a place without realizing it, and sometimes you return to that very same place weeks later (also without realizing it).

Maybe if he'd been a chattier person things might have clicked into place sooner, but he's always preferred to keep to himself and avoid crowds, so the lack of acknowledgement as he walks down the residential streets goes unnoticed. His steps are, as always, purposeful, leading him down the street and towards the houses at the end, though a good number of the residential buildings there have been since destroyed, walls and foundations cracked through by the onset of the Blight. None of it stops him from picking his way through the debris, pace slowing as he walks through what used to be his house. Now it's just a shell of what it used to be.

A little like him, his form now reduced to a see-through afterimage. Hopefully no one in the area is afraid of ghosts. ]

Re: june tdm, action

[gravings]

[ Gray's spiritual sensitivity has always allowed her to see beings that might otherwise pass through the world unnoticed by people, and rather than a vehicle for opportunity, she considered it a curse until Lord El-Melloi II found use in it. So naturally the appearance of "ghosts" of late has been alarming to her, and made sharp by the sense that some have seemed familiar to her. They're a strange grade of ghost, seemingly casual and wandering rather than anchored in regret and negativity like she might expect. Even so, old fears are hard to dispel on a whim; she gives the specters wide berth, tense with apprehension over how they might affect her. Especially now that she's effectively helpless against them, robbed of the weapon that would have given her the power to fight the spiritual.

Fear strikes again when she happens to spot a familiar-looking faded form, but in a different way. It's impossible to mistake the tall, silvery ears she's come to know over the course of a year, a sight she's missed dearly over the past few weeks. She'd been hoping to see them again, but not like this.

Why... Why is he a ghost?

The answer is obvious, and yet she denies it with her heart. She could fall to her knees as if her legs were kicked out under her, yet they manage to carry her at a run toward Eustace. A cruel string of hope suspends her, thinking that this could mean anything but a goodbye. ]

Mr. Eustace!

[ She looks much the same as he remembers her, save for the little blonde streak of hair above her left eye. ]

communion

[uproared]

There's a garden plot set aside in Greenwood Yards. Use it, give it away, ignore it; I don't care. It's your problem now.

[gravings]

... Huh?

[ ????? ]

Is there something wrong with it?

[warmare]

Gray.

Are you free to speak?

[... She's great at greetings. And small talk.]

[gravings]

[ Gray would feel more worried about Hayame trying to sound nice and make small talk... ]

Oh... yes! What can I do for you?

A Gift Left at the Door

[erbe]

[Tohsaka doesn't want to speak to Gray about this. She doesn't want Gray to start babbling about how payment isn't needed. That conversation has no use existing. So she leaves a gift basket at the door. It's large, and well made. Something that could have many uses. Inside the basket are expertly sealed yields from Rin's garden. Strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries. Beyond that are balms for wounds, salves for muscle pain, a bath potion for relaxation that smells of fresh fir and cedarwood, and lotion to soothe overworked skin.

A note included, written on cat patterned stationary, reads:]

You will accept this. It is a token of gratitude and an apology for having to deal with him. The fruits will need to be removed from their seal so they don't bruise each other as most of them are at ideal ripeness. Aside from the bath potion the rest of the items are unscented as I am not familiar with your sensitivities. If you would like them scented reach out to me.

Enjoy them. - Tohsaka Rin

[gravings]

[ This is so much... and the letter is certainly forceful enough that any thoughts of protesting that this gift is unnecessary flee from Gray's mind. After a bit of pondering about how to respond in a way that Rin will find acceptable, she beams a simple message at Rin's brain. ]

Um, thank you.

[ That is all... ]

action, i'm back again

[lockedon]

[ Maybe a communion first would have been in better order, but between fending off monsters on the way to the Alenroux cornerstone, refamiliarizing himself with the busy streets of Springstar, and then consoling a grown man crying into his shoulder, it's been a long day. (Not to mention lugging a (different) grown man around like some sort of packmule while fighting off said monsters.)

His brain is worming along at half-speed by the time the door opens and Gray returns from her work in Alenroux (or wherever I'm godmodding her to be), and it takes a few seconds for him to blink in her general direction before smiling tiredly. ]

Welcome back.

[ Would it be more appropriate for Gray to say that to him? Probably, but there'll be time for that later. ]

who dis

[gravings]

[ Gray pauses with her hand on the front doorknob, because I'm told they live in a house with an open floor plan. Her neutral expression rapidly melts into one that may be alarmingly familiar to Eustace — the one that usually precedes a good old cry. One might think that Gray has had to welcome Eustace back from his absences enough times by now that it would feel like a rote experience, but she manages to feel it right in the heart every time. So many people come and go from her life now; it's a far greater miracle whenever someone returns from the abyss.

So anyway. Gray gently closes the door behind her before trotting straight over to Eustace. She wordlessly baby blankets him into a hug, as is custom. If he's standing, then she'll hop up to get her arms around his neck for maximum coverage and hope he isn't too tired to catch her. ]

communion; early september

[lockedon]

[ after the events of this thread

He doesn't know how long he spends sitting at the base of the Tree, staring at the spot on the ground where Dokja's shard lies nestled under layers of dirt. Five minutes, an hour, hard to say. Eventually he rouses himself from his listless staring, pulling his thoughts together enough so that he can send out a brief message. ]

Dokja's dead. [ Again.

No 'hi', no 'how are you'. He's not in the mood for such banalities right now. ]

[gravings]

[ Hello??? ]

Mr. Dokja...?

[ There's a palpably stunned silence as Gray tries to process this in the middle of laundry, or whatever she was doing when he called. She frowns, grips the hem of her cloak, tries and fails to stop her anxiety from leaking through their connection.

What happened?

Communion → September (Iqnu) after Dark and Dokja's deaths

[erbe]

[Dark has been dead for a little bit now. Rin has effectively been living out of her shop. Hopping from "friend" to "friend" asking for showers or to wash clothes.

When she reaches out to Gray she is tried. Exhausted physically and mentally. But hey, at least she's reaching out at all.]

Gray, I would like to ask you for a favor.

[gravings]

[ Couch surfer Rin...

Gray perks up when Rin's "voice" pops into her head. She answers within the equivalent of one telephone ring. ]

Of course. What do you need?

communion / action | roughly halfway through iqnu

[epiprocta]

[ The communion from Gen starts as it usually does, when he's involved -- abruptly, brusquely, and with zero fanfare. ]

Gray. [ She'd just received the equivalent of a sharp rap at her window, a hard poke demanding her attention, and the moment she permits the connection to open, Gen speaks up flatly. ] Have something to give you. Come outside.

[ Then he cuts the connection. Such grace, such impeccable manners!

And while Gray might wonder about the very legitimate question of why he didn't just ring the doorbell instead of making her have to come out at this time in the evening, if he's just waiting outside ... the truth of the matter is that he's not really in the mood to be seen by anyone right now. Especially not Eustace (or, god forbid, that fucker Dokja). Gray's the only one he feels like tolerating, and only because he knows this is something that'd be better dealt with sooner rather than later.

Gen's loitering on a bench just across the street from the Gray found family's cozy little abode by the time she exits, leaning on the armrest and nursing a cigarette. And the moment he sees her approaching, hopefully before she can take note of the shitty, exhausted state he seems to be in, he retrieves something from the leather pouch at his belt and tosses it over -- a little metal something in a fabric bag. The shape and weight of it must be so familiar to her, even through the fabric.

It's Add. ]

1/3

[gravings]

[ Gray permits the connection straightaway because it's Gen. If his refusal to ring the doorbell seems strange, she figures it must be an urgent situation, or one which requires tact. She flips her hood on and hurries to the front door.

She spots him across the street right away, and notices his more-disheveled-than-usual look. But his distraction tactic is successful; as she trots over, the intrigue of the leather bag tossed her way takes precedence. As she catches it, the shape, weight, and solidity of the cube inside strikes her with lightning-like familiarity. ]

This is...

[ She dares to hope. Her heart is squeezed to stillness as she quickly opens the pouch and upends the contents (content?) into her hand. ]

action.

[salvageable]

[ Here's Dokja with a finger tapping against his chin as he surveys the kitchen from behind the kitchen island. He looks like he's taking stock of what they have, his lips moving silently as he makes mental notes to himself. He'd invited D over for dinner but the problem is that he... isn't sure what dinner is supposed to be. And then there's the fact that Dokja doesn't even know D is a vampire because he's stupid and blind and sometimes a guy acts weird but is just a guy.

It had seemed like such a simple plan when he'd spoken it out loud, but now he's realizing that this is coming with its own set of complications.

Fortunately for him, he's spared from causing himself brain strain when he hears the sound of footsteps heading for the kitchen, and Dokja glances over his shoulder, already knowing who it is because only two other people besides him live in this house and they've all learned to recognize each other's footsteps by now. ]

Hey, Gray.

[gravings]

[ As a diminutive pocket of a person, Gray's footfall is indeed very different from Eustace's. As light as she is, she tries to step even more lightly, as if worried about bothering the ground. The effect is even more pronounced in this household of prohibited outdoor shoes.

She blinks up at Dokja when he addresses her. She's hooded even indoors, but she is at least wearing her light and breathable home cloak. ]

Yes?

[uproared]

[ There are flashes before the memory settles. Glimpses of a coronation, a crown placed upon a helmeted head, followed by weeks of celebration and feasting. Later, of a false king on a stolen throne, eternally clad in armour, giving orders to their court. Then, finally, to a prison in all but name, a broken woman left to ruminate over her sins alone, until an unwelcome intrusion breaks the silence. Though the halls of Camelot shine just as bright for their new king, the same can't be said for its former queen.

"A proposal, Guinevere." Gloved fingers reach out to cup a pale, trembling chin, and Mordred seems more amused than offended when Guinevere immediately jerks away from her touch. "Unlike Arthur, I am nothing if not merciful. Even a traitorous harlot has a place at my side. Become my queen, and be free of this persecution."

Refusing to be cowed by the obvious threat, Guinevere offers only a defiant glare in response.

"What is this nonsense you speak of?"

Mordred pauses, as if she might strike the other woman down for her impudence. Then, laughing, she removes her helmet.

"As much nonsense as your games of playing husband and wife."

Seeing her husband's face staring back at her, Guinevere's expression freezes halfway between fear and despair, hatred morphing into realization, then horror — all while Mordred openly gloats over her stunned reaction, arms cast wide as if waiting for applause from an invisible audience.

"That's right," she says, her contemptuous sneer making a mockery of the king's serene features. "My father broke your marriage long before you ever did. So, which will it be, Guinevere? Whatever shred of dignity you still possess," this punctuated by another laugh, "or your life? You have until sundown to decide."

With a final mocking bow, Mordred redons her helmet and takes her leave, closing the door behind her. Only then does Guinevere allow herself to sink slowly to the floor, quietly sobbing into her hands as Mordred leans against the wall and listens with satisfaction. ]

[gravings]

[ On the other end of things, a memory starts up all at once.

Why do you persist?

The unnervingly even tone of a girl masked in armor resounds in Gray's head. Gray's body is weak, the mana in the air so thin as to be close to void. An army of skeleton soldiers surges forward. Gray's scythe sweeps the closest away with sluggish effort, as if she were swinging through molasses.

An arduous battle in a miserable place. As dark and gloomy as the underworld. The earth bulges down on them as if threatening to swallow them. Sounds of steel crack behind Gray, sounds of others engaged in other fights, but she only has eyes for the girl in armor ahead of her with the regal bearing of royalty.

"I have something to ask you," Gray gasps between desperate swings. "Are you really the mind of King Arthur?"

Yes, the voice allows. I am the will of the king that was. I am a husk, a remnant. I exist only to preserve this information.

Fear. Confusion. An impression of arrays and formulas flit through Gray, leaving her with the thought that the person in front of her is more divine spirit than human.

Time blurs. The battle grows more dire. Yet Gray persists in probing the Husk King.

"Have you always been here?"

Blank surprise from the expressionless figure. And then, a voice. A real voice from the armored girl's lips. "... I." The word is a rumble through the earth. "Ten years ago, I awakened in this place along with you." The voice falls lower. "Actually, I think it would be better for you to run. To escape to the ends of the earth."

The Husk King's voice is so low as to encircle the ground beneath Gray's feet.

"However, you returned. Against all reason, you returned. So there is only one course of action. I will contain you here."

A dark spear manifests in the masked king's hand, its thorns severe and alien. As the dark Rhongomyniad levels at Gray, she hastily raises her scythe.

The sound of a crack splits into her ears as the immense force of the spear consumes her. ]

a memory—

[kenosnpcs]

[ Very suddenly, there’s a sense of Communion touching your character’s mind. However, it’s as if they connect with the mind of a shared Aspect, as they’re not able to block out the brief, but sharp memory that comes to them. ]

Alone in their room, a Shard-Bearer quietly whispered to a faded photograph of their best friend, left behind in another world. They may be a Zenite, but they still foster a tiny hope that maybe, just maybe Meridian was right after all.

[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]

action ; early november ; highstorm, near bloody marie's

[epiprocta]

[ Hunting Gen down is probably, like, an extremely unfun and thankless task.

Yes, he has a stable home (now) but it's in Yima's manor, probably making it a little awkward for Gray if she wants to show up for a visit. Yes, he also has another home(-ish) but that's in Kowloon (Silco's turf), and hard to find, and does Gray even know about it? Otherwise, what are her options? Maybe she just had to ask around Highstorm's various establishments if anyone's seen this particularly lanky, dour-looking young man with a robot arm who dresses almost exclusively in all black, or maybe she has more clever methods at her disposal, but either way --

she'll eventually find herself before Bloody Marie's. A classy enough looking establishment.

Maybe too classy, in fact? Even from the outside it looks like a fairly upscale sort of place, with just a few well-dressed clients drifting in and out of the quiet bar. Unfortunately the frosted windows won't give her a very good view of what's going on inside, even if she decides to take a peek, and while she's perhaps still deliberating whether or not Gen is really in a place like this ... ]

Hello, little miss. [ It's a suave, beautiful young man dressed head-to-toe in black, gothic finery who calls out to her; evidently, he'd been just about to step inside before spotting her, since he steps away from the half-open doorway to look her over. As he draws close, Gray might notice the peek of fangs when he speaks. ] Your first time here?

[ He smiles, but there's something a little ... hungry about it. ]

No need to be shy.

[gravings]

[ Gray has been looking to do a little research on vampires for unrelated reasons, so imagine her surprise when she learns about an establishment caters specifically to them. Any why would Gen be there? A little bird (literal) told her it had seen someone of his description headed there, and animals have no reason to lie about such things. A bit of dread settles in Gray's throat at the thought that Gen may have been converted. Even if vampires in reality turn out to be more reasonable than their more fictional counterparts, that's a lot of added complication potentially added to Gen's life...

Gray is lost in thought enough that she doesn't notice the suave, beautiful young man in gothic finery until he's practically jump-scaring her. She startles, her hand shooting to release Add within her cloak until she realizes that the man is just being polite(?). She feels like an impostor here for a number of reasons, which adds to her usual shyness, but in reality she fits right into the aesthetic of this establishment. Between her cloak and palette of of blacks, grays, and whites, her facial scar, her quirky blonde streak, and now the searing red tattoo on the back of her hand, she looks as goth/ic as she ever has.

She gathers her wits and stares up at the very vampiric-looking man in front of her. She's finding that vampires are a physically flawless people as a whole, and when people are this beautiful, it's really very distracting. Still, she's gotta fake it til she makes it. Pretend you're feeling normal, Gray. ]

Ah, yes. Though I have a friend that should be inside...

[ Even if she is wondering more and more with each passing second whether or not Gen is really in there. ]

delivery

[sterngaze]

[On the shortest day of the year—or the longest, by Springstar’s calendar—Liem makes his rounds to play Santa himself, though without the red-and-white costume. For the past few months, his regular visits to Springstar’s community centre have been in service of crafting handmade solstice gifts for the people in his life. This time, unlike last winter, he’s prepared.

Some of the items he brings are simply handed over without fuss: a couple pleasantly spiced bars of hand-mixed soap, and a jar of soup mix with a brief recipe tied around it. The last item he delivers, with a bit more care, is a slim, hand-bound book. The pages within are penned in Liem’s crisp, elegant hand; it’s a cook book, with a selection of recipes inside that he thinks she might like. Many of the recipes are on the savoury side, but he included some sweet things as well. There are no pictures, however, so Gray will have to make the dishes in question to find out what they actually look like.]

(backdated) delivery

[lockedon]

[ though is it really a delivery if they live in the same house.....

Regardless, there's a small wrapped gift sitting outside Gray's door (because Eustace would never infringe on her privacy and actually go into her room) one morning during the holiday season. Inside is an embroided hooded cape (made of lightweight fabric for those hot Springstar summers, yanno), as well as a pie recipe cookbook (even though Gray probably already knows how to make every pie under the sun, he is trying his best here).

As usual, there's a note (unsigned) that simply says Happy holidays. ]

new year's delivery

[warmare]

[On the first day of the new year by the Kenosian calendar, a courier arrives with two packages for Gray's household. Within the one addressed to Gray is a hooded, haori-like robe that resembles the fashions she is used to from her own world. Close enough, anyway.

The courier takes out a note he had taken down that contains a message from the sender, which is revealed to be Hayame, reading it out somewhat in a rush (he's behind schedule). Something about it being tradition in her lands to impart gifts of new clothing for the new year, something about that it would honor her if she were to wear it, she hoped she liked it, they'll be in each other's care for the coming year, yadda yadda yadda...

And then the courier rushes off to his next delivery!!!!]

looks at all these deliveries and adds another to it

[damnpire]

[technically this is from dec but i waited on the thread for it anyhow

In Gray's room, she will find a boar-bristled, woodden brush on her bed. There is a bow tied around the handle just above a familiar magecraft sort of burned and filled etching. The bristles smell faintly of tea tree and rosemary. It will make her hair soft and shiny when used...

Usually, there would be no note because he's an idiot, but this time, there is a small one written in ridiculously elegant script:

I hope this is not untoward. Your hair is nice this way, too. Thank you for caring for the household and for Erebus.

Merry Christmas,
D

P.S. The fudge was good. Erebus stole most of it from me.

He's so good at being thoughtul and so bad at the execution.]

COMMUNION (HI BOBA)

[redsoil]

[ The last time he'd really dealt with Gray, he'd kicked her ass and stolen her sand, only to have her steal it back in the end. Ruthless.

Now, he comes with a thoughtful air, sweeping to the edge of her Communion as if nothing had ever happened to them. As if he's always paid her mind. And really, has he not? Her work in Alenroux had helped them gain a foothold. Her loyalty to Meridian and faith in their cause had never wavered. ]

Gray.

[ He calls her name. ]

I want to discuss a matter with you. The one I brought up in Meridian-affiliated Communion, about our future retaliatory strike.

HELLO SORRY MY COMPUTER DIED

[gravings]

[ Now this is an unexpected voice in her head. It causes her to stop what she's doing as she tries to muffle the mild alarm she feels before it can reach Set. She really hasn't done anything to be guilty of; she just knows of Set as something of a loose cannon.

Regardless of what's transpired between them, she could never be so rude as to leave him hanging, so she dutifully replies. ]

I remember.

[ Something about unleashing a weapon on Highstorm. A trickle of unease accompanies the thought, but she tamps that down too. ]

How can I help you?

Communion → Pre March 2024 Oracle

[erbe]

[While Rin's communion is usually calm and manufactured, she reaches out to Gray in a state of dark and stormy Discord. It would feel similar to the time she was at the beach and needed to cover up as much as possible to avoid the sun.]

Prepare yourself. I know you are capable, but I'm sure things will be much different after what has happened.

[gravings]

[ Things being different is a given, but Gray is a bit more concerned about Rin's palpable state of not-okayness. ]

I will, but... um, Rin, your Discord...