affal | AION TELEOS

( ooc: taking place directly after the events of this thread. )

( the returning stone finally activates, space shifts and turns around him, once more temporarily throwing him into the crushing void before depositing him unceremoniously on the floor of the lodestone chamber in achamoth. he is not in a good way. he had left the stone floor of the shrine of the sovereign stained in blood, and now he seems fast on his way to do much the same here.

it's not to say he hasn't put forth his best efforts to keep that from happening — his shirt is in bloody tatters where he's torn it apart at the seams to get at the horrible wound that the blade of a lance leaves when piercing through the chest just below the ribs, all the way through, before being pulled free. wherever he goes, makoto carries with him a surgical needle and medical sutures (or whatever equivalent he can find here), and so while he'd waited for the returning stone to activate, he'd sewed up the gash. it hadn't been easy, not with loss of blood dimming his vision and that escaping blood welling up and spilling out from around his numb fingers; his body had shook with the effort of even holding his hands up high enough to fumble through the motions of stitching up his abdomen, but he'd managed it. it wasn't pretty, but it would do — sure enough, the bleeding had staunched as soon as he'd finished. in hell, this demonic body of his would cling to life no matter what he did to it, but here... well, so long as he could piece it together, it seems it would slowly drag itself back toward a state of equilibrium.

but that's just the problem. it wasn't the only injury he had — not when the angry laceration on his front had a similarly irate sibling through his back. admittedly, the former had been far more grievous, but the latter still aches and stings and bleeds; the evidence blooms like a crimson flower through the rich fabric of the heavy coat he wears over his shoulders. he tries to stand, but he can't seem to force his legs to cooperate; he's forced to collapse right back to the ground. he shrugs one arm out of the coat, reaching toward the font of pain centered in his back. he hisses a curse underneath his breath. how is he supposed to suture a wound like this? he isn't sure how much longer he can continue to lose blood and remain conscious. had he really endeavored so much to end up slipping away like this regardless?

the ignominy of the thought is almost too much to bear. )

continued from here.

[ The platitudes Howl offered in response to Makoto's answer do not stand alone for long. Less than a minute later, he communes with the demon again, but this time the trail is silent and uncluttered, closed only to him. ]

That thing did something to you, didn't it?

[ A shot in the dark, but he doubts a creature capable of "smiting" its foes would have left M alone for what he did, and it's the only possible explanation for M's cryptic response. ]

Edited 2022-05-31 17:03 (UTC)

[ If he hadn't been stripped of two of his senses in quick succession, he would have gone to find Makoto himself after the worst of the hubbub had died down. Even the loss of one would have been surmountable, a stumbling stone instead of a complete roadblock, but he'd only be a risk to both himself and the rest of his teammates if he tried to strike out on his own like this.

Still, it feels wrong not to check in with the other man somehow, after all they'd been through—and especially after all Makoto had been through. If he can't find the other man in person, then he'll have to settle for a communion message instead, even if the thought of invading someone else's mind still makes him feel uneasy.

At least Makoto can always rebuff his message if he's not feeling in the mood. ]

This is Eustace. [ Obviously. ] I saw what happened. How are you feeling?

[ The mass Communion which all Kenoma were able to tune into had been very informative. If not for the looser lips of his kindred Aions, there's no guarantee Makoto would have disclosed much if anything to J pertaining to the events which transpired after they parted ways in Venera. He'd not given an account of the details revolving around the stretches of time they'd been apart in times past, whatever other shades of unsavory (besides Kieran) that he'd come across during his tour of Hell's slums and, assuredly, places beyond where his nose had picked up traces of J's scent. And things haven't changed enough since his arrival to suddenly make Makoto more forthcoming- not with J, in any case.

Contrary to his ward's beliefs, J is and has always been respectful of choices made of his ward's own volition, such as his six-month excursion into his past or even those long years under Datenshou's employ. Provided those decisions don't interfere with his own plans. For now, Makoto's choice to remain sparse while others congregate in the plague's aftermath, coming together more closely after their traumatic excursion, is apparent but left momentarily uninterrupted by his master. The only exception is a letter on artisan parchment, with flecks of tiny pressed flower petals in muted pastel pinks and purples and rippled edges left untrimmed, that designate it as something handmade. The envelope it's nested within is neatly sealed with red wax atop two tails of gold ribbon that dangle below; its texture soft to the touch. ]

Makoto-dono,

I hear congratulations are in order on account of your most recent achievement.
How does it feel to kill a man not by means of signed contracts and sated desires-

But with your own hand?

In lieu of immediately commemorating this event, allow me to send you a small token to make use of as you will.
Consider it a temporary proxy, until at which time you find yourself in a more celebratory mood.

Sincerely Yours,
J

[ Ever cautious when the situation calls for it, J doesn't draw attention to this exchange or risk its examination by permitting his retainer to submit the missive directly. Hypothetically speaking, if J were the Regent, he'd make sure those assigned to care for the Aions were actually spies planted to monitor their every move. Not unlike how Fjord and Datenshou quietly ferreted information to him about Makoto, making it as though J himself were there to keep an eye on his wellbeing and orchestrate whatever needed to be done to maintain it while he was out of his physical scope.

Assuming the worst, taking into account the ease at which history has shown letters can be opened, read, and re-sealed without raising suspicion, he personally delivers the item, leaving it in front of Makoto's door as he happens to stroll by.

Tucked within the envelope, causing its unusual weight, is a single ornate key set on a chain of the same metal; both solid gold and forged with impeccable workmanship. Curiously enough, the key itself is too small for normal locks. While the delicate chain, with links practically light and uncumbersome as a spiderweb's thread, is surprisingly durable. It appears to be both the chain of a necklace or worn at the wrist once the length is looped around and latched to itself. The reason behind such versatility is not yet apparent, when it's only half of the final product. ]

[ sometime after dusk has settled but before one might consider retiring for the night, Makoto might be gifted with the familiar itch at the fringes of his mind that indicates someone is reaching out. someone not of his sect, not of his legacy - a certain silver-haired Pleroma, and not the one he had left in a pile of ash and dust within Venera.

should he be kind enough to accept - maybe he'll feel, hear, the gentle wash of his "name" floating across the abyss of their link of Communion in a tentative greeting.

it feels... uneasy. ]

Mr. M...?

[It's likely not a call he's expecting, but it comes all the same.]

M. Do you have a moment? I have a favor to ask of you, it relates to the Innocence entity.

[It's businesslike and gets straight to the point without vapid pleasantries, Ciel does make sure to include a hook that should get the demon's attention without concerning herself with whether or not he's heard of the "big news". She doesn't think he'd turn it down, but demons being demons... Only one way to tell.]

[ dextera doesn’t even wait for everything to come to an end. he can maintain his purification for a while, but he can’t do it while he sleeps and ice will melt in time.

once he’s back in godsblood, safe away from anyone who might have seen him in venera, he withdraws his shard.

the message he sends makoto is a bit unlike his usual—he’s still skittish, afraid of being caught. rather than words, dextera conveys a series of impressions and emotions. it’s all in images like a montage: the guard he chose, the murder itself. dextera’s heavy breaths and his own hands carefully extracting all he can find in tact. he particularly lingers on the heart, savoring the way it continues to beat for some moments longer than the person himself has lived. in dextera’s memory, shown to makoto through this, the color is a bright and unnatural red.

he’s careful about the way he sets it aside in his mind, and with all those thoughts given, dextera knows makoto will understand. ]

I have something for you. When you have time…

[ as if there wasn’t a battle between their factions. ]

( for a long moment there is nothing but a long stretch of strained silence after the furious raps at the door to makoto's quarters. then, to the keen ears of a demon, the creaking of wood furniture. soft, slow footsteps. there's a groan in the floor just on the other side of the door, and then the lock unlatches and the door opens two or three inches to reveal the impassive face of of the young demon's retainer — a man who J certainly would have seen and spoken with on several occasions. tall (though certainly not as tall as the demon), severe, and listing towards middle age, one could probably look between the man that makoto had chosen to attend to him and his demon master and possibly make some wild assumptions about him (some of which might well be true). kivander keeps his short, blond hair neatly swept back, and his eyes — one brown and one blue — are impassive and watchful as they study the demon. the achamite has a smart, efficient way of moving and speaking, left-over from many years of service in the military that were cut short by a wound to his left arm that had prevented him from properly holding a weapon.

he pauses, then speaks in his measured, austere tones, ) Master J. My apologies, the young Master Aion is presently indis—

( his attention is momentarily distracted from a sound within the chambers, and then makoto's voice some distance away: ) Let him in.

( the words die in the retainer's mouth; he pauses, then nods, taking a sweeping step back to pull the door the rest of the way open to allow the demon entry. as he does, makoto provides the further order, ) And leave us for now, Kivander.

As you say. Send for me if you have need of me.

( he collects some effects from a small table at the side of the room where he had been attending and leaves, closing the door carefully behind him. )

J.

( the room is dimly lit, but he almost feels as though he could see the man's figure cut through darkness as black as pitch. makoto is propped up in bed; it seems that he might have been sleeping just a few moments ago, but he's hauled himself up enough that he can rest against a veritable curtain wall of pillows assembled behind him. his hair is undone, falling into dark waves wild and messy from sleep, and the shirt he wears is unbuttoned enough to reveal a weave of bandages beneath, encircling practically his entire torso. they are presently unmarred by blood — the first thing he had done upon stumbling to his chambers from the Regent's throne room was summon kivander and get his wounds cleaned and sewn so they could begin to mend — but he has been trying to be cautious not to move so much that they were further aggravated while in the slow process of healing.

as such, he doesn't pull himself out of bed to run across the length of the room and throw himself into J's arms, despite how that always seems to be the first impulse that comes through his head when he sees him after any period of time that they've been apart.

instead, ) Come here, ( said as he reaches out to him, wanting to have his hands on him, to feel that he's truly here and that nothing had managed to befall him, as soon as he could. )

Shortly after the events of the recent TDM, Makoto will be presented a long case made of dark, polish wood by their retainer. They will be told that it is from the Regent and that it is to be handled with the utmost discretion. Within the box is a void-black crystal spear that is about three feet in length.

Along with that is a note, dictated from the Regent themself. It will warn them against touching the crystal with bare skin, first and foremost, and then go on to make a peculiar request: they are to stake it into the earth at a particular coordinate in Achamoth, with its point angled towards the center of the city. This coordinate will be marked on a map that is included with the letter, and is in the southern-most sector of the city.

They are not to speak of this to their fellow Kenoma. The stake must be planted at the very start of the 5th of Firaseri. If your character would do anything other than plant the spear as asked and keep quiet about it, please let us know!

( ooc: Continued from here. )

[ It comes on so subtly, emotions filtering in through his shard like a second sense, that J only fully acknowledges the depth of this milestone belatedly, a few moments after the fact. Their first communion. A step his ward had staunchly evaded, even for the sake of expedience and his own wellbeing. Makoto's mind locking J out and denying him entry to this singular place he was forbidden to tread for the longest time.

Once that door is opened, J isn't eager to see it shut in his face. So there's the sense of him feeling out the shared connection between them, seeping in like a breath on skin or the roaming of covetous eyes. ]

Is that all? [ Curious, J poses a question with the familiar taunting slant to his words cut away, leaving only a note of patient expectation. ]

for meteion | at the end of lovaseri | cw blood

no subject

voice, whenever binghe's post is over

In Achamoth: A handwritten letter delivered to Makoto's door while he's self-isolating.

communion; an early june evening;

communion; a few days after soviseri event (27th+)

communion, the last day of the soviseri event

for J | shortly after the soviseri event

MISSION FROM THE REGENT

Communion - Post 6th of Firaseri