seawrought - Tumblr blog

[seawrought]

‘ Sure. Just eat this bit of...seafood I grilled for you first, though. ’

"Sea star, love. Don't look at me so!"

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Item: Knuckles of the Golden Clam; adds +1 to Punching damage, plus if you can hold a speck of dirt or gravel in your hand for 24 hours it will turn into a pearl.

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‘ ... ’

"There are many health benefits involved for mekakure! Therefore, everyone should strive to be their best mekakure self! Embrace longer bangs and hidden eyes!! Trust me, I am an expert."

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"Should I grow my bangs out too...?"

‘ Please don't. ’

‘ For your sake and mine... ’

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Shock. Horror. Despair. The emotions hit Highmore all at once, like the messed up pie bits dripping off the Sankta, splattering all over the cobblestone. What the Sea—did she get it all wrong? Misjudged the situation from the start? It was supposed to be a competition to see who could throw their pie the furthest away—right? Not one where you toss the pastry into someone else’s face like a clump of Nethersea Brand.

By the time Malkuth turns towards her, Highmore’s flight or fight reflex finally kicks in and she ducks behind some café’s outdoors display advertising today’s specialties. There’s no way she’s joining this mess. Just imagining returning to the landship covered in pies fills her with dread. People already give her weird looks, anyway. But this would literally take the cake!

Friendship? Comradery? Even just loyalty to a co-worker? Forget all of that. If survival (?) is at stake, Highmore’s own life (??) matters more.

‘ N-no way! ’ , she calls out towards Malkuth, stumbling backwards into some chairs while retreating. Highmore holds up her own pie in defence as if it were a shield, barely fending off the first assault (and leaving the café’s owner with a completely splattered outdoors area to clean). There’s a bang from a trashcan as Highmore crashes into it, still not intent on stopping.

‘ I’m not joining such an inane activityyy! ’ Her voice echoes off the walls of the narrow alleyway into which Highmore retreats. ‘ You’re on your oooowwwn! ’ With that, she turns and runs, as fast and far away as she can get from these horrible Sankta.

If Highmore thinks the church topic has been avoided, she’s right. But if she thinks pictures have been concluded, she’s wrong. So very, very wrong. There’s an undeniably tract of ADHD that cuts a swath through Malkuth’s personality but there are some ideas that won’t die. Like taking pictures of her friends that are cute. It’s going to happen. Later. Shouldn’t something else be happening later?

One thing at a time.

“Not now, Highmore! It’s pie time! Are you ready?? Because I am… lets hit those guys over there! Heheh… fools. Their backs are turned. They’re just asking for it. Watch this! HuuuuuuAA!!!” With impressive gusto and force, and zero subtlety the Kuranta whirls around. The pie is thrown much akin to a colosseum competitor with a discus. Her form is curious, but the execution is effective. The pie spins out of its flimsy tin and impacts one of the Sankta in a splatter. Two for the price of one indeed!

“BWAHAHA! Didja see that? I got that guy so good he—UAH!!! They know we’re playing now find somewhere to hide! What about over there by the—Highmore?!” Had she run off or was the other joining Malkuth? Suffice to say the vanguard will try to rejoin her companion while under suppressing fire by the Sankta and Liberi. The turn of tables isn’t suppressing her enthusiasm in any way. She may not be Lateranian, but it could be argued she shares that spirit!

“It’s like we’re in a battle but without the wounds! Those pies don’t hurt at all!” Malkuth balks with further gusto. A swipe of the finger across her arm where she’d been hit and a num to… “Mmm… these don't taste all that bad either. Simply but good! C’mon! We gotta get back in the fray. Throw your pie!!! I’ll cover you-“

Through whatever source of pies were present, Malkuth has gotten her hands on another one, and getting ready to run right back into the fray of revelers. With her people, you could say.

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Time for a boss fight!

‘ ...What's a Pokemon? ’

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Cool?! Definitely not the word Highmore would use for her current predicament. And it seems like her instincts about this guy were spot-on—no, it’s actually even worse than expected. She eyes the scalpel with a frown. See? Nothing good can come of someone this happy to chat with Doc Warfarin. Though with the vampire, Highmore usually only risks losing her blood, not an entire limb.

‘ How is that the fastest way? ’ she questions as calmly as her ongoing struggle with the painting allows. ‘ It would take hours to cut through my bones with that. You’d need at least a bone saw…and some pain killers… ’

Which probably would have no effect on Highmore anyway, rendering the whole “operation” torture rather than a rescue attempt. And even leaving her lack of enthusiasm at losing an arm aside, the severed limb would be a treasure trove of Seaborn cells. Something a guy like this clearly shouldn’t get his hands on. Shaking her head, she sets a foot against the wall to push herself away and free her arm, prompting further resistance from the painting. Highmore gasps as she’s pulled forward instead, her arm now stuck even beyond the elbow.

‘ I know it makes little sense, but there’s something inside this scroll. Can’t you…stab that instead? ’

Hand raises to chin in thought, bright eyes glancing between the painting and the operator and before long, a wide grin sprawls out alongside a snicker. "Yer got stuck inside a painting?? Now that's cool!!" Unlikely what others would feel, Aak sees the amusement in the situation itself. "Very interesting indeed. How'd ya manage that?!" Curiosity edges him forward, closer to the object holding Highmore's arm hostage.

Another snicker as the request rolls off her tongue. "Why, of course!" He always has the best ideas after all - according to himself, that is. Hand slips into one of his many pockets to fish out a silver scalpel. It is tainted by a reddish substance, but he decidedly doesn't comment on the source of it.

"Yer lucky I got this lil' one with me today!! We could just sever your arm! That's the fastest way of gettin' yer free!!" Nigh manical cackling escapes the man as he readies his toy. "Yer can just grow it back, right???" For all the carelessness people seem to connect with him, Aak does keep a record of the various races inhabiting Rhodes Island. And this one is clearly of an interesting kind! So a little self-restoration should be no issue, right?

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‘ Uhm...fine. ’ It must be a new greeting, after all, and Highmore quietly vows to reread the now apparently updated code of conduct. As befitting this very serious affair, her expression is solemn as she returns the gesture with a grave ‘ ...boop. ’

"Cmon, what're you waiting for?? Boop me back! Boop me back!" There's an unfortunate lack of concern for the other's bewilderment, instead an eager impatience for the reciprocation.

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WOOSH! Malkuth rushes at the Aegir like some sort of hyper predator.

"Boop!!! Gotcha, Haimo~! Hehehehehe!" Just a small bap on the forehead.

‘ Uwah??!? ’

Is this a game? A new form of greeting no one informed her about? Did Malkuth overdose on gelato? So many questions, no answers.

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波音。

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"??? D'ya need some help???" Aak raises a brow, staring at the other. It's unsure whether he means it in the literal way or perhaps in his own way.

Highmore’s face twitches with the hints of a grimace. She has only seen this operator on very few occasions before—their tasks rarely overlapped on field missions, and he otherwise seemed fond of talking to Doctor Warfarin, which is never a good sign. And if this were any other time, Highmore would gladly send him away. Whatever sus meds this guy usually peddles, it would be useless to her, anyway.

Right now, though, she might have no choice but to accept his aid.

‘ …Maybe, ’ she grudgingly admits and makes another attempt to free herself, but to no avail. Her arm remains just as stuck as before, caught halfway in a painted scroll of all things. Why ever she had felt the need to reach for it to begin with, Highmore won’t repeat her mistake soon. Because something or someone inside the scroll keeps pulling on her arm, attempting to drag her deeper into the painting. This, of course, isn’t something Highmore can explain. It makes no sense to begin with.

‘ Do you have any ideas? I…can’t get out. ’ Hopefully, he’ll at least believe that much.

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Leaves an acorn in here.

‘ ? ’

Highmore stares at the inconspicuous object placed beside the rest of her correspondence. An acorn? Did one of the Convalescence Garden folks drop it there by accident? Or maybe it’s a snack? People in Iberia rarely have the means to be picky about food, and some eat acorns to avoid starvation. Or perhaps it’s a message of sorts? If so, she can’t possibly fathom what it might mean. Though, on second thought…

She vaguely recalls reading a book with Victorian children’s stories once. There were creatures known as fairies in there, who used acorns for many things. Some restored their magical powers with them, others used acorns to communicate. Given the Victorian stories’ often gruesome nature, Highmore had closed the book fairly quickly. If only she hadn’t, though. She’d know what to do with this suspicious acorn then.

After all, bloodthirsty fairies are just as likely to exist as ghosts, and considering the spirit haunting her… Well, it’s best not to take any risks here. Maybe if Highmore asks her nicely, Malkuth can help her deal with this cursed object before the fairies can strike. And so, she sends her friend a quick message, which surely will make sense to the Kuranta.

‘ The fairies declared war (maybe). Please help. ’ Sent.

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Doctor having a (hopefully) good time in the company of Highmore and Mizuki. Been a while since I drew such sceneries

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She remains quiet for a long moment. But, after her earlier declaration, there’s no choice but to proceed, no matter how distractingly handsome shirtless Bart might be. (He really should get dressed though—to shield himself from the cold, and spare her from flushing.)

‘ It’s… ’ she begins, urging her voice into her usual calm cadence. ‘ It’s not a matter of opinion. I merely stated facts. And facts don’t change so easily, no matter our intentions. ’

Clearly, Bart’s words reflect the good kind. Painfully so. They’re words spoken from ignorance, and once he learns the whole truth, even his obsession with her hairstyle might not be enough to make up for it.

‘ The question is if you could still accept me despite that. Isn’t it the same for you and for those things you’d rather not tell me? I’m sure whatever reassurances I could give you now wouldn’t put your mind at ease, either. Real acceptance can only come from the truth, after all. But it’ll always remain a risk. ’ She picks up her previously removed sleeves and zips them back onto her arms, as far as the fabric will go.

‘ So, let me begin then, to prove the point. You can still recall those Sea Terrors, correct? You might think they all originate in the sea, but some used to be ordinary beasts or people. But once Seaborn cells find a way into one’s body, they… take over. ’ Sub-consciously, she turns to remove her arm from his sight.

‘ Eventually, anyone afflicted becomes a Seaborn, too—body and mind. There is no way to reverse the process. I wasn’t born half-Seaborn, Bart. I did this to myself. ’ She seeks his gaze, frowning slightly. ‘ But I couldn’t even go through with it. It’s why I’m stuck in the middle. I am a failure because of my own foolish actions.—Do you see now? You’re wrong about me. ’

Various answers vie for his tongue, and Bartholomew draws a breath to speak. Such is the way of heroic spirits, he wishes to explain, left to the vile and wonderous ways history and the people who remain determine their current image. Yet, his voice is silenced by the heavy-handed unease that still lingers, and Bart merely shakes his head to clear the thoughts. Or tries to. 

"Wales, darling. But you're right ... the lessons, then?"   He dons an enthusiastic smile and nods. These lessons will also give him time to think and chart a course on how to sail these waters——

Except the sun dips beneath the horizon, unveiling the night, and Highmore's teaching passes in the blink of an eye before Bartholomew can conjure a single idea. Over and over again, the words played a cadence in his mind; it was a miracle he had managed to keep his mouth shut and not be distracted by them. But if he doesn't get to address the insults soon, the pirate may very well implode. 

Finally unmoored from instruction, Bart sets himself to rights in time to glimpse Highmore's retreating backside.

"Sea star,"  he calls, wading through the dark water after her. It's a series of inelegant splashing, being bogged down by the lake, and a degree of fatigue before Bartholomew can find purchase on the rocky silt and force himself to shore. There, he tries again,   "Highmore, wait."  

His fingertips unwittingly reach forward as he rounds Highmore and abruptly cuts in front. Standing near breathless, bright-eyed, with wet hair matted to the contours of his face is unlikely his best appearance. But that matters little right now. 

"—I don't know why you would call yourself that, but you're not pathetic, stupid, or a failure to me,"  Bartholomew confesses earnestly. "Whether you tell me the reasons or not, I assure you it won't change my mind." 

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It doesn’t look like fun. It looks like wasted sustenance and a huge pain for whatever poor sod has to clean up the mess later. Highmore’s eyebrows briefly twitch with the overwhelming urge to frown. But, upon seeing Malkuth’s expression, it’s clear that it’s already too late to stop to this trainwreck in the making. Even if Highmore refused to go along with this, Malkuth might just join these people, anyway. And who knows what other trouble she’d get into then? She might join a gang of those Sankta terrorists that keep on blowing up random buildings around the city. After all the sweets they’ve both consumed, the sugar must’ve already rendered Malkuth’s thoughts immune to reasonable arguments, and she might start a life of crime right here. Clearly, Highmore can’t let that happen!

Besides, joining this so-called competition will distract the Kuranta from the church stuff. And from taking pictures.

‘ I suppose there’s no harm in checking it out… ’ Highmore posits, purposefully avoiding any phrasing that might suggest she’ll actually join this questionable contest herself. It’s good enough if Malkuth joins and Highmore cheers her on, right? In a very low-energy kind of way. However—

‘ Bwah? ’ she dumbly asks as someone forces a pie onto her hands, and Malkuth promptly receives one as well. Too focused on the Kuranta, she’d underestimated the overflowing enthusiasm of the nearby Sankta. Where do all these people even get all that energy from? Unfathomable.

" Alright, two new recruits for the price of one! " excitable Sankta #1 loudly exclaims for all to hear, drawing further attention to them. They never even answered the question about the competition’s occasion... " C’mon then, do it! Throw the pie! "

‘ Um… Malkuth…you go first. ’ While Highmore will find some hole to disappear in.

Yes, cute. A hundred times cute. Though Malkuth wouldn’t pursue the topic her burning expression heats the pot of compliments for serving later. All it takes is one look at the Aegir to know she’s right! So right! Oh, but at least she didn’t have to ladle any of that out now. The slight hadn’t gone deeper than a remark and respite is found quickly with discussion of their next steps.

“Ueh… As much as the early history of the Sankta is involved with Iberia, I wouldn’t hold my breath on finding information about that here, Highmore. Laterano is pretty insular and all that! But it could still be fun! Y’know?? Exhibits and displays about how they designed some of these buildings! And the people that inspired them! Do you ever think about the people who do that? The architects? Haha.”

Just asking. No particular reason. Though Haimo’s conversational pivot on picture taking too is put on the wayside as the pair find themselves under vicious assault.

“Hey! Why wouldn’t I want to—uah!!! Careful! You almost hit my friend! And—huh?”

The rebuttal finds itself deliciously interrupted by another form of sweets. Sheesh. You throw some cups away only to find flimsy tins right back in your face. Or near to it Laterano really does have a way of keeping you occupied!! Of course, compared to the other, Malkuth is enamored by the development. A fuse is lit and by the Gods she can’t let herself be out-enthusiasm’d even if it was a festive local. Brown eyes are warm embers, but the feverish grin is outright devilish as she turns to look back at Highmore.

Ah, already two steps ahead but realizing, again, that her momentum is not always reciprocated. And yet apology is smattered with pleading within her expression. A yearning that refuses to be suppressed.

“….hey… hey Highmore, what if… what if we joined them… Highmore look! Look at all the pies! Doesn’t that look like fun? I never imagined we’d get to see something like this during our visit. Wonder what the occasion is. Oh. But. Uuu… mmm…” The Kuranta is practically cantering in place the way she steps from one foot to the other. Her tablet carefully tucked into her pack she’s ready to take off at a moment’s notice. “Please??”

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haimo hugging live reaction