#𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 ; in character.

[s-essha]

[ BREAK - IN ] - Break into the school’s dorms, checking to see the status with the poor weather and destruction. 

“......   D-Damn...   Why’d it have to be our college of all places.....?”

Royal Sword couldn’t have even taken a small bit of this hit instead?   Why’d it have to be all Night Raven,  weather crystal and all?   The only upside was that Ortho,  though just barely and miraculously,  didn’t become part of the piles of rubble and managed to successfully evade the chance to join the rest of it.   The idea alone was enough to shoot a resounding,  bone-chilling shiver straight down his spine,  jerking ill posture into place and slowly beginning to sweat.   His head shakes,  fighting against the wave of terrible realization before opting to wipe away even the hypothetical thought ——   it made him nauseous,  and he didn’t like it,  so it was time to move on.

Gold optics clue in on the little bits of demolished glass and plastic amongst remnants making at least Diasomnia seem more and more like an abandoned castle from a fantasy horror;   shattered stone,  crumbling beneath even his steps,  obscuring them just enough that without a hefty perception build they’d probably go unnoticed.   In any case,  why he was shocked to see the aftermath of this all should’ve not been an issue,  but it was.   Quietly,  his steps shifted closer to Ortho,  fisting hands into his pockets.   Those were broken cameras,  he thinks.

Biting back a desperate plea to just go back to Ramshackle was more than a challenge, but he digresses, “......   Catching anything?”

[s-essha]

cont. from here / @rove-bogge

WHAT KIND OF HELLISH PROTOCOL?! ———   a snap of his jaw signs unbridled terror,  agape and steadily growing in response to Rove’s quip that was,  with time,  really settling in.   Blue ember crackling at the notion while drawing back his resting hand to instead quickly jolt forward,  sifting through groups of organized windows / files to locate the one program he needed;   a system of cameras,  some around campus,  but focusing specifically on the one outside his own door peering right at Rove's figure.   

      “D-Do you even know how your own programs run?!   T-They can’t even be executed without functioning hardware!!!”   he yelps,  a volume no level of high-security door is trapping in any time soon.

Racking his head around the situation is turning into a mess he never could've expected to sit through. That protocol had to be impossible, right? Common as viral hacks were, they didn't execute without a respective catalyst. There was no way unless the computer was somehow still running,  so doubt remained palpable.   The only logical explanation lies in Rove having snagged equipment and smacking it into his own,  but even that sounded far-beyond idiotic, or at least should've been impossible.

      “A-And trying to schmooze me up with snacks isn’t really h-helping your case!   Those are like,  c-common items anyone can get..! Like, who are you trying to fool, dude?”

[s-essha]

[ TAG ]  -  Recreate a ghost chase. Sender chases the receiver around to help them practice escaping from an enemy.

"BOO!" He ambushes the Ignihyde housewarden from one of the storage units, threadbare fabric draped over him as if mimicking a ghost. He offers no time for the older student to react before he suddenly charges at him, hands curled into claws.

“S-S-STOP IT!!!”

Talk about dramatic —   Ruggie wasn’t that much of a threat beneath linen sheet,  not trying particularly hard to roleplay this out in the end. Or, if that was supposed to be the intention,  Idia at least held the pleasure of being able to tell him it was child’s play.   Strikingly similar to Ortho when they were younger,  but that was something he’d face with less fear and more tact when the memory didn’t serve as a beacon of guilt washing over him all over again.   Of course,  that fueled the ultimate take off ——   and even if out of shape,  he moved way too quick.

“G-Gah,  t-this is..!”   unsurprisingly, words entwine with desperate wheezing,  and barely in the midst of legs trying to carry him as quickly  ( towards his room )  as possible,  “So—  H-Haa— beyond regulations! ~   W-What happened to enrolling at a university!......   W-Way beyond normal———   Way too problematic!”

Between all of the commotion, rampant footsteps on Ramshackle's hardwood may have been the most alarming of all if not for the actual circumstances surrounding them.

[s-essha]

‍ 'ARE YOU OKAY?'

...      Muscle had jumped far in his jaw,  nowhere near ignorant to a rather stale draft hitting the nape of his neck ——   how did it even hit there anyway?   Head full of cold flame should serve as +50 DEF at an absolute minimum.   Normal air doesn’t just pass through something like that,  and natural sciences wasn’t exactly his strong suit,  that was just basic knowledge.   You don’t feel a breeze through thick ember when it more often than not doesn’t shift minus an idle wave,  and you don’t go lich-cold to skin’s touch,  and sweat profusely,  by doing nothing unless you’re  ( although relatively common for Idia,  he was sure he wasn’t )  sick.

Maybe a lack of sleep was getting to him.   It’s not normal to watch your surroundings vanish,  even when you want them to,  and it’s not normal to smell putrid rot.   A rot that,  nose-sensitive as he tends to be,  the source or scent was far beyond him.   Maybe if he was a beastman,  or even half of one,  he could figure it out more.   Logic attempts to null and consequently ignore the paranoid itches clawing in the back of his skull.   That was for the better.   If not better,  then straight-up for the best. 

AFTER ALL,  magic was a thing of this world,  and to some degree,  that was a detriment ———   it made the mortifying plots of plenty of low-budget  ( and high-budget )  horror flicks more than plausible / possible,  and like everything else deemed an ungracious negative,  Idia didn’t like that either.   Whatever normalcy he begged any Olympian god for was,  like usual,  not going to happen.   That was what he had to settle with.

Whoever had touched his shoulder,  he jumped away from, ignoring their consolation in favor for just fleeing typically the moment his sharp inhale catches up to racing mind.   The fruits of his response chalk up into a meek shake of the head, mortified. He needs to get back to his room,  ASAP.

[s-essha]

OPEN 01 : PHANTOM PAIN.

Damn,  it was that late already? ———   gold hues peeked their way from the monitor's blue light,  pretending to ignore the quest plastered across the screen.   He accepted it,  naturally;   there was every ounce of confidence in him that it would take five-minutes tops,  and maybe that’s what made it lack appeal so severely.   An endless loop of redundancy until a fated release to deliver salvation from impending boredom.   It was so boringly un-funny that it became hard to imagine he’d ever make it out alive from the same-old same-old.   This was the bed he made,  senselessly plundering through main story without a second thought,  and now he’d have to sleep in it.   Not that it made the itching restlessness any less noticeable.

No matter where eyes land,  it’s difficult to ignore the elephant in the room;   no new releases means less content to stuff minds with.   There’s a vapid difference between casually playing games to kill time and immersing yourself in all it has to offer to drown out everyone if not everything.   Not even a decent DLC graces the presence of latest gaming,  like,  how is that even possible?!   With a market as new and diverse and advancing day-by-day…   With that news,  not even the sweetest of DIY candy kits can lift moods for the collective group,  but Idia especially.

An idle stretch states his ultimate point;   maybe it was time for bed,  or at least to rest the few muscles he had used.   In activities pause,  the soreness bit hard enough that a  ( previously )  quiet presence of tender muscle was slowly reaching the point of insufferable.   Frustrating,  but to be expected,  much to any nerd's dismay.   Maybe he had been craving a break all along.   Arms locked behind his head,  exhaling shakily before rising from his chair with a pop that shakes ——   breaking down at 20 years old?!   Just what was his health stat last left at?!   It was hard to determine whether or not that came from his spine or his hip,  dubiously lucid,  bending palms-down over the desk to at least shut off the computer and pick back up where he left off later.   No way he had the brainpower to sit through an extra hour of grinding,  no matter the difficulty LVL.

Whirring shuts to silence.   THAT leaves only two light sources left;   the one from his hair,  and the one from his phone,  preemptively tucked into his hand,  and it’s duty as a light source being taken lukewarmly serious before an unceremonious flop onto his bed, offering no effort made to attempt crawling beneath the duvet. A duvet not even made for the day because re-making it every day was way too impractical.   Clothed enough that the dorm’s sterile chill hardly registered,  so unless he really wanted the extra boost in warmth,  that was also pointless,  yet dwelling on that of all things seemed more draining than previous attempts at entertaining himself.

      “Crimson-shiiiii............”

A groan so distressed anyone would think he was asked to repeat the year.   Clicking open his phone aids his pouting.   Even Crimson was busy!   Crimson!   His online comrade,  his number one virtual confidant!   Placing blame there though wasn’t the idea;   with a family like Crimson’s,  work would definitely be cut out for him too.   Ortho alone was a handful.   A welcomed handful,  though. Idia was left to assume the same about the other's family. Fingers scroll shiftless through messages,  none received since midday yet craving a response, lazy or not, and lips tug into a grin while skimming back through older messages,  shiftless scrolling taking him back far enough to re-live the messages from the moment. Memo to Idia; when they return, they've got raids planned and scheduled.

Focusing on the suggestion rather than drowning in sulk eased the gloom,  anyway.   Not that sitting in pitch-black save for an ever-dimming amalgamation of flamed light presented itself as an 'happy place' of any kind,  but it was better than turning on the lights to uncloak the fruits of his ( to be honest, dysfunctional ) labor.

[s-essha]

continued from here / @coeurabyssal

At least that made two of them who weren’t exactly average ———   even so,  recovering from the fall ( which was already making frail bones ache as though he’d fallen from too high of a height in some game rather than a mere few feet off his height in quick seconds post awful-luck occurrence ) didn’t make the sight of the other drenched and looming with a sense of conviction much easier.   Rather than the usual visage of the ultra-SSR, princely appearance of Malleus Draconia,  crown royalty and soon-to-be king of the Valley of Thorns,  the image of him came more along the lines of some fantasy horror manga antagonist waiting to deal the final blow.

Of course,  they both were drenched,  but if there was any guessing to be done,  Idia had the threat-level of a sopping wet kitten rather than being more than prepared to fire up the finishing move on said sopping wet kitten.   Gold hues reflect well enough in the dark at least,  flame dimmed by the weather’s grace.   Sam’s shop was looking about off the mission by now ——   this is bad,  but like,  really,  really bad.   Frantically, lank form scoots back as far as he can manage in a blind panic —   and with that resounding click of heels,  skin is jumped out of with an additional pitiful whelp.   He’d strayed from the direct pathing,  too,  and was more than aware of now being covered hands and underneath in bits of mud.   That,  too,  made him want to jump out of his skin if not his entire form.

The worst part was that prominent boom from the others’ voice,  too.   Entrancing as it was like thunder,  some consequential, unobstructed warning for what may be soon to come.

“M-M-Malleus-shiii...”   he whimpers,  just as unfortunately pathetic as the rest of his IRL character,  “U-Um,  you should...   Just i-ignore me,  right?   Wouldn’t that be for the better?   Y-You know,  like a worm,  or...”

[s-essha]

[ RATIONS ] "Here..." Rove said passing Idia a small packed bento box. "I made extra rations so I thought I might as well give the extras to you..." He mumbled feeling his face heat up a little. Quickly trying to think of an excuse to not look soft. "After all, can't have you starve and leave Ignihyde at the mercy of someone who kicks my bugs out." He muttered the same excuse he always gave. Dollface flapping her wings on his head in response.

"Anyway be sure to eat all of it. I'll be mad if you have left overs." He added. Inside once unwrapped, Idia would find two half sandwiches, one Katsudon and one omelette. A cat shaped onigiri and some fruits and veggies cut in the shapes of butterflies and moths. Rather childish but reminiscent of an anime that the dorm had watched recently during a stream party.

RARE ITEM DROPS around this time of day?   Talk about being taken aback,  expression twisted into raised eyelids,  pupils dilated and hands itching to inspect the meal as though there was a terrible catch ——   or,  that was rather replaced by sudden narrowing of vision,  darting right towards Rove like some terrible grievance was placed by this sudden inbox gift.   Friends list status,  dubious.   The only thing stopping him from out-right declining was his own HP which,  having taken countless hit after hit with the more than pressured socialization that this entire Ramshackle incident was entailing, was getting low.   HP that was so low,  it was almost questionable not to accept the gift.

“——   W-What?”   Idia chokes on his own words,  disbelief suspended momentarily as fingers twitch in place.   Eye contact lacks in their little shared interaction,  and the fault lay entirely on him,  trying to seem more interested in the ground rather than the meal placed right in front of him when it was definitely the opposite.   Hiding out in a room with minimal groceries due to delivery complications wasn’t really doing him favors,   “I—   I-Isn’t there someone else?   Like,  wh-what about...”

He trails off,  pursing lips together,  anxious.   “I-I mean,  couldn’t you just,  like,  take it yourself?   You don’t really,  uh,  have to... Give it to me, IG...”

[s-essha]

[ NRC ] [ PATROL ] - To make rounds patrolling the campus at night with the receiver,  keeping your eyes out for any suspicious activity. ((👀!!))

YOU CAN’T JUST PAIR THE SCHOOL’S BIGGEST LOSER WITH A TOTAL IKEMEN,  it’s just not fair at all to the former———   it’s practically disgusting,  actually.   It makes them both look like laughing stocks,  especially after skyfall.   Who’d want to curse a total prince-like character type in ( practically literal ) armor to walk at the side of the RARE: HERMITTED PYRE alerting nearly everyone of their surroundings rather easily;   going stealth wasn’t possible with a quite arcane,  impossible-to-break familial blood bond rendering you as a ( again,  practically literal ) beacon in comparison to the general population.   Suddenly, and without any proper warning,  the stress of this little raid bites at him hard enough to elicit a crackling hiss of flame,  body turning suddenly towards the complete opposite direction,  exhaling from deep in his chest.

“L-L-Look,  let’s just go back...   This is,  like,  awful.   Bottom of the barrel.   IDRC if you want to keep doing this job,  t-that’s fine,  b-but...”   of course he pleas,  who’d expect anything else?  He hardly even left his room.   And now he had no room,  additionally having been thrown on this little surprise expedition he’s no where skilled enough for,  feeding into his already cranky ( and frankly terrified ) mood from every other sleight of hand that seemed to pass on a dead-straight path towards him,   “...... C’mon.   Sebek-shiiii...   He can take my place, right? That'd totally be for the better, too... Since you can't solo it.”

[s-essha]

[ TAG ]  -  Recreate a ghost chase. Sender chases the receiver around to help them practice escaping from an enemy. / hope u can run fast idia 🫡

RUNNING is a skill ———   and unsurprisingly,  like most if not all skills,  they require tedious,  dedicated hard work ( and time ) to LEVEL UP into it's absolute highest capability.   That being said,  RNG was a funny thing;   while some were more blessed in terms of how easily they could level up specific skills,  i.e. running,  not everyone got that advantage.

Idia did not have that advantage.   By graceless grab of the shoulder,  there’s no use not giving in to every single screaming point in his body;   sharp,  twisting stabs in already weak ribs made no mistake of logging on amidst everything else.   That wasn’t even mentioning how hard it felt to breathe,  having flailed and even sprawled out across the floor in defeat lucky #7.   TL;DR,  the underclassman chasing his tail did have that advantage,  leaving Idia paying the -300 HP,  MP,  and Mental Fortitude consequences for this little practice-mode ( his ultimate failure,  no doubt )

      “Jack-shi,”   the words come in gasps,  a brutal choke on a lack of air sending him into a sweaty coughing fit ——   all he could hope and pray for was that no one was looking,   “H-Haa...   Ghk–   Jeez,  dude,  is it impossible f-for you to give your senior a break?!—”

The floor is so cold,  it feels nice against thin skin.   Maybe wearing his usual ‘uniform’ didn’t exactly help in this scenario, practically LARPing Spiritcatchers because of the universities problematic oddities. Go figure!

“This is so tiresome..!   A-And totally rigged!”