#coralcalypso

[truculentchorus]

@coralcalypso

:O) Condesce my good bitch, the for you tab gargles bulge with the grace of a lamprey mouthed orphaner. I suggest that thoust should like other posts.

[m3wsday]

:33 < @coralcalypso hmmmmmm appurroaching most inquisitively... giving mew an exploratory bite...

[two2day]

==> Mage: Sleep (ft. @coralcalypso )

You are the MAGE OF DOOM.

This is a title you feel should mean something to you, but meaning has been hard to grasp these past two days.

What were you doing?

Telling someone some bad news, you think. Someone you went to a party with, someone you have spoken to frequently as of late.

Was she your friend? You do not recall.

Maybe you just need to think harder.

As you try to pull yourself together, you feel something massive stir in turn. Something starts to whisper, a lone voice you recall being accompanied by many like it.

You remember their choir pressed against the inside of your skull. They were nothing like the usual chatter that resided within you, they were always scrambling to claw their way out.

That's right. You were trying to stop that, weren't you?

You could feel it now, the hold you'd settled over everything around you. The more you pushed to remember, the less focused you were.

The less focused you were, the more likely they were to slip from your hands. To go places they shouldn't.

But what happened? It was right there, you just had to reach a little further.

She'd brought something for the two of you to share. You don't remember what the occasion was.

You only know you begun to feel strange after. That strangeness distantly lingered.

And now you're here, wherever "here" was.

Keeping hold.

[err505]

M!A Freaky Friday with @coralcalypso

> Why do things keep happening to you.

[absylphe]

Sefoni's stretching her arms over her head as if she's just gotten out of a great yoga session, splattered with the same viscera as you are. Everything is dead or unconscious now. All that's left to hear is wind, your heartbeat, Sefoni's humming, and the idling engines of a transport shuttle.

Something else -- a stuttering, anxious pulse. Far too quick to be Sol.

One more left.

You take slow, intentional steps up the catwalk and lazily turn your pupils up toward the lone pilot left over, training a rifle on you with unsteady hands. An ambush. He must have thought himself quite clever, hiding for this long while everyone died around him. You blink intently, head already starting to throb as you make eye contact.

You stare at each other. It burns discomfort through you like newspaper catching alight, but you hold his gaze for as long as it takes.

His hands shake. His finger tenses on the trigger aimed right between your horns, but he can't quite commit. Confusion, resistance, panic -- all flit across his face. You're too tired to panic. Too angry to loosen your iron grip on his autonomy.

"You have been working too hard," you murmur, watching his spine snap to attention, straight as a pole at the sound of your voice. "Go ahead, take a nap."

Clawed fingers flex, resist, shake with the effort, even as the wrists and arms move swift and smooth, mechanically. A roundabout motion, as if practiced.

With a full-bodied brutality you doubt you could muster up in your current post-strife comedown, the pilot crashes the butt of his rifle into the side of his own head, sending him hurtling horn-first into the board -- horns smash into the console, sparks shooting everywhere. Something oozes from the controls. Not blood, though, you'd recognize blood.

Sickkk.

Fingers to his carotid, as if you can't hear his pulse from here. He's unconscious.

You don't let yourself feel bad. He's only about thirty meters from a hospital, after all.

"Is there anything fun left to do in here?" Sefoni bounces up from behind you smelling like a rainbow drinker buffet, picking flecks of gore out of her hair and wiping her face with the remains of a sheer veil. "I could keep going."

"No, I'm afraid that was the last one. Come along." You pretend not to notice the little pout, the sulking as she follows behind you. "If you had gotten here earlier, there would have been more left for you."

Sefoni gives a maniacal little grin, all teeth and gleaming eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry for trying not to draw attention by acting suspiciously at the party."

"You should be," you accuse, a fondness in your voice even as you rub a thumb over your bruised knuckles. "I am glad you showed up, though."

The pod is enormous, filled with something that looks like sopor, though you can't smell it. Even from this close, it's hard to hear Sol's pusher. The material is dense.

The console it's attached to just reads like... gibberish. Tapping the haptic interface with your knuckle pulls up requirements for administrator credentials, mandatory blood sample, ocular scan, password, override key. Hal pipes up in the corner of your glasses to ask for just a second, but you're tired. And you're sick of this place.

Palms pressed to the surface of the pod, you close your eyes and let the space between you flood into your perception, hyperawareness singing across every nerve in your body. The molecules that make up Sol, the molecules that make up everything else. The exact delineation between stasis goo and pod exterior -- the silhouette of your friend's shape begins to take form. You pick out every strand of hair, every tiny membrane on her tail, each lash and itty bitty bump and pore. Her missing horns, her crooked fangs.

The pod is not too terribly dissimilar to an avocado, if you think about it.

Once you're satisfied you won't nick her accidentally, you press lightly against the pod with your palms. There's a clatter behind you as a razor-thin, perfect ring of metal you have teleported falls and clatters to the floor, dancing in a circle as it flattens to the ground. As if caught by surprise, the equal remaining halves of the pod split apart and fall to the floor with a clatter.

The viscosity of the slime gives you just enough time to reach forward and pick Sol out of it before she can fall to the floor, pulling her close to your chest, breathing weakly and covered in ooze. You take a step back, cognizant of your aching back, Sefoni behind you. You lean a shoulder against her, make Her part of You. The shape of you both -- the shape of all three of you, a 3D object rendered in space. Lightly, she places a hand on your back.

Reinforcements in 15 seconds. Escape plan?

"Take a deep breath," you instruct Sefoni -- it's the only warning you give before you're all standing in your transportalizer room, dripping slime and viscera all over the floor.

[feeling-horsey]

What options would come up if you could “right-click” people?

D --> This is a really weird one, Sefoni D --> Um, maybe: D --> Kiss D --> Fawn D --> Glare D --> Disarm D --> I don't know e%plode D --> E%plode would technically be an option

[graviconscientia]

△ what is your favorite color

Red! But oh, how I love blue so very much now.

0/10.

[orphanerdualscars]

@coralcalypso started following you!

Ahoy, a young fuchsia, nice t' meet ye, I be Orphaner Dualscar. Wha' would ye wants me t' call young ma'am?

[djsangos]

؟

shes cool got great fashion taste and i think we should fight

platonically

shes some kind of empress though so i might get murdered

not by her but by her bodyguard or something

[truculentchorus]

@coralcalypso

:O) Condesce I respect the value in taking a leave of absence, but charge your phone.

[the-dolorosa]

@coralcalypso A young fuchsia with lovely hair. Hello, dear. I'm The Dolorosa, but you can call me Rosa. How are you today?

[two2day]

Wriggling Day tournament! Captor is..

Having a great time! More people should hold tournaments, they're a great way to spend excess energy!

His weapon is a metallic bō staff, though he only uses it if the individual he's up against is also armed.

Throughout the tournament he keeps his psionic use limited to things such as telekinesis and sensing the space around him as he's not brought his cane into the arena– and for most of it, he sticks true to that!

He was simply far too lured by the siren song of a beam struggle, and attempted to use 🤏 just a smidge to fire back

(Ft. @coralcalypso )

Unfortunately his output has a hair-trigger and he wound up decimating half the arena! Whoopsie!

He's so embarrassed about it he just drops out after, the float away of shame..

[err505]

Who are you? Do you have something to do with Sefoni?

People on Tumblr want us to say hello !

[br455]

@coralcalypso

#Sweet jacket! And I ADOR-E the tattoos.

Thanks. Made the jacket myself.

The marks on my arm move around like smoke, just slowly. Pretty trippy to watch.

[therealslimstrider]