#neo.phase 2

[noeulneo]

influence

@neoyani​ / phase two, in afterlife

since getting acquainted with this side of elysium, noeul’s always felt off. like a fish out of water. like he doesn’t belong, because in most ways, he doesn’t. at least he’s always thought so until tonight. when, right after getting out of the subway, muscle memory alone guides him to the afterlife. buildings no longer bathed in neon haze blend together, undistinguishable from one another, and yet noeul knows the way. this is his only source of comfort as his radio link to his sister only feeds back static, no matter how many times he whisper shouts her name into his wrist. and when he switches the frequency to his station, successfully receiving a report back, this only makes his worry rise. 

so it’s with a rapidly beating heart, anxious and stressed, that he enters afterlife. it’s always a buzz of activity, but it’s even more so tonight. too many warm bodies filled into one building, making it hard to squeeze his way through to the bar. he could use a drink. or several. he asks the frazzled bartender for as much, skipping his usual order of cheap beer and going straight to whiskey, neat. his wires are all crossed, noeul the undercover versus regular oh noeul, and the first sip he takes does little to help reconcile the two. still, he takes the glass with him, throwing himself back into the sea of people, hoping to find a less crowded corner of the room. 

as he pushes through, he bumps a little too hard into someone and curses as the liquid sloshes violently in his glass, threatening to fall out. “sorry,” he mumbles a little too aggressively for an apology, stress evident in his voice. “oh, yani. hey, sorry,” he repeats, much lighter now when he meets yani’s eyes, “too many damn people here.” noeul smiles, small but there. yani has that effect on him, comforting. easy. the ramming against his chest slows because of it, and he jokes, “looks like we all had the same idea, i don’t know what to think about that.”

[neoyani]

eye of the beholder.

the streets are dark but they aren’t quiet. the tension is palpable in the air, anxiety that runs rampant. who could have done this and what does it mean? speculation is the name of the game, a fever that spreads relentless through the city. maybe yani has her own ideas about what’s going on and maybe she doesn’t. she’s not important enough to be a target in anything, anyway. she’s just a misplaced biologist slash witch who doesn’t know good sense from her left elbow, and that’s the long and short of it. 

so while chaos reigns and the world crumbles, yani decides it’s time to head in search of a drink, likely. she’s more or less adjusted to the darkness now, though she’s beginning to work on a tension headache from all the squinting - something that fei is happy to remind her of each time she tells him to slow down already. she’s got her arm through his, relying on him to carry the bulk of navigation through these familiar streets, knowing that he’s the lucky fool with the night vision. 

“who knew one of your stupid mods would come in handy on a non-illegal venture?” she laughs out, as if she has any position to tease him for the illegality of his job when she runs drugs and manages supply for the largest operation in elysium. but yani is happy to be a hypocrite if it means she can rag on her childhood friend, in fairness. “stop gloating and get us to the bar, i need something atrociously alcoholic to cut this headache off.” she complains, and if she presses a little closer as darkness looms from the edges of suddenly unfamiliar alleyways, she doesn’t admit it. it’s strange, to have a place she knows so well become so starkly unfamiliar.

@neofei shortly before the third phase