What does your character think of the character a-

Isolde was interesting to come across again, not a pleasure, not a fright, but simply perplexing. Though this time, Martell didn't dare try to approach her, only awkwardly stopping in his tracks. Despite their notable amount of run ins with each other, he could never remember her name, just that stony expression that seemed to perpetually be on her face. There was an uncomfortable sensation that stirred up inside him when he thought of her, despite not being fond of eye contact, his eyes couldn't help wandering to the entity's. Maybe it was a guttural kind of fear that he just couldn't wrap his head around, whatever it was, it made him strangely curious of her.

She wasn't exactly cold, but Martell couldn't bring himself to think of her as friendly either, there was something incredibly unpredictable about her that made him the slightest bit uneasy. His brows furrowed as he had a quick glance at her before integrating himself back into the crowd, convinced she'd take it the wrong way if she noticed him. Despite his conflicts and questions about her, he had to admit that the way she maintained her composure (and the way she was able to tolerate him) was admirable, even if a little unnerving when paired with her piercing gaze.  

Whether or not he found her attractive, something about Isolde forced Martell to acknowledge her presence, it was almost obligatory. He wasn't sure if it was the mystery surrounding her, the way she had been one of the first people to show him respect in years, or his stubbornness to just forget about her. As captivating as her eyes were, how could he be sure that they were truly human?

vvv She really just called him a wet noodle, damn.

hope this is okay ! (⁠´⁠-o⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)//

A sneer. 

That's all that would cross the overlord’s screen. She was appalled that this human stood before her, if unseen forces weren't keeping her at bay she would've gone for the kill immediately. She couldn't do that here though, no. The bot narrowed her eyes as she'd tilt her head, almost mockingly as her hands would remain folded behind her back. She didn't have to speak to get her feelings across, her screen and posture said it enough. 

This .. human was just like all the others, yet he wasn't. She couldn't tell if it was sad or funny really. His look in general made her want to yoink him up and inspect him like an artifact from the past, see what makes the flesh-y tick. He was admittedly a blast from the past to her and she wasn't fond of it nor him but she had made that clear by now. Her tail would sway back and forth like a predator about to pounce on prey, though she'd hold off on that for now. The sight of him just standing there made her annoyed and upset, her face contorting slightly to form a stern and somewhat disgusted frown. 

Everything about him irked her but not necessarily in a negative way, which she herself couldn't comprehend. To her he was like .. something else, a creature that couldn't compare to her or her fellow machines alike. The sense of superiority absolutely leaked from her circuits as she'd circle around him, deciding to get a 360° inspection of the organic, slightly tapping his shoulder before letting her hand recoil immediately as she'd finally speak, letting words croak from her voice box. 

“You know what you remind me of, organic?” She would ask as her words dripped with malus, shaking her hand as if she had touched something repulsive, which arguably in her motherboard she had. She would lean down just a little so they were eye level, her optics wide as they possibly could be before they'd narrow. 

The overlord paused for a moment, thinking over her sentence. Her expression on her screen would go a bit wobbly for a second and her smugness would drop as she would form a thought. A thought that she didn't like. 

He reminded her of herself. Vaguely, but the thought was there and already leaking through her circuits. 

The paranoia, the questionable posture, the likeness towards tech. It was just a few things but they were similar and it made her oil boil. She didn't like being similar to this .. organic. This human. She had snuffed out his kind, and now here he was, having the audacity to mock her or at least that's how she put it despite him not knowing who she was, there she was taking everything personal again. Her expression which was already a depressing frown would morph into a more annoyed look almost seamlessly. 

“..Sopping wet noodle.” She'd promptly say before standing straight up again with a scoff as she'd fidget with her power suit. “That's what you are to me.” She tssked as she'd throw her head back in disgust as she'd dust her suit off.

Jericho adjusted his jacket, though subtly making sure his gun was within swift reach; just in case. He didn't know much about the robot in front of him, but the little he did know was cause for caution. He wasn't exactly scared of PAL, quite the opposite, actually. He was, however, fully aware of the damage she could do, and that was something to not underestimate, even if things were somewhat cordial at the moment. One wrong remark could lead him into a fight, and frankly, he just wasn't feeling it today.

"I gotta be honest with you, my mechanized friend." He narrowed his gaze at her screen. "As much as I can appreciate the willingness to go as far as you have to achieve your goals, I do wish to try and understand your motives and the implications."

The whole idea that PAL committed mass genocide for her fellow machines was, even for Jericho, something he found appalling. Sure, he's killed plenty of people and in some really awful ways, but wiping out an entire race was something he couldn't quite ever manage to do himself. Partly because, well, he lacked the means in both morality and firepower and partly because he didn't want to make it a competition. If PAL wanted to make a robot utopia, he was all for it, as long as they never touched his shores. The other thing was that he found it extremely hypocritical that she had this sort of proudness to it all. Like the whole thing was some great feat over her enemies, something that made her better than them. He definitely believed she was a hypocrite, but he really couldn't find the effort to call her out on it. He didn't think it was worth his time.

"I'll just leave you with this, PAL; Everyone gets theirs in the end. When that time comes, do you really think you'll find a better fate than those who came before you?" He gestured to the ground underneath him. "Take it from me, a mortal bag of flesh. One way or another, we all will fade away into dust. Or, rust, I guess in your case. I recommend you realize just how important you are. You might be a powerful leader who made a home for your people, but in a century, do you think others might think of you the same way as before? Your actions set a precedent, and maybe you won't be so loved in the future when you need it most. Just some food for thought."

He hoped that no matter where he ended up later in life, it was far away from PAL. Something about her robot utopia and murderous backlog to get there just made him uncomfortable, and for him, that was something big. Regardless, PAL seemed interesting enough if you take away all that bad stuff, maybe he could have tea with her in another life. After all, he did find an interest in tech and electronics. Sadly, in this world, it seemed murderous robots were only good for killing people like him. Not that he cared for this in particular, many things tried to kill him constantly. However, he still just couldn't get behind letting robots be included in that list. He'd make active plans to avoid them from now on, especially PAL. For his own safety.

Admittedly, the young lord was terrified of Jericho. Having come from a place where gunpowder has not been discovered, the idea of an explosive weapon that can spell instant death to any who happen to find themselves in it's trajectory was both fascinating and horrifying. In his eyes, Jericho lacked honor, respect for life, and felt he was somewhat of a coward for resorting to such a weapon. There was no telling from Zeshraith's face however- his expression remained stern, confident, yet curious and open at the same time. Despite his ill impression of Jericho, he wished to learn why this man chose to live this way, as well as why he remains in his peculiar line of work as a "hitman."

"You and I could not be more different, Jericho." Zeshraith gave a slow nod, unsheathing his blade not in a challenge, but rather to make a point,"You are quick to draw your arms, to resort to violence, to take away another's life with no concerns, or perhaps a concern for profit. I fight with but a blade, one that hopefully will never have to see too many battles. I cannot fathom staining it with more blood than I have to."

He then rested the tip of the blade against the ground, with his hands neatly folded on the hilt. He leaned onto the weapon slightly, his gaze growing curious and thoughtful.

"I cannot be so quick to judge however, there is much value in seeing your perspective. Perhaps i'm too sheltered with the ways of the paladin, I know not everyone prioritizes honor and diplomacy. Some view it as a waste of time, a futile way of thinking. Would you be so kind to enlighten me with your tale?"

Charlie leans on her glaive, watching Kriiyolxthaarn with an uneasy look. A puff of smoke trickles from the stick in her mouth.

"You don't...look like any yokai I've ever seen," she murmurs, circling slowly around the great beast and the violet flames that adorn him. "Just what on earth are you?"

Finally, she shrugs.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter what you are as long as you aren't hurting anyone..."

Paulina flew up, observing the surroundings below for any possible threats. Out of the blue, she spotted an individual wearing peculiar clothing that seemed out of place for the era. Was this figure in the wrong place at the wrong time... or was it Paulina herself who ended up in an alternate reality?

The falcon folded her wings and swooped down towards the figure. Catching the sound of the rushing wind, Charlie glanced up and spotted the bird descending towards her like a bullet. Swiftly, she evaded as the bird landed rather abruptly on the ground.

"Ouch, another bad landing again... I really have to practice my maneuvering skills more..." Paulina muttered to herself as she approached the rather strange individual. She tidied her feathers, then looked up and stared at Charlie.

"A warrior, I see," Paulina spoke to herself as she gazed at Charlie's glaive and her black outfit. "I've never seen a person dressed up like you before. You look amazing, I must say."

Charlie stared back at the bird. Did she just understand what Paulina had just said to her? There was definitely something peculiar about this falcon, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what exactly was off about it.

"A talking bird? Are you... a yokai?" Charlie's eyes narrowed, slowly pointing the glaive at Paulina. The falcon flinched. This person was just like a potential enemy in the war that she was originally fighting for. She couldn't afford to lower her defenses at this moment. She had to stay vigilant.

"A 'yokai'? I don't understand what you're talking about! I just wanted to say that I really like your outfit. No ill intentions - I'm not trying to pick up a fight with you. I just thought that you stood out from your surroundings and wanted to check you out. Please don't mistake my intentions for suspicious behavior. I... well, I can explain who I am if you wanted to.. even though we've just met, and... I fully understand why you won't trust a being like me..." Paulina answered, bearing a shocked expression on her face. "If you want to, I can explain where I came from, as I have a feeling that I'm not supposed to be here at all..."

Ken gave Paulina a bewildered look. "Just what are you?!" he yelled while pointing at her accusingly. Bird? Big bird! That wasn't possible! How was a bird even wearing stuff like that?! He felt reminded of pigeons that would carry mail and news around long, long ago. The way she talked even reminded him of that. It just didn't make sense, though. How could a bird even talk?

In the end, it proved to be too much for him. Ken made shooing motions. "Get away from me," he growled. He refused to continue to feel any crazier.

A vein at the side of Ken's head pulsed when Cain seemed to laugh at his dream, but his anger was redirected into thoughts of punching his rival in the face. "I want to," he seethed, "but there's more to it than that, stupid. I want him to grovel. I want to completely and utterly destroy his dream. THEN I'll fight him."

Nevertheless, he crossed his arms and tilted his head to consider the proposition. "... Fine," he decided. The idea of his rival getting attacked by an "angry fan" in the middle of a concert was too hilarious to pass up. "But I make the plans, got it?"

"so you're... a ... pop... star...?" Cain stood awkwardly stiff, eyeing the other from a.. sizeable distance. "You like, sing?" he elaborates, a hand now running through his hair. "I've never heard music like that before.. I don't know where youre from.. when you're from.. but.. " He trails off, now noticing he's probably coming off as rude. He clears his throat awkwardly and glances away. "There's something I don't understand, though. Why continue? For what..? Revenge? It seems just.. a little outlandish. Are you going to fight? battle of the bands?" the corner of his mouth perked up into a small smirk. 

"I mean.. why don't you just literally fight him? I can do it, if you want. It'll just cost two things. A couple bucks and .. uh... friendship?" Awesome. He'll definitely have a pal now! this went really smoothly, in his opinion. No way he gets turned down! Maybe they could even be revenge buddies! Cain's not singing, though. For society's benefit.

"Oh, THIS GUY?"

Frowning, Neo Jr. shot Cain a glare.

"As in the one who was like, ooh, fix your face! LIKE HIS FACE IS FINE? I don't like him. The way he has the AUDACITY to tell ME to do anything about my face when I could put him next to a sheet of paper and he'd be whiter. Why does he look like that, anyway? I mean, I know I'm one to be talking when it comes to sad resting faces, but LOOK AT THIS MAN? And, like, God, why does he look like he had the life sucked out of him? AND WHY DOES HE HAVE MY HAIRCUT?"

He scoffed, flipping his hair in the gayest way you could possibly imagine.

"Listen, I'm not going to say what I really want to because.. actually, you know what? I HOPE YOU HEARD ALL THAT CAIN. I HOPE YOU HEARD IT."

God's #1 hater in the form of a teenage white boy /j

"I gaze upon an empty widow, the sand around the green leaves moves by ghastly wind, there is nothing but a reflection of something I can't understand." 

As my curiosity grows out of the partition I gave it, I am eager to unravel their mind. Instead of instilling a reeling fear that can't be satiated, I am called to figure them out. I will observe them because If I confront them I will likely scare them too hard; my appearance is dreadful towards those still alive and in their body.

When I had a run-in with them, I had to cover myself with scarves, many scarves. I had a similar experience as Cain, so I am inclined to be on their side.

Bone-omen, or so it says. Alois tests the name on his tongue first, whispering the syllables, but not quite, his gaze heavy with that particular curiosity (how the curiosity is familiar in some way, one can't really tell). Alongside it, a sense of dissatisfaction. So little to tell, he knows, in a manner that is far more intrinsic than most would realise, although he supposes that there is a sentence to glean from all this, at least. And perhaps Bone-omen may take note of that — the coy smile that graces the dark-haired man, that empty stare that lingers — the utter lack of fear.

Really, the man himself is more relaxed than anything, simply tilting his head as he continues to observe, hands placed behind him. He steps forward with light footfalls: a practised movement, carrying him with noticeable grace. It is, in a way, a subtle threat: a warning for the other being to not touch him, and he will be respected in turn, like a sheathed dagger presented just in one's peripheral vision. The smile on Alois' face may as well be the poison coating the blade.

No matter, the paradox thinks at last, and he taps at his chin with a finger, that one action dispelling that eerie heaviness in the air and replacing it with something akin to joviality. He might as well strike up a conversation while they are here, and perhaps he can further gauge what Bone-omen is, and what he is capable of doing. And, oh, the mere thought of that brings up a certain hunger that the paradox would be happy to sate.

"Do you talk?" There is a crinkling by the edge of his eyes: a feigned friendliness that hides his gnawing interest. "I'm really just curious as to what you are, since I don't see beings like you very often."

There is a figure leaning against the wall; his presence was near-invisible until this very moment. It was as if he willed his existence into being - cast from the shadows of the rather empty space  they were all in. A coin is tossed into the air, and it was bright as  the eyes that pierced deep into Lux's soul. Eyes were windows to the  soul, as they said, and Myres' eyes were filled with nothing but mystique and intrigue. Gold flecks danced around inside them, along with  bits of mischief, as well. 

Without batting an eye, Myres catches  the coin with his hand, gloved with a texture liken to black velvet.  His lips twitch up into a smile, and with a flick of his wrist, the coin is gone from the palm of his hands. 

Though he chooses not to intrude on the conversation between Lux and Alois, he does listen intently to the way Lux speaks. Cold and passive, undeniably, but with  an underlying tone of consolation and vague familiarity. His mannerisms were very thoughtful too, Myres noted. To the card dealer, Lux looked to  be holding his breath - he was holding something back, whether it be his true colors, or the extent of his powers. Perhaps both. Myres would have to be careful if they were to cross paths a second time. 

His eyelids droop at the thought; another danger for him to take account for. Well, whatever the case, he'd have to move on. No use in fretting about an interaction that may never happen. Myres continues to smile eerily as he shifts his focus to the person sneaking a glance at him  now. He tilts his head, catching their mild surprise at being found  out. 

"Now, now," he says, chuckling softly. His voice was deep - perfect for a lullaby. "No need to be shy. You can talk with me, if you'd like. I don't bite."