What does your character think of the character a-

     "Ha ha ha, look at you, look at you. :)" Smiley slowly and steadily made his way towards the imaski. In one of the hands hanging limply by his side was what looked like a bent curtain rod. "So strange, so strange. :) I've never seen anything like you. :) I love meeting new species, new people, new friends. Because I get to learn all about their smiles. :)"

     He got close, close, close to Wisp and leaned forward until the ink on his paper bag's smiley face could clearly be seen. He tilted his head almost observantly. "You seem like you would smile a lot. Is this true, is this true? :) Do you smile when there's someone special around? What about others? :) My, my, my, a smile just for one person. How lucky, how lucky. :) I wish I could see it. :)" He tilted his head in the other direction. "You should let me see it! It will be our little secret. :) I want to see what kind of happiness that special someone sees. :)"

"you uh-" the Khainite warrior tried desperately to find the right words even to begin to start describing her thoughts. First of all, he was too kind for what he was. Then there was the strange attire that just set her off even if it was normal, or maybe it was just his air? But all that did was make Mandragora take a step back, a hand laying on the hilt of her great sword. "Unnerving, irregular..."

Then the correct term came into her throat and forced its way out before she could even try and stop it. "You are terrifying, not mortal, maybe even- soulless?"

v "I do not need fix." Mandragora's face was entirely without emotion. She was stating facts, nothing more, nothing less "Killing Morathi is all there is. I shall die one day, I shall bring about the death of despots. My existence is killing Morathi; preservation is a failure. Especially preservation of self."

alderic looks upon mandragora with some mild curiosity -- and maybe sympathy -- trying to gauge her for a second. she's a very familiar story to him, one of revenge and lies. it's been seen with himself, with his sister, with everyone.

" well, i must say, " the vertisian prince begins. " i agree fully with your cause. i, too, want to see the queen who harmed me suffer for everything she's done to me. i cannot blame you for your quest for revenge. but -- " he holds up a hand. " -- and i do not mean to preach you. killing morathi will stop more suffering . . . but it won't heal you. don't . . . tear yourself apart in order to destroy her. take your revenge, but have some self-preservation. "

  a pause. 

  " . . . that was imprudent of me, " alderic mumbles. " maybe not my business. sorry. "

It seemed to her that Aldéric, too, was born into a world that... simply, had high expectations for him. Such was the curse borne by royalty, Odette supposed, though it was not without its benefits. Even in the current resistence, futile as some may call it, knowing there was a kind leader just waiting to rise to the stage... it was a pleasant thought, wasn't it? Wasn't it hopeful? It was through this lens, that Odette ruminated on the younger gentleman firstly, but then came sympathy. She preferred to keep people at an arm's length, and yet Aldéric had been through so much at such a tender age that she could not help but to observe him with the compassion necessary of a lady.

"You have been through much, have you not?" Odette murmured to him, "I have never felt that this place -- this world -- was bloodthirsty or harrowing, though it may seem such a way. You, nevertheless, have had to grow up quick-witted, keen, and you've had to watch your back with every step that you take... all I can say is that I am sorry. My solicitude may not mean much of anything, and yet I feel that, beyond material, that is all that I can offer to you."

"..But, it is that perseverance that will make you a ruler worthy of respect." she added carefully, "A foreigner's word may not mean much to you, but... understand that I am certain of your claim. Others would fold swiftly under such pressure, the life drawn from their very mind until they are but an animal, shambling and only surviving..."

"Not you. Your Grace, I will kiss a shrine and pray on my hands and knees, if it were to assist you."

     Terry fiddled with the thermometer in his mouth. He had another fever coming, he could feel it. Maybe. He'd had so many he forgot they existed nowadays. A cat rubbed against his leg and he reached down to pet it. What was this one's name? Coconut? Cucumber? He couldn't tell the difference. He wasn't sure if the other one was keeping distance out of laziness or malice.

     "You come off to me as someone who would've preferred to be a follower than a leader," he said to Nerine while moving the cat's paws around to make it look like it was waving. "Leadership positions like mine are stressful. They hike anxieties and doubts up to overwhelming heights. I've seen plenty of people crumble from it. That's just my position too. Yours is easily tripled. I think anyone would want to be a follower in that situation. It's easier to help someone make the hard decisions instead of doing it yourself."

     The cat ran off and his thermometer read no fever, but pretty damn close. Guess that means he was safe enough to get a soda today. Terry leaned back in his seat. "We're the same in that area. I didn't want to be someone in charge when I was younger, but it got shoved in my arms. Terrified the shit out of me and I spent the first half of the year throwing up every morning from the stress. But I didn't quit or give up, because someone had to do it and there were too many people that were fine with running away from the problem. I can tell you're the same. I know this because you've been asking for help. You learned from several mentors and you were open to change. It doesn't seem like much, but you wouldn't believe the amount of people that won't do that. Actually, you might have come across some in your time like that, some that wouldn't take any advice or didn't want to try to lead. You're going to be a good leader, you're doing all the right things." He shrugged, "But you don't need a haggard, underpaid teacher like me to tell you that."

Done PicklePantry

Maurice has met a lot of pessimist in his life, especially Diego, but this time, he'll focus on this teacher named Terry Killjo-- I mean Terry Lovejoy.

Upon first glance judging by the way Terry wears, his face expression, and how he talks, Maurice can tell that this teacher here, is obviously bleak and almost miserable, which is something Maurice would give sympathy for. "So Mr. Lovejoy, how is your day? Did a kid ruin your life, spilling your coffee mug or broke your...thermostat?" Maurice gives a little snarky smirks on Terry, trying to cheer him up with some dumb but harmless jokes. "Anyway, according to this thread, it's asking me that what do I think of you?" Maurice breaks the fourth wall by literally mentioning what this thread's name is, asking what does he think about Terry. "Well, I'll say that, even tho you may be gloomy and somewhat blue, you're pretty alright, and I can guarantee you that no matter how horrible today would be, is going to alright". "Also, you need a better clothes, it looks bad on you". Maurice gives Terry another smile, and pats Terry's shoulder to cheer him up a little.

It's a rare occurrence that Évariste's band, Herbstsverfall went outside of Europe. As far as United States of America goes, the band is in Portland for a solidarity event organized by the local anarchists from the state. To be honest, the Swiss chemist never met this Maurice in person. Let alone an itch.io page he found online with a horror game that was associated with this guy. As well as this guy's music he found while browsing in Soundcloud and Bandcamp. In fact, Évariste isn't into horror nor rap music, especially such games and movies where jumpscares and shock factor are the main point rather than atmosphere and the reflection of reality's issues. The chemist has no opinions against rap music nor listen to the genre itself, though he has thoughts against the popular ones like from the radio and top 40 where they talk nothing but money, fame, or getting relationships.

In an instance. Évariste happen to encounter this video game developer who makes his own music. Upon meeting Maurice, he was actually gentleman like, a man who would want to spend a worthy conversation. "I appreciate people who can do multiple hobbies", the chemist tweaks his violin for the preparation of the upcoming music event, "I tried listening to your music I found online, they were different from the ones I hear from the radio." It was unusual for Évariste to compliment such kind of music he is not interested on, especially rap. "You made them all by yourself? They are actually well made, impressive for an independent musician and the lyrics are surprisingly haunting, yet beautiful. Better than corporate rap from the radio with shallow songwriting." Maurice's presence in a punk show was quite surprising, as his smart casual get up was recognizable among the crowd. The chemist sat down in a stool scrawled with graffiti, crossing his legs in grace. "Nice to see someone who come here to enjoy the music, you love music more than being concerned about genres to limit yourself from listening."

The chemist having a pleasant smile, he glanced upon a gothic horror book in Maurice's hand "I'm more of a non-fiction person myself, though, I would love to enjoy some gothic stories." He paused for a bit, staring at the cluster of posters on the right. "I don't have the books, but me and my friend perform and watch musicals based on those..." 

Évariste stood up, he brushed off his long black coat from the dirt coming from the chair. The chemist is prepping himself for a rehearsal, "Nice to have conversation with you. I hope you enjoy the show soon, you could get inspiration from something you haven't seen."

v (Yo, this is so good. I can definitely see the connections between Évariste and the actor)

     "You remind me of someone I spoke to the other day, an actor that was preparing for a new play I'd helped write," Ark said without looking up from his book. When silence was the response he looked over at Evariste and smirked, "Not one for talking? Or is it that you just don't want to talk to me? Why's that, because I'm dressed in expensive clothes? Reek of upper class?" He closed his book with one hand and laughed lightly, "No one would blame you. There's certainly been no proof lately that they're ones to trust. It's good to be cautious like that; smart."

     Ark walked over to Evariste, handing him the book he'd been reading. It was an old book over the history of old agriculture practices. "This was a nice read. You have good taste." He had to admit, however, that he was surprised this would be something the violinist would even recommend. Evariste's appearance didn't exactly scream agriculture, but that was just another example of books and their covers.

     "Let me help you clean. The sooner we're done, the sooner I can hear you play."

Venus titters, his flytraps rising to the defensive in the presence of the intimidating man. Were he still human, he would have turned around and walked right away from that glint of hatred in Ark‘s eyes. He wasn’t human though, and he felt practically magnetized to the man. It’s the light, he realizes. Ark is light, the sun, and the chlorophyll in his body has a frightening amount of control over his body when it wants to. Venus sometimes thinks that he might be more plant than human.

“Tell meeee…” Venus says, resisting the urge to circle around Ark thoughtfully. “You can manipulate and erase memories… can you restore them?” 

Venus narrows his eyes, flytraps snapping at the air. He’s no idiot, he can tell when he’s been outclassed, can see it in Arks body language and his eyes, knows that Ark could fold him into a pretzel if he really wanted to. But Venus is foolish, and it wouldn’t be the first time curiosity killed him.

He wonders what Ark would think, reaching into his mind to find a minefield of knowledge without memories to pair. 

“Tell me, tell me…. are you a curious man like me?”

sundial_crocodile

Despite wearing some of the largest platforms, Tabitha was still relatively short as she paced around Dr. Phyllis. She had a permanent deadpan face, but she did look up and down at him, keeping her frame out of way as one of the flytraps snapped when her hair brushed a corner. For the first time in a long while, she became curious. "I'm not sure what properties flora have in your world, but I still cannot see the correlation of being able to sustain a plant like body while being asleep for so long. Plant matter requires much more water to keep their vacuoles replenished. Human resources in fact yes, do contain a lot of water, but most likely not enough to keep you alive without dehydration for a long time. I wonder how you did it. Unless... it's a case of magic. Then forget what I said."

She scowled at the reason being magic, but she decided to brush it off. "You know, I'm jealous of people like you. You get to start off with a clean slate. Your memories do not hold you back. I wish I could have forgotten. But then, I wouldn't be here, huh?" She pushed the frame of her glasses up, to look at Venus straight in the eye. "Consider yourself lucky that you're still curious."

She turned away, "... good luck out there, I guess."

[hi . love chime i hope this is ok]

Chime was familiar. Obviously not in the sense Nerine had seen them before, but more along the lines of...

It was almost like she was looking into a mirror. The want for heroism, to be someone others could look to as their savior, even if their methods were different, most notable being... well, Nerine didn't have powers, certainly not those as destructive as Chime's, threatening to burn them alive as much as their beloveds. "I try to see the good in people like you," said the Western woman, "And you, without a doubt, have a lot of good. You're even tough, even if it might not seem that way. Keeping yourself going against all odds, even if others would rather you hadn't, I think that's fucking inspiring -- excuse the swearing."

Nerine watched Chime for any reaction, but after a while she just furrowed her brow and leaned back in her seat. "Sorry, I don't know if you're much for compliments, but... You kind of sound like you're... straining a bit. Both in the verbal sense and the... what, the mental sense? I feel like you need someone to tell you something good, maybe you should hear it more often..."

"But, here, I've got an idea. I don't know much sign language -- and definitely not the kind you know -- but I'd be up for learning. Are you a good teacher?"

Sitting on the porch of his shop, Lockhart rolls his cigarette in between his lips, a heavy sigh coming from him. “You guys know I would never judge someone without reason right? You’re not gonna take me out of context…?” He says to the two authority figures who have decided to question him about a recent sighting through town.

“Of course I’ve seen him. This isn’t exactly a big town, is it…? I just…didn’t realize we had a cult around here.” Lockhart states, his brows furrow with disbelief as he recalls the stranger. “I just assumed he…needed help I guess. But I couldn’t tell you a thing he told me, bunch of nonsense…”

The two interrogators give each other a look, one scribbling down notes as the other continues to ask the man questions.

“I mean. I’m assumming he was being polite. But…something was clearly off about the guy…”

“And he didn’t try to hurt you at all…?”

“No, of course not. I work customer service, I know how to deal with crazy.” He nonchalantly adds, as if this weren’t some volatile entity he had encountered and was just another Tuesday afternoon.