TO: EVERYONE.

[bloomly]

( it's not like she means to, and certainly not like she wants to broadcast her thoughts, in the neat, curling cursive that it comes in, to people that she doesn't even know, in a place where she's fairly certain she's all alone. sure, there had been the sudden intrusion before, of words splashed on her bedsheets and the wooden walls where she sleeps--but she had figured that must have been some sort of hallucination, perhaps even magic, or worse, some sort of curse; she doesn't know anything about this place except what those here, in solvunn, have told her, and what's a halloween anyway? some sort of other curse?

or is this something different? it wouldn't be the first time the planet said things to her that she didn't understand, a cacophony of voices scrambled together: some happy, others upset, some desperate to be lost to the lifestream entirely. but this isn't gaia, and this isn't her flower garden--the cries of the planet don't reach her here, or do they? is that the meaning of all those words before?

it's late at night when her eyes close: maybe if she thinks hard enough, long enough, she can find that pull, the tug of the lifestream to draw her thoughts together with the planet beneath her. maybe she can find a way out of here. maybe there are a lot of 'maybe's. )


𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓂𝑒?

( the text, all loopy and warm and rounded, pops up with no discretion for who it's sent to, or why: it's just there, to everyone open to it, and repeats patiently if ignored. then, another: )

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅?

( and, of course, there's a neat little signature at the bottom of every message: )

- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽

Comments

[frontlinetitties]

What are you offering?

~Gideon

[bloomly]

𝒜𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃. 𝒟𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅?

- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽

[frontlinetitties]

Gonna have to tell you Aerith, I don't think it's a wise move to offer anything you can to a complete stranger. Some people are unscrupulous, you know?

[bloomly]

𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃'𝓉 '𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒' 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?

𝒪𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓌𝒾𝓈𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒.

[abyssions]

[This network thing is not Yuri's jam, but he's doing his best to deal—or rather, studiously ignore. Something about this message gets him, though. Maybe it's the form it takes, all looping cursive, or maybe it's that final question, both details reminding him a little too much of a certain princess at home.

He tells himself to ignore it, but after a minute or so, in his own no-nonsense handwriting—]

Who is this?

- Yuri

[Yeah, sure, Aerith, but a name doesn't tell him much.]

[bloomly]

( yuri? she doesn't know a yuri, but then again, she doesn't know much of anything, here. maybe it's a lost soul calling out to her, maybe it's someone else entirely, maybe there's no lifestream here at all. it's seeming less and less likely that she's connected with the planet at all--it's something of a relief in the same way that it's something of a disappointment.

her fingernail draws out the shape of the name, where it appears on the covers in her lap. yuri. it's a pretty name. )

𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒢𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒷𝑜𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽, 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒾𝒸𝑒! 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒'𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉?

[bravers]

[He's seen more than his fair share of stuff that isn't real, thanks- but this? Actual words forming over the edges of everything in his field of vision, actually consuming everything he's not focused on and running over those objects as if they're carried by water?

...Nope.

He's doing his very best to ignore it. Because after all, all this is, is something imagined, right? Something that he needs to ignore, keep quiet about, and keep concealed. Especially since he's presently on guard duty, and the person stationed at the edge of the barracks with him won't shut the hell up about a lot of things, and the last thing he wants to do is give him a cause to go off again.

So ignore it he does.
...For... a long time, actually.
Except it keeps repeating. Over and over, and the name amongst all of it seems to be showing up more often and...

He's imagining it. He has to be.

By the end of the day, When his shift is covered and when he's in an uncomfortable little single bunk back at the dorm, the words are behind his damn eyelids when he closes his eyes- or rather, a single word.

Aerith.
It's driving him crazy. Crazy enough to open them, to take a small stub of a pencil from his roommates table, and curl back up on his bunk. This... it's stupid. He stares at the wall a while before he does it, but he starts to scribble over the letters. <

Aerith's response should read:]

[bloomly]

( it flashes, a sudden light that ends up splashed over the book that she has, now, tucked into her lap--a book that, despite being full of text, shows the sudden, garbled drawing of a thousand lines tangled up over it; she tries to squint through it, her hand pressing out over the page. funny. strange.

strange? the tangled picture is signed cloud.

no, it's not him. could it be him? perhaps it's meant to denote what the picture is supposed to be: and that makes her laugh, once, quiet so as not to disturb the others in the house where she sleeps. )

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝐼𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓏𝑒. 𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝓃𝑒? 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎'𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻...! 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼'𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒~

- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽

[bravers]

[By the time Aerith responds, he's turned over in his cot- pressing the side of his face into his single stiff, scratchy pillow. He's had his moment. His single moment of indulgence, of not behaving normally, of freaking out, even, and he's over it.

Scribbling as he did- oddly- made the words disappear from his vision. Now, all that occupies his thoughts as he exhales and closes his eyes is waking up early. Of scrubbing the wall clean before his drill sergeant saw and things got bad. Yeah, he's over it.

But then a few moments later, they're back.
No, they're different ones now. And as he reads them, it has to be his imagination, it has to be- he can hear a voice. Whimsical. Childish. Both irritating and endearing and... it'd be a thing he thought strange if it didn't freak him out.]

...

[For perhaps half an hour he lies there, willing them to go away. His eyes open, and he sighs. The bed creaks as he turns around, and on the wall...]

What makes you think I can afford it?

[And more importantly...]

Forget it. You know her?

[bloomly]

( ...oh, this will be fun. )

𝒦𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑜, 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽?

𝐼𝒻 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜?

[rinwell]

[It's taken practice to bring her 'voice' letters down to a less shouty size, conversing back and forth with Alice via her book. Rinwell has neat handwriting, but the words she replies in show as printed script, type lettering from old research books and novels, carrying none of her age but all of her curiosity.

And perhaps, concern. There are so many ways one can read that first question, after all. ]

Are you okay?
~Rinwell

[bloomly]

( there's something sweet about this message, when it comes through--something that makes her pause, for a moment, as though struck with sudden uncertainty. is she okay? it's not the first time that she's felt alone, really, and not the first time that she's been in a place that she doesn't understand, or a place that doesn't understand her, either; but truthfully, honestly? it's still hard.

tentative, then, she replies: )

𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓈𝑜. 𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎? 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?

- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽

[rinwell]

I guess I'm okay. I just miss- [a pause, before the sentence continues, as though carefully typed] I miss my friends.

I've not been here long enough to hate this place, anyway. And I've not been treated badly. [Yet. yet yet yet.] Cadens, that is. The Free Cities. Where are you?

[bloomly]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒞𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈?

( that sounds...familiar, yes. another place on this planet. )

𝐼'𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝑜𝓁𝓋𝓊𝓃𝓃. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓃, 𝒷𝓊𝓉...

𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇.

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒? 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂?

[unnecessaryflourishes]

Had you expecting there to be something?

[While there is an identifying signature attached to the message it's less a name and more... a sense of a person. A feeling of magic, old and powerful (and perhaps also a person who doesn't much care to actually physically write their name in response and is willing to simply let what identifiers come along for the ride speak for themselves).]

[bloomly]

( a feeling that is familiar--but distant, almost like seeing home from somewhere far away. )

𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔?

- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽

[unnecessaryflourishes]

Ah, a perceptive soul. It is always refreshing to see one of those.

But if you should have doubts I am sure there are ways we could arrange to dispel them.

[bloomly]

𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓌𝑒 𝑔𝑜 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂?

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜?

[fourarmedandangerous]

[Compared to Aerith's loopy handwriting, the one she gets in reply is harsh, and severe, and devoid of any elegance. The handwriting is as straight to the point as the message she gets back.]

You are not wanted.

-Goro

[Far away, in the Cadens military outpost, Goro's lip curls in frustration at having his evening libation (of what passes for alcohol here, at least) interrupted, goblet still clutched in his massive hand. Nothing here is built to his scale and that does not help his mood. Normally he'd have ignored the message, but the wine is not entirely without some charm, the hunk of meat he's procured is passable fare and he had been starting to actually feel relaxed for a change of pace when the question had intruded on a nearby wall, proving difficult to avoid.]

[bloomly]

( it's funny, really: she should be more upset by the message, should be worried, perhaps even scared by such a thing. maybe she would have been, in her younger days; but now, it's almost amusing, almost like she's determined to prove whoever sent it wrong.

her lips curl into a smile, and for a moment, she concentrates: )

𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉? 𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃𝓈, 𝑔𝑜!

- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽

[fourarmedandangerous]

[Goro takes another drink at the teasing reply before he concentrates on a reply. He dislikes the insistently cheerful.]

Why do you insist on this foolishness?

[bloomly]

𝐼𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃?

[hylife]

[ Ah. Link knows this. Not just the strange, magical network of communication forming among the otherworlders, but also the feeling of quietly simmering desperation behind this message in particular. It's hard for the search for your guiding light to go fruitless for so long, at a time when you need her more than ever.

Link doesn't consider that he might be completely off-target, too consumed with his own losses to read this message free of their influence. After all, it's just as likely this is just a stranger trying to contact a friend, rather than a too-familiar prayer sent into the ether.

The message doesn't even have to repeat before he answers: ]

Your gods and goddesses will not answer you here. But take heart, they are here.

- Link

[bloomly]

( a strange message, in some ways--and comforting, in all the rest. there is a kindness to these words, bathed in a loneliness that she's familiar with, something that she feels almost viscerally, despite knowing nothing of the link that sent it to her in the first place.

it takes her a moment, considering; she wishes she had something to say that would be just as reassuring as she finds this message. something that warms her heart. )

𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊?
𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑒𝑒, 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓀𝓎?

- 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽

[hylife]

[ Ah - this person understands him. Link feels that immediately from the glittering words that appear in answer to him. ]

Yes and no.

[ Not the most reassuring response Link can give, but it's honest. Hylia's strength is with him, he knows, but... there are too many voices he can no longer hear. Presences he hasn't felt with him since he left Hyrule. He knows that the spiritual plane of this world is not exactly the same.

If Zelda were here... she could explain, he thinks. All Link can do is try and help as best he can. ]

Look not only to the sky, but to the Singularity. You will sense them there.