[CLOSED/OPEN] No words can heal a broken heart

[chronomancer]

Characters: [AU1] Eridan Ampora & [AU1] Equius Zahhak; Eridan Ampora and YOU.
Setting: Meadow floor (closed/backdated to the January event), Floor 64 (open/current)
Format: Starting with action but I'll match you.
Summary: Two logs for the price of one, lmao so I don't flood the comm: closing up aged up shenanigans, Equius is displeased and Eridan is about to learn just how much. Also back in real time, Eridan finds a deliciously tempting slice of home.
Warnings: Violence and swearing for the Equius log. Eridan being actually honest and pathetic and stupid, for the open one.

[Closed: Meadow floor.]

[He wasn't tired so much as he was trying to hibernate. He wasn't entirely sure trolls, undead or otherwise, actually did the whole hibernation shtick, but he could at least try. Save up his energy. Make his last feeding last. He was pretty sure things didn't really work that way but he was lazy and this was a good enough excuse. So there he is, as long as he is, lying on his back and sunbathing in the meadow without a care in the world.

Not that he didn't have cares. He had a lot of them, actually. But if he started thinking about all of them he'd probably implode. Or go on a rampage. Or both. Really, it was for the best of everyone involved, if he just laid there, soaking up sunlight and carefully thinking of nothing in particular.]

[Open: Desert floor.]

[It's so familiar it hurts, really. The heat, the sand, the occasional blast of wind. It's probably a bad idea to head out, and given the last few terrible ideas he's indulged lately, mostly as a result of the experiment last month, Eridan resists the urge to go.

But he wants to, dear god, he wants to so bad.

He's curled up on the sandy floor, barely two steps off the staircase, staring aimlessly at the distance and quietly drowning in nostalgia. He's never really stopped to sit down and miss life before the Game... but now he does and the wave of homesickness is almost entirely too much to handle.]

Comments

[chronomancer]

It's only depressive if you let the fuckers get to you. I say you don't give them the satisfaction.

[Eridan offers Aradia a small smile.]

Yeah. I get the feeling us Time people have an easier time handling that bullshit than most. At least from what I've seen, so that's a plus, right?

[fiesta_de_los_muertos]

[And she smiles back. Eridan is a lot more pleasant than she always thought he would be.]

I'll try not to. You are a Time player too?

[chronomancer]

Yup.

[Self-deprecation: the smile.]

Worst Time player you're ever gonna meet, too. I should probably give you an autograph or something so you can remember this fated moment of utter failure.

[fiesta_de_los_muertos]

[She giggles at that, covering her mouth with her hand.]

I doubt you are the worst! So did you ascend to godtier?

[chronomancer]

Oh no. God, no.

[Excuse him while he shudders.]

You look cute in red. Jade looks cute in red. I? I'd look like a fuckin' sin against nature. Thanks, but I like my red in moderation.

[Excuse him while he adjusts the jacket a little and continues to lie through his teeth because A. It was never about the color of the godly PJs, and B. Time Godtier Red is actually pretty close to his favorite color.]

Plus, I don't dig the wings.

[fiesta_de_los_muertos]

[She outright laughs at his reaction.]

It can't be that bad! I'm sure you look very cute in red as well. And as for the wings...

[She looks over her shoulder at her own.]

You get used to them. The flying is nice.

[chronomancer]

[And then Eridan proved that all jadebloods are secretly fashion fairies.]

...I dunno, Ar. Red's a fuckin' gorgeous color, alright, but you know what they say: everything in moderation.

[fiesta_de_los_muertos]

[She suspected as much.]

I don't think whoever came up with the godtier outfits heard that saying before.

[chronomancer]

[Dryly, as dry as the desert all around them:]

I've noticed.