♘ 04 ❖ 2nd Score || but maybe you never really had someone

[unkindnessof]

Characters: Raven, original Ion, and open.
Setting: Various; set throughout the week of the event.
Format: Brackets preferred, though this post leans heavily on the prosey side of brackets anyway.
Summary: catchall post for the week of 8/11-8/17; Raven copes poorly™ and Ion's serenity becomes very, very dissonant.
Warnings: Angst (gratuitous amounts of it in fact), Animus, Shadow Children, the usual. Possible character death in the fourth day's prompt for Raven who am I even kidding, he's gonna die

		MONDAY, 8.12.13; MAILROOM [ He doesn't make a habit of checking his mailbox often, not after May, not after June. Regardless, if so many are concerned about them such that this many posts would have managed to make it through the scrambled network, it may have been something worth investigating. He takes the long way to the room from the library floor: up and up and up and up the winding staircase. He's not entirely sure when it was that one of the shadows he passes on the way slipped away to instead shadow his footsteps, but that shadow is his companion for the majority of the trip, keeping up no matter his actions with a flighty spring in its step and a bright smile too wide for its mouth. But it's harmless enough, like the ones of the night before, so all he does is continue up the stairs without looking back. It's only after the lengthy trip, after he actually arrives at his destination, that he pays it any attention at all, and that's only because it's forcefully drawn; no sooner has he realized what the object within the package is than the construct behind him snatches it out of his hands, shadowy body quaking in something like silent laughter. When he whirls to face it— he freezes at the stark familiarity of its form, its posture, the way its fingers align perfectly with the handprints already on the bow. Faintly he thinks he should say something, deny it, it's only a trick, but nothing makes it through the block in his throat and the shock of the sight. The shadow leans in close and shakes in something that might be laughter, grinning brightly all the while, and he can't gather the presence of mind to try to force either it or himself away. ] TUESDAY, 8.13.13; MEADOW [ They come and go, it seems, because while earlier there'd been a veritable flock following around, only two of them remain— at the moment, anyway. One of them still wears the stolen bow and its fragments; the other lacks the lightness of the first, but just as readily dogs his steps with an eagerness that's uncanny when matched with the wide white grin. They both settle down comfortably and watch raptly when they don't need to chase him. He sets his mind to ignoring them, losing himself in swordplay forms as he sweeps around the storming meadow locked in combat against countless invisible foes. It might've worked, does work, in fact, until he summons a set of spears all around him between dashes and sets them all to converging on one exact point (and focuses on ignoring any similarities to the whirling swords of the Apathetic Monster of two months previous), at which point they dissipate again in a flash of light. —"Man, you never used to do anything like that. Hey, Rena, was this going on when you were here a while back?" "That wasn't me, silly. You know that perfectly well!" ] Stop. If you think that copying them is going to do anything... [ "Hey, we're not copying anyone, Raven. Can't you tell the difference between the real deal and a fake? I mean, this isn't even the first time this sort of thing's happened." A lilting sigh. "You'd think that after what happened in Altera..." "Yeah, about that." Its tone turns curious, strongly—and almost accusingly—so. "Back on the airship, when we just met, I mean. You said you'd never risk anything like that again. Did you forget, or something? Because it'd be pretty awful of you if you just forgot about that kind of thing—" ] I haven't forgotten why. It's just... [ "It's just what, huh?" If he can control himself, keep his own mind... There... are more important things, right...? Like being able to defend what's left... The arguments sound hollow to even him, because how can he say that in light of what happened in June? ] WEDNESDAY, 8.14.13; FLOOR 11 [ "With all due respect, Sir, don't you think you owe us something? Your attention, at the very least?" ] I don't owe a collection of ghosts anything. [ He murmurs, but it's weak even to his own ears. The irony of saying something like that, considering the amount of time he spends on this floor normally... "But sir, we only died for you! Are you— are you even listening to me?" "Forget it, Tom, it's obvious it was all a waste. Just look at us now." Such has been the tone of the entire day, but he thinks he might be a little better at tuning it out by now. It's only early evening, after all. And maybe if he compares them to the usual residents of this floor... "Y'know, I knew you were cold, but I didn't realize how much. Thought it was obvious enough you cared, but now I'm not so sure." That voice, on the other hand, is enough to startle him out of reverie. Back again, was it...? ] ...Maybe. [ He can't even deny it anymore. He does try, briefly, but... ] Perhaps you should have noticed this from the beginning. [ The shadow is abnormally quiet for a moment, taking a seat next to him on the stairs. It draws a leg up, loops an arm around it and leans back on the other much as a child would before it turns its head to look up at him as someone would when finding out the person they looked up to wasn't at all what they thought they were. "Yeah, maybe," it agrees after a moment. "But we were friends anyway, I thought. "Guess you could just replace and abandon us as easy as anyone else, though." Raven mirrors the shadow child's posture and tries not to think of how much he agrees. ] THURSDAY, 8.15.13; FLOORS 100, 101 100; earlier in the day. [ The exhaustion that plagues him is probably affecting his vision, he thinks, because the color of his frame seems much paler than it should be whenever the glamours flicker. It's really hard to think long on or care much about it, though, because there are far too many of them now, clamoring in a frenzy at the edge of his senses ("We died- we died- we died- for you- in vain-") like crows would carrion. ("Are you seriously just going to try and abandon us again? We're not going to go away just because you're ignoring us! Hey!") ("It's hard to forgive someone who hasn't forgiven themselves.") So here he is, in the facsimile of the home he's lost, left to burn, surrounded by the shades of all those who deserved more to have been rescued than he. ] I'm sorry. I'm sorry... ———— 101; later. [ His soul still pulses a faint gold, weakly struggling on despite everything, but the fluid in the rest of his body, including his collar, is so pale as to be clear. The voices have quieted to a cacophonous dull roar, but likely that's more exhaustion than their actual abating. Still, there's one that stands apart from the rest, that he can pick out despite any crash of thunder and rain, or any weariness of his soul. "What have you done?" ] I've been trying— [ He's not sure what it is that compels him to respond, whether he's just given up or is making one last, desperate attempt to explain, but the shadow only shakes its head and hushes him sadly. It settles down delicately, next to where he himself is seated with his back to some large tree. "I know what you've done here. That's not why I asked." It picks up some of the nearby flowers, gathering them up into a bouquet. With the malfunctions of the glamour, half the time the bundle doesn't even exist. "I loved you," it starts, matter-of-factly. "And I thought you loved me back. I thought that if even one of us managed to survive, it would have been okay. I was grateful for the Nasods' intervention, because even if all those horrible things happened, it wasn't you, and you still lived. "When they came onto the Black Crow, it was supposed to be a good thing. You remembered yourself. You lived. You could carry on with what it was we'd originally wanted, or make something else out of yourself, anything." The shade looks down now, staring into the flowers like they could offer up answers. "But instead you ran. You forgot us, but never managed to leave us behind. You won't let yourself remember us, but you still tried to replace us. "What can you say for it? What have you done? Velder still burns, if the world were still intact." ] I... I never... [ But the shadow only stares straight at him despite its lack of visible eyes, and despite the impossible blackness of its features or the whiteness of its wide, wide grin all he can see is Seris and the rest of what he tries to say drowns as he chokes. "How could you?" she murmurs, leaning into him with a gentleness that's more painful than it is soothing. ]
unkindnessof
		SUNDAY, 8.11.13; DORMITORY FLOORS prompt 1.1 [ The shade's been following him since he woke up this morning. Its posture is sullen, sad; its hands are clasped either in front of it or behind it—it's hard to tell—and it stares at him like he's deeply and personally wronged it. He thinks it might be betrayal, but for what, he doesn't know. The grin that belongs to all of their kind looks out of place on it; the opposite might be more fitting. But it doesn't do anything other than trail him like a forlorn shadow, so eventually he gets curious. Carefully, he reaches out for it, a spell thrumming at the edge of his grasp if need be. It lunges for the outstretched arm and tries to bite him, but both being what they are, they simply go through each other. It recovers from the lunge and takes up vigil again as he hastily jerks his arm back. There is, for the briefest of moments, shock on his face— but it's gone in an instant, replaced by something akin to a fond amusement. ] They need to work harder with their projections. I almost didn't recognize you. ———— prompt 1.2 This belonged to you, didn't it? Ah, well, I suppose it was your sister's. [ He remarks idly, as if he's talking about some paltry trinket, a bangle or bracelet or some other form of jewelry rather than a skull that itself is only a memory of the real thing. Memory. What a strange thing. He 'hmms' in thought for a moment, before turning to the shadow and blinking wide eyes at it. ] I'm not really sure why they gave it to me. [ Pause. ] You can have it back, you know. Consider it a reward, or a gift. [ What goes unspoken here is: Like your monster sister before you, you died. It only eyes the offering balefully, baring its teeth in a poor imitation of a snarl for the way its features are set in a forced grimace when he approaches with the liger skull. But it does accept it, eventually, stealing it away in a quick movement before settling back into a morose, resentful stance (though there's something wild about it still). The skull is clutched the way one would a favorite doll. It's small, but: "I don't know why I gave it to you either. Not anymore." Ion just blinks again, not entirely sure if the shadow had said anything at all. ] TUESDAY, 8.13.13; CATHEDRAL [ What a poor thing to have discovered in his mailbox. It's morbid fascination that has him checking it over (perhaps it did in fact predict this fate, maybe that's what the lost Seventh Fonstone foretold all along, wouldn't that be funny), even as he eyes it in distaste. His right hand glows with the light of a Score reading in progress. You will die at— —that's as far as he needs to read before he stops in disgust, letting the channeled Seventh Fonons dissipate into the air. He knows full well what the rest of that passage reads, what the Planet's Memory has intended for him. "You should have known better than to expect anything from that, Fon Master." ] ...Perhaps. [ He replies eventually, smiling thinly as he recognizes his Commandant. ] Forgive me. It seems I've grown weaker in my stay here. FRIDAY, 8.16.13; FLOORS 93, 81 93; earlier, going down. [ They make quite a sight, traveling across the floor, with one small child the head of a long, trailing procession now that's a far cry from the single shadows of the days previous. (One of them stands apart from the others, trailing directly behind him like it's the natural place for it to be.) Perhaps they simply couldn't wait any longer. Impatient, impertinent fools, except now instead of crying at him to know the Score they cry at him for answers. "Fon Master, why- You deviated from the Score- It's your fault- You brought ruin to us all- Our promised prosperity-" He sighs, and decides to favor them with a bit of his attention. Perhaps it'll silence them. ] I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you expect from me... [ "But you know everything that's going to happen! You knew what the Score foretold, so why didn't you stop it?" ... His reply is like ice. ] If Auldrant really was destroyed the way the Administrators of this place claimed it was, then nothing I did could have either caused or prevented it. The Score foretold nothing of this. [ Does that silence them? It doesn't matter. They never mattered to begin with. ] ———— 81; later. [ Most of them have gone, but a fair few still linger around him as he stares placidly out one of the windows at the fog below. His collar shines a much brighter purple than it has any right to be, considering the number there were earlier, but perhaps that just speaks something of his bonds with those in the Tower. Or, rather, the lack of such to his world. Still, he's not untouched; when the glamour flickers he feels much better, as is normal for when he's relieved of the (false) sickness they inflict on him here, but there's a vaguely concerning paleness in his extremities all the same. ("It's your fault I was born into this world!" "I never had my own life. I was only supposed to be your replacement." Well, of course.) He's smiling, of course, because when is he not, but perhaps if one manages to (or cares to) look particularly close they'll notice a slight bittersweetness about it anyway. ("I hate you. You lied. You said you wouldn't disappear. But you did. You left me alone.") That one shadow still lingers at his side; it still holds the skull close. ]
fonlines

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Raven - Thursday - Floor 101

[bashfulshifter]

[He didn't frequent this floor, despite its tranquility, since his abilities wouldn't work here and the resulting silence in his head made him nervous. But with the sheer amount of shadows milling around by the stairwell, Rick knows that someone is having problems around here and they could probably use a hand. When he recognized the voice of the affected, though--]

R-Raven...?

[Rick wasn't sure what distressed him more--the fact that his roommate and taciturn companion was in such an unsettling state, or that he hadn't stayed in their room long enough over the past few days to notice that Raven's condition was declining. In either case, this was not a position Rick was happy to see him in, and with his own shadows still anxiously calling after him, the need to connect and help those that he cared for most in the Tower was ever more pressing.]

[With that extra sense of purpose, Rick hurriedly made his way through the shadows, hopefully stomping by them loudly enough to send a few scattering, and to better capture Raven's attention away from...whoever that was curled up next to him. The intimate gesture hits strangely close to home--backed up by the mocking laughter of one of his own shadows, still following quite close behind. He stops just in front of them, concerned but determined.]

H-Hey...l-look at me.

[unkindnessof]

[ Some of the flightier shadows do scatter, but the Seris-shadow right next to him only sits up straighter and makes a motion as if straightening out a dress, still holding the collection of flowers close.

Raven himself is much slower to react, blinking dull gold eyes open only after some of the voices quiet and he manages to process that the person speaking to him isn't one of the shadows. ]

... Rick. [ he says finally, leaning back against the tree tiredly. ]

What are you doing here.

[bashfulshifter]

[Rick kneels to Raven's level, only briefly casting a glance at the phantom next to him before focusing again on its victim.]

...It, ah...it l-looks l-like you c-c-could use s-some help.

[As if you're in any position to be helping people, scoffs one of his followers irately, but other than a slight grimace Rick doesn't openly react to the comment.]

[unkindnessof]

Help? [ he echoes, with something that might be bewilderment in it. ]

What she says... isn't a lie, though. None of it is.

[ The shadow doesn't speak, only punctuates the remark by clasping his hand (the human one) in both of her own (or something like it, for their inability to be tangible to one another), bouquet of flowers set aside for a moment to instead look up with a smile that probably would have been sweet if it weren't only a bright, bright rictus stretching across an otherwise-blank face. ]

[bashfulshifter]

See? Now there's a man who knows how to treat his lady.

[Rick bristles at the voice whispering in his ear and, clenching an already bloodied fist, make a fairly bold attempt to sit next to Raven--on top of (or in this case through) his partner, if she doesn't get out of his way first. The shadow following Rick watches from where he left her, unwavering.]

B-Better c-company, then. [He offers a pleasant smile and settles in.] ...She's...n-not who you think s-she is.

Raven - Tuesday

[eldork]

[ Elsword isn't one to just settle with things slowly. He heard things, a lot of things about the tower's current condition and one could tell things easily: The Rune Slayer would try to find the light, literally and figuratively.

His first destination, coincidentally, is the meadow, where a certain Raven was already nesting for a while. The most surprising of bunch, of course, is not Raven, but someone-- something he's talking to- Rena!?

However, whether it's due to the surprise or fear, for once, the young redhead is frozen on his spot, seemingly at lost for words. Gazing at them is the only action that he does against the scenery before him. Until he musters up enough words in his mouth, at least. ]

Oi!

[ At the very least, the only person he could tell that's real out of the things here is Raven. So he'll go with that, calling him vigorously. ]

[unkindnessof]

Wh— Els?

[ "Yeah, one of them. The wrong one," the second shadow—Elsword—says, caught somewhere between sulking and indignant grumbling. "Don't see why you care, s'not yours, it'd be like if I went to Crow Rider or something..."

The child probably has more to say, considering, but considering that Raven's just cleared the distance between the non-shadowed Elsword and himself in the blink of an eye, the rest of it gets lost in the rain.

(The shadow Rena only cocks her head, hums, and bounds after him; it won't be long before she too clears the distance, even unaided by being able to tear space. Elsword isn't far behind.) ]

What are you doing here? [ he hisses, before the shadows catch up. ]

[eldork]

[ He considered of approaching Raven carefully. He considered.

But in the end, he just walks quickly to approach him. All in all while gripping on his sword. ]

That's my question, you hag. What are you doing here? [ Els have his priority straight, okay. ]

[unkindnessof]

[ "Whoa, I don't act like that, do I? Seriously, why're you wasting time on this wannabe?" ]

Your question-? Nevermind. Isn't it obvious what I'm doing?

[ "Oh Els, you know the answer to that. If it's close enough, it's good enough for him to latch onto," Rena trills in mocking singsong. "It might be a bit misplaced, but the poor man doesn't exactly have much else, otherwise- isn't that right, Raven?" ]

Now, again: what are you doing here, in this weather no less? [ His grip on his sword is probably a little tight at this point, but he follows up the (somewhat hypocritical) question regardless. ]

Do you have any shadows following you around as well?

[ priorities. ]

[eldork]

[ If he's a cleverer man, he would start addressing those shadows first.

But he's Els, so. ]

What? I can't get worried over you now!? [ You know, having friends come and gone is not really boding well for a... manchild(?) like him. ]

That kind of shadows? Hell nah. [ Or he actually have one but he's not paying any attention. Regardless, his expression softens a bit as he... gazes over to Raven's 'shadows'. ] It's the tower doing some weird things again, isn't it?

original ion ➙ floor 81

[imitated]

[ Florian had hoped --in vain-- that the shadows could be outrun. Had hoped that if he hurried up the stairs enough, dodged into the elevator quick enough, he wouldn't hear the voices and the blame.

Worse than the shadows hurling accusations of how he'd cursed all of Daath, how he'd abandoned them when he refused to become the Fon Master, were the ones with his face.

Look as much like him as he did Ion.

Why did you get to survive? Why did you get a name? Why didn't you disappear too?

With every word he remembers the things he'd decided to forget: The disappearing forms of boys who shared his face, the hand disappearing from his, vague stirrings of sadness he felt for the first time.

But even taking the stairs two at a time as high as he can go doesn't save him from them. Even if it could, he's tiring quickly, the violet in his collar fading to clear bit by bit.

It's with desperation that he ends up on the 81st floor, needing to stop for breath quite badly.

When he notices Ion, there's relief clear on his face. He thinks it's the replica Ion, the kind one he'd met in the cathedral the day he had arrived. ]

Ion! It's you! Are you okay?

1/2

[fonlines]

[ When he hears Florian speak, he can't help but be surprised for a moment, because the voice is too high to be that of his replica's, the one in the Tower. It's closer to his own pitch, if only it weren't for the childishness of it. For half a moment he wonders if a shadow of one of the other replicas had appeared alongside the fifth and seventh— they were all programmed with some basic function, after all, but Florian is quite visible among the shadows, and so quickly vanishes that thought (along with the murmurings of the shadowed Seventh). Oh— so which one is this...? ] Ah—

[fonlines]

Yes, yes, of course. I'm fine. I'm sorry to have worried you.

[ "...You're not sorry at all," quietly says the Seventh from somewhere behind him. ]

[imitated]

[ Florian might dwell on the difference in Ion's voice as well, if there weren't more important things going on.

The relief on his face fades when he notices Ion's shadows, the shape of them. ] They're following you too?

[fonlines]

I think they're following most people around, sadly... [ He's seen enough of it over this past week, after all, and he inclines his head slightly as if in sympathy for them. ]

But why would they bother you? [ How could a replica that shouldn't even have lived for that long have people be berating it for what it did or didn't do? ]

Original Ion, Floor 93

[forhislegacy]

[The procession of shadows is certainly a sight to see. Anise is coming up from the floor below, so she sees Ion first but almost immediately sees the multitude of shadows behind him.

There's a slight moment of panic - is that her Ion? - but then she hears him speak and she knows it's not. She also knows it's wrong for her to be relieved that it isn't - even if it's not the replica, it's still someone being trailed by so many of them that it can't be pleasant, she knows that from the few she's been unable to shake and unable to drown out by hanging around others.

One of them is very close to her now, speaking words that she never ever wanted to hear in Ion's voice, and it's getting harder and harder to ignore them. But she has to.]

Fon Master?

[She may not be able to do much for the original, but she can at least try and give him something to hear aside from the accusations.]

[fonlines]

... Fon Master Guardian Anise. [ Behind him, the shadow bristles, and again it tries for that smile-snarl. ]

Hello. I... apologize for the present company. [ He smiles a little ruefully, bowing his head slightly in apology. ] They're quite insistent, you see. [ he says, his voice hardening as he slowly takes in the shape of the shadow nearest her. ]

[forhislegacy]

[Her gaze flicks to the shadow nearest Ion. Smile or snarl - whichever of the two it is, the sight of that shadow leaves her a little uneasy. If there's a shadow of Ion tailing her, then the shadow tailing Ion might just be...]

Yes, I know. [She swallows hard. Insistent was one way of putting it.] They don't seem to like other people much, though. They've stayed further away when I've been around others, anyway...

[A pause, and then a little hesitantly - ] Are you alright?

[fonlines]

I'm fine. At least, I think so... I have been a bit tired, but that's only normal. Truth be told, the problems with the glamours are actually helping me more with that than otherwise. I understand that's not the case for everyone, though...

[ Expression steeling slightly, he steps over toward the shadow tailing her (his own tailing him as he does so, though the rest of the procession watches warily), looking over it as if to judge its very being. He probably is. ]

... Ignore it. It's a poor imitation.

[forhislegacy]

I've seen some people who are in really really bad shape. I'm glad you're doing better than they are.

[If she's being honest, while she's happy that there's something at least a little positive coming from the glitching of the glamour system, it really pisses her off that he has to deal with his illness at all when it could be so easily avoided. Just another way the administrators sucked, she supposes.

The shadow seems to wilt under Ion's gaze and takes a step back, shifting a bit so that it's got Anise in between it and the Fon Master. Anise purses her lips and looks over her shoulder at it briefly before turning her attention back to Ion.]

...those jerks in charge are trying really hard to upset us, I guess.

Tuesday; Cathedral

[melodyoftheabyss]

[ he was one of the places she ventured to first day she was in the tower. The strange architecture of the building reminded her a lot of the Daath Cathedral, and her home. She was still in the process of accepting things as they are right now.

She spotted him not too far from her as she ventured, the shadows slowly increased as the days went for her. There were stronger voices tugging at her but she pushed it aside, ignoring it so she could move on. At least she tried anyway. She knew that there was an original Ion here as well as the Ion she knew. She couldn't tell the difference between them until she spoke to the other. It seemed for now, Tear assumed it was the one she knew. ]

Fon Master?

[fonlines]

[ The address barely manages to carry across the cathedral, poor as the acoustics there are, but all the same Ion turns, eyes wide. For a short moment he's left searching for the name— she was here before, she's a melodist, she's descended from Yulia's bloodline (Grants, same as Van)—

Ah— ] Please, forgive my surprise. I didn't expect to see you here, Tear.

Are you all right? How have you been faring? [ The inquiry is gentle, and the curiosity in it genuine.

... God-General Asch had told him of different worlds when he arrived. She certainly seems to be doing well for someone who may have been drained for energy, as last month's network discoveries had revealed... so is this the same that had been here previous, or a different one? And how would she have come back? ]

[melodyoftheabyss]

[ Tear would have gotten closer if he did not hear her words, but it was a relief that the words at least drifted lightly to him. Tear gives him a concerned look for his sudden change of expression. ]

My apologies for startling you Fon Master.

[ She replied giving him an apologetic look. ] I was merely passing by, Fon Master.

[ Something did seem off about him. She wasn't sure if that response that he didn't expect to see her at the cathedral or in the tower. However, if this Ion was different from the one she knew, she didn't fully express her unsettling feelings towards the subject. Tear had never met the original Ion, so she was unaware of his personality, or what he might have been like. ]

I am fine and I've been able to keep them at bay for now, thank you for the concern Fon Master, but I am more concerned with your well being.

[ Tear was good at feigning her well being. Despite her physical demeanor, Tear was more than a little strained due to the shadows. The louder shadows were constantly calling and pulling at her mental state. It wasn't correct to say she was fine, but Tear had to endure for her own sake. She was a different Tear, from what she was informed but even then, she had no explanation for how she was here. ]

[fonlines]

I'm doing well enough, considering the circumstances. They don't bother me much, and even less so when there are others around.

[ True to Ion's word, the shadow of the Commandant remains, but only watches rather than continue to speak.

He 'hm's a little in thought. ] Passing by, were you? I suppose that no matter what we do, there's something about the familiar that has us eventually coming back to it regardless.

[ Because the familiar is something that is known, he imagines Van would say, and humanity fears more the threat of the unknown than the complacency of keeping to what they know. ]

Would you like me to keep you company before you move on?

[melodyoftheabyss]

I'm glad to hear that you are at faring well, Fon Master.

[ Tear's shadows are a little rougher on her than Ion's but with him here, it doesn't seem like she'll be worried about them too much. ]

Yes, I am trying to familiarize myself with my current location. [ Getting lost isn't an option. ] I suppose that is true.

[ Tear was drawn to it the first day she was here. The Cathedral had similarities to what Daath appears like, only a lot intricate with the sound of ghostly voices that echoes through its premise. ]

If it isn't too much trouble Fon Master, and it would be safer if we are with people instead of alone.