· CALL ME OUT (WINTER) ·

[hobbitholmes]

call me out
· winter 2020 ·

Neon on black top, there's gentle rain downtown.
The shadow pooling underneath me, as it follows on the ground.


❚ PICK A MUSE FROM HERE
❚ WRITE THE NAME IN THE SUBJECT
❚ SEPARATE SECTION FOR VOICE TESTING
❚ ___new cmo out in a few months

Comments

▼ CURRENT MSUES

[hobbitholmes]

· [CASTLEVANIA] trevor belmont.

[ancestralwhip]

· [PERSONA] akira kurusu/joker

[jokerofhearts]

[liveandforgive]

(( Continued from here. ))

--

[ "Can you catch me?"

Oho. Ever since this young man showed up, the world that weaves between others, that ties them all to Smash, got even more interesting. A power like his, like any of the Phantom Thieves, was one not many had ever witnessed before. There is a part of him that wonders... He summoned forth that manifestation to aide him in battles' past. Arsene. Yet there were murmurings...

What other powers did he hide behind that mask? Cloud wasn't battle hungry- yet he was far from opposed to a good challenge. And Joker's done more than enough to prove his worth. He crouches down as well, preparing himself to spring, knees bending as flicks of fiery blue dance off parts of his body. ]

When you're this close? [ A beat. ] I'd rather show you.

[ Only so much space to move in an average-sized bedroom, after all. Still enough floor space for a good tussle though. ]

! Hmph-!

[ He stomps forward, closing that distance with a wide crescent swing of his sword. ]

let me know if you want anything changed!

[jokerofhearts]

[ Joker has to admit that he hadn't expected to find himself in the strange world he did. The signs on the roads had said 'Midgard'--is this another world along the echo lines of Smash? Or is it something more? Joker isn't sure, but he'll make sure to ask once he's done saying hello to Cloud in the appropriate manner.

Joker can't help the smirk on his face.

Then he slides do the side to avoid the swing. He jumps up just enough to barely miss the blade. His hand shoots out for his grappling hook, pulling him over Cloud's head and behind him on the bed. It's a risky maneuver. One back swing and Cloud will hit him with that sword.

Which is why he spins the dagger and moves to quickly put it up against the swordsman's back. Hopefully, it's fast enough. ]

[servitor]

[Nyx had been used to the chaos and the madness. He always tripped into something, always fought, always saved, always something or other that called his name.

He'd wondered if the Palaces called his name. People he knew well showed their true colors and their twisted fantasies so easily, as if there were no other way to be. The instincts deep in his heart had been right all along. Some part of him reveled in the notion of knowing the truth.

He gradually became better at navigating Palaces. Once a soldier, always a soldier, right? Nyx even took a shine to his strange new outfit, all ribbons and leather and furs bristling in motion. What once had been a struggle to survive became second nature to win. He and Fenrir, together, ripped enemies apart with claws and knives.

They almost never saw him coming.

Nyx, now in the Palace of a former general, senses a presence beyond his own. Not malevolent, but not benevolent either. His metal mask and bandanna cover his face completely, a truly faceless entity crawling in the dark towards a target. But this presence isn't a target.

He had no name for himself in these places. He was usually alone.

Was.

Nyx snaps to a corner, vaults himself onto an elevation. Just who would he see here? He'd find out soon enough.]

[jokerofhearts]

[ With the collapse of Yaldaboth and everything regarding the Navi, the Phantom Thieves thought the book was closed. Corruption would always be there. Yet, with no way into the Metaverse, how could they step in when they were needed? It was a constant conversational point in their group texts as they had gone their ways. Haru and Makoto to college, Akira himself went back home. Yet the Thief Conversation was always open and they were always speaking with one another.

Which made him wonder how he was standing back in the Metaverse with Morgana again in a new Palace. The hordes of Shadows shifted outside, but they were quiet. None of them reacted to the presence of the Phantom Thieves, despite how widespread the world knew them.

So... how were they able to find a palace here? ]

[servitor]

[Nyx moved quietly, towards the newcomer, towards someone who is most definitely not a Shadow.

A boy, with a cat.

A boy in a trench coat and a mask, with a humanoid cat.]

Can't say I know you.

[Well. Not personally.

News of the Phantom Thieves had faded into a living legend, an urban myth. Nyx had followed them closely, after all. He had to follow them. While they operated publicly, he operated quietly. The Phantom Thieves made for a fantastic diversion.

But to see the leader now, in the flesh?

Something was off. If a Phantom Thief was here...

Nyx moved closer, dropped onto the floor quietly. All he knew was meeting here in a Palace was a bad idea.]

You don't look too happy to be here.

[Or maybe he was, hard to tell.

He held up his hands and showed both of his knives.] I'm not looking for a fight here. Just trying to figure out how you got here.

[Besides the obvious methods, of course.]

look at this punk

[sassery]

[Mementos has always been an odd place, let's be real here. Spooky shadows creeping all along the subway, a maze that seems to go deeper and deeper as time passes in society's consciousness, new requests that seem to ask more and more of a certain group as they dangle between normal and an abnormal life. It's not really so weird then, that Morgana talks about something feeling different about Mementos lately, and Futaba confirms it once the Phantom Thieves fall into the Metaverse once more. It could be the weather, it could be the season they're in, a number of things seem to change all the time.

But this time is... different. Because the deeper the group goes, the less and less Shadows they see. Part of the time Oracle and Mona observe that the enemies on the floor vanish in certain areas, but when the group gets there, there's nothing to be seen. It's an almost unsettling feeling, as if the cause of this was aware of them following it.

Somehow, the team's gotten separated the deeper they've gone, and now Joker's the closest one to finding out who this perpetrator is. As it stands, he isn't too hard to find- the sound of gunshots end up ricocheting easily enough on this floor, and if Joker's fast enough, he'll arrive just in time to see a certain white-haired dumbass suplex an Oni.

Let it be known that Nero is a man of odd and incredible things, and fighting like a wrestler and doing Stupid Shit(TM) tends to be his MO.

With the Oni disposed of, it's not too difficult to notice that he's got company, so up goes the revolver in one hand. Its aim is at Joker, but it's more Nero being cautious than actually attempting to fire- and, well. Joker's not exactly who he's expecting? What a weird look.]

...Cute mask. [He was expecting another demon, and while he's still on edge, it's clear to him that this weirdo in a mask isn't one at all. Almost looks like a kid, really. Nero lowers his gun and gives a scoff, brushing a hand across his chin in thought.]

You get lost going to a cosplay shoot, kid? [A pause.] Wait- don't tell me this is some weird-ass furry convention.

[Like he's one to talk, this dumbass standing in the fucking Metaverse like it's no big deal. FINISH HIM.]

beautiful gorgeous punks (no self, dont do this smash au with dante dad---)

[jokerofhearts]

[ At first, Joker sticks to the wall of the battle arena he finds himself in. Usually people within Mementos are either Shadows - stereotypical gold eyes included. Or, on the rare chance, they were Persona users who had masks to donate the marking of a thief.

The young man in front of him (though, older than Joker) seemed like a normal person. One that admittedly could see him, despite merging into the shadows. So, Joker stands up and walks into the light to observe him more. Coat, gun, and ...a mechanical arm?

It seems almost like something out of a video game.

Joker cocks his head to the side just a bit and smirks at the comment of the mask. ]

I don't see fursuits. [ Joker rarely talks, but, he will when he needs to. ] Unless yours is invisible.

[sassery]

[To the other's credit, it's not as if Nero's got eyes in the back of his head. He can only feel Joker rather than see him, and it's not a huge giveaway that he's there. Had he been without his newly awakened powers, he wouldn't have even realized anything beyond the shadows making him feel uneasy.

But then the guy speaks, and the devil hunter rolls his shoulders a little, snorting back a laugh.]

It'd be a shitty fursuit if it was invisible, I'll say that much. [Nero, why are you even commenting on this.] Tell that to whatever these things are, though. A lot of them like talking my ear off.

[Especially the ones that felt somewhat like demons. It's weird- he no longer has the reaction in his arm, but the twinge of a demon recognizing another still makes itself known, even in a weirdass place like this.

Still, there's a question about all of this he still has.]

I've been to a lot of odd places, but this doesn't look like the underworld. Not any demons that I know of around.

[Look, he was fighting a pack of demons in Redgrave and the ground caved in, dropping him through a portal of some kind that led to here. Wherever here is. It's not the first time it's happened and it definitely won't be the last.]

· [BIOSHOCK] elizabeth comstock.

[tearings]

· [ASSASSIN'S CREED] callum lynch.

[pionero]

[brickinthewall]

[Hanna King was a special little thing.

Hanna King did not go by subject numbers.

Hanna King had no spectacular lineage.

Hanna King was a new breed.

She was not Hanna to most. She was King to those that mattered. Prometheus to those that didn't. She was no one and everyone, lost to the tides of broken memories and unending rage.

She sat in common room in a bit of a daze, breathing deeply and shallowly all at once. Her brain pounded against her skull. Was it the alcohol? Was it the genetic sequences? Hanna didn't know, and she didn't care. She wanted to rip this place apart.

But something in her veins made it impossible. Fuck, she felt horrible, like a wet, angry cat. Hanna rolled her head back, grinned to the ceiling and laughed.]

Can't keep me down, you fucks!

[Or maybe they could, because here she was. Her head and her eyes rolled over to the side. She'd seen him around, didn't particularly care enough to know who or what he was. It's rare they even let her interact with the rest of the inmates.

She grinned even harder and winked.] Hey, sweetie.

[pionero]

[ Cal wasn't as special as Hanna King. And he didn't want to be.

Hell, he didn't want to be involved in this damn shadow war. It didn't matter to him if his family line had been involved in it. It ended up with his father killing his mother and then him being on the run, shelters, orphanages, gangs. Cal could give a shit less about the fucking war behind the Templars and the Assassins.

Even if it made the memories of his ancestor - Aguilar - stir deep inside. Some sort of driving force that made him disgusted within his own skin at the idea of letting the Templars go.

Maybe he'd side with them long enough to find that damn Apple of theirs so he could destroy it. End the war.

He looked up from his internal musings to the person that was addressing him. Huh. Think of the devil and she appeared. ]

What?

[brickinthewall]

[She turns her attention physically to him, still slumped over as if she were a queen on a throne. Her voice, deeper by decibels, is a drawling mockery of his voice.]

"What?"

[Hanna laughs lightly.]

Is that what you say to all the girls that hit on you? "What?" Talk about some fuckin' manners in this place.

[She sighs, shaking out her wrists, pained by the IVs they've stuck into her veins over the past several... well, who knows how long really. There are days with memories, and days without memories, and then those days are split into days with her own memories, and days with other memories.

For a moment, she sees it.

An overlay.

A hood, brown and cream.]

You're the Spaniard's kid.

[The vision flickers away, in a VHS cassette rewind of time and space. There's her best friend, Robin Hood, hovering a little further back, arrow drawn. But that's not Robin Hood, is it? No, Hanna realizes that is not her best friend, only someone who looks like him. Robin Hood and Echo are her only friends in the marshlands of memories.]

Well. You aren't Spanish. Seen your great granddad doing his tricks, though. [She drops her voice into a hiss of a whisper.] Kind of a pain in the ass if you ask me. Prancing into my brain the way he does. This is off limits, baby. [She taps her temple.] Only got the space for Danes, the Greeks, the Britons, that whole slaughtery mess. [But that wasn't the truth. She knows the real truth: she's not a prime suspect. She gets all the leftovers.]

· [FINAL FANTASY] lunafreya nox fleuret.

[guidingmoonlight]

[liveandforgive]

[ continued from here. ]

I uh... [ Babump. Babump. ] Coulda sworn I ticked that box-

dissidia verse then?

[guidingmoonlight]

[ The smile on her face tells him that yes, he did. ]

You did.

here we goooo

[bloodlilies]

The pain had been the last thing he remembered. The sharp cold lancing through his body, the acrid taste of light on his tongue as it threatened to burst from him, consume him, the distant crackle of something like breaking glass in his ears-

He didn't remember blacking out. Didn't remember much beyond the agony, really, only half recalling visions of white and snippets of the Exarch's spell, before he woke up here. Although where here was, Saiun couldn't say, and whether it had been the Exarch that had sent him there, or Hydaelyn, he had even less idea. But the pain was gone. The distant ringing, the sickeningly bitter taste of light, vanished without a trace. The room he had woken up in was nothing like anywhere he had seen, and the young lady that had been tending to him had very nearly run off in a fright before calming down enough to look him over, and, deeming his health satisfactory, ushered him to meet with the woman that had "rescued" him.

No, not woman, Saiun reminded himself. Princess.

The way people stared and avoided him was far too reminiscent of his childhood for comfort, and for the first time in over two decades the mage found himself absently wishing that his robes hid more of his scales. Wished for a heavy hood to cover the horns. But if even the people of Gridania could adjust to and welcome him and his mother into their midst, surely the people here could as well.

At least no one here had accused him of being voidsent, yet. It wasn't exactly a cheerful thought, but it was reassuring in a way, and as he came upon the door he had been directed to, Saiun paused, grip on his staff white-knuckled as he took a steadying breath. A quiet knock, and he opened the door, slowly, peering inside with hesitation.

"Your, ah... Your highness?"

yeeessss (quietly slides in nyx stuff)

[guidingmoonlight]

Princess.

It had been some time since she was addressed in such a manner. Ever since her ascension at sixteen, she had been known as the Oracle. Only one other man in recent time had referred to her as her inherited title by birth. He was left in Insomnia, and Lunafreya prayed against all odds that the Kingsglaive had made it out alive.

Yet, when it came to the man with horns, Lunafreya knew that the normal speaking conventions of their world would not be present in their conversations. It was refreshing in a way. She could escape the expectations of Oracle even for a short while when it came to Saiun Godo.

She turned to him with a smile. Her hair was down and dressed in a simple white gown. The pin of the emblem of her country sat in her hand.

"Saiun." She bowed her head in respect and faced him fully. Her hands folded in front of her. "What can I do for you?"

[bloodlilies]

Truth be told, Saiun wasn't sure what it was he had expected when he finally saw the woman. Princess Lunafrya, whose face he just barely recalled from fragmented, fleeting moments of consciousness, but whose unexpected familiarity gave him pause, the young mage freezing in the doorway.

She looked so much like Minfillia, that for just a moment...

But she wasn't Minfillia. Her voice and her mannerisms both proved as much, and he seemed to catch himself, after that, half bowing in return. Was he supposed to do that? It wasn't as if he'd had extensive interaction with royalty over the years. He couldn't recall having ever bowed to the sultana, and Hien... Hien would just as soon have laughed in his face at the thought of it.

"Can you communicate across time and space?"

It was hard for even him to tell if he meant it in seriousness or not. Even with the pain a distant memory, his body and mind still felt exhausted, and he bit down on his tongue almost sharply enough to taste blood. It wasn't as if she or her people would have any more answers for how he'd arrived there than he did, or any means to contact the only two entities he could think of to get him back home. He stepped fully into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"No, I'm- My apologies. That's a bad joke." Back up. Try again, with a little less of a clipped tone and little more of the reason he had sought her out in the first place. "I was told that you were the one who found me, and I... I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here."

· [ORIGINAL] tiberius darrowbane.

[shakespearian]

sup friendoooo

[estrangedheir]

[ Keep your head down and don't get in trouble, Aghorah had told him, and he'd scowled because it's not like he gets in trouble on purpose. It's not his fault that he's tall or that he's bulked up considerably since he'd started fighting on a more regular basis, or that he has an insufferable grin that usually makes people want to punch him.

But, as he should have already expected, he does get caught up in a brawl in the tavern, and he's not even sure who or what started it. All he really knows is that somewhere along the way he got swept up in the fight, and that it would be stupid not to defend yourself when you're under attack. He doesn't draw his sword, just throwing off the drunks that stumble into his path as he tries to make his way out of the chaos, but when he's cornered into punching a random cutthroat... all of a sudden he's become the target. Well, shit. ]

Please don't make me do this.

[ As genuine as he's being — he really doesn't want to hurt anyone — he gives off the impression that he's taunting them instead. Gods, he just wanted a quiet night and to enjoy a drink in peace. ]

Whats up, friendo!

[shakespearian]

[ Tiberius seems to have a similar - yet different - problem than Callistarte. He was of average height, lean but strong build, and that rogue like nature stayed with him long enough to get him out of some trouble. Not all of it though. Especially when a certain royal family called and forced him to dance in their court.

Which is why he's watching the tavern brawl from the sidelines at first. It isn't something he particularly wants to get involved with. If it were up to him? Tiberius - more well known as Tiber - would rather not be involved with anyone or anything. Fate always seemed to have something else in mind though. Which is why he sighs, inwardly cursing that drive he's always had to help others, and strides over to the fight.

He steps on the foot of one brawler and bends them backwards to the point he yelps. Then, Tiber throws him to the ground. Then onto the next, and the next. Until he gets to the man who is begging the man he's punching. ]

It might help if you stop throwing the fist first.