RAIN & MEMORY SHARE

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: Rain has come to the world, and with it, comes whacky memory share phenomena— certainly not all of which is wanted. Characters are driven to find shelter and solutions.
Date(s): September 30-October 7
Warnings/Notes: None specific, please warn in your subject headers

Awash In Memory

The landscape after cruelty which is, of course, a garden

The Rain

At first, it's just rain, expected to last a week. A swirl of silver cotton-candy clouds in the sky that rolls into a mist, and then a drizzle that freckles the gutters and chases people to their cars or into the shopfronts. It's nourishing and not too cold— a good excuse to share an umbrella or maybe just fitting of a shitty, blue mood if you would like to walk around in a billowy coat like the King of Pain.

Gimme Shelter

It can be a cute or enormously embarrassing way to meet people, pretty much up to you. Fall in step with someone under an offered umbrella, or dart around like a panic with a pizza box or plastic bag over your head. Maybe you'll just find an overhanging tree branch or store awning to tuck yourself under. Hopefully you're stuck with someone you like.

Quite a few restaurants seem to be offering rainy day specials, including Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe, comprised of hot cocoa and half-off a second cup if you're buying for a friend. You probably won't be the only one there.

However, for those of you who are taking the weather more seriously, the citadel has opened for shelter. Here, there are beds aplenty scattered throughout, and the bar and lounge is open with its terrible soundtrack as well as plentiful if repetitive food and drink. Residents are also exchanging resources of their own, including harvested foodstuffs and clothes. You can also check out the control room to see the meteorological analysis and forecast... which is behaving a little unpredictably, but-- it'll probably be fine.

Like My Mood

Alternatively, #mood.


Maybe everything sucks because you got stood up for a date or otherwise rejected recently-- it's a good time to storm around tragically in the street. Alternatively, if you're the happy type, there is an entire musical dedicated to the fine practice of dancing in the rain. Who needs musical accompaniment when you have the rhythmic drubbing of water on the earth and the sweet smell of petrichor?

Or maybe you're in the mood to talk. Certainly, there's an increasing sense of nostalgia going around that's stronger and more widespread than the average effect of poetic weather...

Oh Shit

However, the downpour steadily intensifies over the next few days, and soon after F.A.T.E.S. issues a warning— D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has hijacked the climate. At first, there are only a few concerns— herds of animals coming into the city seeking shelter. Be careful if you find a herd of bison gathered under the highway overpass, or your kitchen is suddenly full of fairies. Hell, maybe you're a Good Samaritan, trying to rescue some hapless native cat or other.

But then it begins.

The Memory Share

As the rain grows heavy, the nostalgia turns into something unexpected. Characters who touch one another find themselves sharing brief sensory memory. These can vary from the sudden and terrible pain of old battle wounds, to the overwhelming, heart-pounding joy of welcoming a new child to the family. The scary thing is, these memory share are uncontrolled, and might come from even the shortest, most accidental touch.

The Telexistence Temple

News from your fellow residents: Era Ra and Ezekiel won visions during the fair. And now Era has information to share, that uploading memories at the Temple can lock and protect them from the involuntary release, as well as fortify the defenses of the city. She's also talking about some kind of a key hole there, which you can check out yourself. Weird!

You can teleport East from the Citadel to the Temple, or you can walk there on your own two legs. Weather allowing.

Within the Temple the chamber lays behind a large round door covered in inscrutable carvings. It's surprisingly bright in here now, in contrast to what Era's message held. It contains numerous strange beds, all of which are now online, having awakened in answer to the rainfall. The characters must lay down on while the daemons connect to a holographic interface.

From there, the memory share becomes intuitive even for the most technologically impaired of Xistentia residents.

The Temple Chamber

If you should choose to share, you may control who sees it; filter it to someone of your choice, or leave it open for everyone. You may post anonymously, but visual cues of identity cannot be erased. Pain is muted and impressionistic, but pleasure tends to be evocative enough. It's the way the mind works. Daemons will flag graphic or commonly disturbing material. With every new memory shared, the rain seems to be lessening.

You can also choose to lock it away, preventing anyone from seeing it for at least another month. Unfortunately your memory will not help to shield the city, but at least it will stop embarrassing you. Let's hope it doesn't provoke any intrusive questions in the meantime.

After 48 hours, enough memories have been shared. The sky over the city and the sphere of forest surround the urban bounds develops a barrier that looks almost liquid, translucent. Though residents can pass through it, it cuts the rain down to half. A few hours later, the storm wanes out and stops entirely. The shield also fades away, and the animals begin to ebb as well, back into the wild. It's only been a week, but it might feel much longer.


The memories will dissipate from storage in a month, regardless of whether or not they're viewed again.

Comments

juno steel / ota

[monologue]

THE RAIN ( OH SHIT )

[ juno's found a pretty decent corner booth to hole up in from the rain, but he isn't just sitting there having a hot drink. Nope. Instead, he's sitting there with about four unruly cats (ranging from straight up scraggly and old to scraggly and kitten-aged) and an extremely wet-looking peacock crowding the booth. the kittens themselves are wrapped up in his coat, which looks like it's seen better days already, but they seem content to mill about and mewl. ]

Hey, you, over there. [ real polite, juno. ] You look like a cat person. I've got four. How about it? Want one?

[ it's hard to take him seriously when the smallest is trying to clamber her way onto his shoulder. he has to catch it mid-way, a lopsided kind of smile to his face as he picks her up and holds her very carefully in his scuffed up hands. you can't have this one, clearly. she's picked him. not that juno knows it yet until she starts yowling for him when he tries to put her down. ]

Seriously. They won't all fit in my pockets and I think good old Pop or whatever his name is isn't going let me sit here much longer with 'em. They all swear they're well behaved. I gave them a good talking to about that.

THE RAIN ( GIMME SHELTER )

You don't ever really get rain like this on Mars.

[ scene: the citadel's bar and lounge. mood: nostalgic. why you're sitting with a schmuck named juno steel is anyone's real guess, but maybe you didn't have anywhere better to sit with everyone fleeing indoors. the citadel's cozy enough, and the corner seat you both are at (at the bar itself or in a small booth for two, doesn't matter, you just needed somewhere to sit, the both of you, maybe.)

his drink is mostly ice at this point and he frowns a bit. ]

( OOC if you'd like brief contact-initiated memories, let me know below and i'll cook one up for you, though they may come with content warnings listed here so let me know if something is/isn't ok! it's 100% unlikely that you'll get a memory based on the last option. )

THE MEMORY SHARE

[ sharing memories? this is pretty invasive for a first date, xistentia, but if it's going to... well if it's going to do something about this business with d.e.s.t.i.n.y. then far be it from him to deny the greater good. he's selective about all of it, hesitant, like peeling back layer after painful layer, but there are a few, and makes sure that none of them sting too too badly. this one'll do. and it is, indeed available to pretty much anyone. ]

mr. & mr. rose.
[ dahlia rose never got a script for his performance, just some papers with a newly printed identity. he's a married dame now with a name that "isn't half as pretty as juno." that's what he was told anyways. even after "duke" leaves to let juno park the car, he can still smell duke's cologne that he leaves behind. it's an overwhelming scent, and maybe that's the embarrassing part: how invasive the smell is for a memory: foreign spices, sharp and sweet and warm. you could bury yourself in it for hours. so could juno. he already has.

but juno has a job to do, so no more lingering on that. it goes a little something like this: con a retired jewel thief-turned-gambler named brock engstrom for the codes to climb aboard the utgard express (a traveling vault that hurtles across mars at thousands of miles an hour, crazy, right?) then snatch a dangerous martian artifact off of it, escape said locomotive, destroy that damn piece of ancient space garbage, and save the day.

simple, right?

so fast forward, juno parks the car, all of his paperwork as "dahlia rose" checks out and he's left here. a hotel room: empty, but lavish. his nerves? running higher than ever before. can he trust him? can he really trust duke rose? rex glass? ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒? can he trust a man who runs from his names faster than juno runs from everything else in his life? god he wants to, wants to trust ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ who swept him up into the best kiss he's had in a long time, who pick pocketed him with sly slender hands, who stole a mask out from under his nose. beautiful, impossible, nameless, fantastic, terrible, fox-toothed, full-mouthed ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ hurtling in like a comet and whisking him away the way he'd always wanted deep down in the pit of his stomach.

a phone call stirs juno out of his internal panic. the duke of roses himself. he exchanges words briefly. ]

( You’re my good luck charm, Dahlia. If I could do this without you, I would have left you at home. Oh, and do wear that suit I love so much, will you? I hung it in the closet for you. Don’t say I never get you anything. See you soon! )

lo and behold: there is a suit hanging in a closet from this man, this newly-minted duke rose. juno tries to make it sit right, tries to make it believable, but in the end you and he both know that's not the case. he knows duke's real name, but you, dear viewer, don't and you never will. juno's mind is too stubborn (still too loyal). duke, rose, duke rose, duke rose. the funny thing is? there's something thrilling about all this, being part of a crazy scheme that makes his heart race. juno does his sort of best to look as dahlia rose as he possibly can. and hey, there's even an old tube of lipstick rolling around his coat pocket, so he tries that out just as well, figures it's worth a shot, figures that since he's dressing up anyways...

the finished product? doesn't look half bad.

voila. now you're dahlia rose now, in the flesh, walking toward engstrom's private gaming suites. yes. that's what standing between duke rose and you and that train. a card game. a stupid... stupid dumb card game.

and juno knows the role he's supposed to play the minute he stepps in, and he's fucking bored of it already. he steps in and stands close to duke rose like a little prize, a real good luck charm, all dressed up in brilliant, fiery red-to-orange gradients that looks more like a layer cake of old-timey earth sunrise: cinched waist, high collar. a lady wears this kind of suit and feels power at his fingertips, but juno's never been a proper anything really, so all he feels is lame. he gets the sense already from duke's elaborate show of fussing over him in front of engstrom, their target, that his role is... just him. maybe, a bit haughtier. too bad juno doesn't do haughty, just permanently pissed off.

dahlia should know exactly what he's doing, has duke in the palm of his hand. but really, juno's certain he's dancing at the mercy of this man.

it's a shame that dahlia rose really isn't a proper dahlia. isn't much of a flower at all. ]

memshare;

[bangitybang]

[someone like me, janus thinks. but is he?

the memory follows them around for the next half-hour, after they vacate the memory share bed. in the field, janus is a creature of certainty and tactical methodology, but in matters such as these, they are full of questions and doubts, questioning whether this is the same matter, if it matters at all. obviously there was a larger context to dahlia rose's existence. engstrom's private gaming suites, duke rose, it reminds janus unmistakably of the elaborate cover identities and missions that their cohorts are tasked to go on. personally, janus was never assigned to anything of that level, of course. their niche was the opposite to that one.

and maybe there's a sense of kinship there too— how uncomfortable juno had felt in his costume.

anyhow. anyhow—

they're trying not to stare as they see the now-familiar face down the temple's stone hallway. no makeup. rather dour. janus walks past him. focusing. one foot in front of the other, thinking briefly of the faraway patter of rainfall outside. and then,] You didn't look lame, [comes out of them, blurted, all of a sudden. they twist their head around suddenly.]

[monologue]

[ juno is trying to mind his own business, but god is it hard. the memory had sloughed off him like an old skin. maybe he'd hoped to be rid of it altogether, but he knows better than anyone else that it's something he'd hardly want to... be rid of. hell. he'll hold onto that day until he dies, probably, take it with him howling to the grave (because juno won't be buried any other way.)

he's trying to shake off the remnants of his time spent in the chamber when someone stops, turns to him, calls in his general direction and he has to pause with a semi-there "wha" forming before he shuts his mouth and pauses, hands deep in his coatpockets as he looks up to meet their eyes.

it takes juno a beat to parse out what they meant, but when he does, his head seems to lift a little more. more disbelief than anything. ]

Dahlia...? [ a beat. right. ] He wasn't really my style.

[ soggy detective: that's a style. ] Too flashy. You've gotta have a presence for that. I think.

[bangitybang]

[this is the terrible moment people make memes about, when someone you kind of know encounters you in the hallway and you're not sure how much eye-contact to make, how to do gestures and postures and tone that will telegraph that you don't want to make a thing of it. or does juno want to make a thing of it?

janus sways idiotically in place, managing somehow to stop their train of thought before they get to thinking about how hunting a sentient being through a densely populated urban setting would be easier. they start to walk toward juno, extending a hand. juno said he. maybe they had misunderstood.] It was a little flashy, [they agree,] but the lipstick seemed like it might be yours, and you-- knew what you were doing.

[they mean it as a compliment. but they are also awkwardly shaking his hand and trying to tell if he identifies as genderqueer just from looking at how fast he's blinking and how he's moving his mouth around, so. this is definitely going very smoothly.]

[monologue]

[ they offer out a hand towards him, and juno takes it, albeit a bit hesitantly because usually when a hand is out for him, it's going for the throat. there are nuances to this place that juno hasn't quite been able to get down pat just yet. everyone is... a little different than they are on mars. to be expected considering their situation but. it's weird. and it makes him feel like he should be crawling out of his skin to find something a little thicker for the time being. ]

When your fake husband doesn't provide you with one then you work with what you've got.

[ juno holds a beat, lets the handshake go on for maybe ten seconds longer than it should before he stops it, grip firmly enough to still the both of them somewhere in the center. truth of the matter is: juno doesn't know how to make a thing of it. it's just how he's lived. somewhere comfortably in between, rolling with the turbulent motions of his mood. ]

But I'm pretty sure I lost it in an incident a while after that, so if you were looking to borrow it, you're out of luck. I barely remember the name either. [ juno barely remembers what he had for breakfast the other day, nevermind the name of some lipstick sample he clung to because it happened to look pretty decent on him. ]

assuming mars knowledge lmk if not ok

[bangitybang]

It's fine, [janus says, which they belatedly realize sounds indifferent instead of forgiving, but they aren't sure what to do about that besides turn back time. if they could be any stiffer, they would probably crack in their bones right where they stand now.] I mean, I haven't used makeup since I was in high school, so it was an, [how to put this diplomatically,] intellectual interest, [no,] or-- you could call it academic.

[no. it takes janus a bit too long to realize that he's shaking their hand too long. it's fine. they release when he does. they decide that he looks tired and off-center as well.]

I just haven't met a lot of people who had similar interests, and, [proclivities? leanings. gender identity. flashback to trying to describe themself to ezekiel when they were sixteen, the clumsy metaphor of a sword, all purity of purpose, without gender, the fluidity that came with performance. it seems silly now, their world gone, talking to a martian who matter-of-factly lost his lipstick and also matter-of-factly had a fake husband they were clearly super into in a not fake way.] The cultural difference seems meaningful, [they finish, lamely.]

NEVER OK no i mean this is great tbh

[monologue]

Uh.

[ what juno would give to read minds for five seconds, even with the frequent bleeding-out-of-every-facial-orifice deal to figure out just what's going on in their head.

"cultural difference" taps him like a pebble in a pond, ripples out, and he lets his hand come up to rub slowly at his jaw in thought for a moment. it's not something that happens at home, this kind of conversation. you just. accept it and barely brush against it anymore, if at all. there's more to life, like money or... drugs or ancient martian bombs or cats with six eyes or... ]

That's the future, I guess. Surprise. [ that much, he knows, that's the obvious overstatement. he was born there and he doesn't know much more than what he's lived through, which makes it weird to feel like you're going back in a way. people used to question this sort of thing all the time, didn't they? his eyes meet theirs. ]

No one really thinks about it that much anymore. At the end of the day, it's just makeup and sometimes I've got the time to wear it. [ juno doesn't feel weird about it, in fact, he straightens. prods. it's his nature. ] Does it mean something else to you here? You know, outside the whole high school thing.

[bangitybang]

[juno stares at the other man a little intensely, and then decides to tone it down a little and makes a point to look at a spot on his shoulder, before returning their stare to his face. it's a great face, to be fair.

it should be noted, that apart from the peculiar zoney-outy swervy aroundy of janus' gaze, their expression is quite wooden. rather like a robot trying to simulate uncertainty. (in real life, it's an uncertain person trying to simulate roboticism, more like.)] I suppose you could say I gave it up after high school, [they say, and then almost immediately regret their choice of words.] It wasn't that big of a deal. We don't have that in my community, that's all, unless it's for work.

What-- what year were you from? [they try to appear casually, academically interested in this. the future. it makes sense that things will someday changed, even with some disparities in timelines. some some some. lady gaga wouldn'tve worn a meat dress a hundred years ago.]

[monologue]

Work.

[ sounds. restrictive? juno doesn't have a word for it. it's never really been that high of a point to raise before. people just... know? but still, he answers janus' question without blinking an eye (but because we're only given the fact that it's 10,000 years into the future, we're keeping the actually anchored down numerical year very vague. Just assume it's the year 10600+, no joke.) when juno thinks of it, he realizes that maybe it's. well. ]

It's... kind of a ways off from here?

[ this isn't something he usually has to think about, the unforgiving passage of time or something poetic like that. ]

You know. Just a little. [ he pinches thumb and forefinger together just barely leaving space in between. ]

[bangitybang]

I think I understand what you're trying to convey. [10,000 years would be a long time, even to janus, who knows of gods and vampires, of reincarnation and the rises and falls of kingdoms as old as magic. they don't really parse 'a ways off' as ten millennia, with the finger pinchy, but they regard juno with distinctive interest now, an inkling of understanding, maybe a little less stupifying envy. it's almost, kind of, maybe a little -- reassuring. to think that it could be an evolutionary process for peoplekind.

now it is time for more tactful and sensitive questions, navigating around the logistics, and more at the heart of the issue.]

Are you a boy or a girl?

[it just pops out. janus' ears turn red the next instant. they look everywhere but juno, or at least everywhere that they can reach with their eyeballs without actually turning their head, before they inevitably come back to his face.] I'm-- that came out wrong.

[monologue]

( ooc i remember you plurking that you were easing off of memory stuff so feel free to leave it here/handwave the rest! i figured i'd give janus an answer anyways :> )


[ question of the year, isn't it? juno hasn't... had to think about that. not since fisticuffs with todd miles away at valles vicky's vixen valley. even then, what'd that say about him? he doesn't have to feel out the words, they just come out of his mouth. honestly, juno's been asked worse things, this isn't even bad, just curious, and it makes juno wonder. so here's how it goes. janus ducks their head, looks a little red around the ears, and juno lets his shoulders sag a little in an easy, tired motion.

this is gonna take some getting used to. he shakes his head. ]

Oh.

[ juno doesn't look upset at them? more... well, at a lack of what to say until he blinks a bit and then just. lets it happen when janus meets his eyes. see? not angry. hell, sorting things out when he was younger wasn't a fight, he had nothing to hide, so trying to explain it now turns a rusty set of gears in his head. ] Well. I'm... a whole guy. [ firmly: ] Plus a lady. But most people just call me Juno and leave it at that.

[ sitting on the in between, the lines so blurred no one really knows where they land anymore. some more this than that, but in the end it's a big bunch of who the hell cares. ] Don't get asked that very often, but I hope that works for you.

[bangitybang]

[ooc: thank you for reconnecting our butts and that >rusty set of gears line is so good]

[somewhere after a whole guy, janus' stare returns to the other man's face. at some point during, a lady, their eyes get very slightly bigger, in a way that would have counted as a tell and embarrassed them, in most other circumstances. they don't like to be obvious or transparent about their feefees, most of the time, especially their feefees of ignorance. but they've never heard anyone put it like that. admittedly, they haven't heard-- most people put it any way at all, unwontedly timid in their information-seeking, but you probably wouldn't find a remark like that on webmd.]

It's informative, [they tell him, after a moment.] I'd be worried if I were to tell anyone something like that, like they'd think I meant I was two different people at once. Which is possible, but not what I'd mean. It doesn't sound that way when you talk about it, though.

[maybe it's about mustering conviction. juno's voice had sounded very good, when he'd said it. plus a lady. like the sky is blue.]

[monologue]

[ the sky's blue and the grass is green and juno's a sturdy, stubbly dame. the world turns onward. ]

Well they'd just have to get used to it, maybe you're just be one person, but you're as flexible as you want to be. [ at least, that's what juno's feeling out here, and while he never usually is the reassuring type, it's what he's aiming for here with janus. he gets it. he was there one time, feeling himself out, sussing out just how he wanted to toe both sides of the line before deciding to adamantly straddle it and finding it easy once he did so.

it's just been like that ever since.

and it's why people stopped asking questions that ran along the strict binary of things, and just started accepting, growing, learning, which is a lot to say for humankind, juno supposes. if you were one or the other, no problem with that, but most days, at least where juno's from, it's a sliding scale that's about as mercurial as the weather. ]

Letting yourself overthink it just starts frying your brains, and that smell isn't great. Personal experience. Now...

[ juno sets his eyes on them firmly, the pair off-matched with a brilliant peacock green to the left and a subtly shifting one to the right. his voice is easy, half a laugh as he slides his hands into his pockets. ] You gonna introduce yourself or are you gonna just keep a lady waiting? I know I'm no Dahlia, but I've heard it's customary.

[bangitybang]

[janus' eyebrows end up buckling into each other then popping up, a little like a certain dwayne the rock johnson of otherworldly fame. fried brains is a correct assessment. the truth is, they'd gone a long time thinking about it in terms of being neither of the two possibilities in the binary, and that had sat uncomfortably with their enjoyment of makeup, which was already identified as a bit of a waste of time in hunter culture. being both, or the option of both, now tha--

wait. now, as juno says. now. they haven't introduced themself.]

Janus LeFevre. [they put out one hand to shake, a little automatically but not stiff at all. juno might be very crusty, crustier by far than most anyone janus has ever attempted to befriend before, but that's sort of what happens when your peeps are spiritual murderers instead of futuristic space gumshoes.] I'm from a world earlier than yours. Less advanced, I think. We fight with swords and haven't established anything on Mars besides a crash-landed satellite, maybe.

[monologue]

[ juno keeps it short this time, the handshake anyways, and it's better than the first to say the least, feels a little more fitting here too, and he gives it a firm squeeze before letting go. Janus, he rolls around in his mind. Janus. Good. Strong. Ever since he'd been lectured fancifully on the importance of names, he finds himself thinking about them more than ever (more than he'd like, really.) he tips his head with a "huh." ]

So, what? Like Twentieth century-ish?

[ he's no historian, but that sounds about right. swords still around for use. satellites to mars--those didn't happen for a while and while juno wasn't an honor roll student, mars' history is something he'd clung to in the back of his mind. ]

Way earlier. Like, before the Martians earlier. Before they started the first terraforming efforts earlier.

[ you're basically ancient history. ]

[bangitybang]

[at a certain level of feeling stupid, janus becomes immune to such internal experiences. they met that threshold about three minutes ago, so probably, unless they try to make salutations by grabbing juno's ankle at some point in the next hour, they're good to go.] Twenty-first, [they say.] We have magic and some traditions from earlier times that might mark our timelines apart.

There have certainly not been any terraforming activities, [they say.] That-- I don't even know what that is. [they don't read science fiction, where that concept would be housed. they don't read much fiction at all.]

Do you have robotic components?

[straight faced. at least they know this much about science fiction, all right. they understand something of the science fiction dream.]

[monologue]

[ twenty-first, so close. obviously still miles away, but you know. they're getting there. ]

It's when you make a home where the environment's not really meant for you. Grow things, get a livable atmosphere going. That's the gist of it anyways, I'm not really a scientist or anything.

[ but yeah. make a home. that's why people started in on mars, right? to explore the unknown, to make something out of it, a new home with bright and shining buildings that mirrored the ones that were on earth once upon a time. a mixture of old and new, a curio case half-caught in time and half-hurtling forward towards the future--neon and old Mars-dust brick.

--robotic components

juno almost instinctively reaches up and touches the space just below his eye a second, pressing down a little, feeling the soft hum of the theia on standby, simple visual mode barely whirring under his touch. ]

Lost my eye a while back, so I got a new one, full on pirate wasn't for me. It's about as robot as I get. [ though really, he can't believe it. magic? you're joking... ]

What about you? You said you've got... magic back home? Got any hocus pocus yourself? Rabbits out of hats? Sawing people in half?

[bangitybang]

[it's a little uncharacteristic, but the hint of incredulity on juno's face puts a half-smile on janus'. they've come to realize that magic sounds like nonsense to plenty of people who turn up in this world, but they've gotten used to it, and juno's willingness to share about mundanities that are extraordinary to janus indicates a certain kind of grace you might have missed if you were the sort to stereotype about stubble.

janus shaves religiously.]

We make spells from the bodies of other magical beings, [they tell him.] I'm a Hunter. I've lived all my life guarding humanity from mythological beings who would hurt or exploit them. Who would hurt or exploit you, [they correct themself after a moment, looking at juno's eye. at what point a person is a robot rather than a person? certainly not after receiving a prosthetic eye. self-identification matters too, per their conversation some minutes ago.] But even without casting any of those, I have a number of special attributes.

[they're still talking with a straight face. this is just how they talk, okay.] For example, I'm very strong for my size, if not as much so as vampires and orcs might be.

[monologue]

[ juno folds his arms loosely around his middle as he listens, eyes trained on them, brows being the only give away of his reaction. which means they're saying a lot, shifting from completely incredulous to actually interested, leaning in with a curiosity that you could reach out and pluck from the air.

magic doesn't really exist where juno's from. just in all those little places he doesn't want to look--movies, amusement parts, the sword and shield of a woman warrior he once may have idolized, but no longer does. still, the whole thing it... suits janus really. suits them in a way that space suits juno, and while he's likely to blow it off, between the handful of people he's run into, well. too many possibilities exist in the here and now. more than he'd ever thought he'd encounter and it's damn frustrating but god, would nureyev have a fucking ball hearing about it all... ] That's...

[ juno hums, short, rough. there's something in his eyes, slightly slack mouth, like a wonder he's stifling. clears his throat. ] Sounds like interesting work. [ work that's honest and true and everything juno's ever striven for. ] A protector in a way.

rain;

[remarkablymodest]

[ Juno is a good judge of character. Aymeric is, in fact, a cat person. He hadn't been before inheriting Borel manor and it's cantankerous cat. But the feline had clawed its way into his heart and. If he's being honest, the quiet meows over the rush of the rain was what had drawn him in the first place. It gave him a little pang of homesickness, for Borel manor and the disagreeable creature.

The six foot and eight inch tall Elezen has to bend at the knees to be eye level with the other man but it's so graceful a move one would think he's accustomed to it.
Considering he's the tallest person here in Xistentia yet, it's likely no surprise he's had to adapt.

The man's daemon - a wind-up lookalike of his dear friend - gives one of the wayward kittens a gentle pet. The minion starts when the cat mewls and paws at him but brandishes a miniature shield to protect himself. ]

Do you happen to know how old they are? [ he asks, extending his hand knuckles first for one of the kittens to rub against if it so desires. ]

sorry for the lateness!

[monologue]

[ you know.

there are very few people taller than... well, taller than peter nureyev. this person just so happens to take the cake. the fact that he needs to bend down to meet juno's eyes just kind of says it all. still juno glances at the wind-up miniature and the cat terrorizing one another and finds himself smiling just a little bit before watching one of the kittens waddle up to the extended hand. ]

Young. Like maybe 3 or so months? They're totally different from the cats back home, but I imagine they might at least... age the same?

right back at ya /fingerguns

[remarkablymodest]

[ Aymeric can't help the smile that graces his face at the kitten's clumsy stride towards him. For not the first time and certainly not the last, he feels a pang of homesickness. ]

Was the mother not with the youngest?

[ He doesn't want to think about what might have happened to her, in that case, but hopefully all these cats will find a good home. He turns his attention now to the older one that Juno is holding, the one scraggly with age instead of just rain. ] May I-? [ he asks, moving his hand away from the kitten and instead towards the elderly cat. ]

Rain - 1

[hermajestyssword]

[Ion has been a cat person almost from birth - growing up with his grandmother's small army of them saw to that. And, if truth be told, their meowing had already caught his attention, but he'd been hesitant to just walk up, unannounced and uninvited. Once the man addresses him though...

He approaches a little warily (because he hasn't been here long yet to lose his wariness of everything and everyone in this strange face), looking not unlike a wet and bedraggled cat himself, and offers a hand for the kittens to sniff and/or rub against, if they wish. Watching them makes him feel more than a little homesick, so he glances up into the man's face instead.] Well, if you're certain...

[One of the older kittens, mostly white (or a color that might prove to be white, once it's had a bath) with an orange patch over one ear and eye, butts his hand, and he strokes it in automatic reaction. It reminds him of one of Grandmother's-

And because that thought is at the forefront of his mind as he moves to scoop it up, Juno might catch a flash of memory as the kitten changes hands - a girl? who could pass for Ion's twin, stroking a fat white cat and wearing a rather catlike smile herself.

The moment passes, and Ion jerks back in surprise - with the kitten cradled to his chest.]

tap dances in late here too, apologies.

[monologue]

Trust me, I'm sure. If I tried keeping them all, they'll start ganging up on me.

[ you think he's kidding, maybe, but these cats are feisty. good-natured and sweet, but feisty. that's probably what juno likes best about them. as the other moves to pull the cat up into his arms, juno feels it. it's like a moment of static, a blink without actually blinking that has juno caught up in the moment.

he holds his breath.

because this can't be that tumor bullshit again. he was done with that. he's been done with that.

and then it's gone and juno jolts back just as well, brow furrowed deeply as one of the kittens mewls a bit, pawing at his leg. ] You, uh.... alright there? Does that usually happen? [ you know. asking. for science. ]

No worries! Looks like I'm kinda late now too, so >.>

[hermajestyssword]

[That gets a smile, however slight, out of him. He's well aware how bossy even the sweetest of cats can be (and that particular combination of traits is probably going to get the one he's reaching for named, in some way or other, after Esther).

Then there's that flash of memory and Ion quickly withdraws, surprised by the sensation itself and momentarily awash with homesickness. Which probably shows, he's never had what you might call a face for cards-

Are you alright, asks the cat man, and Ion nods shakily, grip automatically adjusting as the kitten begins to squirm.]

It didn't, [he answers, softer and more subdued than is entirely normal for him] before that. [He nods out the window, toward the sheets of rain on the other side.]