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[chimericalclaw]

[A few hours after dawn finally returns to Aldrip, there's a knock at the door to Dante's home-cum-office loud enough to hopefully be heard throughout the building.

The lack of communication available during the dark hour highlighted further how much Altius had relied on phones back in his own world; the tablet's lack of access to the locals was enough of an obstacle, but having all avenues other than physical meetings cut off had markedly limited his ability to keep an eye on the other Chosen and any developments they might have found. Suffice to say he didn't like it.

Dante was a part of those he'd wanted to track down, but between his exploration of the dangerous city for supplies and his own purposes, he hadn't ended up tracking the other down. Rather than immediately return to the network to contact Dante, he decided to dedicate his efforts to finding them in person. He wanted to have a conversation he was fairly sure they wouldn't want to be recorded, anyway.

However it is that he finally lays eyes on that clock again, it will be with a look of some tension, as if he's been holding on to some concern. The past week hasn't been kind to any of them, anyway.]

[followyourstar]

[They're not sure how to feel, hearing that from someone else. Not that it isn't nice. Of course it is. Nevermind what their doppelganger heard or said or thought, they know--they know--that there is something horribly wrong with the way things are back home.

But Altius's words don't quite hit the way they should. Because he's still such a new face, they suppose. How long had it been before the Bus Team had listened to them? How long did it take for them to finally step up and be the Manager they were supposed to be?

They don't know. But they do know this:]

< I don't know what specifically that thing may have said about my experiences, but I hope you haven't had to go through anything like them. And I'm sorry if you have. >

[Commiseration and and an apology in exchange for the one they've been given. However little it means, it's the best they have.]

SENTENCING

[expi]

[You wake up in a courtroom. You’re not really sure how you got here, just that you’re here. There’s Jerry, sitting at the judges box. For some he might be new, and others he might be familiar or semi-familiar. He scrutinizes you, and then motions to the jury box. There’s a plaque that’s sitting on the outside that says “Council”, but there’s no one sitting there. Everything looks clean and maintained, but there’s no one in the courtroom but you and Jerry.

Weird.]

You are charged with aimlessness. In order to repent and further your rehabilitation, you have been tasked to show remorse for your crime by finding worth for yourself and a direction to live life in. You must find a goal to work towards during your time in Aldrip. If there is no action taken, there will be consequences.

[Jerry blinks down at you, fingers threading together as he looks down from the judges’ box.]

How do you plead?

[ooc: you have until May 9th to submit your Sentencing HERE Even if your character doesn’t proceed with the Sentencing, you must comment on the NPC inbox for your penalty.

Also, there are effects for ignoring this Sentencing. The longer that Dante takes to complete their Sentencing, the more melancholy and apathetic they may get. They may even find themself finding it difficult to find entertainment in things that usually entertain them. If you have any questions about Sentencing, please let us know!

Jerry is interactive at this point, but we wanted to make sure you got your information in hand if you'd like to start plotting for your Sentencing!]

end of May - text; un: altius

[chimericalclaw]

[Altius's recovery from transformation a few months ago, while painful, was an incredibly quick endeavor thanks to the help of certain Chosen. His recovery from his venom-induced sickness, meanwhile, was no easy thing. Even if said Chosen still had been here, he wonders if their treatment would have touched his illness, when his own healing couldn't do anything to it.

The week he was in the clinic, he let himself fully focus on survival rather than worrying over whatever might have been going on around the city or on his tablet. He didn't have enough energy to be a busybody anyway—and for much of that time he wasn't even conscious enough to think about it.

He's out of it now, at least; had the chance to go home, freshen up, almost completely back to his sturdy self. And even though he could be going through all his businesses and endeavors and responding to any of the messages he might have gotten in the meantime, his thoughts only go to one thing.

Zekarion isn't sure why he's going through with this, allowing his selfishness to take charge. He could ignore it—they both could—and he'd lose nothing of practical worth. The offer of that healing syringe proved that to him well enough.

He sends Dante a message.]

Are you free to meet?

mid-late june...

[chimericalclaw]

[It doesn't take very long for his thoughts to drag him down, back where he belongs.

He's not meant for this. This isn't meant for him. Why has he let his shortsighted emotions take control, pursued something that can only end with heartbreak and misery? Doesn't this go against everything he's done—dragging out a life, a lie that will only bring pain?

Whatever little temporary joys they get out of it will be crushed by that pain. If either of them live long enough, if either of them remember it, it will just be another scar, no matter the possibilities Dante so badly wants him to believe in. Another piece torn out of him. None of this will matter in the end, one way or another.

Such are his thoughts as he stares at his own gaze in the mirror in the middle of the night, hands braced on either side of the sink. Even if he'd been looking, in the dark, it would be extremely difficult to see the shadow that overtakes it under his fingers, then—

THUMP.

He catches himself with a heavy footstep just before he's forced to smash his face against the glass, then looks down to see that the basin has disappeared entirely. Or rather—that he's erased it.]