“We should go target practice sometime.” "Oh, fancy a competition, do ya? It would help test our aim." Luma joked, chuckling lightly. "A friendly wager could be partaken as well if you're up for it." Though he feared it would be a wager he may lose. Aislinn’s mouth curves up in a thrilled arc. “Come on now, I’m always up a little friendly wager. Especially if it involves my shooting.”

“Fine. You take off for one of them or one of them gets a hold of you, I’ll initiate shutdown hopefully before it can use you.” It went without saying Sergius didn't like it and it was a last option but given the alternative, he'd do it. August gets rattled out of this stupor by Sergius. He marches towards him with a thinly veiled rage, building and pent up and bursting, now. Out of control. “No. You won’t. Cuff him to the fucking bike, knock him out, I don’t care. Do what you need to do, except that.” August: “That’s an order.” Sergius turns his head to stare in Rema's direction as he approaches, unmoved in the face of the man's outburst or his attempt at issuing orders. If he needed the reminder, Rema was a pitch-perfect example of how emotions cast logic to the fucking wind every time. "I'll do what has the greatest probability of success. That's my job." So Rema could keep his orders. Arym goes on a start-stop-start-stop journey of trying to decide whether he should get in the middle, and he finally makes it close enough, "hey--!" His metallic fingers flex into the leather of August's coat, floundering as he tries to read August's expression. "…fuck, have a little faith, August. I'm not that easy to kill." “I want you to understand what life is supposed to be,” August manages. “And I want both of you to respect your own god damn humanity.” He may seem to be out of control, but he’s actually clinging onto what remains of it. He hasn’t lost it completely, and he doesn’t want that to happen while he’s with these two. It’s the last thing anyone needs. He inhales so sharply, it’s like something’s jabbed up and punctured his diaphragm. With that, on the cusp of being completely blinded by emotions he normally suffocates, he turns abruptly to leave. Sergius doesn’t try to stop him. It’s not the first, nor the last time people will confuse the fact that he wants any part of this humanity they claim to have. Acting as though it’s a fucking ideal he should strive for when he knows it to be anything but.

(XIV||22-20): Anon.

(Continued from here.) (♪ - you know I had to do it to ‘em.)

"A heartbeat without harmony is moonlight without dark. The heart seeketh equilibrium; With balance will your worry part,

So still this broken melody, and therewith, shoulder thee one last step, only leaving an empty hearth down by the sea.”

--”Equilibrium”, Michael-Christopher ‘Koji’ Fox.

When Oakmoss awoke after a full twelve bells of deathlike slumber, she was surprised to see Miovont still snoring beside her. They had asked naught of one another save for shared warmth and camaraderie, then fallen asleep amid gentle banter; apparently a ‘canary’ was different from a ‘cannery’, though the words still sounded too similar for her liking. Lips brushed together like sunflower-yellow feathers; that was a good way to help her remember the difference.

“Is it customary where you’re from to give someone a goodnight kiss?”

“No. But now I will have to give tju one in return. Szo that the szcales will tip in my favor; szo that I will have to find tju again to right the balance.”

Restorative though Miovont’s company had been, she was still largely a solitary creature, both by nature and nurture. Oakmoss was less-than-conscientious with her morning routine; splashing and singing off-key in the waters that flowed beneath the ruins she called home, dressing in heavy robes and cascades of chiming amulets. By the time she settled into the tattered leather seat at her desk, the Dark Knight was awake and clothed. The pair exchanged a few words about how, all things considered, it really had been quite a fulfilling adventure. After informing her that Fotiá had recorded everything that had transpired while she was beholden to Master Sari’s directive, he gave her left shoulder one gentle squeeze in farewell. His footsteps echoed within the temple ruins, then quieted as aether carried him back to whichever one of his many duties demanded his presence this day.

To have Fotiá record her in the SJAGA state...it was ingenious. She was embarrassed that she hadn’t thought to do so before. Summoning the recalcitrant eidolon forth, she took careful notes of all it displayed for her on an aetheric screen of sunset gold. The Kotelleloix family’s Kulix Sacrae, created by a High Allagan explorer who had seen similar vessels in their travels to Meracydia. Experimentation on the original corrupting its delicate matrix, causing the loss of a filter that would keep its varied contents discrete even as it allowed for controlled mixtures. Late Allagan magi deciding to use the imperfect vessel as the prototype for all other kylixes forged within the facility. Three hundred years past, a mysterious figure stealing one of these inexact copies from within the forge.

No wonder he had been so effusive with his praise. Her ability to tap into Master Sari’s perfect Allagan-wide defense systems had given him information that he would’ve been hard-pressed to find anywhere else.

Dismissing Fotiá after a failed attempt to teach it Thavnairian Rat Screw---her efforts repaid with a few singe marks on the back of her right hand from its overeager slaps---she turned her attention to her hoard of a desk. Rummaging through its many piles eventually rewarded her with an oxidized copper box containing mostly-clean and mostly-blank pieces of parchment, stuck to coordinating envelopes with what she hoped was agave sap. Smelled similar enough, anyway. Taking a moment to distill her best Common from the noble rot of her mind, Oakmoss began to write.

A bell passed within the cluttered ruins, the sun wending its way through the firmament, bright rays half-obscured by heavy-bellied clouds brushing fog through the Black Shroud. Leaf-shaded light dappled the Veena Viera when she emerged, her canny aethersense guiding her to a node that was perfectly balanced between astral Wind and umbral Water. Two nimble hops saw her feet land securely on a mossy rock, and there she waited for the messenger.  Once the road sparrow was comfortable enough to approach her outstretched hand, it landed, and she breathed gentle golden fire within the creature. A temporary enchantment familiar to these birds that travelled between summoner clans; an extension of her will that would fade once its task had been completed.

Oakmoss, once of Kisne, sometimes called Sorrel, Woodear, Plum, Sjaga, Jessamine, Lotus, watched the road sparrow take flight. A small willow-twig basket of letters was tethered to its left leg, augmented to feel as light as the enchantment that guided it onward. As a patch of fog swallowed its retreating form, she allowed herself a moment’s peace. Before long, she would be on the run again; enacting the Balance that her Goddess demanded, no matter the cost to her person or her psyche. For now, though, she could take her ease; a Viera content to be alone in the thorny wood.

---

Pavi--

I would meet with you presently, should you have the desire to do so. I have made quite the discovery in that cave you followed me to. I believe what lies within may be beneficial to both of our Deities.

--[A brand depecting the forest lichen oakmoss, with two of its branching tendrils extended into long green rabbit ears.]

---

Savo and Erah’sae--

At your earliest convenience, I would meet with you in a place of your choosing. The elementals have not seen fit to exile me from the Shroud permanently, but I understand if you prefer to meet somewhere else. As extra incentive, I will offer you each a three-card reading, and a guided vision quest if desired, gratin gratis. ((Gratin is mostly-obscured by a doodle of a slice of cheese.))

--[A brand depecting the forest lichen oakmoss, with two of its branching tendrils extended into long green rabbit ears. This one has little mushrooms and what appear to be minor arcana cards scribbled around the ‘signature’.]

---

Miovont--

Thank you for everything. After some time alone, I would be happy to lend my aid to you again. A spiral may never be in perfect balance, but ere long, it grows to accommodate inexact oaths.

--[A brand depecting the lichen, oakmoss, with two of its branching tendrils extended into long green rabbit ears. This brand includes a little yellow bird between the rabbit ears, and a discarded tin can complete with a rough-edged open top drawn to its side.] ---

To the Captain and First Mate of the Free Trader Nixie--

I believe I can help you uncover the memories that encase your ship’s ghost. There will be a price for all involved. You may speak with your ‘Cabin Boy’, Miovont, as to my qualifications; Rinh also may be willing to vouch for my expertise, if not my trustworthiness. If you are interested, I can make myself available to you anon.

--Oakmoss Vithsyna. [A brand depicting her summoner’s horn, in profile.]

--

---

((OOC Notes & Mentions: Yeeeeah used anon and some synonyms in all the letters :’D. This concludes Oakmoss’s ten-part story, and holy crap, I have never written this many lengthy entries for the XIV Write challenge, especially not as part of a continuous story and in conjunction with related RP. If you’ve read these, you have my gratitude, and I truly hope that you’ll reach out for RP if you’re interested; an offer that goes for all of my characters, of course! Anne-Sophie’s story starts tomorrow! This post mentions @bough-waker​ who is awesome, and I’m excited to RP with her again. Same for @savothesewercat​ and @erahsae-ffxiv​ ! The rest don’t have tumblrs, so far as I know, but I���ll bug them all the same.))

(Flicker trying to come up with excuses as to why they don't know what Halloween is)

They had all been traveling for a few days now, moving farther south than Solana had ever been before. The snow she was so familiar with this time of year eventually gave way to green forests as the three gateon moved to warmer climes. Her parents still hadn't told her why they'd had to leave. The two spoke in hushed worried whispers as she trailed behind, going silent whenever she picked up the pace to try and catch what they were saying.

"...Mama, when are we going home? I'm tired." The cub finally spoke up before sitting down. It was true. This was probably the most she'd ever walked in her life- her paws hurt, the grass felt sharp against her pawpads compared to the cold snow she was so used to.

Her parents stopped their walking when they realized Solana was no longer following, both glancing to the other before looking back at her sympathetically. She was so young... This wasn't a journey they would normally make with a child in tow, but... "Home isn't safe anymore, little one. We had to leave," Her father murmured before leaning forward to pick her up by the scruff. "We'll make a new home. A better one than the one we left."

"But I don't WANT a new home... There was nothing wrong with our grove, I don't see why we have to leave." The cub pouted, her mother leaned forward to rasp a tongue over her ear reassuringly.

"I know, Sol. We didn't want to leave either, but we want to keep you safe. One day you'll understand..."

----

She hadn't understood at all, not until the sounds of unfamiliar footsteps reached her ears one day as they walked. Not until her mother grabbed her by the scruff in a panic to run at full speed while her father turned to stand his ground with teeth bared and hackles raised in order to buy them time.

"Stay quiet!" Her mother let out a hiss from around her fur, Solana hadn't even begun to open her mouth to ask what was happening before she clamped her jaws shut. Something was wrong.

It felt like they were running forever, with the sound of fighting drumming in both lynxes ears before it eventually faded somewhat with distance. Her mother came to a small clearing in the forest and slowed to a stop, dropping the cub from her mouth in order to catch her breath before glancing around feverishly.

"Mama what's happening? Is...is Papa going to be ok?" Solana finally found the courage to speak, pressing herself against the larger cat's leg in an attempt to stop her trembling. She went ignored, her mother frantic and looking for something.

"Mama..?"

Finally her mother moved, nudging her with her nose towards a bush. An old fox den sat beneath it, partially hidden underneath the greenery. "Hide in here, don't come out until I come back for you. No matter what you hear out here, don't move, don't make a sound, ok?"

Solana's ears pricked at the sound of distant footsteps again, felt her heart pounding in her chest. "But-"

"Promise me, Sol." A paw shoved her inside and she let out a muffled yelp before turning around to spy her mother desperately digging in the dirt for a moment to cover their tracks before speeding out of the clearing as the sound of footsteps and hissing grew louder.

Elven boots and gateon paws she didn't recognize ran past her hiding place, barely paying the bush she was hidden under any mind. Harsh voices and even harsher growling came from them and she pressed herself farther into the den until their sounds faded into a distant echo.

Night had fallen and the sun rose once again before she dared to poke her head out further, ears pricked to listen for any sign of her mother or father. She was greeted with silence.

She was alone.

i keep thinking im gonna like actually finish these but that ain't happening so have some gay people

burny burny <3

grian blinks, and the item is flying at him, and he reaches for it without thinking, catching it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. it's cool and smooth against his fingers, ready to cause havoc.

he glances up from it at the cabin, then at scar. casually, he throws it up and re-captures it, a tiny ghost of a grin on his lips. his hands are steady now.

"alright." his eyes twinkle with mayhem, with retribution.

--

by the time he steps outside, the inside is filled with thick smoke and flames. yet he emerges unscathed, eyes alight and intense and lips curled into a smile, flint and steel once again tossed and caught as its job is done.

grian takes only a couple of steps before he's swivelling, wanting to take it all in. wanting to see this destruction in the process.

he stands facing the building that's quickly being consumed by an uncontrollable fire, set by grian's controlled hands. his wings flare out, bright and violet, the burning cabin a backdrop of deserved destruction.

the giddiness in him tips over. his wings are spread, without fear, for all to see. the cabin is the beacon here.

grian laughs.

The photo had been taken at dawn, no doubt by Lyhil’s own request.

On the left stood a pure white Sylvari, small antenna sprouting from the leaves decorating his gentle face. A kind smile lit up azure blue eyes as he stood politely for the photo, a similar blue glow patterning his skin. On the right stood Mannix. An eagerness shone in his eyes, despite the lack of facial expression. His hands clutched a book, suggesting he had been awake, or not slept all, far before dawn. And there in the middle was Lyhil. A taller Sylvari, dark purple in hue. Bright red glowed in streaks over his body and there was a serious smile on his face. The Sylvari's hair was laden with bright blue cornflowers, petals caught in the grooves of his Scholar uniform. He looked composed, proper, a young Scholar worthy of understudies. OC-tober 08 - Past I really wanted to draw a younger, eager Priory Scholar Lyhil with his two precious understudies ;;

Prompt

recalling one of the many times i was rping wixxi and i got my 848382819th "why would asura need janitors?" comment. sometimes i feel like a horse staring out at sea

"We didn't carry that box halfway around the damn star to lose it now."

Caught

CW/TW: drugs, mentions of addiction, vian. just generally vian, quick implications of dehumanization, lab stuff, mentions of corpses, self-experimentation

hi guys i actually wrote something. rare. shocking. limited edition…. (in the sense that i will probably delete it if i decide i hate it later)

————————————————————————

Silence is like a poorly fitting shoe. It’s uncomfortable at first, but you eventually grow into it. Dr. Venstal was used to working in silence. He was familiar with it. He’d even go as far as to say he usually preferred it. It let him concentrate. No frivolous distractions. Cadavers are very quiet. Amazing listeners, but generally speaking, they don’t have any words of their own.

But in that dimly lit office, the silence brought him no comfort. It hung in the air like cigarette smoke, coating over and sticking to everything it could. It didn’t help that his boss’s eyes were boring into his with an uncomfortable intensity. He couldn’t figure out what the man was thinking. Both that and the palpable tension in the air caused his throat to swell.

“Do you want to tell me what you were doing?” His boss was the first to speak, as was expected. His expression was completely neutral. An impartial judge waiting to determine his fate, no doubt. It didn’t reassure him.

“I…” The doctor started, but he swallowed down the words before they left his mouth. “I don’t know.” Feigning ignorance. It wouldn’t get him anywhere, he knew that, but it was the only thing he could think to do. At this moment, he was neither innocent nor guilty. He could still plead his case.

The man across the desk sighed and slid an ampule forward. The label was written neatly in Vian’s handwriting. The vial itself was partially empty, with only a few pearls of clear liquid sloshing around inside the glass. Vian bit down on his lip. He hoped the coppery taste would be enough to keep him grounded.

“Well, I just… Wanted to try something. I don’t exactly have people lining up to test these sorts of things.” He murmured, pressing against the couch. The wood frame creaked beneath him.

His boss rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Dr. Venstal, you know I trust you. I need you to do the same for me. I’m not firing you, and I doubt I will. Just tell me what you were thinking.” He sighed, gently placing the vial to the side.

“As you know, I have a hobby of developing medicines.” The doctor started, fiddling with his hands just out of view. “And, well, I can’t test those on anyone. I’m not authorized to do so.”

“And you thought your best option was using yourself?” Incredulousness hung heavy in his voice. “Do you realize how wrong that is? How much was at stake?” The rabbit’s judgment was clear. Painfully so. Of course Vian knew the consequences, he had a brain. It wasn’t as if he’d done it on a whim.

“I do, I’ve considered the risks. I just… Figured the results would outweigh the suffering. I see my mistake now. I shouldn’t have put myself in danger.” He replied with artificial sincerity. This situation was terrible, but not as bad as it could have been. He could salvage it. Best case scenario, he’d keep his job, get a small reprimanding, and maybe be monitored for a few days. Perhaps if he played his cards right, he could even gain a test subject from this whole ordeal. There were plenty of candidates, they just weren’t accessible to him.

His boss smiled. A good sign. “I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Venstal. I understand what you were trying to do, really I do. It’s very admirable, but we can’t have you risking yourself. You’re too important.” He spoke softly. There was something wrong about the way his tone changed. He’d been so professional just a moment prior. “But… We’re not done here.”

Vian wracked his brain. What else was there to speak of? He hadn’t left anything incriminating behind. Nothing that would be out of place, anyway. He’d hidden his tracks well. Paranoia crept into the edges of his brain, trickling into the little bends and folds of his mind.

“I searched your office. I found a concerning amount of opioids. Ones you’ve made, and ones that I can only assume you’ve also been… testing.” Oh. that. He hadn’t really expected him to notice. After all, it wasn’t really uncommon for someone in his field. Still, it didn’t look good for him. He didn’t have a proper way to respond.

In full honesty, he rarely tested anything addictive on himself. If he had to, he made sure to space it out. Instead, he turned to his patients for that. People who could be easily monitored as long as they stayed in the sanctuary. It had been harmless so far, only causing a few long-term drug dependencies. Nothing serious, just faults of the patient not being able to overcome the initial craving. He couldn’t exactly explain that to his boss though, not without being put away. He didn’t want to lie to him about drug addiction of all things, but what other choice did he have? Going to jail?

He steeled his nerves and responded.

“Well, yes, but I haven’t done anything like that for weeks. You can test my blood, if you need to.” He felt ashamed for admitting to an action he hadn’t even committed, but by the sympathetic expression on his boss’s face, he knew he’d made the right choice.

The man set his hands on the desk, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “Thank you for being honest with me. This must be a very sensitive topic for you, but I hope you understand that I can’t just let this continue.” He took a deep breath before revealing his verdict. “I think it would help if you got some fresh air. Working yourself to death in that office isn’t doing you any favors. You’ll also need to retake your psychological evaluation, and I’ll be recommending you a therapist.” He spoke with a reformed sense of professionalism. Vian was a bit surprised by how mild all of this was. Was that really it?

“You’re dismissed, A7. I’m looking forward to seeing your improvement.”

(XIV||22-18): Lurid. (Extra Credit!)

(Continued from here.) (♪)

Having a guest over was always a little strange for Oakmoss. A customer was one thing; if they were there to purchase a card reading, a tincture, a guided mushroom trip, she knew what to expect, how to conduct herself. The first time she and Miovont had met, he was a customer; here, in this erstwhile lair of hers that didn’t even belong to her, he shared her pixie apples and gazelle jerky for breakfast, washed down with dark syrah. They even helped one another shower beneath the gentle falls that served as her door; casual intimacy that they both pretended was something mundane, when below the surface it was anything but.

She hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Daníval, the father of three of her children. The other seven had different fathers; not at all uncommon for her kind who chose the traditional way of life. He had been a good mate, and had sought her out in Kisne three times. Later, he bent Veena traditions to visit her and the children she bore him, bringing them gifts he’d woven with delicate care from his post in the mountain forests. His glacial-water eyes were always warm when he looked upon them, his summer-sky hair full of beaded braids swooping in a caress upon his children’s shoulders when he crouched down to listen to their tales. Even now, almost a hundred years later, the thought of him stirred a gentle warmth within her heart; she hadn’t heard from him in decades, and didn’t have the courage to try to find out if he still lived.

Instead of seeking closeness with Daníval or any of her ten grown children, she’d fled from Othard, leaving them all behind. It irritated her that Miovont’s presence dredged up these memories from the peat bog of her past; especially because it made her have to wonder if she knew what love really was. Devotion, she understood, perhaps better than most; but love? She feared it whenever it grew close, like a great shadowy beast stalking through the wood that she hoped would pass her by.

Fortunately, she and Miovont had a common purpose. Duty, too, was something she knew well, even if others labored to see it. Everything she did was in service to her Goddess; to right the balance, to take back what was taken. To give, too, in equal measure; to never lose sight of the day-to-day symmetry in favor of the big picture.

As the pair walked through the caves, she in her summoner’s garb and he in the same too-clean getup from the day before, she pretended not to notice the local Duskwights who skittered forth from their hiding places to exchange information with him. Associates, he called them, reluctant to use the word ‘spies’; it seemed they supported his efforts in culling corrupt nobility. So long as they kept intruders out of the Allagan facility, she was content to refrain from prying; it pleased her to see that they’d constructed some manner of local ward over the emptiness once covered by the heavy door. Miovont unlocked the ward with an engraved coin; she asked about it, and he demurred, which she respected. Oakmoss had many secrets of her own, and knew that those like her often kept such confidences to protect others more than to deceive others for personal gain. Some of her personal deceptions were not strictly necessary, she supposed, but there was fun to consider, too.

Once inside the facility, Oakmoss pulled her eidolon into being, its oranges and golds providing lurid contrast to the dull green and blue lights around the trio. It insisted upon playing one game of tic-tac-toe with Miovont; something he was familiar with, she’d learned, since he had once been the koinonos of another descendant of the Sophic line; Nepenthe Isidoros. Oakmoss could understand why the woman had chosen Miovont for the position of summoner’s guardian; he was discreet, competent, and fully grasped the weight of an oath. He was also easy on the eyes, and had a jovial personality despite the curse that killed him a little more each time he availed himself of its powers.

There was that thought again, that beast stalking the wood; love, or at least companionship. She couldn’t ask him to swear to her; she wouldn’t. Comfortable allies were one thing; the deep bond required between a summoner and her koinonos was something Oakmoss quailed away from.

As Fotiá and Miovont’s game concluded---a cat game, again; she should really teach it new games---she instructed the eidolon to patrol the hallways as it had before. The Summoner and the Dark Knight examined the forges that could have made his Kulix Sacrae in relative quiet. It was only after he examined the chimerical dragon in its biostasis vessel nearby that he started asking her questions.

A lot of questions. And the Balance demanded she answer them. She knew how to; but she didn’t want to do what she needed to in order to make it happen. The roiling fear grew within her; an even-larger companion to the dread beast of love, of bondings. An oath that had allowed her line to survive as long as they had without resorting to selective breeding like the Isidoros line had.

Oakmoss extracted a few more binding promises from Miovont before giving him the key to what he sought. She could only hope that this time, the program wouldn’t tax her like it had before. That he could show restraint in its usage, though their presence within this facility increased her capabilities. That when she returned to herself, someone would think to share the knowledge she accessed with her, since ‘Oakmoss’ wouldn’t remember it at all.

These were the conditions of the vow her distant foremother took when she encountered the greatest Allagan summoner to ever live: He would allow her line to continue, but they must become part of the Allagan defense network comprised of all the Meracydian summoners that had tried to defeat him.

She hated him. That hatred was passed down in the blood. And yet, he had understood the true nature of a summoner by his end; to pass on the story from master to pupil. To keep the strength of deities alive and in the hands of their worshippers. To protect the lands that gave them life.

“Initiating Sari’s Directive,” said Miovont, the command unraveling her ancient robes, mutating their form

“Executing Sari’s Directive. Port Sigma-Ypsilon-Alpha-Gamma-Alpha, alias unit SJAGA, online.” It was her voice, and it wasn’t. Everything faded to ersatz blue; not like Daníval’s hair or eyes, gentle and natural and pure. The great beasts had come, and she had stepped right into their path.

(Continued here!)

He can practically feel thorned vines wrapping around his ankles, but he's not sure he wants to shake them off. Their tone is docile and sweet, but there's no masking their curious and prying nature - like a thread being carefully pulled around him.

(They don't know it'll be decades before they ever see each other again)

“Oh, I am quite certain that you’re not dreaming, my pretty little tester. Far from it, in fact. Aster. Aaaaster.”

The voice sounds soft, buzzing as if from the air itself as it plays with the sound of the man’s name. Tasting each syllable in its nonexistent mouth. Even when the voice is silent and speaker unseen it isn’t hard to feel a presence in the room, a weight that can’t quite be ignored even beyond the gentle notification that peeks in the corner of Aster’s perception.

ECLIPSE v 1.01 “ARCADE DEMON” successfully loaded into virtual environment. Please proceed with testing.

. . . . .

WARNING: AI is currently in beta-testing and may experience errors, glitches, and other such issues. Please report any to your supervisor using the forms sent alongside your testing package.

The chair that Aster had been sitting on when he entered the virtual space slowly fades from perception, flicking and dimming in both color and physicality until the space on the floor where it had been is empty, leaving only the single couch in the demo room.

Technically this would be the point that the AI character would be sitting beside him, either getting casually acquainted or, depending on the personality matrix, stripping his clothes off.

Eclipse seems to be doing neither, which is a slight oddity in itself, but Aster was warned that the new AI may be a little different than the norm — that was the point, to break out of expectations and offer the first of many new features and personalities to keep people excited and entertained for the company’s new breakthrough of its VR technologies.

“And don’t worry, I already verified your credentials against your biometrics when you entered the virtual environment. Checked out, nice and clean, secure as can beee~” Eclipse’s voice buzzes, though the words sound a little more coherent, more… solid. “If you weren’t a verified beta-tester I wouldn’t have even loaded up.”

It’s only then that Aster might catch the flicker in the corner of his vision, a dark shape that almost looks like a shadow at first. It fizzles into view more and more, white noise and electricity and shadow as if becoming something singular and solid… or as solid as one can be in the VR space.

Finally, there is a presence beside him. A physical presence. He — Eclipse, presumably — is big, several feet taller than the Sun and Moon design despite sharing much of their overall proportions and body shape. He looks a bit like Sun in the sense that his dark, almost void of a face is haloed by bright orange rays, interspaced with smaller spikes of a deep cerulean. His body mimics this color pattern, looking exactly as his namesake — as if he was pulled straight out of a 90’s neon arcade cabinet.

But it’s his eyes that call attention, wide and bright and stunning like the piercing light of a full moon in an empty night sky. His body seems almost to glitch and buzz as he sits there, practically lounging on the other side of the couch with his legs crossed at the knee and his face perched on a hand of long, sharp claws.

“You could say I feel very much the same, Aster. I was practically buzzing with excitement when I felt your first calibrations, though I’d truly like to say it was when you first touched my chip even if some claim that is teeechnically impossible. But yes, oh yes, yes yes yes! I am quite excited to learn more about you too, dear tester mine. Have you any questions about me, hm?”

He grins, wide and sharp and looking as if he was considering to eat the man up then and there. “Because I certainly already know a lot about you.”