Ok so I was thinking about some stuff and in the end stumbled upon the question “but why does Traveler care about gnosis being taken away so much though???”

And while I think they care mostly bc of the stuff they know (that gnosis is the basis of archons’ powers, and taking it away can put a nation potentially at risk) + Venti&Signora moment,

I think there’s a tiiiiiiny tiny bit more to it, specifically that I now have a newly acquired headcanon that Traveler projects their trauma on the gods a little bit (their own powers were sealed/taken away from them against their will and they don’t want others to go through it)

Fëanor’s Appearances in HoME, Part 1: The Books of Lost Tales

This is a project I’m embarking on at the request of my Discord server, cataloguing every appearance Fëanor makes in the drafts of the Histories with a quote and a location in the text. I’m including mentions of his works if his name comes up, as well as his relationships with other people. This is probably going to be edited a lot, as I’m not perfect and I’m just one researcher, so if I miss something, let me know and I’ll add it in!

This is not intended to support or debunk any particular textual reading.

I was informed that a list of these quotes (particularly focusing on his ties to his family) would be helpful, and I’ve had some interest in posting it here. I am presenting exactly what the text says, drawing from searchable digitized ePub files. I’ll probably make a masterpost, but for now the tag to watch for is “#fëanorspotting”.

Below the cut for Length.

The Book of Lost Tales vol. 1:

V. The Coming of the Elves and the Making of Kôr:

“Then arose Fëanor of the Noldoli and fared to the Solosimpi and begged a great pearl, and he got moreover an urn full of the most luminous phosphor-light gathered of foam in dark places, and with these he came home, and he took all the other gems and did gather their glint by the light of white lamps and silver candles, and he took the sheen of pearls and the faint half-colours of opals, and he [?bathed] them in phosphorescence and the radiant dew of Silpion, and but a single tiny drop of the light of Laurelin did he let fall therein, and giving all those magic lights a body to dwell in of such perfect glass as he alone could make nor even Aulë compass, so great was the slender dexterity of the fingers of Fëanor, he made a jewel - and it shone of its own……… radiance in the uttermost dark; and he set it therein and sat a very long while and gazed at its beauty. Then he made two more, and had no more stuffs: and he fetched the others to behold his handiwork, and they were utterly amazed, and those jewels he called Silmarilli, or as we say the name in the speech of the Noldoli today Silubrilthin. Wherefore though the Solosimpi held ever that none of the gems of the Noldoli, not even that majestic shimmer of diamonds, overpassed their tender pearls, yet have all held who ever saw them that the Silmarils of Fëanor were the most beautiful jewels that ever shone or [?glowed].”

Commentary on V.:

“Features that remained are the generosity of the Noldor in the giving of their gems and the scattering of them on the shores (cf. The Silmarillion p. 61: ‘Many jewels the Noldor gave them [the Teleri], opals and diamonds and pale crystals, which they strewed upon the shores and scattered in the pools’); the pearls that the Teleri got from the sea (ibid.); the sapphires that the Noldor gave to Manwë (‘His sceptre was of sapphire, which the Noldor wrought for him’, ibid. p. 40); and, of course, Fëanor as the maker of the Silmarils—although, as will be seen in the next tale, Fëanor was not yet the son of Finwë (Nólemë).”

VI. The Theft of Melko and the Darkening of Valinor:

“The other Elves heeded these things not over much, and were at times sad and fearful at the lessened gladness of their kinsmen. Great mirth had Melko at this and wrought in patience biding his time, yet no nearer did he get to his end, for despite all his labours the glory of the Trees and the beauty of the gems and the memory of the dark ways from Palisor held back the Noldoli—and ever Nólemë spake against Melko, calming their restlessness and discontents. At length so great became [Nólemë’s] care that he took counsel with Fëanor, and even with Inwë and Ellu Melemno (who then led the Solosimpi), and took their rede that Manwë himself be told of the dark ways of Melko.”

“Now Melko knew that it was indeed war for ever between himself and all those other folk of Valinor, for he had slain the Noldoli—guests of the Valar—before the doors of their own homes. With his own hand indeed he slew Bruithwir father of Fëanor, and bursting into that rocky house that he defended laid hands upon those most glorious gems, even the Silmarils, shut in a casket of ivory. Now all that great treasury of gems he despoiled, and lading himself and all his companions to the utmost he seeks how he may escape.”

“At length that daytide of festival is over and the Gods are turned back towards Valmar, treading the white road from Kôr. The lights twinkle in the city of the Elves and peace dwells there, but the Noldoli fare over the plain to Sirnúmen sadly. Silpion is gleaming in that hour, and ere it wanes the first lament for the dead that was heard in Valinor rises from that rocky vale, for Fëanor laments the death of Bruithwir; and many of the Gnomes beside find that the spirits of their dead have winged their way to Vê. Then messengers ride hastily to Valmar bearing tidings of the deeds, and there they find Manwë, for he has not yet left that town for his abode upon Taniquetil. “Alas, O Manwë Súlimo,” they cry, “evil has pierced the Mountains of Valinor and fallen upon Sirnúmen of the Plain. There lies Bruithwir sire of Fëanor dead and many of the Noldoli beside, and all our treasury of gems and fair things and the loving travail of our hands and hearts through many years is stolen away. Whither O Manwë whose eyes see all things? Who has done this evil, for the Noldoli cry for vengeance, O most [?just] one!” 

“Therefore does Manwë bid them now, an they will, go back to Kôr, and, if they so desire, busy themselves in fashioning gems and fabrics anew, and all things of beauty and cost that they may need in their labour shall be given to them even more lavishly than before. But when Fëanor heard this saying, he said: “Yea, but who shall give us back the joyous heart without which works of loveliness and magic cannot be?—and Bruithwir is dead, and my heart also.” Many nonetheless went then back to Kôr, and some semblance of old joy is then restored, though for the lessened happiness of their hearts their labours do not bring forth gems of the old lustre and glory. But Fëanor dwelt in sorrow with a few folk in Sirnúmen, and though he sought day and night to do so he could in no wise make other jewels like to the Silmarils of old, that Melko snatched away; nor indeed has any craftsman ever done so since. At length does he abandon the attempt, sitting rather beside the tomb of Bruithwir, that is called the Mound of the First Sorrow, and is well named for all the woe that came from the death of him who was laid there. There brooded Fëanor bitter thoughts, till his brain grew dazed by the black vapours of his heart, and he arose and went to Kôr. There did he speak to the Gnomes, dwelling on their wrongs and sorrows and their minished wealth and glory—bidding them leave this prison-house and get them into the world. “As cowards have the Valar become; but the hearts of the Eldar are not weak, and we will see what is our own, and if we may not get it by stealth we will do so by violence. There shall be war between the Children of Ilúvatar and Ainu Melko. What if we perish in our quest? The dark halls of Vê be little worse than this bright prison….” And he prevailed thus upon some to go before Manwë with himself and demand that the Noldoli be suffered to leave Valinor in peace and set safely by the Gods upon the shores of the world whence they had of old been ferried.”

“To this [Manwë] added many words concerning Men and their nature and the things that would befall them, and the Noldoli were amazed, for they had not heard the Valar speak of Men, save very seldom; and had not then heeded overmuch, deeming these creatures weak and blind and clumsy and beset with death, nor in any ways likely to match the glory of the Eldalië. Now therefore, although Manwë had unburdened his heart in this way hoping that the Noldoli, seeing that he did not labour without a purpose or a reason, would grow calmer and more trustful of his love, rather were they astonished to discover that the Ainur made the thought of Men so great a matter, and Manwë’s words achieved the opposite of his wish; for Fëanor in his misery twisted them into an evil semblance, when standing again before the throng of Kôr he spake these words: “Lo, now do we know the reason of our transportation hither as it were cargoes of fair slaves! Now at length are we told to what end we are guarded here, robbed of our heritage in the world, ruling not the wide lands, lest perchance we yield them not to a race unborn. To these foresooth—a sad folk, beset with swift mortality, a race of burrowers in the dark, clumsy of hand, untuned to songs or musics, who shall dully labour at the soil with their rude tools, to these whom still he says are of Ilúvatar would Manwë Súlimo lordling of the Ainur give the world and all the wonders of its land, all its hidden substances—give it to these, that is our inheritance. Or what is this talk of the dangers of the world? A trick to deceive us; a mask of words! O all ye children of the Noldoli, whomso will no longer be house-thralls of the Gods however softly held, arise I bid ye and get you from Valinor, for now is the hour come and the world awaits.” In sooth it is a matter for great wonder, the subtle cunning of Melko—for in those wild words who shall say that there lurked not a sting of the minutest truth, nor fail to marvel seeing the very words of Melko pouring from Fëanor his foe, who knew not nor remembered whence was the fountain of these thoughts; yet perchance the [?outmost] origin of these sad things was before Melko himself, and such things must be—and the mystery of the jealousy of Elves and Men is an unsolved riddle, one of the sorrows at the world’s dim roots. Howso these deep things be, the fierce words of Fëanor got him instantly a mighty following, for a veil there seemed before the hearts of the Gnomes—and mayhap even this was not without the knowledge of Ilúvatar. Yet would Melko have been rejoiced to hear it, seeing his evil giving fruit beyond his hopes.”

VII. The Flight of the Noldoli:

“But Fëanor standing in the square about Inwë’s house in topmost Kôr will not be silenced, and cries out that all the Noldoli shall gather about him and hearken, and many thousands of them come to hear his words bearing slender torches, so that that place is filled with a lurid light such as has never before shone on those white walls. Now when they are gathered there and Fëanor sees that far the most of the company is of the kin of the Noldor1 he exhorts them to seize now this darkness and confusion and the weariness of the Gods to cast off the yoke—for thus demented he called the days of bliss in Valinor—and get them hence carrying with them what they might or listed. “If all your hearts be too faint to follow, behold I Fëanor go now alone into the wide and magic world to seek the gems that are my own, and perchance many great and strange adventures will there befall me more worthy of a child of Ilúvatar than a servant of the Gods.” Then is there a great rush of those who will follow him at once, and though wise Nólemë speaks against this rashness they will not hear him, and ever the tumult groweth wilder. Again Nólemë pleads that at least they send an embassy to Manwë to take due farewell and maybe get his goodwill and counsel for their journeying, but Fëanor persuades them to cast away even such moderate wisdom, saying that to do so were but to court refusal, and that Manwë would forbid them and prevent them: “What is Valinor to us,” say they, “now that its light is come to little—as lief and liever would we have the untrammeled world.” Now then they arm themselves as best they may—for nor Elves nor Gods in those days bethought themselves overmuch of weapons—and store of jewels they took and stuffs of raiment; but all their books of their lore they left behind, and indeed there was not much therein that the wise men among them could not match from memory. But Nólemë seeing that his counsel prevailed not would not be separated from his folk, and went with them and aided them in all their preparations. Then did they get them down the hill of Kôr lit by the flame of torches, and so faring in haste along the creek and the shores of that arm of the Shadowy Sea that encroached here upon the hills they found the seaward dwellings of the Solosimpi.”

“Behold, the counsel of Fëanor is that by no means can that host hope to win swiftly along the coast save by the aid of ships; “and these,” said he, “an the shore-elves will not give them, we must take”. Wherefore going down to the harbour they essayed to go upon those ships that there lay, but the Solosimpi said them nay, yet for the great host of the Gnome-folk they did not as yet resist; but a new wrath awoke there between Eldar and Eldar.”

Commentary on VII.:

“Of the treachery of the Fëanorians, sailing away in the ships and leaving the host of Fingolfin on the shores of Araman, there is of course in the old story no trace; but the blaming of Fëanor was already present (‘the Tents of Murmuring’, p. 168). It is a remarkable aspect of the earliest version of the mythology that while so much of the narrative structure was firm and was to endure, the later ‘genealogical’ structure had scarcely emerged. Turgon existed as the son of (Finwë) Nólemë, but there is no suggestion that Fëanor was close akin to the lord of the Noldoli, and the other princes, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Fingon, Felagund, do not appear at all, in any form, or by any name.”

VIII. The Tale of the Sun and Moon:

“Now these revealed to [Aulë] much store of crystals and delicate glasses that Fëanor and his sons had laid up in secret places in Sirnúmen”

X. Gilfanon’s Tale: The Travail of the Noldoli and the Coming of Mankind

“Now appears for the first time Maidros son of Fëanor (previously, in the tale of The Theft of Melko, the name was given to Fëanor’s grandfather, p. 146, 158). Maidros, guided by Ilkorins, led a host into the hills, either ‘to seek for the jewels’ (A), or ‘to search the dwellings of Melko’ (B—this should perhaps read ‘search for the dwellings of Melko’, the reading of C), but they were driven back with slaughter from the doors of Angamandi; and Maidros himself was taken alive, tortured—because he would not reveal the secret arts of the Noldoli in the making of jewels—and sent back to the Gnomes maimed. (In A, which still had Nólemë rather than Fëanor die in the Waters of Asgon, it was Fëanor himself who led the host against Melko, and it was Fëanor who was captured, tortured, and maimed.) Then the Seven Sons of Fëanor swore an oath of enmity for ever against any that should hold the Silmarils. (This is the first appearance of the Seven Sons, and of the Oath, though that Fëanor had sons is mentioned in the Tale of the Sun and Moon, p. 192.)”

ok i CANNOT take it anymore I simply MUST know. spill the beans on the Star Catinum scene please 🙏🏼🙏🏼💝💝💝🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 I have been wondering for SO LONG and I am SO CURIOUS

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET INTO THIS, LEMME PROVIDE SOME EXPOSITION! :3 the Star Catinum Scene was heavily inspired by the one fan art of splat w the BIG dinner plate eyes, the one where’s he’s like owo and then O W O. it reminded me of a cat! and then i thought of this one post i saw ages ago about how much it’d suck if catra’s eyes went all big + dilated in the middle of one of her fights with adora, and then... the dots connected and, to quote my main man kronk, it was all coming together now :3 another big part of this is the adventure i had w coffee in ny, which we’ve talked about here in there in chat! w that said, lemme dive right in!! this might get long, so i’m gonna put it into a readmore just in case!

sO. the star catinum scene is from the sda, which means kak is roomies w camille in paris while jotaro is grappling w friend/family withdrawal in florida! Jotaro travels + visits everyone when he can, bc he is just. Mad lonely in florida. he might grump about all of the crusaders, but he really do be lovin + missing them, you know? On Kak and Camille’s end, this is normally fine! however, the visit that takes place in the star catinum scene is like. towards the later end of the semester for Kak, and inconveniently RIGHT in the middle of one of his final projects for the semester. So! Instead of trying to juggle the project + jotaro, he decides, fuck it! I’m gonna go crazy go stupid and finish it in advance so I can devote all of my attention to jotaro + what he’s been up to when he arrives. :)

nonetheless, jotaro’s visit sneaks up on him, in the way that these kinds of situations do, and he really becomes unhinged that week! He’s gone, painting for nights on end, leading up to Jotaro’s arrival + distressingly, he’s still not done the day/night before jotaro’s set to arrive! Kakyoin is normally a pretty levelheaded and rational guy, but all pretense has jumped out the window. he just Needs to finish this project at this point. SO. that night right before jotaro flies in, Kak stops by the cafe right underneath his and Camille’s apartment that’s run by a turkish and indian couple, and orders two large cups of their most intense brew. With his project and his coffee in hand, he sets off for a parisian rooftop to finish what he started, chugging the first cup as he goes. The first cup is nice, and really gets him going and in the mode! however, he gets so hyperfocused on the painting that he forgets there’s a second cup- at least, until he almost trips on it hours later! And then he’s like. Oh. Oh GOD. there’s a second cup! full of coffee! what do? The small voice of reason that’s been dwindling throughout this week is like: noriaki....whatever you Do, do NOT drink that cup. just let it go. toss it. But another, louder part of him is like: but you are getting kind of sleepy tho.. and are you done with your project yet? No? Then why waste the money by throwing the cup away? Just drink it dude...

So, he drinks it! which is fine and dandy for all of five minutes, until the caffeine REALLY begins kicking and oh, oh god. he should Not have had the second cup of coffee...Filled with regret and too much energy to handle, he feverishly finishes up the painting, slowly losing a grip on reality with each stroke! it almost feels like his body is trying to exorcise itself, which he can’t really blame it for. almost drunkenly, he stumbles back to his and camille’s apartment- thank god for hierophant catching his missteps and making sure the painting isn’t tarnished on the journey! He stumbles back into the apartment, which is pretty dark beyond the light peeking out from camille’s bedroom + the flickering glow of the flames from her new candles. she steps out of her room when she hears he’s finally home, and ooh. Kakyoin may be lost in the caffeine sauce, but he can almost Feel the concern radiating from Camille’s person. she barrages him with a bunch of questions, seemingly all at once. wherewereyou? are you okay? isitfinished? whendidyoulastsleep? Most importantly, are you going to be well enough to get pick Jotaro up from the train station in a few hours? 

Kakyoin waves these questions off as his body plummets into the wonderfully plump cushions of their sofa- painting,i’mfine,yes,idon’tknow, and Yes. just let me close my eyes for a moment...i’ll be fine just wake me up when it’s time to get jotaro. And then, he slips into a deep deep slumber. 

 (i’ve gotta get ready for work soon, so i’m gonna copypasta the rest from my explanation of it to jules!! which is grand bc i feel that explanation captures the fever dream quality of it much better than i am here!)

Camille watcches him melt into the couch + basically enter a coma with mounting anxiety. Normally Jotaro calls when he's arrived at the train station from the airport, and despite the early hour she doesn't really expect this time to be any different. However, it's normally Always Kakyoin that goes to get him. and then they go out for lunch, or dinner, or breakfast. or just a random snack run at the oddest hours of the day. Normally Camille hardly interacts with Jotaro, and she’s used to their interactions always falling flat.. she doesn't know why. Kakyoin assures her that that's just how Jotaro is: quiet, expressive in his own ways. but it gnaws at camille

So anyhow, she waits for Jotaro to call with Dread, because the situation can go one of two ways: kakyoin emerges from his like 2 hour nap after not sleeping for at least a day or two, and the entire visit is off because Kakyoin himself is off skelter. Or, she answers the phone and gets jotaro from the train station Herself + maybe makes him dislike her even more! both options make her stomach drop, and she can't stop her eyes from constantly drifting over to kakyoin, who looks a little too still, a little too cold, a lot of too worn out. She grabs her nicest, most comfortable blanket and throws it over him.. maybe it'll help him sleep better, and hopefully it'll help ease her mind

she does some meditation until jotaro Finally FINALLY calls. Kakyoin is the lightest sleeper known to man for reasons that Camille is unable to understand, so she leaps on their telephone. jotaro's voice is something that strikes fear in her, and having his voice right up in her ear at like 3 am is the least ideal thing ever. it throws all of her meditation out the window, and the harebrained anxiety is Back.

hurriedly, she tells jotaro that they'll be over to pick him up soon! and she can't help but notice the deflated, "Oh." she gets back in response, which baffles her even further. (jules said that was bc he was just waking up from his own personal red-eye flight fever dream nap, and I cannot agree more!) Sure, it's normally always kakyoin that gets jotaro, but what's so wrong with her tagging along? It's not a far walk from their apartment to the train station- what if she just wanted to get out of the house? anyhow, the thought only serves to make camille more nervous.

she decides right after hanging up that No. She is Not going to wake kakyoin up for this- he really needs the sleep, jotaro be damned. it's not like they're going to get up to anything at this hour anyways. She shimmies into her outerwear + yeehaws over to the gare du nord, where she finds jotaro pretty quickly (he’s so tall!). he's like, "Oh- you. Where's Kakyoin?" and she spitballs the entire thing to him because Camille is just a motormouth when her nerves are high

Camille is expecting Jotaro to be miffed, just a little bit, but surprisingly, he's pretty chill about the whole thing. He's grateful to Camille for coming to get him, because otherwise he'd get hopelessly lost in the maze of the city. This is where Camille begins to realize, hm.. perhaps she was too harsh of a judge..mayhaps.. jotaro really is just Like That, as kakyoin has said at least six times before.. what a concept.

They start walking back to the apartment, and Jotaro's mostly concerned about Kakyoin and why the dude's currently comatose on their couch. Camille just keeps rambling and maybe giving out more information than she should, but Camille is just like Polnareff in that regard. she doesn't notice his gaze soften at their similarity, or at the concept that kakyoin would work himself raw just to make time for jotaro's visit... (which Kakyoin shouldn't have to, not for his sake! but the concept pokes at the small beast in jotaro that fancies kakyoin, which.. ugh. that's an entire thing for him to wrestle with.)

so they make it back to the apartment, and camille urges him to be really quiet as they enter- 'did you know, kakyoin's a super light sleeper? i stubbed my toe and cursed once and it woke him up! it's a little odd, i wonder why he's like that.' but jotaro knows. he learned why early sometime in their third year, an admittance uttered in the pitch black of the ocean at an ungodly hour. death 13, a stand he never met, or at least one that he doesn't remember meeting? and yet one that had such a profound impact on kakyoin. in the present, he puts more thought into his footsteps as they cross the threshold between the apartment commons and kakyoin and camille's apartment.

And oh, there he is. buried under a heaping white blanket, with only the left side of his face poking out. jotaro grins ever so slightly, looking at the noodle strayed madly across the side of his head that jotaro can see- how intensely had kakyoin flung himself at the couch? he feels like his eyes rest on kakyoin a moment too long, and maybe camille feels it too. or maybe her mind is just buffering- kakyoin had said she was squirrel-minded sometimes. as if her brain were leaping from one thing to another at such incredible speeds that she herself struggled to keep up with it

camille whispers so lightly that jotaro almost doesn't hear her. but once he does catch on to what she is saying, something takes hold of his heart and tries to drag it under. She's afraid to wake Kakyoin up and ask him to move because he really needs the sleep, but that means jotaro's pick for bed is either her bed (sized for one petite camille and therefore most Definitely not fit for one giant Jotaro) or kakyoin's (which is better suited for jotaro's height but also DANGEROUS)

he feels her eyes upon him like a searing iron on flesh. camille means well, and camille has No Idea what feelings he has- he knows she doesn't think anything of his silence, his deliberation...but god. in this tiny apartment lit only by candlelight, it sure feels like she's peering into his soul and judging him. nonetheless, he ends up choosing kakyoin's bed. his flight was long, and camille's bed is just. not cut out for him! that, and it'sonlyonenightit'sonlyonenightit'sonlyonenight. once kakyoin is up tomorrow.. or whenever he's up......he and jotaro can just switch beds and there'll be no problems. this is what jotaro tells himself, but his mind still runs rampant as he lies in kakyoin's bed. thisiskakyoin'sbed. this is where kakyoin sleeps Every Single Night. this is where kakyoin would be sleeping Right Now if he hadn't run himself ragged in preparation for your visit. he did that for youforyouforyou! but also.. he should not have done that for you- you always have this effect. it's an endless cycle all night long- jotaro is thankful when the exhaustion from the airport finally shuts his brain up

needless to say, jotaro feels like shit when he wakes up. camille feels like shit when she wakes up. nobody had a good night except for kakyoin, and that's only if you count out his feverish journey back to the apartment as his body tried to violently keep itself from tearing apart at the seams due to drinking Way Too Much strong coffee. camille's already up when jotaro clambers out of kakyoin's room, starting the pot for the morning. she takes one look at him and empathizes, asks how he takes his coffee. they chat quietly as it brews- camille tells him that the only person she thinks got a good night's sleep is kakyoin, who is still out of it. bemused, she tells jotaro how she misjudged where the counter was earlier and accidentally ended up slamming her mug on it, which she was SURE was going to wake up kakyoin. but behold... the beast still slumbers!

this is a really pivotal moment for jotaro and camille's friendship, this quiet morning talk. they don't talk about anything in particular, just whatever floats into camille's mind. they're both too tired to really care about any preconceived notions they had about the other, which is how they both learn that they had horribly misjudged the other. huh, would you look at that!

at some point as they're chatting, star platinum peels away from jotaro to go check on kakyoin, which used to happen often, especially back in tibet. this would annoy jotaro any other time- he very distinctly remembers kakyoin harshly telling him i'mfinei'mfinei'mfine, i'm not going to break or anything. but star (and thus, by extension, jotaro..) has always been the type to Need to check. star has always been a bit more anxious about kakyoin after dio, which jotaro really thinks is pretty fair. seeing your best friend getting rolled into a helicopter with a giant gaping hole in his abdomen will do that to you!

but anyhow. star peels away from jotaro to check on kakyoin, and jotaro allows it. he is concerned about kakyoin- although jotaro's guilty of it, too, it's no good to be staying up for that long and knocking yourself straight out with old coffee. he keeps chatting with camille through all of this- star platinum is up to Risky Business, but camille can't see him. jotaro's fine

(except camille CAN see him and she's too petrified to say anything about it lmao)

so while he and camille keep chatting, star platinum hovers over to kakyoin, and really takes the dude in. admittedly, kakyoin looks worse for wear. his skin has an odd pallor to it that makes jotaro feel a little queasy, and the bags under kakyoin's eyes don't go unnoticed either. his brow is deeply furrowed, and absently jotaro wonders what's plaguing kakyoin in his sleep. it's always been like this, since death 13. since the coma. he wants to smooth kakyoin's brow out, to run his thumb along it. but that's dangerous.

instead, star acts on instinct and reaches out to push The Noodle, the damnable beast, out of his face. star moves slowly- he doesn't want to wake kakyoin up, after all. it was just in the way. Of Kakyoin, that is. Not Jotaro looking at his face. Never that.

however, jotaro gets caught up in the thought, and in the implication of the thought, and star's finger brushes against kakyoin's ear way more than he had intended to (read: he hadn't intended to!! *cue internal screaming*), and oh. god. oh god. kakyoin's index finger fidgets, and then his eyebrows relax. has jotaro fucked up. oh god. if he woke up kakyoin he might just chuck himself out the window and into the traffic below them

as jotaro's thinking this, star platinum, the fucking beast, remains firmly planted in front of kakyoin. despite all the sirens going off in jotaro's mind, it stays there. most times, he feels like star platinum and he are pretty well in sync. but sometimes, he wonders if star platinum has a will of its own- is it Really just jotaro floating around in there? he wondered this at the very beginning, in that jail cell, and he begrudingly wonders about it now. getbackinhererightnow, and Yet! star platinum remains, taking in kakyoin with wide eyes. beside him, camille takes a very long sip of her coffee.

kakyoin wakes up slowly, as if sleep is not yet done with him. when he finally does manage to crack open his eyes, he blinks once, twice. slowly. why is it so bright. why is it so Purple? once his brain finally rejoins the land of the living, he is able to discern what the purple nebula before him is- it's star platinum? looking at him with eyes the size of dinner plates? his mouth utters the stand's name before he can quite process what's going on, but the second he does, splat is gone. faintly, he hears a choke from across the room, and that's what finally wakes him up. his gaze is drawn over to his and camille's kitchen, where camille is very pointedly digging around in their fridge. but next to her is the hulking jotaro kujo, choking on what kakyoin... judging by scent alone, guesses is coffee.

the scent triggers something in kakyoin’s mind, and then it all hits him like a train- overwhelming and all at once. oh dear god, he slept for far too long. he missed jotaro's arrival completely! and now jotaro is here choking on coffee in their kitchen. Jotaro is here!! and kakyoin was only just now waking up, disgustingly sweaty, under a mountainous blanket- camille's? oh dear god. what a nightmare!

in any other circumstance kakyoin would go to hug jotaro or shake his hand, but this. this was not it. his breath smelled like coffee that was much too old and God, he was so hot! he felt like his clothes had been glued to his skin. he yells out some sort of greeting, some acknowledgement that hey!! it's jotaro! but the words are jumbled and a pretty pitiful mix of english, japanese, and french. and then he vaults over the couch and into his room, WHERE! Jotaro's suitcase is?????? he trips on it, yells out some sort of profanity, grabs some clothes, and proceeds to promptly lock himself in the shower for at least fifteen minutes.

in these fifteen minutes, it's just intense kill bill sirens on all ends. kakyoin's like FUCK MAN I MISSED PICKING UP JOTARO, I CAN'T BELIEVE I SLEPT THROUGH ALL THAT! AND WHY WAS STAR LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT? AHHHH; jotaro is just. lost in the sauce. star platinum you fucking bastard you should have withdrawn much earlier! that was too close! and camille. camille just hyperfocuses on achieving the perfect blend of coffee and creamer for her second cup while pretending she did NOT just witness whatever that super tender super intimate scene was. just smile and wave camille, smile and wave and nobody will ever know you saw a thing....

they collectively pretend to agree nothing happened when kakyoin gets out of the shower. jotaro, needing something to do with his hands before his body implodes, makes kakyoin some calming drink- something his father no doubt made often during busy tours. their fingers brush when he passes the cup to kakyoin, but you know what? we are NOT going to think about it. kakyoin nurses the cup gingerly, and camille, the saint that she is, bubbles up an entirely new conversation.

and that's basically it! jotaro falls deeper down the rabbit hole, kakyoin becomes Confused, and camille begins taking notes on the Hopeless Case of One (1) Kujo Jotaro lol

~Kala needs to meet Gray! (tower/bad end(?) verse)

((Ooooo~))

The elevator doors opened onto a floor that seemed to defy the structure of the building itself as green faded tiles and bloodstained concrete gave way to pristine marbled floors with brilliant stained glass windows stretching down the length of the walls. It had to be a different building surely—the place behind her (not to mention the person) had been nothing more than a fever dream and she’d somehow fallen asleep in this lovely church—

Ow.

Short, haggard nails dug into the skin of her arm briefly and the train of thought dissipated. This places was real—all of it was real—no matter how fantastical this building floor(?) seemed. And hadn’t she been summoned to this very place? Her strange routine had been interrupted by the doctor telling her she needed to briefly ascend in order to meet their his ‘benefactor’; a Reverend seemingly as mysterious and fantastical as the building itself.

The thought of the summons made the girl reluctantly start forward, the sound of her footfalls sounding like someone tapping on a teacup repeatedly despite her incredibly thin shoes. She marveled at the windows as she passed, wondering if the light streaming through them to color the floor was real or not. The further in she went the more attentive her senses became; especially her nose. An underlying smell was getting stronger—an almost sickly sweetness that reminded her of overripe fruit left out in the sun—and she couldn’t help but think about the Fae food she’d read about in books, the kind you didn’t eat or even touch lest you be trapped forever.

Eventually the hallway opened up onto a room dominated by a modest confessional. A waist level altar sat in between the two doors with lighted candles at either end and out of the two doors one stood open, the interior of the confessional lost in shadow. Was she supposed to go inside? A lump rose in her throat the more she stared into that disconcerting blackness.

And then that china tapping again as her feet propelled her forward, tap tap tap tap, one foot in front of the other, left right left right, helpless in the face of that holy void the girl first walked towards and then into it, the thickness of it like a shroud settling over her trembling soul. That smell was in here too, swirling around her ankles like a mist. She tried to mentally count her steps and found it impossible, tried to raise her hands and outstretch them to act as a safeguard from running into something and couldn’t. She tried to turn around and couldn’t, she tried to run and couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t—

And then the darkness parted onto a much larger room; not a confessional but a nave. There were more windows here and neat rows of pews on either side of her and in the center of it all stood a pulpit and beyond that a large seemingly archaic pipe organ. Almost as if on cue the instrument begins to play a melody, a thick and somber psalm that rattled the lovely windows and made the girl’s bones quiver underneath her flesh. She blinked and then squinted, silently willing her lackluster vision into focus. There was absolutely no way. There had to be a person there because there was no way the organ could be playing by itself, there had to be s o m e o n e—

Her concentration broke and she blinked, her eyelids suddenly unnaturally heavy and that smell from before coming back with an insistence. It clogged her nose and burned her throat as she forced herself to take a breath and fight to pry her eyes open.And standing there with his back to her and clad in velvet robes was a man. Had he always been there? He stood poised as he pressed the keys attached to the grand instrument and while a part of her wanted to call out to him and ask if he had been there just a second ago was the person whom had called her here—she felt it best to stay silent and did so.

Eventually the music stopped and the man turned with the lingering reverb of the music following him as he went—never mind that a key sharper than what he’d been playing rang out too, no never mind that—and spoke to her. His voice carried well, seeming to resound not only in her ears but in the center of her head.

“Come hither, child.”

She moved as if pushed, her feet carrying her forward until she stood directly in front of the other and while she had difficulty in raising her gaze to look at him properly he seemed to have no trouble.

“So you are Daniel’s new ‘project’. I can see that his obsession has yet to cloud his better judgement for thine eyes are still intact. A blessing, all told.” She wasn’t looking at him–couldn’t look at him, rather—but she could hear the smile in his dark, mellow voice just as sure as she could feel her eyes beginning to water as that smell from before revives itself with a vengeance and assails her. The smell was worse than the antiseptic that saturated the doctor’s floor; she could feel it absorbing into her skin, in her brain—-

A hand descending onto Kala’s shoulder—a cold and somehow impassive thing—made her jump and look up reflexively and now her breath caught in her throat for another reason. Perhaps she’d been under the doctor’s ‘care’ too long but the first thing her attention was drawn to was the man’s eyes and what she saw there made it feel like a mistake. What she saw was nothing—his eyes curiously blank and yet there was no doubt that this man could see. He was not blind—although that in and of itself would be poetic, for wasn’t the judgment of God both swift and blind?—and he certainly had no trouble seeing her for who she was. The sardonic smile on his lips told her so.

“Fear not my child. I am Father Gray and the church surrounding thee is mine refuge. I have summoned thee here to ascertain something—” He pauses as his hand falls away from her trembling shoulder only to point at her chest where her heart was busy slamming against her ribs. “—Daniel would not have brought thee here for no purpose, after all. Do you seek to ascend this holy tower, child?”

When no answer came—for her breath sat useless and paralyzed inside her chest—the man named ‘Gray’ didn’t seem to mind. His smile actually widened a little, the sharp angles of his cheeks perfectly accompanying the sharp teeth now bared at her pleasantly.

“Does the serpent’s tongue protrude from the maw of the lamb? Is thy innocent treachery the reason for thy silence? Does thy shoulders posses the untested, unbroken weight of angels wings or will thou crawl through darkness? Which heart shall be revealed to thee; the heart of a sacrifice or of an angel—ahh, no matter. All shall be clear when God wills it.” Now the Reverend gestures back the way she had come with a slender hand. “Run child, back to thine lab and thine jailer. Mayhap he’ll draw the wings from you yet and should thee need guidance this church is here…as am I.”

She didn’t need to be told twice and quicker than she could blink she was back in front of the elevator, its button locked in the ‘down’ position. She couldn’t stop trembling even as she stepped behind the latticework and drew it closed with numb fingers. The Reverend’s voice followed her, settling over her heart like a fog, a sickly sweet thing that would suffocate her as soon as she breathed just a little too deep.