simulsimul | another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

[For all that Kratos had challenged Zelos to step up or shut up, he still doesn't quite expect Zelos to 'come find him' as he suggested. There's still too much for either of them to do. For Kratos, his focus is on finding the necessary elements for an Eternal Ring. He's got one. He knows where another is, but can't reach it yet. Still two left ... Which is why he's digging around an abandoned mine.

[He definitely doesn't expect to sense someone else's mana nearby, let alone someone he recognises.]

❰ 'too much' is a bit of an exaggeration. honestly, there isn't a whole ton for zelos to be doing. his entire part pretty much consists of keeping in touch until the time comes to pull a couple of shady stunts and nick some aionis, and technically that means showing up here is smack dab within the parameters of his job description.

after all, he's keeping in touch.

he makes no attempt to announce his presence. he can sense kratos, which means kratos can sense him - maybe even stronger. after all, he's done this 'seraph' thing way longer than zelos has. either way, it leads him through the caves unaided until he locates the room where kratos is poking around, at which point he leans casually against the wall just inside, arms loosely crossed.

and zelos doesn't say a single word. not until kratos visibly notices him, however long that takes (so if he chooses to ignore zelos's presence, this could be a long night). when he does, though, the faintest grin tugs at the corners of zelos's lips. ❱

Not the ideal place to duke it out... It's almost like you didn't think I'd show. ❰ he probably didn't, really. zelos himself isn't entirely sure why he came. restlessness, maybe - or maybe he's just sick of the way that nobody ever seems to speak their minds, and a part of him craves the sting that comes when someone finally does. ❱

[Kratos doesn't acknowledge Zelos until he's sure the material he's looking for isn't to be found in this particular mine. He rises, dusting off his clothes, and turns, head tipping.]

I've no issue fighting underground.

[For all that his mana is dualled light-lightning, there's an affinity for earth in there too. He prefers the closed-circuit energy of lightning in an enclosed space; of sparking power against raw stone. Kratos crosses his arms, watching Zelos watch him.]

Is that why you came, or are you wasting my time?

[Not exactly much to check in with.]

Edited (word use) 2016-11-22 23:31 (UTC)

❰ though he said 'duke it out', zelos hadn't actually expected combat to be at the top of their agenda. a side effect, maybe, but not the main event.

still, kratos's question has his grin broadening, though not necessarily in a good way. ❱

You tell me. You started this, with your whole 'come find me when you're ready to face up' bullshit. ❰ he shoves up off the wall to step into the room a little, arms uncrossing to spread out to the sides. ❱ Well, I'm here. I'm ready. Hit me with your best shot.

Hmh.

[Kratos chuckles low, and while it's not derogatory, exactly, it's cutting, and far from the affectionate warmth he might have used on most of the others. When he lifts his head, there isn't a trace of a smile on his face. His tone is much the same as his laugh -- blunt, unshielded, if not actively disdainful.]

Yet all you do is stand there and wait for me to make a move. You're ready to face up? You can barely think to function. You can't even take your life into your own hands.

❰ well. zelos's brow twitches and his grin fades incrementally. that wasn't the reply he expected. he'd had it in his head that kratos wanted a piece of him, in some shape or form, and the only work zelos himself would have to do would be to put up a decently-convincing fight against handing that piece over.

as it turns out, it'll take a bit more effort than that. zelos has yet to decide how much effort he's willing to expend to get what's coming to him. honestly? it's kind of irritating. kratos is pretty much the one person who doesn't deserve to take a shot at him. if anything, the pair of them should line up for the firing squad side by side. ❱

Cut the ambiguous crap, ❰ he says, tone colored by that flare-up of irritation, and he's starting across the room now. ❱ You wanted me here, you had something in mind. And now - what? You want me to guess? ❰ there it is, a little bit of disdain of his own, but it's given no time to linger in the air. he's a few feet from kratos now, and in a movement both quicker and smoother than he could've dreamed before he replaced the exsphere on his chest with his cruxis crystal, his hand dips down to draw his dagger from his belt.

and zelos lunges, with a slice kratos couldn't possibly fail to dodge, should he choose to try. ❱ Is this what you want!? ❰ a similar follow-up slice. he's just chumming the waters, at this point - making it more of a hassle to condescend him than to come out and tell him why the hell they're here. ❱

Edited 2016-11-23 10:06 (UTC)

[Kratos does dodge, rather than block -- his shield is still over his shoulder, his sword still sheathed. He's already explored this cave; he knows its dimensions, doesn't even have to look toward he steps.]

I told you to come to me when you're ready, not on my account. You're still pretending to be a victim, at the mercy of the world around you?

[He steps away from the second slice, his winged cape flaring.]

You're a fool. If you wanted to die already -- why haven't you just got it over with?

[It's something of a genuine question. It probably doesn't sound like it.]

[Time had never seemed to move so slowly. Four thousand years of hell, and they had been a blink of an eye in comparison; Kratos supposes that's due to having turned so many of his senses off that it felt half dream-like in retrospect. Having to experience every moment made them seem far longer, when all most of him wanted was to be back on Aselia with his son.

[But space was vast. Most days, the incredible things they found were enough, when Kratos imagined being able to bring tales of them back to Lloyd. When they weren't enough, there was the steady reclamation of self among the angels. For every angel who remembered their heart, it told him he was in the right place. He'd managed four thousand years of nothing. He could manage a few years in space.

[Especially when it meant discovering things like this -- an inhabited planet. And not only that ...]

You're sure?

[This is to the angel on the comms, who nods.]

I've run the scans thrice, sir. This planet is inhabited by humans.

Hmh.

[Kratos looks again at the screen showing the world still some distance away. It's larger than Aselia, with more ocean and so much radio chatter that he'd ordered all of Derris-Kharlan's internal communications to be routed through telepathy instead, lest anything important be lost in the clutter. He doesn't like doing that; it's too easy to forget there's anything outward worth seeing.]

Well, if that's the case, I should be able to go down among them without much trouble. Is there any location with large degrees of mana?

[There is; most of the planet is as dry as Aselia was when it was split, but there are three springs of mana which approach Aselia's usual levels. Of them, two are large continents; the last is a small island. Kratos chooses that as his landmark -- small as it is, there's less chance he might get lost, or that Derris-Kharlan will have trouble finding him from such a distance. From the levels of technology this planet seems to have, to get much closer would be to risk drawing attention.

[At least there's a moon. He leaves Derris-Kharlan wearing clothes more appropriate to the culture and with an entourage of insistent bodyguards who break off toward the dark side of the moon to set up a communications buoy and outpost. Kratos continues past them with broad sweeps of his wings, waiting until the island is in darkness before descending through the atmosphere -- slowly, to avoid leaving much of a heat signature, and minimise the risk of drawing attention.

[Up closer, the island's lights are dazzling. Up close, it seems as though every inch of land on this planet is a spiderweb of glittering illumination. None of it, near as Kratos can tell, actively uses mana; that thought is the only reason he can find the sight at all beautiful.

[Even still Kratos is glad when he's descended to an altitude where he can no longer see so much of the planet, when the buildings rise up. At first he'd planned to choose a spot away from the largest of the cities, but now it looks as though the cities are contained within a glowing bastion of light; certainly no one would notice if he lands inside.

[So he does, coasting above the building tops and finding a less populated area to drop into a street, deliberately choosing areas where the light's glare will hide his wings. The buildings are much taller than he anticipated -- he misjudges the distance when he pulls in his wings, and hits the ground harder than he meant; and it isn't any sort of ground he's familiar with.

[For a moment he remains crouched, frowning and with a hand of the material of the street.]

[It's Christmas in Dublin. The city never truly goes dark, but Christmas lights on nearly every public article ensure that it's particularly difficult to find a circle of complete darkness even in the dead of night. Some people find that festive and safe. Skulduggery mostly finds it annoying and dangerous.

But the work of a detective doesn't end over the holiday season, so this particular night finds Skulduggery tracking a cloaked woman through the streets around a large department store. It's one of his many side cases -- those not assigned to him through the Irish Sanctuary, which, at the moment, is in a bit of disarray -- and thus has nothing to do with tracking down who blew up the Sanctuary in question a few months before. Skulduggery would prefer to be working on that, but Valkyrie has asked to have a few days to herself, so he's forced to put several of his ideas on hold.

Past the department store, there's a bastion of stillness and lights that aren't festive. The cloaked woman heads through there and Skulduggery follows, dressed to the nines and without his usual disguise. Instead, he has a face. It's a magical face and, because he's still learning how to use it, doesn't hold up to intense scrutiny. It's good for wandering through the city, but not for involved discussions. Not yet.

Also, he has no idea what he looks like. The face changes every time he pulls it up. Tonight, it's vaguely Middle Eastern in appearance, with brown eyes that don't quite focus properly and a shock of jet-black hair.

The narrow back street is entirely empty of all but one tiny car, so Skulduggery has to hang back until the woman turns off it to avoid suspicion. As a result, he's the only one around when someone falls out of the sky and lands like he meant to fall out of the sky, which is especially strange because the asphalt of the road is actually cracked.

Skulduggery looks up. One of the buildings near them is certainly tall enough to damage the street when falling off it, but without magic...]

Good evening.

[Because nothing excuses a lack of common courtesy.]

Are you human? [He gestures above them.] Because I've only met a handful of sorcerers who can survive a fall like that, and one of them wouldn't be caught dead wearing what you're wearing.

[Which, from this distance, looks like it has a lot of buckles. China Sorrows isn't a fan of buckles.]

[The sense of mana at the corner makes Kratos straighten suddenly, so that he's already standing by the time the tall figure steps into the alley. The street is as bare as he could find, but he'd thought the mana-signatures were further away than that -- that or the stranger had very good eyes in the dark. And there's something -- strange -- about the man's mana. It moves, but not ... in the right way. Kratos doesn't know how mana works on this planet well enough to tell what's wrong.

[But that is rather diminished when the stranger speaks, and Kratos realises that he's become far too accustomed to knowing all the languages of Aselia, even most of the dead ones. This one sounds familiar; it sounds a bit like the common tongue of the two worlds, whose evolution was controlled over time. It isn't. He presses a hand to his forehead with a self-deprecating sigh. Idiot.

[With a world so large, surely there would be enough languages that it isn't odd he doesn't know this one. Kratos lowers his hand, and looks impassively at the stranger, choosing to speak in the tongue of Tethe'alla from four thousand years ago. He doesn't use it often enough.]

I don't understand you.

[Hopefully, the man will just think he was seeing things -- if he saw anything at all. There was a question in there; it's possible he was asking whether Kratos had seen something overhead.]

Edited (added a thot) 2016-12-17 02:16 (UTC)

[Odd. It isn't every day non-Irish sorcerers fall out of the sky over Ireland.

The language isn't one Skulduggery recognises, though something about the intonation sounds familiar. That isn't strange. Many languages he doesn't know sound familiar. It's difficult not to hear everything at least once when you're over four centuries old.

What is strange is that, apart from that vaguely exasperated sigh, the stranger doesn't visibly react. He doesn't speak English, and he's dropped very painfully into the middle of an English-speaking country. That should be enough for at least a little bit of confusion, or, more likely, pain. Instead the man sighed as though he'd only encountered a mildly annoying obstacle in a foot race and then gone blank.]

Dtuigeann tú seo?

[Do you understand this? Stranger things have happened than time travel.]

[Hmh. That language sounds like something Sylvarant had used before the worlds had been split, yet not enough to recognise. It would be a nuisance if they'd have to go through a full round of the stranger figuring out that Kratos wouldn't be able to understand anything he said, regardless of the language. And there's still something strange about the man's mana.

[No. There's no point in wasting the time. Instead Kratos shakes his head and moves forward, his steps the steady, inexorable sort of a man who's rarely had to be concerned about anything. He does make sure to remember to breathe, and he turns most of his senses back on as he goes. The temperature, it proves, is not precisely comfortable, so he keeps that turned off.

[As he approaches the stranger, he can see more of him from the streetlights beyond; and the sense of wrongness increases. The man's features are human enough, but there's something about the texture of his skin which doesn't seem quite alive -- like Tabatha. And his eyes don't focus, and his hair is ... not the kind Kratos would expect from a man who wears what is obviously formalwear. It's unkempt. The closer Kratos gets, the more he feels like the shift of mana is nothing more than a surface illusion.

[Well. Either he fell into the right street, or the extremely wrong one. Something not quite alive is blocking his exit.

[Kratos's pace doesn't waver, as if the stranger isn't even there. He's waiting to see the man's response to being ignored.]

Edited (another thot; and again) 2016-12-17 03:02 (UTC)

[Clearly, the only reason Skulduggery's being ignored is the language barrier. That makes it less of an offence to pride and more of a mystery to solve.

He doesn't try to stop the man from walking past, even stepping out of the way despite the distance not quite necessitating it. But he does follow. The cloaked woman was a petty criminal and a simple job; a lone sorcerer in Ireland who doesn't speak English or Irish is much more interesting.]

I'm going to keep talking, if you don't mind. The problem here is that Ireland isn't in the best position to defend itself, and there are certain people -- not upstanding citizens like yourself, I'm sure -- who might try to take advantage of that. Naturally, I'm a little suspicious of new people. Let's start with the basics.

[He points to himself.]

I'm Skulduggery Pleasant. Call me Skulduggery.

[He points at the man.]

What's your name?

[Well, at least the -- man -- let him past. It's still more than close enough for Kratos to feel the strangely weighted sense of shadow and elements (firewindwaterearth) in balance. He'd been right, too. The only movement in that mana is on the surface, like oil with still water underneath.

[Kratos's back itches with that ... man ... behind him, but thankfully that doesn't last, and Kratos turns his head just enough to see his new companion out of the corner of his eye. It's unfortunate that that's necessary, as Kratos would prefer to be able to take in the sights around him; but he'll manage.

[The buildings are much taller than anything in Tethe'alla in the modern era -- even taller than Kratos remembers from the Kharlan War. Anything which had been so high back then had been skyships, ungrounded. It's fairly clear, also, that the streets are delineated between pedestrians and vehicles; Kratos had seen those machines moving at speed through other streets. This one is silent and still.

[And the air is -- awful. Not even magitechnology had done this to the atmosphere; though its effects were, perhaps, far worse.

[The language sounds more familiar the more the man rambles on, in the construction and intonation. Kratos catches the motion the man makes to himself, and it's fairly obvious the intent behind it. Kratos debates for a moment, then concedes. He is here for the experience, after all, and even if he'd rather not have this thing behind him, keeping it friendly is probably a better idea -- for now.]

Kratos Aurion.

[Communication without language is, despite common knowledge, entirely possible. Difficult, and requiring more than a little creativity, but certainly possible.]

Kratos?

[Just to confirm. Not every culture handles family names the same way, and not all sorcerers choose their names the same way.

'Kratos', if memory serves, was the Greek god of strength and sovereign rule. Pronounced just differently enough that it's entirely possible the similarity is a coincidence, but still. Not exactly the best name to put Skulduggery at his ease if he's worried about an attempt to take Ireland while the country is largely defenceless -- and he is. Greedy people do stupid things.

Next up: magic.]

Are you an Elemental or an Adept? [He demonstrates the question by snapping his fingers and generating a small flame in the palm of his hand, then snuffs it and motions for Kratos to do the same. The question should answer itself, hopefully.]

Edited 2016-12-17 03:42 (UTC)

[A nod is confirmation for the name, and then the majority of Kratos's attention is drawn by the flare of fire-mana and the flame that appears in the man's hand. It's such a minuscule thing that it's fascinating; the control and finesse that would have taken in Aselia is unheard of these days.

[So the people here can use mana -- and in such a different way. Kratos remembers, a very long time ago, being able to do such things; to light fires and clear air with subtle uses of mana. Not anymore. He hasn't needed those domesticities in so long that he isn't even sure he's capable of it anymore.

[Even still, he's curious to try; and if there's any kind of mana he'd be able to manage it with, it would be either light or lightning. Best not use light, hereabouts -- he wants to keep his wings concealed for as long as possible. Lightning, though ...

[Kratos raises the hand between them, where it would be blocked from casual view by their bodies, and pushes into it the gentlest thread of lightning-mana that he can produce. It crackles across his hand and arm and -- unexpectedly -- it arcs to the street-light they're passing. The bulb flickers and Kratos closes his hand, cutting off the mana.

[Interesting. That reaction suggests their technology is powered by electricity.]

[There's a couple on the corner who turn at the cracking sound, but they don't see anything beyond the streetlamp flickering. Skulduggery spares them a glance, then decides that might be enough magic demonstration until they're somewhere more isolated. There's only so much mortals can be convinced to overlook.

Control of lightning he's seen before, but not quite like this. Lightning Dave controlled it easily while it was still in his hands, just like Elementals could easily control fire before releasing it. Kratos seemed surprised when it arced to the streetlamp. Either something had happened recently to tamper with his control, or...

... well. It's the elusive alternative explanations Skulduggery is most interested in.]

You're not supposed to answer a question with more questions. That's rude.

[Kratos. Could the man's language be Greek, or Latin?]

I need you to speak a little more. I don't know how to ask you that in a way you'll understand, but odds are it wouldn't matter. You strike me as a very taciturn fellow.

[He pauses briefly to consider; then:] Dicere?

[Speak, in Latin. Maybe it'll be similar enough to the root word in whatever Kratos speaks.]

[There's something so incredibly Yuan in Skulduggery's tone that Kratos can't help but cast him a glance of deep amusement, for all that it hardly shows on his face. It's the level of affront; Skulduggery's is less sharp, but so easily tuned to offence for minor reasons.

[But Kratos is more interested in the couple ahead of them, and the intersecting street which appears to have more in the way of movement -- more mana-signatures, more of those vehicles racing by. From what he can see in the distance, his clothes aren't out of place. He had begun to wonder whether the level of formality in Skulduggery's dress is the norm, but the two men in the distance are both wearing trousers and buttoned shirts similar to what Kratos is using, if lacking the extra belts Kratos wears around his thigh and shoulders.

[He ignores Skulduggery's rambling until the pause, and the single hopeful word which indicates Skulduggery is trying, once more, to actually communicate. The shape of the word is intensely familiar, but wrong; like it's almost a cousin of a word Kratos does know. Still, if he assumes there's a relation ... Hmh. Kratos throws him another impassive glance.]

And what is it that you plead?

[Well, that worked. But the language isn't Latin, so it probably won't continue to work. It's not Greek, either, at least as far as Skulduggery's very limited fluency informs him. Curiouser and curiouser.

There is, however, a possible solution. He shrugs to show he has no idea what Kratos said, then holds up a finger -- wait -- and points it at the ground -- stay. That taken care of, he pulls out his phone and dials Ghastly.

It does not actually occur to him that Kratos might not know what a mobile phone is.

The call takes about a minute. Ghastly, after grudgingly forgiving Skulduggery for calling him so late at night, says he isn't sure if he has any magical translation-related artifacts in his family's Vault, but he'd be happy to join them and find out at a more civilised time. Skulduggery thanks Ghastly and hangs up. He debates the wisdom in calling China and seeing what she knows as a more immediate possibility -- the woman never seems to sleep -- but that would mean involving China Sorrows. Things haven't gotten quite that dire yet.

If only Valkyrie were available. She might be just as clueless, but at least she'd make Skulduggery feel a little more competent by comparison.]

I have a solution, but not until the morning -- not to mention no way to explain it to you. I don't suppose you have ideas you feel like obliquely sharing?

[Skulduggery's gestures are fairly obvious, at least, and the communicator he produces explains at least a part of the numerous (so very numerous) random transmissions Derris-Kharlan had picked up. Kratos watches for a moment, but the communicator doesn't seem to be much different from some of those Kratos has seen before. He turns away to examine the nearest street-light instead.

[Closing his eyes, he extends his mana sense around him. He can feel the dense population present, of a kind he hasn't felt since before the worlds had been split. Thrumming between all those mana-signatures is his sense of light and lightning. He can feel both, and yet -- neither are being powered by mana.

[It's incredibly strange, and incredibly off-putting, being able to feel the mana in the power produced without being able to sense how that power is being produced. Kratos shakes off the feeling to open his eyes and put a hand on the street-light so he can read it from a closer viewpoint.

[This is much more familiar; its circuits run on wiring not unlike raybits, but without the mana charge from an exsphere powering them. Instead the lightning-sense extends deep into the ground, where it becomes lost in the lightning charges flowing to everything else. There's no way he can trace it to its source in that din.

[Still. Something has to charge them; and apparently it's not a localised source individual to each device. He should probably avoid using any lightning mana, if the whole city is powered this way.

[Skulduggery's voice makes Kratos turn again, and he tips his head. The man just insists on talking, though at least that's going to increase the chance of Kratos understanding the language with any speed. They have as much time as Kratos wishes to use, to investigate this planet; and Kratos intends to be as thorough as is safely possible. What are the odds that humans could evolve on two different planets, even ones so near to each other?

[He may as well further his chance to communicate. Kratos takes a step away, indicating the street-light, and saying the word out loud in the hope Skulduggery will repeat it in one of his own tongues.]

[In a roundabout way, that is an idea. It's certainly better than anything else Skulduggery has at the moment.]

That depends on where you are. In Ireland --

[And he stops. Talking more is not actually going to help, here.]

Streetlamp. [A pause.] Streetlight. Lamppost.

[The lack of familiarity indicates either a very third-world upbringing or something more magical in nature. Skulduggery's beginning to suspect Kratos was Shunted here from another dimension. That possibility doesn't make him more trustworthy, but it certainly makes him more interesting. If the Irish Sanctuary was still in one piece, Skulduggery would probably have a duty to report this.]

[A chatterer. This will be interesting; Colette and Lloyd were Kratos's first experiences with chatterers in a while. At least Skulduggery, being obviously older, is aware enough to know when talking isn't useful.

[The repeated words makes Kratos let out a tiny huff of exasperated amusement, however. He can hear the similarities, but how many words does one language need for a single object, even related ones? It's ... oddly wonderful, actually. It's been such a long time since Kratos has had the need or space to indulge in the use of language. Even that had been co-opted by Cruxis's goals, with the need for angelic.

[It reminds him of his long-ago days, standing on a stage and sparring with his cast-mates in an escalating medley of verbal rhythm.

[It was so very long ago.

[Kratos repeats those words, and then starts walking once more toward the street at the end, pointing to the pavement under his feet.]

Pavement.

[This could get very confusing very quickly.]

Pavement.

[But Kratos didn't seem to mind more than one answer very much, and he looks a little more animated now than he did before. So, with a smile, Skulduggery goes on, a short pause in between each word.]

Ground. Sidewalk. Floor. Earth. Concrete. Cement.

[What's the harm? Either, by some miracle, this is actually useful to Kratos, or it'll help to pass the time until --

-- what? Kratos is going to need sleep, and if he's an abductee from another dimension, chances are he doesn't have a hotel room. Not that Skulduggery could easily ask if that's the case.

They've reached the end of the street now, with the department store around the next corner. The Bentley's parked in a multilevel car park beyond that. A group of young children across the way are singing Christmas carols, competing with the music drifting through the open doors of the department store.]

Do you have a place to sleep?

[Skulduggery accompanies this question with both hands together under his tilted head, to pantomime 'sleep'.]

[That's a great many words. Possibly most of them are not actually applicable to the path on which they're walking -- but Kratos can find out, easily enough, by using the road as a comparative base. At any rate, Skulduggery seems to enjoy showing off his breadth of knowledge.

[When they reach the end of the street Kratos pauses to take in the surroundings. The vehicles coming from the car corner slow as they reach the corner with the open doors; and he can see where one exits a ramp down that end and turns toward them, slow at first then speeding up as it leaves the area. The lights on the corner change colour, and the vehicles slow to a halt. So this mode of transportation has rules behind it; that's somewhat reassuring, at least.

[But they're extremely loud as they pass. Kratos doesn't wince, but he does dull his hearing somewhat, to take the edge off the roar of the vehicle. It makes it more difficult to hear the singing across the street, but Kratos intends to get closer. Even still, judging by the strings of lights, and the singers, and the tree he can see in the window beside those open doors -- combined with the low temperature he'd noted previously -- it's fairly clear there's some kind of winter festival occurring.

[Kratos sets off toward the open doors, but pauses to glance at Skulduggery. Then he shakes his head, accompanying the motion with a verbal denial. He isn't sure whether Skulduggery is asking him if he's tired or whether he needs a place to sleep, but the answer is the same, regardless.

[Then he points to the road in which the vehicles are moving.]

Road.

[That makes things a little easier. Now they only need to pass the time until Kratos starts showing signs of exhaustion. Skulduggery doesn't mind that; he's spent enough of the last five years being unable to move forward on anything while he waits for Valkyrie to finish whatever she happens to be doing at the time. Waiting on other people describes roughly 40% of his undead life.]

Road. Street. Asphalt. Drive. Crosswalk. [He glances back a little.] Intersection.

[Then, on a whim, he makes a broad gesture indicating all the buildings, the people, the entire area around them.]

Dublin.

[Kratos seems headed toward the department store. That might pose a small problem; Skulduggery's used his magical facade for almost half an hour now. China was very clear on the time limit. Somehow, Skulduggery thinks losing his false face in the middle of a crowded shop would be a terrible idea.

Then again, he has stretched the time limit before.

Then again then again, that resulted in his facial features drooping right off his skull.]

another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

from d_p; a demand for responsibility

aka "nut up or shut up, starring two fake angels"

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SP; a mighty need for a cross-canon meeting

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