Nᴀʀᴜᴋᴀᴍɪ Yᴜ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
covenantal) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradis2015-12-18 05:04 pm
covenantal) wrote in paradis2015-12-18 05:04 pm
ＳＯＲＤＲＥＡＣＨ
"Chatterclock" - Dave Strider
(When equipped, add Chatterclock's stats as a bonus to the wielder's.)ACTIVE SKILLS:
- HP: --
- ATK: ☆☆☆
- DEF: ☆
- SPD: ☆☆☆☆☆
- MGC: ☆☆☆
- RES: ☆☆
- MP: 100
(All of Chatterclock's offensive spells require the blade to make contact with the enemy at least once before implementation.)PASSIVE SKILLS:
- Clockstopper: Halts one enemy for a short time, MP 8
- Clockstopper II: Halts all enemies for a short time, MP 16
- Accelerate: Increases speed of wielder for a short time, MP 8
- Accelerate II: Increases speed of wielder for a longer time, MP 12
- Memento Mori: What he used against the Hellbull, MP 36
- Counterclock: [NOT YET UNLOCKED, effect unknown], MP 80
- Auto-target
- Danger sense
- Diagnostics
Yu NarukamiACTIVE SKILLS:
- HP: 223
- ATK: ☆☆☆☆
- DEF: ☆☆☆
- SPD: ☆☆
- MGC: ☆☆
- RES: ☆☆☆
- MP: 75
PASSIVE SKILLS:
- Ziodye: Deals heavy Elec damage to 1 foe, MP 12
- Mazionga: Deals medium Elec damage to all foes, MP 16
- Garula: Deals medium Wind damage to 1 foe, MP 8
- Bufula: Deals medium Ice damage to 1 foe, MP 8
- Agilao: Deals medium Fire damage to 1 foe, MP 8
- Diarama: Moderately restores 1 ally's HP, MP 6
- Marakukaja: Increases Defense for 3 turns (party), MP 24
- Tetrakarn: Barrier that reflects phys dmg once, MP 36
- Resist Elec
- Endure
no subject
Shit. Hold still for a second.
[He tries to make it out against the background of Yu's pulse, against the little movements every living person makes. The weight of hoof against stone sends vibrations through these numbingly familiar walls, let him guess at number, at position.
He's nervous. If he had a heart, it'd be beating against his ribs with a sharp rhythm, a battle cry. Yu isn't in good enough condition to fight, and there's nowhere for him to run, either. He never had to pay much attention when he was just lying on the floor, gathering dust. He has someone to protect again.
(who did he protect before?)]
Think there's just one. Heavy. Not a lich, at least.
[It must be daytime. There's a chance they'll survive. That is, if they...
WHAM! The Hellbull rams into the wall hard enough for stone to crack and powder, though it doesn't break yet. It roars its dissatisfaction and gallops back down the corridor so it can run up for a second shot.
No time to overthink it.]
Hey, Yu. How open are you to batfuck insane suggestions from a magic sword you just met?
no subject
Yu adjusts his grip and shoots Chatterclock a sharp look. ]
If it gets both of us out of here? Very.
[ Does it really matter if it's insane? Without a plan, he'll die here, and Chatterclock will be abandoned. Alive but crazy is better than just plain dead, and alone. ]
no subject
A'ight. Yu Narukami, let us be in accord.
[The formality lifts some unseen seal away, and the sword burns brightly, gold and red and painless, in Yu's hand before dimming to an acceptable glow. He doesn't even leave an afterimage.]
I'm gonna give you access to my magic. Don't worry about which spells to use when, I'll take care of that for now, just trust me and fight like you normally would, okay? I won't let you get hurt.
[There's no nervousness in that promise, just belief and fact. He's sharp, now, focused, and a true, straight blade. Whatever's on the other side of that wall, he can take it.]
If you're game, agree, and we'll have us a Pact.
no subject
It's like nothing he's ever felt before.
Chatterclock says with a steadiness and self-assurance he finds startlingly familiar that he won't let Yu get hurt, and Yu believes him without question.
Slowly, but with confidence, he repeats: ]
Chatterclock, let us be in accord.
[ His blood stirs again. He'd shiver if he didn't feel overwarm.
The charging of hooves returns, rapidly growing louder and closer, and Yu grips Chatterclock's hilt in both hands. At the same time he starts to pace towards the wall, to get himself out of the way of whatever is about to break into the room, to give himself the space to run. He's putting his trust in this sword, putting his life on that faith, but even so, they'll both be better off if he can just get out of here. ]
no subject
God, it feels so good to be believed in. To be of one mind. The glow flares and tightens, pouring into the clockwork inlays and then racing up the blade in the same geartooth patterns, moving across the steel.
Hang on.]
Wait, you named me Chatterclock? Haha, dude, what.
[But he's pleased, so pleased, and the laughter's in his voice as the Pact goes live. For an instant, they get to share one suspended moment--one heartbeat, shared, in which red-gold pre-dawn light meets the first blazing line of white--before the Hellbull smashes through the wall with a terrible bellow.
Chatterclock's joy dims not at all as he locks the Pact in, settling his own magic so it won't interfere with Yu's, but bolster it, work to the same beat. Easy as breathing, he sketches a gear-toothed circle around the Hellbull as it shakes its head, snorts, casts around for its prey.
Yu's a calm, steady light. It's natural to move into place beside him, shoulder to shoulder, so he can protect and serve. This is what he was made to do.
The Hellbull lowers its horns and gets ready to charge, and there's nothing to fear.]
We can one-shot this, easy. Aim up under the throat.
no subject
[ Words murmured distantly as the Pact rushes through and transforms them both. Not outwardly, no; they're still just a boy and a sword. But inwardly the surge of the connection almost threatens to overwhelm Yu, someone who is not so used to this kind of power, or even to the intensity of the emotions associated with it. Being the jack-of-all-trades has always been his signature; he's good at everything he's ever tried to do, more or less, but exceptional power has never been his forte. He's not a specialist.
So this, this sensation, power and light and joy and finding himself perfectly in sync with another,
it makes him feel alive.
The circle that now appears in his vision makes him laugh out loud, something he wouldn't normally do, but he feels Chatterclock's joy and exhilaration as his own. He feeds back into their connection his total self-assurance, his fierceness and fire and the swaggering confidence that sometimes overtakes him in battle. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't, at times, a thrill for him.
Some deep down piece of him feels like another person is really there. Not a sword, but a boy. Like him.
But it's not something he can focus on, and his attention is on the Hellbull. He doesn't reply, even through what is now their mental link. Instead there's only a surge of certainty as Yu darts forward. He can't feel the pain in his ankle and knows that he's definitely injuring it worse, but it's too easy to ignore right now. His body moves automatically, fluidly, and Chatterclock flickers like a flash in his hands. When the blade connects, there's a burst of fire, Yu's own magic expressing itself through the very metal of the blade. Together, they slash it wide open. ]
no subject
Chatterclock holds that silence for an entire three heartbeats.]
That. Was fuckin'. Incredible.
[It's like a song in his soul, an exultation, to have a partner again, purpose, to not be forgotten on the floor of the Labyrinth. Without really thinking about it, he sends a soft ripple of power up Yu's arm to travel down to his hurt ankle, to at least ease the impending pain if he can't heal it. This is his wielder, this is his Pact-partner, this is the first person to make him feel anything but silent despair in too, too, way too long.]
You okay? We should still get out of here while we can.
[He has to shelve his happy relief, his gratitude, his pride in Yu so they can concentrate, but it's like a hummed melody at the back of his mind, constant and pleasant. With a movement only felt with the mind, Chatterclock nods, or gestures, or somehow calls attention to the wall the Hellbull broke through.]
We got a door now.
no subject
What just happened? It wasn't burnt, it wasn't destroyed, it was... eroded.
He's ten feet away and still as stone by the time the beast has completely dissolved, not moving an inch as the horns clatter and settle in the bed of tacky dust that was only moments ago a living thing. A monster, granted, and one that would have gored him alive, but living nonetheless.
It's not that he feels chilled, or even sorry. These creatures are more magic than beast, ancient malevolence given form. No one knows now what gave rise to the labyrinth monsters, but everyone knows they're nothing to be pitied.
More than anything, he's simply at a loss for words at this kind of power.
Chatterclock's singing triumph is his own, though, and the sense of victory pounds through him harder than his own pulse. A smile twitches onto his lips just as his sword - his partner? - eases the growing ache of his ankle, somehow. The sensation is like a mint salve, icy and tingling, and it makes him laugh again.
He doesn't usually laugh this much.
Yu lifts Chatterclock just enough to grin at him, broad and bright, lit up from within. Yes, I'm okay, this smile says. Yes. That was amazing. ]
Yeah, we do. You ready?
[ The question is rhetorical. Yu wastes no time vaulting out the "door," over the rubble and the Hellbull's great horns, hitting the ground running and pelting through the passageways. (The horns... they're valuable beyond imagining, but he hasn't got the strength or wherewithal to take them with him now. Later. The whole party can return later, rested and well and ready.) His ankle won't thank him later, but once he's back on the surface alive with Chatterclock, he can ask Yukiko and Yosuke for help. They'll be furious with him, but he'll be seeing them again, and he'll be alive, and...
...Chatterclock will get to meet them.
Like he said earlier, he does know which side of the maze he's on, but he doesn't know these hallways. They're alien to him, mildewed with age and dirty with disuse. They have none of the smooth shine of the upper floors, where hundreds of years of adventurers running their hands over the walls have worn them down to a high polish. This deep, everything still feels ancient. Old. Unused.
Unwelcoming. ]
Can you guide me?
[ His mind surfaces in their link through clear words for the first time, but he adds something to it: a mental feeling more than a picture of moving up.
Where are the stairs, bro? ]
no subject
So Chatterclock settles into business mode once more, trying to feel out their surroundings.]
'Course. Hang on.
[It's like balancing on the edge of a blade, finding that perfect frame of mind where he can sense everything around him, where hundreds of years of noise and echo come back to him like he could build a map from the reverberations. It's magic as much as sound, experience as much as magic.
Chatterclock's memories of this floor, like the floor itself, are dark and dusty, vast and echoing and old. An endless expanse of time, of existing without a goal, without a self, overlays the grime and stone, steeps everything in a feeling lonely and defeated but also, beautifully, amazingly past.
Recognition stirs him, and he sharpens their focus on one dark pathway in particular, not too narrow, marked with moss and heavy, trunk-like white roots.]
This way. The air's fresher. Adventurers and weaker monsters go this way to escape the big guys.
[There's a vague rush of impressions, left after a long stretch of sameness and then right and right again, but Chatterclock isn't trying to communicate the path so much as confirm it in his own mind. Instead, he shares his own senses so the walls and floor are clearer, so that, though the lighting doesn't change, the whole way's easier to see.
None of the dead ends or traps come into focus like that. Just the one way.]
Just straight for a while, I'll show you the turn. I'll look out for monsters, you mind your footing.
[And still, for the sobering situation and the need to be alert, Chatterclock at his core is unbelievably glad just to be out of that room.]
no subject
But this is too much to keep up with on a conscious level. The more he tries to force it all into order, the more it threatens to trip him up, to slow him down, to make him plow headfirst into a wall if he isn't careful. So after only a few moments of trying, he simply gives up and lets all the information flow through him without consciously processing any of it. After that, it feels as natural as breathing. He and Chatterclock are one and the same, extensions of each other, and when he lets their bond simply be what it is, everything becomes easy.
He feels it, the magic, the experience, how age-old chatterclock really is. He feels so young in comparison, so small. He feels his own existence against the timeline of chatterclocks and realizes his 17 years are little more than a blink. It's strange and humbling, though not exactly bad.
Chatterclock focuses their vision and direction, and Yu puts his head down and picks up speed. The slaps of his footfalls against the old stone floor will attract attention. What he has to do is outrun it. Chatterclock has to help them outsmart and outmaneuver it.
Typical to form, he doesn't say anything. He follows directions without words even through their mental link. But emotionally he's lit up like a Christmas tree, things that Chatterclock will now be able to feel. Things you wouldn't be able to sense just by looking at his focused expression. His excitement, his anxiety, his fear, his exhilaration, his confidence and his conviction - all of these foam beneath his skin, pouring into the connection they share because he cannot stop it. Even if there were a way to do so, he wouldn't begin to know how.
Yu Narukami has always made it a point never to really let his emotions show. Not in tense, dangerous situations like this, anyway. He's grown up with the people around him needing him to be a steadying first.
It will occur to him later that Chatterclock is the first person - person, because truly, that fits best - to get a glimpse beneath his surface.
It's just as they reach the stairs to the fifth floor that tendrils of curiosity will creep into their link. A gentle questioning with no specific words behind it, but there's also a gentle brush of concern. He seems to be wondering how Chatterclock's doing. ]
no subject
He's already thinking about the next step, about a shortcut that will save them most of the fifth floor, a series of hand- and toe-holds cut into the far side of an enormous root that would otherwise just look like a dead end, calculating whether or not Yu's ankle will hold for the climb.
At the same time, the inner part of him, the part that isn't engaged, revels in his contact with Yu. Fear, delight, action and reaction, all of it outside of him, towards him, back and forth and, god, he isn't alone. If Chatterclock could, he'd bury himself in that feeling of feeling, of having someone, anyone at all, touch him once again.
(But then, there's Yu's instant trust. That recognition, when Chatterclock said he'd protect him. That unflinching courage against the beast.
He doesn't know what it is, not yet, but he felt it. What Yu is.)
Yu's attention nudges him back into self-awareness. Chatterclock answers at first with the wordless equivalent of a blink and a hm?, a pulling in from his dispersed concentration, and then a warm, slightly embarrassed heartbeat of a chuckle. Oops, he was distracted. He just feels so alive.]
Oh, yeah. I'm fine.
[Super fine. More fine than he's ever been, as far as he can remember. Well, okay, time-frying the Hellbull took a lot out of his magic stores and he's running half on sheer giddy excitement, but his energy's nothing that won't replenish automatically. That type of usable energy, anyway. He offers Yu a bubbly wave of reassurance. He's doing great.]
I'm gonna need some major nappage once we're done here, but I think we can both agree that's a problem for Future Chatterclock. Slow down once we get up to the fourth floor, though, okay? You're not doing Future Yu's ankle any favors.
[He loves the texture of words, the simple game of putting ideas together so they make sense, so they express something. He loves audience.
He focuses on his work again, but this time, a conscious part of him hangs back, holds onto that thread of conversation. Just like Yu's curiosity trickled in, something shy and nervous and eager returns, slowly, quietly, from Chatterclock. Something he tries to keep on the downlow by turning it to words.]
What's it like? Up there.
[Cavernous, empty memories are all he has.]
i thought i sent you this tag like an hour ago
It's a bizarre sensation to feel Chatterclock's attention precipitate and focus on him; there's something warming about it, something stoked in the middle of his chest that breathes living warmth into every piece of him. Then again, between his body and the sword, they're both holding two minds, two hearts, two sets of dreams and ambitions. Who wouldn't feel twice as alive with twice as much will to live inside of them? It's beyond exhilarating. ]
Good.
[ Everything he says, all his words, have a sort of cool, reassured calmness to them. They're measured and carefully chosen. Even his mental voice is that way, cool and flowing like water. But inside their minds his emotions are there, too: a spark of relief and delight is the undercurrent of that one single word. ]
Don't worry. I'll take you somewhere you can rest. Where we can both recover. We're getting out of here together, after all.
[ There's something about talking this way, about being connected this way... he relishes it. Being able to share himself without feeling so vulnerable about it, like when he has to consciously elect to show and voice his feelings. Here, in here with them, his feelings are just facts. It doesn't feel so strange to show his emotions.
They both focus, making the decision as one (who decided first? was there a "first"? does it matter?), and Yu picks up his speed again as he runs for the shortcut. When Chatterclock asks him a question....
.... he needs to focus, and also, isn't quite sure what to say. So instead of answering with words, he answers with
impressions of the sky, bright and blue and punctured by a sun too bright to look at, with wind sweeping through your(their) hair
impressions of green green grass and trees and flowers, a forest dappled with sunlight and smelling fresh after a recent rain
impressions of laughter, of being surrounded by people you love and who love you, touching shoulders and hands and feeling your(their) face stretch with a smile you(they) can't help
it's the best he can do. He flits through his own memory and can't send memories precisely, but an impressions of those memories and the feelings that come with them. Freedom, happiness, joy, contentment.
In a corridor they race past, a shadow stirs. ]
1/2 Makes you wait all day as punishment
Yu offers it so simply, so easily, that it almost slips past Chatterclock unnoticed, one more part of this incredible experience of living after so long. It catches the underside of his awareness, this care unlooked for. Chatterclock doesn't stumble, doesn't let it distract him from his job, but his side of their emotional link goes soft and ticklish, effervescent, like the faintest memory of a bubbly drink on a summer afternoon. Fizzy. Fuzzy.
The idea of someone taking care of him is strange--alarmingly alien, even--but not bad.
He accepts the images Yu gives him with open, cupped palms, like precious marbles dropped into his hands. Each is a wonder unto itself, delicate and incomprehensible, full of light and color and sensation Chatterclock has never known, could never have imagined. He doesn't understand any of it--nothing but that smile, that joy that shines out of you no matter how you try to button it down, the happiness of being with friends.
Something like how he felt when Yu picked him up. Something like how he feels now, to be with him at this level.
A little stunned, Chatterclock just tries to hold it all, just lets himself realize how very small that doorless chamber was against the scope of the world.]
2/2
Yu. Something on our six.
[He doesn't say I have a bad feeling about this. He doesn't have to. It's there for both of them, that looming, creepy feeling, like the shadow of someone on the other side of a screen, someone bigger than you and unfamiliar. The beginning of a shiver down your spine. Chatterclock listens a moment, then draws his gear-toothed circle around the corner of the corridor they passed, just beyond their line of sight.
He's not as confident about this one, but he can't put his finger on why. He just gets ready, puts his magic at Yu's fingertips.
A questing, greenish tendril rounds the corner, and his question's too formless to be a thought, just a suggestion of heat and noise.
Kill it with fire, boss?]
no subject
There's some part of him that's feeling the strain of containing the many and expansive emotions of two different people. It's a quiet, very faint, but steadily growing sense of tired.
He ignores it for now. He'd ignore it even if it was distracting to the point of being painful. There are more important things on his mind - on their minds - right now than his emotional comfort. Besides, it's not an unpleasant or even unwelcome feeling, not anything he instinctively rejects. It's just a lot for someone so used to constantly restraining how he feels.
Right now it's shunted to the far, far back of his mind, not even a conscious thought, because his conscious thoughts are so busy. The overlay of Chatterclock's thinking on top of his own keeps him busy finding the balance between making deliberate decisions and letting their combined intuition move his body. They both sensed that presence - again, Yu can't tell who noticed it first, or if there's even a "first" able to notice it when they're so intertwined right now - and Yu hasn't stopped running, but all his senses have sharpened again, a chill feeling prickling across his shoulders.
He acknowledges the enemy's circle in the corner of his vision with a nod, but doesn't turn to potentially face whatever's after them. It's more important that they get out of here, if they can, and the shortcut is getting closer.
If they have to stop - if they have to fight - they need a better location than the narrow corridor they're currently in. Some kind of intersection would be best. Even if they call other monsters with their noise, it hasn't been unknown for monsters to start a brawl amongst themselves - which would leave Yu and Chatterclock free to go, if they don't manage to beat whatever this is first.
His returning feeling is sharper and brighter and hotter than fire. Yu might be a jack of all trades, but he does have one signature spell that is somewhat stronger than the others, simply because it's the first he ever learned. Yu stirs the raised-hair feeling of lightning into their internal mix, along with a quiet feeling of assent. ]
Where?
[ Not "where is it," but "where to we take a stand, if we do take one." ]
no subject
Yu can handle that part. In the meantime, he sounds out the path ahead, looking for more space to maneuver, an intersection like Yu wants, multiple escape paths, anything they can use to their advantage. Even the reassurance of Yu's power hasn't put Chatterclock completely at ease. Something about the monster coming up behind them just feels wrong. It has a powerful presence, sure, but something about it feels like the moment before a cave-in: dread hanging palpable in the air.
That gives him an idea, and he widens the scope of his search before pointing out another hall branching to the left.]
There. That. It widens into, like, a ballroom--I mean, obviously not, but space-wise. Branch-off hallways, we can get back here another way.
[And if they have to do something drastic to escape, they'll need to return to this hall one way or another. The secret footholds are only accessible through it.]
Won't be able to use the shortcut again if we do, but good/worth it?
[Because the ceiling in that wide space is weaker, with less to support it, and a little lightning or time magic in the right place could give them the cover they need...
Just then, with a nasty, ravenous noise, the Malboro finally appears behind them. It wheels to face them on its mass of writhing tentacles; opens its slavering, dagger-filled mouth; and groans again, low and deep and hungry.
It is super, super gross, and Chatterclock recoils with a thought half-words, half sheer alarm.]
Yo, what the fuck?!
no subject
[ The word is a bolt through their mental link, granted force by its palpable feeling of scarcity. Yu is not one to curse often, so when he does, it carries all the more weight. That weight is his alarm and anger and dread-cold fear, leaden in his (their) stomach now that they've got a Marlboro before them. ]
I wasn't sure I'd ever see...
[ Yu's mind pulses with recognition, and he doesn't finish the thought so much as show Chatterclock what he's thinking and feeling. An impression of mortal danger, the word RUN, a glimpse of a sketchy, not quite accurate drawing of the same beast with the words "DO NOT ENGAGE" beside it.
Yu knows what a Marlboro is. He's only heard stories of them until now. They're not exceptionally strong creatures, and will give to only a moderate amount of force. However, they're infamous for their thousand poisons, their thousand ways of slowing your body and mind until you're diseased and weak and confused, rotting and liquefying from the inside out. Only the strongest of specialists have the spells to reverse their effects.
Yu is not a specialist.
If they don't leave, they'll die. Maybe not even just Yu; the monster's acid could be strong enough to melt Chatterclock, too. Yu does not ever want to find out if that's possible.
Without breaking stride, Yu pivots and bolts for the room Chatterclock indicated. His ankle shrieks an alarm he ignores with a bit-down grimace.
He's still running as they enter the cavernous space, Yu is starting to show a limp, though he has only slowed a little. He heads for the center of the room and floats one word across their connection, lightning already beginning to crackle in his blood. ]
Ready?
no subject
Strangely, it's the flare of Yu's pain that grounds him. It's sharp, hot against the fear, something real and human and important. Yu is alive, he's trying so hard to stay that way; Chatterclock needs to calm down. Needs to help him.
He's needed. Yu needs him.
He settles back into the lines and wires of the here and now, each step Yu pounds into the stone, the exact distance between his heel and the closest questing vine. Sinks into focus like this moment, this line between life and death, is all he knows. All they know.]
Yes.
[He says it with conviction all the way down, resounding and solid. They have a plan. They have power. They know what to do to get out of here, and they will do it.
Yu won't get hurt. Chatterclock promised.
Chatterclock calls on the knowledge of age, of wear and weakness and decay, and weaves it through Yu's building storm-flash spell until they're one and the same, skeins of magic layered so closely they twine. For a moment, he imagines his hand on Yu's arm, lifting and steadying his aim, supporting the weight of his blade together.
We got this, bro.
Without losing sight of the Marlboro behind them, he pinpoints the weakest section of ceiling and rings it in unflinching clockwork gold.]
Right there. On my mark.
[He lets go of the fear--it's still there, he's just full of other things, calculations and open senses and the rush of power--and counts as easy as breathing. The slightly staggered rhythm of Yu's footfalls. The crunch of roots punching and dragging their way through rock. Like this, it almost feels slow, this danger waltz.
They pass beneath the weak point in the ceiling and Chatterclock's signal isn't even a word, is barely a thought--now!]
no subject
a unit. together.
Chatterclock promised to keep him safe. And Yu has promised to show him the world above. They'll do this for each other. With each other.
Or they won't do it at all.
While his pain and strain drifts away from his conscious recognition, Yu focuses on building the storm within them. His eyes spark with every blink, his grip on Chatterclock's hilt a conduit for power far older than he. He doesn't even nod at Chatterclock's words; all that happens is a feeling of recognition and readiness rising from his gut.
The motion, when the time comes, feels practiced, like he's somehow done this a hundred times before. Yu whips Chatterclock into the air, a lightning rod of power and menace towards any who would do them ill. He doesn't know how he knows how to do any of this, doesn't know why his body simply responds - but this is not the time to overthink it. Fluidly, Yu leaps into the air, pivoting mid-leap to face what chases them. In a sweeping arc punctuated by blinding, forked strands of electric light, Yu whips Chatterclock down again, as if calling down the very heavens.
And that's sort of what happens. One massive bolt of lightning suddenly appears where before there was only potential, a massive trunk of deadly, overwhelming voltage that stretched from high, shadows ceiling to floor. The old stone, the very air around them, is scorched by its heat and light. With an almighty roar, the ceiling gives like a pile of old, cheap shit and rains down. The Marlboro stops its chase shrieking and flailing as it tries to get away from the avalanche of ancient stone.
Yu and Chatterclock are already on the move again, sprinting away.
His (their) ankle is sick burning and pain, but what keeps his core burning is a fierce sense of triumph. ]
We did it!
[ Now they just have to loop back around to their shortcut. It will be no easy feet on Yu's rapidly deteriorating injury, but he has complete confidence they'll make it. ]
no subject
Haha. Yeah we did, bro.
[He can't afford to let go of this delicate, balanced concentration. The Marlboro isn't following, which is good; Yu's ankle's getting worse, which is not, and the thunder of the collapsing ballroom could bring other monsters down on their (Yu's, if he's honest) head. Chatterclock's magic stores are down to less than a third of what he started with. They can't get caught down here.
So he holds onto that victorious flame in Yu and stokes it with his own satisfied, preening pleasure. Yes, they are pretty damn awesome, they should think about doing this shit professionally, maybe get a book deal or two in. In the meantime, he tries to keep the hurt from Yu's ankle to a manageable level; solidifies the route to the shortcut in their mind.
Not far. It's okay. He'll hold on, he's still got you. Chatterclock keeps his senses sharp, listening for any noise that could give away another monster. Nothing naturally found on this floor could hold a candle to the Marlboro or even the Hellbull they annihilated earlier, but in their state, he doesn't want to take chances. He wants to get up and out, at least to somewhere they can catch their breath five seconds. He bumps Yu's mental shoulder, light and as unintrusive as possible.
Safe rest site on the fourth floor. Is there one?]
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But they still have more important things to focus on, and he doesn't follow through with his threat/promise. Chatterclock takes his pain and lights the path in his mind; so it's up to him to move his (their) body, to hold Chatterclock in a solid grip and make sure they both make it up to see sunlight in one piece. (Relatively, in his case.)
They make the shortcut. Yu spends a split second thinking before he uses quick fingers to tighten the belt of his scabbard around his chest. With that done, he slides Chatterclock between leather and cloth in front of his chest, tilted at an angle so he doesn't cut his legs while he climbs. He needs both his hands, and he doesn't want to give up his regular sword; not out of attachment, but because You Never Know, Really. He doesn't want to - can't - make assumptions about what his partnership with Chatterclock will be once they reach the surface, and if he can keep both his swords, he will.
Though, Chatterclock is obviously the much more important of the two, if it does come to that.
Climbing is careful and slightly awkward this way. Chatterclock feels warm against his chest. But he goes slow, and his ankle yells and stings, but their progress upward is steady. His focus is 95% on making sure each next foothold and handhold is secure, so his answer to Chatterclock's question is the briefest of flashes.
He and his friends have cleared the fourth floor in its entirety by themselves only a handful of times. It's so big - all the floors are so big - and the monsters respawn. Only when they've been at the absolute top of their game have they managed that feat. But during those rare, awesome sweeps, Yu has made sure to try and catalog the safest spots. The ones with the longest respawn times, or even highly rare and extremely valuable dead zones. Places where monsters never seem to spawn at all.
Such zones are copious on the first floor, and get rarer as you go down. No one is quite sure why this is, though Yu has always theorized it has to do with the strength of the monsters themselves. Regardless, there are still a handful on the fourth floor. Yu will have to get his bearings once they reach it, and then they can head there. His own normal abilities and magics can handle anything they encounter, if Chatterclock is tired.
So Yu shows Chatterclock brief mental glimpses of all the zones he knows of. With any luck, Chatterclock might recognize them even before he orients himself up there. ]
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Think that one should be close.
[It's not a completely dead zone--the light and water source make it too valuable for everyone--but nastier monsters, for some reason, tend to avoid such tranquil spaces. At worst, they might have to face some of the large insects common enough on the higher floors. More importantly, it isn't far, and maybe they can find a big branch to use as a crutch, so Yu can take some weight off that bad ankle.
Either way, it's not until they've reached the clearing safely that Chatterclock relaxes his grip on that battle consciousness, lets his mind settle back somewhat into its natural pattern, more aimless and distractable. He's still watching for attacks, of course, still listening for sounds in the brush, but it's like loosening one's deathgrip on a life preserver to find the water shallower than he thought.
Aloud, he says,]
Cool.
[He is tired, but out of disuse, he thinks. They only faced two monsters and neither fight was particularly long. And he can't nearly be as worn out as Yu, after all that running and fighting and doing all the literal heavy lifting, on a hurt ankle, no less. Suck it up, CC.
He's still trying to handle most of the pain from Yu's ankle, but Chatterclock reluctantly, gently--and after a wordless warning--loosens his hold there, too, to let a little more through. Pain's an important signal. If they've got the time to take honest stock of the injury again before moving on, they ought to.]
So, questions? I dunno how many I've got answers for, but fire away, dude. I'm an open book.
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Once they settle on the choice of that place, it slams into Yu all at once how tired he is. The thought of water and respite and safety makes exhaustion settle into his bones. Logically he knows it's because the promise of safety is draining the adrenaline from his veins, but he feels so tired all at once, and abruptly wonders how long he's been down here.
Long enough for his friends and family to notice, probably. He'd already stayed a little too long even before the floor had given way beneath him. Are they already coordinating search parties for him? What must Nanako have thought when she woke up and he wasn't there to make breakfast with her?
A sick feeling of guilt washes up his throat like bile, and he does his best to ignore it once they're upon the fourth floor and he's limping his much slower way towards the clearing. He doesn't want to overwhelm Chatterclock too much with his own feelings - his own mistakes.
He's actually a little glad of it when they reach the cozy, glowing space, and Chatterclock's thoughts unwind from his own. They feel separate again, and it lets Yu breathe, alone in a place where he can reorganize his barriers and emotions. What isn't so nice is Chatterclock's flow of magic to his ankle ceasing, and between his exhaustion and the sudden burst of pain Yu reels a little, gasping. Did he break it? He was doing a lot of jumping and running on a pre-existing injury... the chances he made it worse are pretty high.
Slowly, achingly, he limps over to the little babbling brook, It's a laborious process lowering himself beside it, and frankly, Yu gives in to his first temptation: to simply flop down onto his back and shut his eyes. Normally he'd never allow this kind of lowering of his own guard, but Chatterclock is here, too. Yu trusts him.
For a long moment he's quiet, not following up on his promise of questions and curiosity. Internally, he's debating on whether or not he wants to take off his boot and observe the damage, or just leave it on and try to make it for the surface without further treatment. He can do little more on his own, anyway. His magic reserves are pretty much spent.
Eventually, though, he opens his eyes and glances at Chatterclock. He set the sword down beside him, within reach and view, though Yu let go of him once he stretched out on the floor. Now he only looks, not reaching out to grasp that already too familiar hilt again. ]
What was that?
[ He's referring to the pact, though the vague gesture of his hand - meant to encompass everything that happened since the Hellbull crashed into Chatterclock's room - may not make that completely clear.
Or maybe Chatterclock can already read him well enough to figure it out. ]
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So he's happy, while Yu registers just how goddamn tiring sharing magic back and forth like that can be, to sort of splay out on his own. The loss of contact sets off a low, anxious buzz in the pit of his chest--don't leave, don't leave, don't let him go--but it's a small voice, and also a stupid one. If he had legs, he'd stretch each one out one after the other and link his hands behind his head, staring at the verdant ceiling, listening to the sound of water and peace. Already, in a mere--what, he doesn't know, less than an hour--he's somewhere completely different from that airless chamber on the sixth floor.
On the sixth floor, he wouldn't have known the lingering sensation of being cradled to someone's living chest. Wouldn't have to keep an ear out for danger in quite the same attentive, amazing way.
His breath out (how, he has no lungs) is breezy when Yu finally asks the question he knew was coming.]
I mean, it was a Pact. I know it was kinda slapdash so there was more bleedover than usual but, like, give me a break, I had negative two seconds to lay out terms...
[He trails off. Something in the question, or something in the air, now--his attention shifts towards Yu again in a way that's not-quite-physical, as if turning a head he doesn't have.]
You've never heard of a Pact.
[At this point, he'd roll onto his side and sit up, if he could.]
You don't have Pacts? At all?
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He's very tired.
Somehow he manages to keep most of his focus on his ... companion. Friend? What are they, now? Yu wouldn't mind calling him a friend; the sword did just save his life twice in a pretty short span of time. ... no, focus.
Yu lets his opposite hand drift in the earth-chill water of the brook while he watches Chatterclock. It's both the same as and very different from making eye contact with a person. There's no body, just a sword. But there is a person there, a presence that Yu can sense and that feels so real, and Yu can sort of picture looking at that person, even if he has no conception of what Chatterclock would look like as a human instead of a sword.
He lets his silence speak for him. No, he has no idea what a pact is. He lets Chatterclock catch up to that realization, and then shifts slightly to better look at the sword. Eventually, he shakes his head slowly. ]
Chatterclock, I've never met anything or anyone like you before. I don't know if anyone has.
[ Wouldn't he have heard? If there were stories, records, of talking weapons that could form Pacts with people?
Then again, Chatterclock clearly exists. Is right here, talking to him. The real question is why don't those stories exist? ]
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HAVE A GET BETTER TAG SHIBE
I NAPPED AND I DO FEEL BETTER THANKS
GOOD I AM GLAD a nice dose of gay can make anyone feel better really
Truly I am healed
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Maybe short timeskip to Yosuke after this?
SALUTES
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asHER I H A TE YO U
: )
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