2022-12-23: Limit

• Cast: C.C., Alexis Kerib
• Where: Tsutsujidai - North Floodgate
• Date: U.C. 0096 12 23
• Summary: Two beings that wallow in their endlessness muse about where they begin and end.

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<Pose Tracker> C.C. has posed.

        Boundaries, limits. At the edge of what 'should' be lies so much and yet so little. This world 'reaches' towards two points, but falls off dramatically before getting there, as though gravity pulls its arm downward. For practical reasons given the current crisis, people avoid venturing out to the floodgates - but there's a proclivity to wander in that direction in idle time, before looping back to known ground.

        The other day's 'experiment' proved it to C.C. - that this is a weak point in this little pocket world. A little gust of wind fluttered in - now, how far can one reach out?

        Just a few blocks from the sluice gate, all abandoned houses, a limber green-haired entity weaves through one that's half-collapsed, its entry and exit not all too clear - though there's room and comfort enough behind the perilous gaps. She quickly steps her way up to the rooftops, strolling her way from peak to peak, taking shortcuts hopping and balancing upon traffic signals, avoiding the earth below.

        There. A taller point overlooking the vast, now-treacherously muddy expanse of the undeveloped PLANT beyond. The way the rain makes the mud shimmer and shift makes it look like this whole place is some ichorous portal from which something unspeakable would reach up, and Tsutsujidai is but a folly of arrogance, some semblance of habitation clinging to its edge.

        One heavy-sleeved arm reaches out towards the gate itself. A slow, steady assertion billows out from C.C.'s palms - invoking a wind that brings her hair to flutter upwards, baring the brand upon her forehead. It hurts - she's screamed in the past from tapping this deep into the link beyond material understanding. At some point, though - it becomes rather useful to parcel away pain from the rest of the mind - pain long having been about as useful as eyesight is to a mole.

        If anything would flinch, from this spear made of pain, though - it'd be this thin spot in the walls of the 'heart'...so she pries, and pries, and pries apart, glowing like a lighthouse of intent - for those who can see a harmony like that...

<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.

There is a path out of this place, this slice of the heart that plays host to this sad little drama. Or at least, there could be; certainly there was the last time this place was in this realm.

Trying to force it larger, though -- or worse, trying to dig a second, separate exit -- is an exercise in futility at the moment. This is definitely one of the weakest points -- but trying to force one's way out of it leads somewhere beyond the material world. And sure enough -- somewhere painful.

When C.C. tries, though, she does indeed attract attention.

"Trying to escape, are we?" comes a sonorous voice from behind C.C. "It's certainly the place for that, but I must say, this is a more elaborate method than I'd expect." He slides forward through reality. "Tell me, fellow dweller in the bonds between humans -- what do you think of this place?"

It's rare that he has a chance to talk to someone who likely understands a world like this for what it is. Rare opportunities are to be savored -- a small reprieve from the boredom and emptiness of immortality.

<Pose Tracker> C.C. has posed.

        A pinprick of a view into that realm beyond is all C.C. needs to know. A light grimace flashes across her cheeks - especially when her efforts attract company. A presence she's...been aware of the possible existence of here, but never truly come face to face with.

        A sigh, as C.C. pivots from gazing over the mud, towards the source of that voice, eyes a little leery when they fall upon Alexis. One foot brushes against the edge of the roofline she's perched upon lazily, hand loosely resting upon her cheek.

        "Oh, I can't stand it here at all."

        A wry litle smirk crosses one corner of C.C.'s lips.

        "It's kind of nostalgic, and that's just about the worst feeling in the world. What a perfect, cozy place for a normal person to go off and dream in. But it falls short, because it has to. It's not perfect because it should be, but because it's made to be, and as soon as you peek behind that curtain, it's a little bit miserable. I've been here before you have - you could phrase it like that."

        Two fingers cross over C.C.'s lips. "Which is kind of sad, considering that's where you live for now. You could spruce up the backstage a bit if you're going to be the sort of workaholic who moves your bed in there, couldn't you? People with that kind of attitude always lose their touch for decoration. ...well. I doubt you'd be doing that anyway. The mess in here is the same kind someone makes when they've got a timetable for skipping town, and making it someone else's problem."

        As though Alexis were just someone who happened by, C.C. turns right back towards the edge of the PLANT, glancing at a particularly large pool of muddy water reflecting the dim blue-green sky-structures above.

        "How about you? Has it been fun? Able to live vicariously through your guests, or is it more about the game where the other player isn't quite sure what the rules are?"

<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.

"Mmm, really? Can't stand it? She'd be terribly upset to hear that," Alexis says, tone almost teasing as he takes up a position closer still to C.C.

"You're right, though -- there is such nostalgia in this place. Much more than she even realizes. Ah, to see a world like this -- every civilization gives rise to such a hotspot, sooner or later. It's something valuable." There's a pause, as Alexis has to concede: "... for now, anyway."

C.C. makes an astute observation, though -- that allowing a mess like this to exist suggests he has a plan for skipping town. There's something in being known enough to be predictable that's equal parts frustrating and...

... well, it's an experience Alexis doesn't often have, at any rate.

"If you can walk the situation out that far, I'm sure whatever conclusion you yourself draw will be more interesting than me simply telling you," he points out. ... it's frustrating that it's both -- that she sees through him just through his works, despite the two having never crossed paths.

"What do you plan to do about it?" come shis counter-question. "Do you think you'll count yourself among the dozens desperate to extract justice from me?" With a faint 'hm-hm-hm' of half-laughter, he chides, "I purged myself of such weakness long ago. An exercise in futility."

<Pose Tracker> C.C. has posed.

        With a casual footstep, C.C. seems to make her way atop an over-hanging stoplight, the light suddenly shifting to green from its previous deactivation. "Fortunately, I have practice breaking hearts in much worse ways. Though, hm. I suppose few would send a kaiju after me. ...ahh, no, plenty of them would if they could."

        Another little step, just shifting posture - from looking upward at the sky, to locking gazes with that vivid red visor of Alexis's. The light changes from green to yellow, illuminating the witch from below.

        "Oh please. Justice? From me? Sometimes it takes a lot of reminding to get back to what that even is. Besides, society changes what that even means all the time. I hate to hear it just as I hate to say it, but really - creatures like us taking justice into our hands never ends well."

        A sudden lean forward - C.C.'s green locks fanning around her back, seemingly repelling the endless rainfall, staying loose and flowy. Her posture is like a single nudge of one's fingertip would send her toppling to the ground. "Hmm. Do you say that a lot to yourself? Or does it come and go like the tides? I said something like that of my own maybe a century ago, but tragically, weakness ends up being annoyingly useful from time to time. Hehe. No, there's no 'extracting' to be done by the people gathered here. They're all givers. Every last one of them who glow like they need to be their own little sun. If I were you, I wouldn't bulwark myself against them planning to take something from me. They love planting seeds, instead. We're on that step of the waltz, I'm afraid."

<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.

C.C.'s answer yet again infuriates Alexis. The immortal causality behind C.C., so much like his own, stymies him for how to express it. He cannot do anything about the way she approaches him or their conversation -- so he is forced to actually converse, to speak, to say the words in sequence rather than lashing out and cutting off all dialogue.

Irritating!

Alexis's gaze meets C.C.'s. Behind the visor: it, too, is a brilliant, gleaming gold.

"You cannot plant seeds in salted earth and expect anything to grow," Alexis says, with a nearly-imperceptible shake of his head. "This is a garden in which no flowers bloom." She's asked a question, too, which he elects to answer. "I have never needed to repeat something true, save to explain it."



Still -- C.C. speaks like she knows the things he's experienced, like she, too, understands that this is a dance with many preordained steps and only the smallest room for diversion from its course.

... it makes the question burning like the flames at the rear of his head worth asking -- certainly the answer will be interesting enough. "If you wanted to divert that step of the waltz," he muses, "what would you throw in the way?"

<Pose Tracker> C.C. has posed.

        "Be careful with metaphors like that~ What they'll give you then is a flooding of water, and make a lovely little seaweed farm out of you. They're voracious even for that stuff." C.C. cups her palms with her cheeks, very clearly forcing some teasingly dreamy expression. The distance between the witch, who wields her face like a sword, and the warlock, who guards it in armor, may just well say more than words the thing that separates them.

        "Why, if you get in a spot of trouble - the 'giving' that'd dismantle you piece by piece and find things to salvage and treasure from you, it's your own fault. After all, you locked them in a place designed explicitly to mime doing that to a human. The guests here are a little too smart to keep it to an act - but as soon as the rain stops..."

        Her hand sweeps out to the floodgate. To the empty land beyond. "Oh, how they'll eat up that vast expanse there. We've both chosen to lurk at this boundary that repulses people, because the only thing we can really do is protect that. Ahhh, but right on time, a perfect example."

        C.C. looks past Alexis - past the current street...past a few rows of houses. It's barely visible, given the dark, the haze of the rain-

        A person. A totally normal person, meandering past where most would venture. Someone who could be any resident of Tsutsujidai, interchangeable until they become important.

        The stoplight shifts to red, beneath C.C.'s feet.

        There is a subtle wind of rejection carried on the breeze.

        And that interloper casually turns back, 'deciding' that this isn't really the direction they'd like to go.

        "All it takes is one who can breach even this, and it'll turn into a flood. It'll turn into something permanent. It's terrible. Unfortunately, it's what I stuck myself with wanting."

        Fluidly, C.C. descends into a seating posture, legs draping over the stoplight. Kicking, back and forth - the color oscillating in rhythm with her feet. "The dance of the -world- is a tall order. You've already done the diversion you can do to there - it's the part where you made this place juuuuust vexing enough that it became a problem for onlookers...oh, and residents alike, aiming to 'overcome'. If you're greedy enough to guide it again, the dance will likely stumble and falter awkwardly, only to pick itself up as soon as their obstacle is removed. That's fun in its own right, but not really the sort of amusement that holds someone over for more than a few fleeting moments."

        "Unfortunately, what I would do in your shoes is see what pain still feels like, but a willingness to be weak seems to be your own boundary. Or is it? After all, more than a few know you here - maybe in coming to unveil that curtain, you're trying to set up just that. If so - good work! You've already diverted your own dance."

<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.

As a predator of the bonds between humans, Alexis cannot miss what C.C. does as she looks past him. "My, my. Already this protective of our secret conversations? You're more sentimental than you let on," Alexis... teases? Is this teasing? Is he capable of such a thing?

Well, it's rare he has someone he regards as a peer who isn't hostile to him, at any rate.

C.C. spells out her assessment of -- Akane's fate? His fate? The fact that she's managed to make it so ambiguous is itself an annoyance, and one he would scowl at, if it wouldn't break the fiction that grows thinner by the second.

"Hm." That's all he can offer for some time -- a single syllable, that makes the teal panels on his mask flip rather than dance. He remains silent and still, for a long time.

It's often how he is, when he isn't observe. "Oh, I assure you -- I've dipped my toes into goading these heroes with feet of clay to move against me," he says. A response to 'what pain feels like,' perhaps.

The idea that not only is he known -- but it is known that he is known, that even those who do not know him know that he is not some grand, inscrutable creature but a person with a history and bonds of his own -- chafes at him enough to make him move several steps from C.C., translating across the ground.

"Say you receive what you want. Do you think it will divert your own course, or only make it more painful to persist on it?" he asks, trying to force the conversation away from himself and back to her.

<Pose Tracker> C.C. has posed.

        "Oh, don't you worry one bit. If it punctuated my intent, I'd gather a whole crowd here intead. I'm not here because nobody else will find me - it's just because this place has that nature where few people will be here." C.C.'s poofy sleeves fold together, one hand fishing around deep within. "And my sentimentality comes a lot cheaper than you'd expect - it's just conditional."

        A shiny coin is retrieved - and tossed oh so casually out at Alexis's distanced position. It's a ruddy but brilliant gold, inset with a ring of lapis, and inscribed with the mark of some long-distant Indonesian dynasty. "Buy yourself a matcha from one of the vending machines here, and let me know how that goes.~"

        A rumbling noise grows nearer. Something that shouldn't exist, in a dismal and quiet space like this, far removed from anyone's interest. It lights up the world in its wake-

        A bus.

        With its steamy *pssssh*, it comes to a halt at - yep, that's a bus stop. Well, it was a bus stop. The sign's fallen over and the little glass shelter has long been shattered and contorted. The bus driver seems aimless and rote about her presence, emitting a yawn as she waits - and C.C. elegantly slips down from her perch onto the bus's roof, lounging on her side atop it.

        "I'm sure you know well what happens after incidents like these, where watching the dance becomes boring." A refusal to make it solely about her. "A critical mass gains, even the grandest endeavor falls apart, and a long while is spent just surviving, hiding, waiting. Making enemies is enjoyable, but also a hassle, but thankfully, you can just wait for them to fade into history. Persistence isn't an option, so whether its painful or not is just a curiosity now. A novel flavor to add to the same dish."

        A cheeky little grin spreads from ear to ear. "Unfortunately, I'm on my way out from my own little diversion to try to change the curse. You could say that my very own Akane just wanted to kill me not too long ago, for my audacity in seizing what I want, where she was left a fateful byproduct. I have nothing but to wait until it's a perfect resolution, where I don't have to compromise on anything."

        "...Does it feel perfect for you yet? Or is there one little word off in this entry of the Library of Babel, so you'll burn through this one rather than read the final page?"

<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.

The second time, now, that one who travels more like Alexis has told him to eat, to observe the small rituals of the world and appreciate them for what they are. Frustrating.

... Nevertheless, he does indeed pick up the coin. It disappears back into his cloak, as he observes her movement to the bus.

Some things continue to run, even amid the chaos, it seems.

He can tell this is her way of making a grand exit, and he'll leave her to it -- he sees no reason to prevent her from playing around in this decaying city. Still... she's asked a question, and he feels compelled to offer her an answer. Courtesy between those with infinite causality, no doubt. "I think we're nearing an imperfect freedom, at least," Alexis answers, thinking he's giving away less than he is. "I think I'll keep reading, though. The script has been an entertaining one -- and there's certainly a different joy in being the one directing it, hm?"

He starts to translate back away from C.C., letting her ride the bus in her own unique way. "I have no objections to you appreciating the scenery," he notes, as he leaves. "Do try to leave it as interesting as it was when you arrived."

<Pose Tracker> C.C. has posed.

        'Imperfect freedom'. C.C. mulls on that thought for a bit. It's almost tempting.

        It's not what she wants, at all.

        But what is this curse of endlessness, but a test of the limits of want?

        "Being the director is well and good, but it takes assembling an awfully good production team, and the whole thing suffers if even one of them isn't cast right." -the metaphors are starting to fall apart a little at this phase.

        The bus driver throws one brief look at Alexis - as though wondering if this guy's about to get on - but when he doesn't, the door closes. (Only when it closes does it become apparent that it was open the whole time.)

        "And for yourself, don't forget to harbor a souvenir. Even a pithy prize as a relic of achievements has merit." A squeak of releasing brakes - a hiss of re-engaging...and the bus starts to move on, back towards the center of Tsutsujidai, C.C. rolling over to lay upon her back, one knee curled.

        "I'll look forward to seeing if the impact you're doing all of this for stirs anything new to the surface, even if only for a bit."

        The bus quickly makes its way onward, rounding a corner, and seeming to all but vanish in doing so.

        The stoplight repeatedly, monotonously flashes all three colors.