imatreenow: (✘ in the ashes)
[Mid-morning is drawing near, and the house is too quiet. Martel should have been awake already. Despite the uncertainty that has settled heavily between him and his sister, there are plenty of things Mithos does still know about her, and this is definitely out of the ordinary. Softly, he knocks at her door. No reply. With a knot of worry tightening in his stomach, he carefully pushes the door open to look inside and...

He's greeted by an empty room. No sister, none of her personal possessions. No sign that anyone had ever occupied this space. Only one conclusion sits at the end of this equation. Numbness overtakes his body and heart. Desperate, his mind fights against the truth; he runs for his journal and hastily, shakily, flips it open.]


[VOICE - filtered to Martel | filter VOIDED]

Martel? Martel! Where are--

[--He stops. The filter isn't working. She can't hear this. His journal falls from his hands and the feed ends. The chilling realization that she's gone pierces him as suddenly as the first time she was taken from him. Classic vertigo. He doesn't know how to breathe properly. He forgets how to stand on two feet and slowly crumples to the floor. He doesn't fall to pieces; that would imply that there's something left to break. Whatever remains is quickly grinding to dust. He lets it out, the pain that's rapidly smothering him from the inside. But no matter how much he diffuses, there's still more to take its place.]

[ACTION - AFTERNOON]

[He's scraped himself up off the floor (for now) and run out of tears (for now), and he needs someone to blame. Anyone. He doesn't care. The only truth of the world: Martel is gone, and he deserves compensation for his loss. Everyone owes him something, and he owes them retribution. Mithos prowls the village, looking for any and all opportunities to inflict some of his own pain on a scapegoat.

Later, when he's exhausted his body but his hurt and rage continue to burn, when he's hit the point where he can't feel any emptier, he reaches for the journal again. It's all he can think to do.]


[VOICE - filtered to Kaori| 100%]

...Can I come see you?

[ooc: For my own sake, chronologically the threads flow as follows: Frey, Nephry/Dist, Jeb, Silver, Grune/Dhaos, Kratos, Kaori.]
imatreenow: (✘ the grudge)
[After speaking with Yuan, Mithos has found his way back to where he hid the pilfered Cruxis Crystal and keycrest deep in the woods. It has taken a little longer than originally planned to reach this glorious moment, but what is a week compared to the chance to regain semi-immortality, to evolve from this pathetically powerless state into a being of ultimate power once more? He can be in control again. He can be in control, and the people of this world will crumble to him. His own world. He can finally have his own world. And when Martel arrives (and she will return one day - how could she not if her beloved brother-who-never-left-her-side-and-always-protected-her-even-when-the-rest-of-the-world-turned-its-ungrateful-back is here?), it can be their world. A world just for them. Like he dreamed of. Like Martel wanted.

He kneels down in the snow at the base of a tree, subtly marked for his own differentiation, and searches around its thick roots for the hole which should contain a small leather pouch--]


...It’s not here. It’s not here.

[He could have sworn he had placed it right here. Seemingly frozen in place, he stares at the spot in shock. It isn’t long before he’s climbing to his feet and the embers of fury are building in his eyes. Someone is going to pay for this. Someone destroyed his plans, his dreams, his everything, and they are going to suffer for that mistake. Starting with the tree. The ground beneath it receives a swift Stalagmite.

So if anyone happens to be in the woods (or in the general vicinity of House 52 as he returns to the village) this morning, you may very well encounter this bundle of sunshine stalking along. Very, very ready to lash out.]
imatreenow: (✘ the edge of nowhere)
[At first, all that can be heard is indistinguishable muttering. It seems strangely distant. The words become increasingly clear as their source becomes apparently nearer to the journal. They sound as though they are being squeezed through tightly clenched teeth. It is a voice that may be chillingly familiar to some residents...]

It's not fair. It's not fair. [This is repeated a few times, stringing closer and closer together each repetition.]

Martel... I abandon- [He can't bring himself to say it. It's too disgusting. A moment of only heavy breathing. The anger is practically palpable, and...there is the strain of something else too. Despair?] I didn't want to... I didn't choose to!

Martel. Martel...

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Mithos Yggdrasill

December 2018

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