un:antigoneiguess | audio

[rudelanguage]

S...that's fine, yeah. This'll...this'll be great. [beat.

oh.

oh fuck we're on! Antigonevoice GO]

Oh! Uh! Hhhhey! Heyyy, so uh. Did anyone get offered to, uh...buy a guy? During the fog stuff?

Quick yes or no works.

[...]

That's all.

Comments

un: Emet-Selch | audio

[untsundered]

Obviouly you did. Are you upset that your purchase was a mere delusion? Are you experiencing buyer's remorse, perhaps?

[He doesn't believe that she bought anyone, or tried to, but sometimes it's easier to antagonize the truth out of people who are so clearly dancing around the details.]

[rudelanguage]

[beat.

Is that Legs? That sounds like Legs.]

You didn't say 'yes,' or 'no,' mister.

[untsundered]

Then we make quite the pair dodging questions, don't we?

[rudelanguage]

Don't be a jerk! I asked first, so either play fair or don't play!

[untsundered]

Very well. It's possible. The fog had a profound effect on our minds, and so I cannot say with certainty that it did or did not happen, for I simply might not remember it.

Your turn.

[rudelanguage]

[You flighty motherfucker.

Antigone sighs in a huff and then loudly and bluntly blurts:] SURE DID!

See how easy it is? Less words, too!

[untsundered]

Are words truly so troublesome for you? I suppose I cannot say I am surprised given your... form.

[Genuinely meaning the fact that Antigone is a lil animal-critter, anything deeper than that is merely convenient fuel for Knife's paranoia machine he calls a brain.]

Regardless, how did the transaction go? Did you make the purchase?

1/2

[rudelanguage]

[FORM??? Now wait just a good goddamn-- yeah thanks for that Emet that's fun that's great.]

[rudelanguage]

Guess.

[untsundered]

Switching the rules of the game, are we? Fine, loath am I to be inflexible.

[That's hardly true, sometimes he can be as rigid as a steel bar, but Antigone has clearly claimed that metaphor for herself.]

I am certain you made the purchase. Why wouldn't you? Enthralled at the thought of holding power over another, power which you have never held before; you could no more deny the chance than a starved man might a meal.

[This is what happens when you don't say it yourself. He's just gonna paint you in increasingly unflattering ways, none of which he actually believes, but hey! He's gonna get creative with it if he's left to be the author of this little narrative.]

[rudelanguage]

Dang, I sound like kind of a jerk when you put it that way. [In that lying LYING way!!!]

[untsundered]

One can always change their ways, you know. I ever invite others to reflect upon their behavior and change for the better. Perhaps this may be a path you choose to tread one day.

[This totally untrue and unnecessary path which they both know, but hey, if Antigone doesn't wanna deny she's a power hungry pink fluffball who buys randos from weird fog-people, then that's just what we're going with!!]

[rudelanguage]

You a priest or some junk like that? Shepherding souls?

[untsundered]

A priest? No, not quite.

I am Emet-Selch, the Third Seat of the Convocation of Fourteen: The Redeemer, Keeper of the Underworld and Overseer of Death. I suppose you could describe a function of my duty as shepherding souls, but that is more literal than what you might have meant.

[rudelanguage]

[Emet-Selch sounds like a stomach condition. but maybe not the best to say to someone who, uh. oversees dead shit.

HEY speaking of which:] Wait, so you're into all that necromancy stuff, right?

[untsundered]

[Unseen, he narrows his eyes.]

What do you know of necromancy?

[rudelanguage]

Like, just the casual stuff. I don't partake, but I can kinda, uh, see? Sometimes? But anyway, are you? Do you, like, see that kinda magic?

[untsundered]

Oh, you have the Sight? How very interesting... [It isn't impossible for a creation to be made with such ability, but Antigone is the first he's heard of any being possessed of it here.] But, yes. I can see souls and aether, thus by extension magic of every distinction. Though I do not indulge in necromancy. It is a rather tasteless practice, disrespectful to the autonomy of the dead. My duty is to maintain the natural cycle of souls, thus do I watch over them as they return to the Star. It falls to me to correcting aught that might disrupt this.

[...like someone doing necromancy.]

[rudelanguage]

Okay. Yeah! Great!

[so.]

So, so have you talked to anyone here who's died and like...seen some of that tasteless practice still stinking on them after-the-fact?

[untsundered]

Of course not! These are theoretical practices, and anyone with the barest minimum of sense would not put such thoughts into action. With that said... it does not mean that I am incapable of handling such a matter should it be required—so whatever you are building to, I suggest you spit it out.

[rudelanguage]

[Gods USE YOUR BRAIN UGH--] I'm ASKING if maybe there's necromancy behind people getting revived here, Legs! C'mon! People die, pop back up...how? Spell? Curse? Lich-stuff?

[untsundered]

[That gets a chuckle from him. It sounds really condescending even if he's not particularly trying to be.]

Oh, is that all? I see you are unfamiliar with the nature of creation magic. This is not necromancy.

[The implication being that necromancy is reserved for people like Emet-Selch, not creations like Antigone... or basically everyone else who is here.]

Though the process may not be named magic by them, after all it is not spells alone which can manipulate reality. Echo may have other means in which to wrest control of the universe's natural forces. Magic is but one art form in which to do so, but in the end, all that is required is the means to manipulate the same core aspects of existence.

[A beat.]

But do address me properly. I am Emet-Selch, not Legs.

[rudelanguage]

[Aurora: wedgie this man.

exasperated, but holding it together:] Emet-Selch, does the naming convention of the...power being manipulated matter? To unpacking it?

[untsundered]

It is worth considering, seeing as I have not witnessed their process myself. However, as Aurora can bring forth that which is requested of her from seemingly nothing, so too can I. Such magical practices are innate within my people, and so a matter of reconstructing a body and housing your sliver of a soul inside would be of no moment. Particularly when there is no pull of the Underworld to contend with.

[A chilling reality that he has kept to himself.]

Now, you spoke of residual effects from being restored? Care to give me an example?

[rudelanguage]

[why does Knife do this to themself. they stick their neck into things because they have like. a skill. a tool. a means to.

and then they have to listen to someone say a lot of wordy words and try not to dissociate.

they're trying so hard, grinding their teeth through the process...but the notion of there not being an underworld link here does pique their interest. We're cut off? For sure?

considering that is what draws the quiet out for a few beats.]

...Uh. Like... Like... [how do you explain. they've never taken a creative writing class.] When water is warmer than the air? And it's steam? Like that.