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rainbowpacifiers · 3 years

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Twin Kingdoms (A3! Event story) - Chapter 5

Haruto is distracted during rehearsals. Tasuku worries. Yuki pays a visit. Azami is impressed by Tsumugi’s and Juza’s passion for acting. They spotted who practicing out in the cold?!?

Chapter 4 | Index | Chapter 6

Tasuku: Morning. Tsumugi: Good morning. You've got rehearsals today too, right? Tasuku: Yeah. From morning, all day long. Tsumugi: What's practice like? Tasuku: Once again, a stimulating environment. Tasuku: The way they're unified, including those working behind the scenes, is the way it used to be, but Reni-san's influence or the atmosphere within the troupe have changed immensely. Tasuku: Discussions are livelier than in the past, and despite the nervousness towards Reni-san, everyone has come to relax and express their opinions. Tsumugi: The current top, Shift-kun, has an air of frankness too. He's a good kid with a relaxed manner, right? Tasuku: Yeah. I believe the top's personality had a certain influence too. Tasuku: (But Haruto is... Even though he's the lead this time, it feels like he's the only one not used to GOD Troupe's atmosphere.) Tsumugi: What about the lead, Haruto-kun? Tasuku: ...Sure enough, I think he's the one who understands GOD Troupe's plays better than anyone. Tasuku: Only Haruto can perfectly anticipate and grasp the points Reni-san might ask for. Tasuku: He has enough ability to play the lead. Tsumugi: As you'd expect. Tasuku: (But maybe precisely because he understands Reni-san better than anyone else, he's also most upset about that change.) Tasuku: (It may be difficult for him to change because he's done his best just to embody Reni-san's ideals so far.) Tasuku: (It'd good if he doesn't find himself at an impasse...)

Reni: We will operate the projector video image here. Izumi: That's GOD Troupe for you. Your theatre has a variety of equipment. Reni: All sorts of things should be applicable at MANKAI Theatre too. Since it was selected rather carefully within the budget. Izumi: That's certainly helpful! Reni: This time, I was thinking of dividing the stage in two, into ice country and flame country. Izumi: I see. The ice country, pictured on top of a freezing mountain, and the flame country in the magma underground... Izumi: If it's well divided, it might be easier to visualise them. Reni: Heaven and earth, huh... Reni: An outlandish idea is similar to him. Izumi: Eh? You mean dad? Reni: Let's consider that direction for a moment. Izumi: Okay! Izumi: (I've never talked about directing with other people like this, so this is really illuminating.)

Yuki: Good work. Azami: Thank you. So you came. Yuki: They let me observe since I was already in the meeting for the costume plan. Azami: How was the meeting? Yuki: I proposed some high-cost fabric that would definitely get rejected if we were dealing with the money-grubbing yakuza, but it passed easily. Yuki: They said that it was common for GOD Troupe. I got excited for a moment, but you can just feel the gap, right? Azami: I got jealous when I saw the makeup staffs' tools too. Yuki: I want a bigger budget. Azami: That. Being poor is hard. Yuki: How is practice going? Azami: Hm, I'd heard lots of rumours about Reni-san, so I was considerably prepared, but he's not harsh and actually feels rather gentle. It was anticlimactic. Azami: Also, I've never been with Tasuku-san together for so long, so sometimes I feel disconcerted. Azami: Even during breaks, he's so into his role that he sometimes doesn't come back. Yuki: Yeah. That's the theatre idiot for you. What are the GOD Troupe members like? Azami: Seeing Shift performing all seriously in the practice room is really refreshing and fun. Totally different from his usual self. Yuki: Isn't he probably thinking the same? Azami: Maybe. The lead, Haruto-san's... Yuki: What? Azami: Nah, it's nothin'. Azami: (The way Haruto-san seems... it kind of reminds me of someone.)

Reni: Haruto, Cain's interpretation is shallow. That way, it appears as if he's just taking action while being swept away. Reni: Shift as well; you're still not quite conveying Lutz' feelings for Cain. Reni: Restructure the relationship between the two of them some more. Haruto: Yes. Shift: Okay. Reni: As for Tasuku and Izumida, the relation of master to servant has pretty much come to completion. Reni: I think it would be alright if you brought out more of the affable parts in one another, but that route is generally fine. Haruto: ...... Haruto: (That's right. When Tasuku was in GOD Troupe, he was always complimented, and I was the only one who got criticised...) Haruto: (Each time, I would commit everything I was told to memory and exerted myself to meet all of Reni-san's demands...) Reni: ...Haruto. Haruto? Shift: Haruto-san! Haruto: Ye, yes!? Reni: I was telling you to consult with Tasuku regarding your scene together in the 2nd act... Were you not listening? Haruto: ...I'm sorry! Haruto: (Me, doing something like failing to hear Reni-san's words--) Reni: Never mind. We will be taking a 20-minute break now. After that, we will begin with act 2. Haruto: ...Understood.

Haruto: ....Haah. Haruto: (Reni-san wasn't even mad.... Maybe that means he was completely disappointed.) Haruto: (Up until now, there were so many times where I got severely scolded... And each time, I'd practice like mad.) Haruto: (Without missing what the other troupe members were told, I'd do my best so that he wouldn't take notice of me for the same thing.) Haruto: (I don't have the physique that Tasuku was blessed with, nor the kind of focus where I'm so completely lost in my acting that I forget to sleep and eat.) Haruto: (Rather than getting into my role, I end up being more worried over how I am being seen.) Haruto: (Is my intonation alright? Or do I look like a person with the right quality for GOD Troupe? ... I have always overcome it with effort.) Haruto: (In the end, I have no choice but to do do everything in my power regardless of appearances.) Haruto: (It will work out. It's always been that way. From now on too--)

Haruto: --huh? Haruto: (It's unlocked?) Haruto: ......

Tasuku: "Tch, that pighead! His brains are fossilising with old age." Haruto: Tasuku... Tasuku: Oh, Haruto, are you here to practice on your own too? I wanted to do a bit more too, so I asked the staff to keep it open for me for a while longer. Haruto: Doesn't your troupe have their own practice room? Tasuku: But here, I can do it in the same area as the actual performance. That makes grasping the feeling easier. Haruto: Hmm. Tasuku: Since you're here, let's try that scene Reni-san wanted us to discuss today-- Haruto: I just came to get something I forgot. Tasuku: .....Come to think of it, this has happened before. Haruto: Is that right? Well, I'm leaving first. Tasuku: ......

Azami: Phew.... Azami: (I took a bath, so all that's left is sleep... ah, before I go to bed, maybe I should read the script and go over what I was told today.) Tsumugi: You don't have to put that in the fridge? Juza: 'cause I'm eatin' it right away. Tsumugi: Oh. Azami: ....Hey, show me what's in that grocery bag. Azami: It's all sweet stuff. Don't tell me you're thinking of eating this now? Tsumugi: We got caught by the person who wasn't supposed to find us. Juza: .....That reminds me, we saw that guy while on our way back. Azami: Even if you try to evade the subject-- Tsumugi: No, really. I was thinking of telling Tasuku too. Azami: Who do you mean? Juza: Was it Yamada? [1] Tsumugi: No, it's Asuka Haruto. From GOD Troupe. Juza: We only saw him from afar, but it looked like he was practicing on the river bed with the script in one hand. Azami: Why would he do that on the river bed in this cold? He's definitely going to catch a cold. When he could just use GOD Troupe's practice rooms. Juza: While on the way home, he probably had the sudden urge for individual practice? Azami: Suddenly, while walking home? Does that happen? Tsumugi: It does, usually. Juza: Yeah. Like when you want to try something that you suddenly thought of. Tsumugi: What happens often is when you think of a performance plan while you're walking, right? Azami: Seriously? Azami: (....You guys are the real deal.)

_________________

[1] If you recall, Haruto’s real name is Yamada Genta.

Chapter 4 | Index | Chapter 6

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onestressedwriter · 3 years

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Minor connection to this post

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Amber was sitting in her chair as always, eyes unfocused and staring at the analog clock. Despite the sounds of conversation and games she could hear the steady tick of the second hand, the click of the minute hand as it slid forward signaling empty time passing.

Like with all the 'days' that passed in this consuming loop a smooth fingertip traced faint lines in a metal cube, the weight heavy in her other hand as she slowly turned it with the minutes. Twisting and turning the oil on her fingertip creating small dots and slicks along the grey surface.

"Amber" She was startled out of the void, pulled out by a rumbling voice. Confused brown tones turned to a man's face. There was something familiar about him, about the long brown hair tied back and the wire frame glasses. Something about him soothed her, had her hand carefully coming up to press against his face.

He felt like a blazing wildfire, lacing magma into her frozen hands. It hurt yet it was also familiar, ringing something in the haze of her mind. Leaning further back she could smell the hint of cologne and detergent clinging to his darkened skin.

'Nicoli' something whispers fondly in her head, maybe that was his name. It seemed fitting even if she didn't know why.

"Amber." He said again, staring into her eyes trying to say something. She didn't know what but she felt like she should have. Like she should know what the faint furrow of his brow means and why he felt as hot as the summer sun in Florida.

Maybe she was just cold? She wasn't sure

"Love, can you hear me?" She wanted to reply but found herself unknowing as to how. She knew she could speak yet found herself suddenly forgetting how to pronounce the faint letters in her thoughts.

"I hope you can." Why? No one else had, just like no one else had bothered to come near her. They always ignored her, seemed to not even register her existence.

Amber doesn't know why she thinks that just yesterday. . . no, gods her head hurts

She only noticed him moving because of how cold her hand suddenly felt as it was set on the table next to her recliner. How long had that been there? She didn't recall it being there. Confusion sprawled across her face as the cube suddenly pressed cold against her chest, a comforting press that faintly pinched at the exposed skin.

She was pulled from her musings yet again by Nicoli reaching out, his calloused hands coming to embrace her free hand. Yet again it felt like she had dumped her hand in a pot of boiling water yet she felt a smile curving her lips up. It also hurt but she didn't mind it. She also didn't mind the faint swipe of flavor across her tongue or the drip of blood down her chin.

It seemed to bother Nicoli who grabbed a tissue from under the small table and leaned forward, pressing it gentle to her busted lip. She wasn't sure why she leaned into the touch, body tilting forward with eyes sliding shut. The tick of the clock echoed in her head even as she fixated in the warmth pressing at her lips.

Tick, Tick, Tick, Click

Tick, Tick, Tick, Slk

It was dark when she opened her eyes again, moonlight seeping in through the uncovered windows. The shadows seemed endless where they lurked, made her skin crawl in a way she didn't understand. She couldn't ever remember being afraid of the dark yet this made her want to flee to her room.

She had a room?

"You know Amber. . ." He trailed off, waiting until he had her attention. He quickly got it as she looked towards him with still murky eyes. Lost and confused chocolate flickering with a rare bout of awareness for a fleeting moment.

"none of this is real." Her brow furrowed. What did that mean? That couldn't be yet it felt right, it felt as if the knowledge was a missing cog in her mind suddenly being slotted into place.

"They once said that about you." She didn't know where the words came from, didn't know why they felt so familiar and so right. Why she recognized the high pitch lowered by an accent she couldn't place as her own voice.

His laugh vibrated in her own chest, rich and smooth and comforting as a smirk pulled at her lips yet again. She didn't know why but she adored that sound for some reason. Loved itmn

"And that they did Love." With that it seemed to conversation over as habit flared violently and had her rising from her seat. The metal box that remained flush to her chest the whole time slipping from her fingers and crashing quietly to the plush carpet.

There was a moment of silence as Amber looked down to Nicoli, one hand still close to her chest and the other limp at her side. Something melted in him as he heaved a sigh and stood, grabbing her hand and leading her down a hall into the darkness.

They passed frame after frame, pictures hung high and low of people Amber recognized yet didn't know. Of faces that brought up impressions and feelings and thoughts as she was led through a maze of hallways. Dejavu has her curious as to if she had been there before.

The scent of chocolate made her feel lethargic as he led her into a room and sat her down. She couldn't say anything as he carefully pulled off her shoes and socks, changing her clothes to a nightgown and braiding Auburn locks neatly back.

"Sleep well, maybe we'll see each other tomorrow." For some reason she felt like that was a lie, there was no time to dwell on it as warm lips pressed to her forehead and a true oblivion painted her world black.

#nullandvoidwriting

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ladywindrunner · 4 years

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try + deathwing :')

try + (character) // accepting ::

D E A T H W I N G

He, who was the greatest of calamities, a triumph in destruction – found himself destroyed before his symphony of ruin was complete. Merciful oblivion took him in the throes of deserved agony, and that devastating torture that wracked his body finally ceased.

He’d been nothing but a plague of misery and ash, a pestilence of consuming fire and malevolence. In the quiet now, without distractions he could consider his failure properly. His memories, twisted as they were, played out before him and he saw how his pathetic servants had fallen short of their duties.

How entirely vexing, the short comings of others.

For a briefest flash, free of the intrusive thoughts that he’d been unable to fight off, he thought he may deserve this fate. To be nothing save a foul memory. He can almost recall who’d he been before, almost grasp the concept of honour, duty, and valour. All things once attributed to him at his grandest—

NO.

Neltharion was dead. Destroyed beyond recognition, not even a corpse remained for those to mourn the fool who thought himself guardian. Imbecilic idealist who’d believed mortals even worth consideration. He was the champion of a rotting tomb, a hollow memory with a crumbling memorial somewhere on that pathetic world.

If even that.

Good. Let the world forget the Earth Warder. Let those who cling to his memory and beliefs suffer. Their weakness should be punished!

Within this sacred abyss was Deathwing. Greatest of all the dragons, he who could not be conquered without those fools mucking about with precious time. His laugh rung out to the nothingness about his incorporeal form. He laughed at his latent victory.

Who were they now to stand on mighty kingdoms of righteousness? For they had sinned as he had. They played with machinations said to be forbidden. But they did so with the naivety of children. They clung to their delusions of morality. Perhaps they’d struck him down, but their actions had unleashed unknowable catastrophes.

Fate would see them punished for their crimes, yet they would not possess the serenity of oblivion. They would fight, tooth and claw, to cling to that pathetic rock of a world. Their wars would simply draw more chaos, peace would never last.

What he pitied, was he would not be there to watch their misery. The Old Gods, whispering horrible truths, played their hand too early. Their patience was endless but limited. They were festering paradoxes, and in the silence death brought, it was a relief now that Deathwing did not have to endure their plots.

Such simple schemes they were, too. To rule a world empty of resistance, to corrupt it and twist all those on it to the void.

He barked out a bellowing laugh, for here he could mock them. Their deaths, without he as their dark vanguard, would be swift and well deserved.

Old Gods indeed, free of their madness, he could see just how archaic their designs were. They wrought ruin for ruin’s sake.

But was that not the simplicity sicknesses incurred? A disease has no drive beyond mutation and death.

If Deathwing felt shame, it was only because he’d permitted them to warp his own desires. They offered him power eons ago, but who truly had worked to obtain it?

He had. He’d done the work; and suffered for it. He’d walked amongst the mortals and manipulated them, he’d tricked the other Aspects. What had the Old Gods done but offer empty promises from their long lost prisons? He’d wanted freedom from a burden thrust on him undeservedly so, and why? Because beings claiming to be his betters wanted to witness what would occur. They who could not even bother to care for their own world, gave the responsibility to dragons undoubtedly out of sheer convenience.

The abyss contained within it, no semblance of time. Here, he sensed there was no beginning nor ending. This was existence at its worst. To be something almost tangible, with thoughts and goals, but without a means to properly act. The predicament was inconvenient. Infuriating that this was the end the Old Gods had brought him.

Where are your whispers now, you filth. I so wish to witness your demise. I know of many who you thought to rule who planned to betray you. Let them taste victory, if there is any semblance of justice within the cosmos, you will be nothing but the fleeting terror in the dreams of infants!

Resentment was a fine companion. One worthy of his hatred.

“And my father is dead, because of the Old Gods.”

Wrathion.

His son, a runt hardly worth a thought. Deathwing’s contempt for him is only matched by his amusement. The purge of his flight had failed then, though it was a shame that it was one so wretchedly weak that survived. Was he to believe that it was Wrathion who lead the struggle against the Old Gods?

There is a flicker of pride for the boy, though it is fleeting. How grand would it be if it should be his son to strike down the disease? It would not be so difficult to imagine; the Old Gods were arrogant things. They thought themselves untouchable because they were as real as nightmares.

Fools, as maddening as their designs were, they were fragile.

Falsehoods. Fakes. Lies. Mirages of the worst sort, but illusions all the same.

Prove yourself useful, whelp. Deathwing rumbled, the void about him shaking in resonance. Even here, in this nothingness, he possessed power. Surely you tire of being such a disappointment.

The silence around him is deafening. He waits to see if oblivion bestows him with another glimmer. He knows many of his former masters have perished. He delights in it. Somehow, in this vast emptiness, his knowledge has expanded. This abyss is as much their fate as it was his. Only they, without the fear of mortals to sustain them, are withering. Their greed and lust to be worshipped and dreaded is their downfall.

He was not so simple, and that was the only gift Neltharion bestowed upon him. His existence before corruption promised that Deathwing would not be so easily vanquished. No, he was to suffer. As if somehow, being free of the crushing weight of Azeroth, and the madness it seeded was a punishment.

Oh, how he laughed.

I am destruction. What this oblivion seeks to do, is my very being. I am imprisoned here, but with it comes immortality.

His voice rings out to the emptiness, his new seat of power. There is a flicker of something forming. A wisp, a mote of existence within nothing. Shadow and flame, an ember of defiant, vicious truth.

“In N’Zoth’s name, his wings will darken the sky once more!”

His fury is immediate. A thunderous roar threatens to send the abyss fleeing in terror as it rings out. How dare anyone proclaim it would be some disease that would see Deathwing rise! The insolence! He seethes with loathing, and his being violently lashes out at the nothingness.

This was the first time oblivion felt as though it were a prison. He could not reach out and snuff out the proclamation. He could imagine the Old Gods laughing, mocking him even as they become grains of sand to be blown away by history.

His connection to this one is different. She is not his child, but the daughter of Onyxia. Yet her spirit burned truer than his son’s. She did not wish to be weak as the other dragons were. She valued power, control, and knew that to obtain such things one could not be so limited by ethics.

He fought against the ignorance this place wished to bestow upon him. He would have her name.

Nalice.

That inkling of flame grew larger as he stretched forth his mind and found the boundaries of oblivion.

It was vast, but not limitless.

Another lie of the gods. Old, new, and those who were timeless. The darkness that awaited the unworthy and wicked was not endless. It had walls, a floor, a ceiling.

Or… had he given it such things?

This was his domain after all.

That spark of smoke and flame descended into the floor.

Deathwing reached out for the worthier of the two descendants. He touched her mind, graced her with dreams of N’Zoth’s destruction. That infestation’s inevitable demise. He, the Destroyer, severed the old god’s hold on his granddaughter. She dreamt of Azeroth aflame, and the skies blackened by a thousand shadows.

The Black Dragonflight reborn.

You, child. He spoke to her, his words near beyond comprehension. He shook her sanity with his rampant might. May yet prove worthy of my gaze.

Oblivion caught fire, and the ground heaved.

The floor split open, a vast river of lava given light to an empty realm. Tectonic plates, suddenly thrust into existence, slammed into one another, forging ugly, jaded mountains. Lakes of tar seeped up from hairline cracks, and the abyss now reeked of sulfur and brimstone. Vents of noxious gas sprouted like wildflowers, spewing toxins into the air.

Hellish light illuminated the corpses of the old gods. Fire consumed them until they were nothing.

The tallest of mountains erupted. Plumes of ash and choking smoke exploded into the sky as debris rained down onto the valleys of lava. Magma roared outwards next, running down the cliffs in thick, murderous streams.

This realm is mine. His voice sees the new forged ground quake. Great crevices sundered open, and out from them crawled twisted elementals. Abyssal creatures of fire and earth.

Out rose a form from the belly of the volcano, a marvel of darkness. A draconic monster wrapped in smoke, lava running off seething scales and oblivion plate. He arose as a black dragon of oblivion, and he permitted his terrible power to breathe out of him. His wings smoldered and spat fire, magma leaked from his maw in a horrific fashion.

Deathwing, Lord of Oblivion, Emperor of the Abyss.

Fiery gaze turned upward as he coiled his form around the peak of the sundering mountain.

Pitiful mortals. He snarls, lips curling back as he peers up at that infinite dark. Watch as your world comes to an end.

An earthquake shakes the continent of Kalimdor. The lava fields of Sulfuron Spire churn. Temperatures rise as an early summer sweeps across the land.

And rallying call reaches the mind of those he deems worthy.

All will burn beneath the shadow of my wings.

#deathwing #neltharion #// with cameos of wrathion #// and windrunnerrs' nalice #// x.x hope dis is okiii #✯:: I trust you will not waste my time ( memes )#terraforged

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